Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian (25 page)

Joseph’s blush was as adorable as his.

“There’s just one more thing,” Arcadius said.
He shoved his hand in his trouser pocket, bringing out the tie from
her Japanese robe, the same one he’d used to bind her ankles so
erotically on the couch.

Elyse’s cheeks flashed hot—and other parts of
her as well. No doubt she deserved that for being smug about their
blushes.

“Master,” Joseph said. “I don’t think a
sheikh will be impressed by a strip of silk.”

“It’s for Elyse. It isn’t safe to take her
among the tribe as our companion. I think we’d better take her as
my pet.”

“Your pet!” she burst out before she could
control her mouth.

Arcadius stared gravely down at her. His eyes
were even more striking seen in his own dimension. The look in them
slid through her like molten steel, causing her sex to quiver
strongly with arousal. If they’d been alone, she’d have done things
to him she’d never done to a man before. She couldn’t have said
what those things were precisely, only that she’d do them with
great fervor. And nakedly. She’d do them very, very nakedly to his
big hard body.

“If you were my pet,” Arcadius said in a low
thick voice, “any insult to you would be an insult to me. We
wouldn’t have to negotiate for your safe passage separately.”

Elyse had to clear her throat. “Two for the
price of one.”

“Exactly. Joseph can transform this tie into
a slave rope. I promise it will be comfortable.”

The rope might not hurt her, but Elyse rather
doubted it would be
comfortable
. “As your pet, I’d have to
do things to keep up the pretense.”

“You might.” He stared at her harder, so hard
in fact that she had to press her trembling thighs together. “Would
you find that too difficult?”

“I’m not an idiot. I understand we’re in
danger.”

His expression softened. His hand rose, his
fingers caressing the side of her heated face. “While I live,” he
said softly, “I swear I shall keep you safe.”

Her jaw dropped in astonishment. He meant
every word of the extraordinary oath. She felt off balance, as if
the Earth had bobbled on its axis. Hell, maybe
she
was
bobbling. David had been a good partner in his way, but she’d never
expected a man to say something like that to her.

Seeing her shock, Arcadius dropped his hand.
“You need not fear this bondage,” he said stiffly. “I won’t take
undue advantage.”

The thought hadn’t crossed her mind, and that
was startling too. She
really
trusted him, more than she had
reason to. Her trust had led her astray before.

“All right,” she said, too confused by her
feelings to attempt to answer more lucidly. “Tell Joseph it’s okay
with me.”

Joseph had stepped away while they spoke. His
back was to them, possibly to give them privacy. He looked surreal
standing in the empty desert, tall and solitary in his beautiful
three-piece suit. She knew even less about him than Arcadius. He’d
called Arcadius
master
again. Arcadius must actually fill
that role. He wore no slave rope, but perhaps he was one. Or maybe
Joseph was just a servant. Either way, he was devoted to his
employer. Did he mind her intrusion in their lives? He didn’t seem
to.

He’s sad
, she decided.
But I don’t
think he’s sad because of me
.

He turned back as she had the thought. His
face was calm and watchful: the perfect servant, prepared to do
whatever was asked of him.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I’m ready,” she answered.

Joseph did his whispered spell thing to
transform the tie into a length of rope. As promised, it was soft
against her skin. With the matter of fact motions of a tailor,
Joseph tied it around her waist. He muttered a word at the knot,
which caused it to grow snugger. Then he handed the trailing end to
Arcadius, who wound it twice around his strong wrist. The remaining
rope stretched about five feet between the two of them.

Elyse tried to squelch the rising erotic buzz
inside her, a goal made more difficult by Arcadius studying her up
and down. As far as she could tell, he was only gauging the result.
The effect his attention had on her, however, was unquestionably
sensual.

Her nipples hadn’t been this hard since he
almost ravished her on her bed. At the moment, she deeply regretted
he hadn’t been successful.

“I don’t think that’s enough,” Arcadius
said.

“It’s enough for tradition,” Joseph
countered, considering her from his place at his master’s side.

“She needs to look more . . . claimed. Give
me your belt.”

Joseph’s brows rose along with hers, but of
course he obeyed. Arcadius didn’t have a belt on him, just his
trousers and shoes. He exchanged his end of the rope for Joseph’s
accessory, causing Elyse to feel as if she were being passed from
man to man. With no more fuss than Joseph used to perform his
tricks, Arcadius turned the black leather belt into two wrist cuffs
and a neck collar. The restraints were thick but pliant. A spaced
row of silver studs circled each—the former buckle, she presumed.
To be honest, they looked cool, though maybe a little Goth for a
landlady.

He put them on her gently.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you do
magic,” she said. “Apart from you changing form.”

His eyes came up to hers. He was fastening
the neckpiece and they were close. His pupils were dilated, his
body heat noticeably higher.

“I wanted to do part of this myself,” he
said.

He spoke softly, the answer intended for her
alone. Their gazes held a few seconds longer. Elyse felt arousal
run hot and silky from her body.

Arcadius finished with the collar and took a
step back from her.

Had he meant to excite her? His face was
closed, and she couldn’t tell. She did know aspects of their chosen
pretense wouldn’t require acting. Her enjoyment of being tied by
him hadn’t been a one-time fluke.

So
, she thought, struggling not to be
unnerved.
Learn something new about yourself everyday.

In her distraction over her new
self-knowledge, she nearly missed Samir’s return. His reappearance
was worth watching. He slalomed down the nearest dune like his toy
horse was on snowboards.

“Slowpokes,” he chided as he stopped in a
spray of sand. “Samir has found what you seek. A good honorable
tribe has made camp beyond that crest. You can walk there in five
minutes. Ten if you keep dawdling.”

The ifrit did a double take when he saw the
changes in her outfit. Elyse discovered she didn’t like
him
examining her.

“Well, that makes more sense,” was all he
said.

Dismissing the issue with a shrug, he turned
his steed around by its reins to lead them toward their unknown
fates. Though his pace was slow enough for them to keep up, Elyse
had the impression he didn’t care if this turned out badly.

THE descending sun stained the desert copper
as they crested the next big dune. All of them, Samir included,
halted at the sight below.

Elyse experienced a moment of pure wonder.
She was one of very few humans ever to see its like.

A level plain, scattered here and there with
silvery scrub, extended from the base of the dune they stood on to
the stark brown heights that edged this area of the Great Desert.
The plain was beautiful in the way any wild place can be, but it
also served as a startling contrast for a not at all humble
encampment.

Dozens of dazzling white round tents had been
set up on the sand. Their peaks flew pennants: some red, some gold,
all fluttering in the balmy breeze. Small robed figures scurried in
an organized fashion between them. These were solid beings, not
smoke demons like Samir. They appeared to be lowering rolled-up
tent walls, possibly to shield against the cool of the coming
night. A large cooking fire glowed in a central clearing. Next to
that was a hive-shaped mound Elyse recognized as a mud oven. Heat
waves shimmered from its sides, the rich scent of roasting lamb
confirming her assumption. Most marvelous, beside the largest of
the tents a single palm tree grew—as in, its fronds were literally
stretching taller before her eyes.

“Wow,” she said, at a loss for a better
word.

Arcadius and Joseph appeared impressed as
well, though maybe not for the same reasons.

“That is a
large
tribe,” Joseph
commented carefully.

“A wealthy one,” Arcadius added, his
leeriness echoing the other man’s.

“This is Sheik Zayd’s caravan,” Samir
announced smugly. “He is the greatest sheikh in the Great
Desert.”

The ifrit was enjoying their reaction, as if
a private prank were playing out as he’d hoped. Joseph sent him a
cool look, but didn’t speak to him directly.

“I don’t see women,” he observed.

“Or camels,” Arcadius said.

“A sheikh that rich could afford a lot of
wives. If Zayd has housed them elsewhere, he won’t leave them alone
for long.”

“No, he won’t,” Arcadius agreed. “He must be
traveling back and forth.”

He and Joseph seemed to understand what this
exchange was about. Elyse didn’t have a clue, only that they
believed they’d discovered something significant. Whatever it was
slid over Samir’s smoky head as well.

“Samir can take you to the sheikh,” he
announced.

“In a moment,” Arcadius said. “Wait for us at
the bottom.”

The ifrit pouted but went ahead. Once he was
out of earshot, Arcadius turned to her. His expression told her he
was braced for objections. “I need to give you instructions.”

Elyse nodded, so he went on.

“I’m aware that holding your tongue doesn’t
come naturally to females of your plane, but please, for all our
sakes, leave the talking to me. Whatever you do, don’t argue with
the sheikh or any of his high-ranking men. They won’t abide
rebellion from a woman they’re not sleeping with—certainly not a
human one. Joseph and I respect you. You can trust us not to let
them go too far.”

She didn’t mind his warning as much as she
minded him thinking her incapable of self-control. “I understand.
My lips are zipped unless you give me the go ahead.”

“Or Joseph.”

“Or Joseph,” she agreed, striving not to
sound huffy.

He sighed but seemed to believe her. “I need
to take back the rope.”

She’d been holding the end while they
climbed—like a dog walking itself, she thought wryly. She handed
the leash to him. He wound it around his wrist as he had before.
The carnal shiver she couldn’t seem to suppress shook her. Maybe
Arcadius felt it too. He caught her gaze, wet his lips, then
abruptly turned away.

So we’re both hot to trot
, she
thought.
Great timing
.

Thanks to this and a temperature near eighty,
she was more than a little glowy by the time she clambered
awkwardly down the sandy slope. Walking at the end of a rope
someone else was holding was harder then she’d thought. Hitting
flat ground came as a relief.

The snow-white tent village remained a ways
off. No one challenged them as they approached, though they
certainly drew glances. She noticed there was a graduated dress
code in effect. Servants wore the hooded white tunics Moroccans
called djellabas, plus long indigo scarfs they tossed once around
their necks. Fancier outfits involved white shirts tucked into
loose trousers with indigo over-robes. Grander still were
individuals displaying gem-studded waist sashes.

When a tall djinni dressed completely in
indigo strode toward them, she was relatively certain they were
going to meet the sheikh. His waist sash was stiff with pearls, his
Turkish-style slippers shining with twenty-four karat embroidery.
Despite his ornate dress, he didn’t seem effeminate. He walked like
a winning fighter—like the greatest sheikh in the land, she
supposed.

“Greetings,” he said, stopping a body length
away from them. His skin was golden brown like Arcadius’s, perhaps
a shade darker. His eyes were ash gray and, though curious, very
cool.

Elyse blinked when she saw his long waving
hair was actually waving smoke.

“Greetings,” Samir replied, immediately
falling prostrate to the dry cracked earth. “Great sheikh, your
humble friend Samir begs you to make the acquaintance of these
pitiful God-fearing travelers.”

Elyse couldn’t view this as a nice
introduction, but Arcadius didn’t seem insulted. He bowed politely,
straightened, and waited calmly for a response.

“I am Sheikh Zayd,” the tall man who’d met
them said.

“I am Arcadius,” Arcadius responded. He
gestured to Joseph, who bowed lower than his master, though with a
similar composure.

“I am Joseph, his servant.”

“And your friend?” Zayd asked in a silky,
suggestive tone.

“She is my pet.” Arcadius lifted the slave
rope as evidence. “You may have her name if you wish, but she isn’t
important.”

“She is human.”

“She is,” Arcadius agreed. “However, she is
docile.”

As the sheikh shifted his gaze to her, Elyse
realized she ought to cast down her eyes.

“Can she dance?” he asked as she stared at
her scuffed sneakers.

“No,” Arcadius said.

“Sing?”

“Alas, only if you are tone deaf.”

“She is good in bed then.”

“Moderately,” Arcadius conceded. “I confess I
like my women soft.”

Sheikh Zayd snorted. It seemed this wasn’t a
taste he shared or approved of. Elyse tried to look meek—which damn
well better be what Arcadius meant by “soft.” She was no
triathlete, but she wasn’t a wimp either. She settled for
pretending she couldn’t hear what they said. They were acting like
she was deaf, after all.

The sheikh made her jump by leaning close
enough to sniff her neck. He chuckled at her reaction, a low
mocking sound that set her nerves on edge. As if it had a separate
existence, his vaporous hair retreated more slowly than the rest of
him.