Tales of the Djinn: The Double (29 page)

She ached for his hardness to slide over that swollen button and into her.

“Stop,” she said, shoving more forcefully at his chest. “
Please
.”

This time he listened. He pulled his head back and released her. His fingers curled toward his palms as if he itched to grab her again.

“I want you to myself,” he said defensively. “I want to make love to you, without him.”

“How is that not competing?” she demanded.

The flush in his cheeks took on a hint of embarrassment. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t give you back after I was done.”

Elyse snorted. “I hope you realize that’s not very flattering.”

“Do you want to be flattered?” he challenged.

She had to think about that. David’s hold on her hadn’t been completely due to the magical poetry book. Her double-dealing husband had stroked her ego too, showering her with compliments she’d been hungry to believe. Some of the praise he’d meant. The rest he’d used to scam what he—and Cara—wanted out of her.

“I want to be told the truth,” she said. “A
nd
I want to be loved. By someone I can count on.”

Arcadius stared at her. She got the impression he’d taken in every word and stored it for later use. She expected him to speak, but he nodded curtly and turned away. Then at the door, he paused.

“I understand better now,” he said over his shoulder.

When he went for good, he left her totally off balance.

Her hands were shaking. Should she interpret Arcadius’s withdrawal as surrender? He didn’t seem the sort to surrender a single inch unless it suited him. But maybe he’d decided he couldn’t be the person she’d described and was leaving the field to his spirit twin. Cade
was
the man she’d spoken of. More than, actually, because his good qualities didn’t end at her minimum. She admired as well as loved him. He’d earned her trust and her laughs and—God knows—her desire. He wasn’t one gift; he was a hundred birthdays’ worth. No woman could deserve a man like him. She could only feel lucky.

Secretly wishing she could have everything she wanted was worse than ungrateful.

~

Arcadius had a lot to consider as he dressed for dinner in Elyse’s small home office. Though he’d kissed his double’s woman impulsively, the results were informative. Fortunately, his brain felt steadier now that he’d decided—or perhaps admitted—that he wanted Elyse as a more than a fleeting presence in his life. He couldn’t predict if he’d achieve his goal. What he had ruled out was waiting passively for Cade to determine what would happen between the three of them.

It would have to be the three of them. Elyse was too attached to Cade—and too principled a person in general—to expect her to cast him off. Arcadius didn’t think less of her for that. A woman who would cheat on one man would assuredly cheat on another. In truth, Arcadius’s natural competitiveness was getting more difficult to muster in regards to Cade. Arcadius was a logical man. It made
sense
to work with and not against the other him. Though it had nothing to do with logic, it also
felt
pleasant.

Pleasant
didn’t begin to describe working with his twin to satisfy Elyse.

Heat flooded his body, causing his fingers to falter on the smooth white shirt’s buttons. The garment fit perfectly, of course. It was well made, as promised, and he and his double were the same size. Well, the same size excepting the aspect Elyse had mentioned when she’d been trying to anger him. She’d succeeded more than he’d let on but not so much that he’d dwell on it. In any case, smaller men were easier to “go down” on.

His mouth curved as the slang popped into his mind. He hadn’t lied when he said he wanted to take Elyse without Cade. Since gratifying the wish might be difficult, making Cade watch her do him that favor would be a fine substitute. Getting his twin wound up offered multiple rewards—not the least being that Elyse enjoyed it.

Probably he shouldn’t be thinking along those lines. When he shoved the dress shirt’s tails into the tailored trousers, his hand met more obstruction than was ideal.

If he didn’t get his libido under control, this would be a long evening.

He recognized his double’s tap on the door. Since he was dressed, he opened it. He tried not to take offense as Cade examined him up and down.

“Good,” Cade said. “You’re ready. I assume you’re armed?”

“Ankle sheath,” Arcadius answered. “I figured our hostess wouldn’t notice one small dagger.”

“Breast pocket.” Cade patted his jacket to indicate where his weapon was. He frowned at Arcadius’s feet. “You can’t wear slippers.”

“These match.” Black like the trousers, jet beads and dark blue sapphires decorated his footwear. “Those human shoes pinched my feet.”

His pulse jumped when Elyse appeared in the door. He hadn’t seen her since he’d left her in her bedroom. She’d finished her chores and then she’d been with Cade. For just an instant as her gaze met his, her eyes were self-conscious.

She hasn’t told him about the kiss,
he realized. He and Elyse shared a secret. But maybe she’d tell Cade later. Maybe she was working up to it. Was Arcadius upset that she hadn’t told him? Should he have told Cade himself? Ridiculously, he found himself wishing he could ask Cade’s opinion. The moral in and outs of this situation were difficult to sort out. All he knew for sure was that Elyse wasn’t taking their talk lightly.

Neither are you,
he thought as her attention dropped to the article of dress he and Cade were debating.

“Those are all right,” she said. “Some men wear slippers in New York, and at least they’re not bright colors.”

Her stepping closer gave him a better view of her. She was wearing a garment he was too stupefied to find a name for. It was snug and black and showed off far too many inches of her fine legs. Her shoes were black and extremely shiny. They had heels that hoisted them off the ground, plus eye-catching scarlet soles. The display they made of her excellent calves and ankles literally stole his breath.

The words “Good Lord” burst from him unplanned.

His loss of control seemed worth it when she grinned delightedly. Then he noticed that her pillowy lips—her best feature after her eyes and rear—were painted a soft red. Her lashes had some sort of paint on them too, making her eyes greener. Djinn women sometimes wore cosmetics, but he’d never seen Elyse in them. How stunning she was didn’t strike him as fair. He’d resigned himself to hankering after a somewhat ordinary looking woman. He wasn’t prepared for the effect she had fully kitted out. His cock jerked inside his trousers, the warning he’d given it earlier forgotten.

“This is my little black dress,” she said, turning in an obliging circle so his mouth could water from all angles. “I take it you approve.”

“I’m not sure
approve
is the right word.” Though he admired her appearance, he experienced a measure of alarm at the thought of her wearing those instruments of seduction in public. Wouldn’t every man want to leap on her?

“The weather’s cold,” Cade reminded him, his slightly grim expression saying he understood. “She’ll have a coat over it.”

His comment took Elyse by surprise. “Come on, guys. This outfit isn’t that revealing. And it shows zero cleavage.”

Cade wagged his head and Arcadius did too. “You’re lucky you have us to guard you,” was all Arcadius said.

~

The village of Scarsdale, where Uncle Vince had established his family seat, was a ritzy suburb thirty minutes outside Manhattan on the Metro-North express. Vince had chosen it to suit his pretensions as a master of commerce and all-around important man. Elyse was familiar with the area and the journey. When she was young, she’d ridden this train many times, staying with Cara and Aunt June if her father was out of the country for more than a day or two. She’d attended Cara’s fancy high school nearly as often as her own.

That she hadn’t fit in there was an understatement of epic proportions.

She shook the memories off. This visit would be different. Tonight she had her father with her. And Cade and Arcadius. The dangers she faced had nothing to do with social awkwardness.

It said something that she’d rather confront a murderous magician than a clique of teenage girls.

They’d been lucky enough to find four seats facing each other on the train. Cade and Leo had their heads together and were going over possible scenarios by which they might get the jump on Mario and Cara. Arcadius’s attention stayed on the remaining passengers—scanning them for threats, she presumed. He spared Leo and Cade half an ear, occasionally pulling a dubious face over their discussions.

“Would you stop that?” Cade complained quietly. “It can’t hurt to consider the angles.”

“It might not hurt,” Arcadius said in the same low tone. “But it’s likely a waste of time. The sorcerer will have his own plans, and if Elyse’s cousin is anything like her, she’s neither stupid nor cowardly. We need to resign ourselves to playing it by ear.”

Elyse’s eyes widened. Had Arcadius complimented her?

“Moreover,” Arcadius went on before she could savor his approval, “what if the aunt is in on it? This dinner invitation could be a trap.”

Elyse and Leo burst out laughing at the same time.

Arcadius’s eyebrows lowered. “It could,” he insisted.

“Sorry,” her father said. “You’re right. It could be a trap, but June won’t be in on it. She’s . . . well, you’ll see when you meet her.”

“She could be more devious than you realize.”

Their arrival at the Scarsdale stop saved her father from answering. Aunt June had sent the car to meet them at the faux English half-timbered train station. The limo was the same classic silver Daimler she remembered. She couldn’t deny it was a lovely car. Uncle Vince had demonstrated good taste about some things.

Mr. Pickering, the family’s ancient driver, was holding the door for them. “Welcome back,” he said to her and her father. “I’m very pleased you’re not dead.”

“Douglas,” her dad replied, with his usual unfeigned pleasure. “How’s that daughter of yours? Didn’t I hear she shot under par at the Women’s Open?”

“Yes, Mr. Solomon. We’re all very proud of her.”

Golf,
Cade mouthed to Arcadius.

They slid into the Daimler’s spacious rear section, which was a masterwork of hand-stitched leather, burled wood details, and silk wool carpeting. Arcadius gazed around like he thought it was pretty swell. “Does this automobile go fast?” he asked hopefully.

Her father smiled. “If that’s your priority, you’d do better with a sports car.”

Arcadius appeared to consider this seriously, which amused Leo more. Elyse guessed both the commanders were growing on her dad. She wished Arcadius’s future vehicular adventures were all she was dwelling on. As they rode along Scarsdale’s oak-lined streets, her uptightness increased.

You’re not a kid anymore
, she told herself. This place and Cara had no hold over her. Even if they did, it was moot tonight. She and her companions had more important fish to fry.

Uncle Vince’s estate was on exclusive Heathcote Road. Mr. Pickering buzzed the iron gate open with his remote. The curving drive to the house was cobbled, the handsome, two-story wide brick front shown off by spotlights. The five acres of grass and trees on which the historic home was set were lusher than a golf course. Uncle Vince had paid four mill for property and liked to brag it was now worth eight.

She guessed he’d have to brag from the afterlife.

When Mr. Pickering opened the Daimler’s door, Arcadius and Cade had a little scuffle over who would help her out.

It was good to be amused by that . . . and to see Aunt June. She appeared on the portico as bubbly and eager as if she’d been listening for the car. June was tall like her daughter—curvy too, though not as fashionably. Regular visits to the salon maintained her beautiful gold blonde hair. She liked big jewelry, bright colors, and—so she always said—pleasing her smart husband. She’d never had a job apart from that. Her tendency toward literalness had sometimes led Vince to tease her unkindly. Cara had never seemed to respect her, though perhaps that had changed.

“How wonderful!” June exclaimed. “Cara will be so happy to know you’re here.”

Leo hugged her gently and handed her a wine bottle.

“My favorite!” she said. “How good you are to remember. Come in, all of you. Georgia will take your coats.”

Georgia was the housekeeper. There was a cook who came in sometimes, plus a pair of men who did odd jobs and took care of the landscaping. Once upon a time there had been string of nannies. Cara had gone through a lot of them.

“You look marvelous,” June said to Elyse. “You must be happy to have your father back. Imagine him not being dead but wandering around Europe with amnesia! It’s like a soap opera, don’t you think? Oh, I do love your hair that way!”

Elyse touched it, unavoidably embarrassed about her mop of curls. Now that she was home, maybe she should have used her flatiron. She forced herself to pull her hand down. “Where is Cara? Dad told me she’s engaged.”

“Cara’s . . . somewhere,” her aunt said, waving her arm vaguely. “I’m afraid her young man won’t be joining us tonight. He had business he couldn’t get out of. I swear he’s as busy a fellow as my Vince used to be.”

She looked sort of sad for about two seconds. Elyse couldn’t quite choke out that she was sorry for her loss.

She saw the djinn exchange looks at this development.

“That’s too bad,” Leo said, smoothly patting Aunt June’s shoulder. “Shall I introduce you to Elyse’s friends from Turkey?”

“Oh,
do
,” she said, recovering quick as a wink. “It’s so nice to meet new people!”

~

The aunt reminded Arcadius of a friendly but nervous bird that perpetually chittered and fluffed its wings. She led them—if such fits and starts could be called
leading
—to a small formal dining room. The table was beautifully appointed with fine china and lit candles. Sadly, the papered walls spoiled the space. The whole room was pasted over with faded caricatures of Chinamen in green robes. Mountains cragged in the background, their colors muddy and unpleasant. Mindful he was a guest, Arcadius tried to hide his distaste.