Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian (29 page)

Her fingers kneaded his chest, her breasts
bouncing gorgeously. Each time she lifted, his cock gleamed bright
from her secretions. The primal appeal of that visual couldn’t be
resisted, no more than being her steed could. He was used to being
in charge, and this was a fresh pleasure. His wrist twisted on the
slave rope, longing to snap it even as he felt an unexpected
exhilaration at it restraining him. Elyse seemed to know. Her hips
rolled faster, harder, as smoothly as if her joints were on wheels.
She was making him forget everything: how to be careful of the
force he used, how to hold back his climax until she had hers. The
need to explode expanded, the pressure both delicious and
unbearable.

Elyse growled and thumped her pussy more
energetically down him.

Watching her go wild sent his excitement into
the stratosphere. In the end, though, he couldn’t bear the thought
of anyone but him seeing her come.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, his free hand sliding
behind her nape.

She cried out as he tugged her down, her
sheath starting to ripple with contractions. Maybe his aggression
triggered her. He cursed, planted his feet for leverage, and drove
into her from below.

His orgasm burst from him like fire, white
gold, blinding, so powerfully sweet new words had to be invented
for the pleasure. Elyse clung to him, not kissing him but holding
tight. Her nipples were sharp as pebbles, her heart pounding
crazily. His thumb found her clit and ground it, partly to increase
her bliss and partly for the lovely tightening that inspired. A
second astronomical climax subsumed his first.

“
Cade
,” she gasped, the nickname
instantly charming him.

He had no strength left. The world could have
ended, and he wouldn’t have been able to lift a finger to prevent
it.

“Mmm,” he moaned as she panted against his
neck. She was a hot sweaty limpet on top of him. He stroked her
spine and patted her trembling butt, his hand unwilling to stir
once it was there. Elyse wriggled until her head found a
comfortable hollow on his shoulder.

Her satiated sigh was music to his ego. “I’ll
get up in a minute,” she mumbled.

“No need,” he said, tightening his one-armed
hold on her. “I want to sleep with you just like this.”

~

Elyse didn’t know how long she was
unconscious before her eyes snapped open. She was curled against
Arcadius’s side, hugging him in her sleep. The colorful Moroccan
lanterns had gone out, leaving a bright quarter moon to light the
tent from outside.

Shoot
, she thought.
I forgot to
untie him
.

She checked his arm, but of course he’d
removed the slave rope himself. She
had
only bound one
wrist. Her touch on his forearm caused him to stir sleepily.

“Everything’s fine,” she said, rubbing his
bare shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

He wasn’t going to take her word for it. He
opened his eyes, stared at her for a moment, only closing his lids
after he was satisfied.

Since she was awake, she pulled her knees up
and hugged them. The ifrit camp was quiet except for the apparently
constant whisper of the wind.

I’m in the world of the djinn
, she
thought, still not quite believing it. In spite of the dangers
involved in this, she grinned.

Then she noticed a shadowy hump in the
opposite corner of the tent. She pressed her hand to her throat a
second before recognizing the shape as Joseph. He was curled on the
carpet floor, seemingly fast asleep. He had no bedroll and no
blanket. He’d removed his outer robe and was sleeping under
that.

That didn’t seem right. Elyse found her own
robe and tied it. Because Arcadius had plenty of body heat to
share, she eased one of their blankets from the pile and carried it
to the servant.

Joseph turned out to be as light a sleeper as
his master. He turned onto his back while she was laying the cover
over him.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured.

Elyse crouched beside him to speak. “I was
going to ask you the same thing.”

He rubbed his face. “Nothing’s wrong. Or not
any more wrong than before.”

His wry response amused her. “Now
there’s
an answer I can believe.”

“You brought me a blanket,” Joseph said,
sounding surprised as he touched it.

“You looked cold.”

He gazed at her. “Thank you.”

“Thank
you
for reconnoitering.”

She assumed this was what he’d been doing.
Her words seemed to make him uncomfortable. It occurred to her he
might have returned while she and Arcadius were still at it. That
would be awkward. Elyse wasn’t the sort of person who wanted the
whole world to know when she was getting some.

“I should sleep,” Joseph said in a calm soft
tone. “So should you. Tomorrow may be challenging.”

“Oh. Of course. I’ll just . . . go back to
Arcadius.”

Mildly embarrassed, she did just that.
Joseph’s prediction wasn’t exactly soothing. All the same, when
Arcadius wrapped himself around her and kissed her hair, she only
took a moment to drop off again.

ARCADIUS woke before the others early the
next morning. He made use of the extravagant magically powered
bathroom, dressed, and slipped out into the camp to scrounge
breakfast for his tent mates.

The rules of hospitality—assuming they’d be
honored—guaranteed their safety until sunset, at which point they’d
need another invitation to continue as Zayd’s guests. Arcadius was
on guard for threats but was directed politely to the cook tent.
Given the number of speculative looks he attracted, he concluded
his and Elyse’s performance had drawn its intended audience.

The only appropriate response was to pretend
he didn’t see. Though his cheeks were a degree hotter than usual,
he maintained a bland expression.

His color didn’t truly darken until he ducked
into the tent and Joseph spotted him with the laden tray. Arcadius
had forgotten how out of character his behavior was.

“Master!” Joseph exclaimed. “I would have
gotten us breakfast.”

“I know you would,” he said gruffly. “I was
up.”

Both Joseph and Elyse were awake and dressed.
They sat on the floor in Joseph’s sound-cancelling circle, probably
because the younger man had steered Elyse there. Arcadius set down
the tray, allowing Joseph to take over the process of serving.

Elyse, he noticed, looked to be in good
spirits and beautifully well pleasured—certainly none the worse for
wear for having been dragged into danger.

“Coffee!” she burst out delightedly. “My God,
I adore you!”

That caused his cheeks to darken a little
too.

“So,” Joseph said after they’d taken the edge
off their hunger. “My suspicions were correct. There’s an outcrop
of rocks not too far from camp that Zayd’s guards include in their
patrol. I expect there’s a cave underneath where the flying carpets
are stored. It would make no sense to protect it otherwise.”

“How close were you able to get?”

“I spent two minutes right on top of the
thing while the guard was . . . distracted. The entrance is
password protected. I couldn’t break through it magically. Probably
only Zayd knows the open sesame.”

Elyse’s jaw had dropped at the mention of
flying carpets. She did a double take at his choice of words.
“‘Open sesame’ isn’t really a thing.”

Joseph smiled. “It isn’t anymore. These days,
it’s the first code anybody tries.”

“Do you think you could crack the spell if
you had more time?” Arcadius asked.

“I wouldn’t bet our lives on it,” Joseph
said. “Zayd’s sorcerers are topnotch.”

“Is there a reason we have to have a flying
carpet?” Elyse inquired. “Trying to steal one seems like asking for
trouble.”

“Unfortunately,” Arcadius said, “we can’t
walk from this stretch of the Qaf to ours, not if we had unlimited
supplies and all the time in the universe. The two areas aren’t
physically connected. We need magical transport.”

“Maybe this is a stupid question, but could
we ask Zayd to loan us one?”

“Out of the goodness of his heart?” Joseph
shook his head doubtfully. “I wouldn’t bet our lives on that
either.”

The flatbread Elyse’s fingers were tearing
into pieces suddenly fascinated her. “What about another
bribe?”

“No,” Arcadius said firmly.

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“No,” he repeated. “You will not offer
yourself to him. I forbid it.”

“You can’t forbid it. I belong to me.”

“Zayd would
kill
you, Elyse. He’s a
different type of djinni from Joseph and myself. He’d whip you as
fiercely as if you were an ifrit—and then he’d lose control. He
wouldn’t be able to help himself. And you’d never survive it.”

Her mouth formed a crooked shape. “Okay, I’m
not saying I
want
to do it, or that I doubt your words. Just
. . . what if there isn’t another choice?”

“There’s always another choice.”

“There is,” Joseph seconded, inspiring more
gratitude in Arcadius than he probably realized. “We’ll watch for
an opening. The solution will come to us.”

~

Joseph had already gone out. Elyse couldn’t
be left alone in the tent safely, so Arcadius retied the slave rope
around her waist.

“Keep you eyes down,” he reminded her. “Don’t
speak to anyone even if they address you.” He pulled up her
djellaba’s hood, using this as an excuse to caress her head.
“Joseph spelled the circle we’re standing in to muffle sound. Try
not to talk about our business outside of it.”

Her brows went up, but she didn’t make the
leap to the full extent of spying that might go on. “Do you know
what’s happening today?”

“Most likely Zayd will demonstrate the
strength of his position and try to assess ours. I predict we’ll
see training fights between his men and be invited to
participate.”

“Will you accept?” Her fingertips rested on
his chest. He doubted she knew how much he enjoyed standing with
her like this.

“My answer will depend on what we stand to
gain.”

She tilted her head to consider him. “You
aren’t a rash person.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Neither is Joseph.”

Joseph was more impetuous by nature, but he’d
learned to suppress the trait. “When it comes to protecting you,
neither of us will lose our heads.”

She smiled. “I’m concerned for your safety
too.”

Of course she was. She was a caring woman. He
hadn’t missed that business with Joseph and the blanket this
morning. He rubbed her shoulders, reluctant to let go of her. He
dreaded the day when she regarded him with anger. A question rose
inside him. Though he suspected he shouldn’t voice it, he couldn’t
seem to stop himself. “Do you wish I were more dashing?”

Her soft pink mouth fell open. “I find you
extremely dashing, exactly as you are. Good Lord, how could I
not?”

He couldn’t answer that. Her feelings about
him were murkier than he wished. Had her husband been dashing? Or
better at romance? Con men sometimes were. He shook his head to
clear the irrelevant concerns. Their current situation demanded his
complete attention.

~

Arcadius’s question knocked Elyse off
balance. Why did he care if she thought him dashing? He was of
course—along with being gorgeous, sexy, intelligent, and
considerate. Being reckless wouldn’t have improved him in her eyes.
Being more honest, perhaps, but not that.

She trailed after him through the camp, her
mind occupied with trying to sort this out. He’d sounded unsure of
himself. Was his pride at stake? He’d warned her he didn’t love
her, a claim that was beginning to sting more than it should have.
Was
he falling for her? Or was this some crazy trick within
a trick? She couldn’t rule that out. Her instincts, such as they
were, told her he wasn’t being frank about everything.

But she had to push that aside. She needed
her wits about her, in the present. Even with her eyes cast down,
she noticed they were getting a lot of looks. How noisy had she
been last night? Was she the reason Joseph had drawn his circle for
silence?

She pulled her head covering closer, hoping
it hid her burning cheeks. They came to a sudden halt on the path
between the tents.

“There you are,” Sheikh Zayd said too
pleasantly to be believed. “I trust the night left you well
rested.”

“Your accommodations were everything the most
particular guest could wish.” Arcadius bowed, which djinn seemed to
do a lot.

“I am gratified to hear it. My men are
training today. I thought you might enjoy watching them. And your
slave as well, if it won’t distress her too much.”

Arcadius had certainly called this right.
Elyse was tempted to look up. Staring at the sand that clung to her
slippers didn’t tell her if the sheikh truly wanted her in the
audience.

“Your offer is magnanimous,” Arcadius said.
“Hopefully her spirit will not quail at your men’s fierceness.”

“Her spirit may be stronger than you have
said.”

Well. Elyse recognized
that
tone as
sulky.

“Only a fool would give his slave a swelled
head.”

Arcadius’s response was mild—too mild, maybe.
Zayd’s words had put her protector on his guard. Elyse touched the
rope that bound her to him, one thumb nervously rubbing its smooth
surface. Realizing Zayd might see the gesture, she forced herself
to stop.

“As you say,” the sheikh returned smoothly.
“Shall we proceed to the fighting ground?”

They proceeded.

The fighting ground was a cracked sand flat.
Using the tip of a gold plated stick, one of the tribesmen drew an
oval the size of a hockey rink around it. Elyse assumed any fighter
who crossed the border lost. Or who died. Probably that qualified
as a loss as well.