Chapter Seven
Unsure of exactly what he was after, Ophir tracked Tanika down. The task proved quite easy, even without magic. Her name was unusual enough that a quick Google search, cross-referenced against the city’s DMV records, yielded her home address. Why rush to go back to more companions like Elim when he’d just found a woman like Tanika? Now he stood at her door with a bag of takeout in one hand and a fresh bottle of wine in the other. He pressed the doorbell and waited.
Footsteps vibrated behind the door, then a long pause, as if she was considering pretending to not be at home. No doubt Elim had already informed her of the situation, poisoning her against a fellow djinn. She wants to kill her djinn. The reminder should cool Ophir’s blood, but Elim was kind of a dick—most djinn were. Plus she’s mortal. None of it mattered. He couldn’t talk himself out of seeing her again.
Holding the bag of take out in front of the peephole, he called out, “We never got to finish our meal.”
Another beat of silence, then the bolt clicked and the door swung open, stopping short on the security chain. Through the crack, Tanika’s eyes were round, and her ample breasts heaved a little too quickly. Elim must’ve indeed told her, and now she was afraid. Ophir decided honesty would be the best approach to win her over. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
She seemed to wilt, like a fresh-cut flower in the sun. “So you are a… a djinn?”
For the first time in his long existence, Ophir wished he could answer differently. He had to resist the urge to take her into his arms and apologize. “Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
Again he held up the bag and grinned. “To finish our meal.” Her lips thinned, and he realized he’d been too playful. He dropped his arm, allowing his expression to become serious. “I apologize. I’m here to talk. I swear to you I’ll tell the truth. Whatever you want to know.”
“Why. Are. You. Here?” she repeated.
He took a deep breath, shooting a glance up and down the courtyard before answering. “I came here looking for a portal.” The portal might be what had brought him here, but it was no longer the reason he sought her out. If djinn weren’t immune to their own magic, he might’ve wondered if a wish had brought them together.
The shielding in her eyes faded. Deep within her gaze, he thought he detected a hope that matched his own. “You don’t have one of your own?”
“I’d really prefer not to have this conversation standing in the courtyard. Do you mind if I come in?”
She licked her lips, hesitating only a heartbeat. Then she loosened the chain and held the door wide for him, pointing down the short hallway. “The kitchen’s through there.”
“Thank you.” He brushed by without touching her, forcing himself to be satisfied with only a deep breath of her citrus and anise aroma. Inside, he examined the small apartment. The place was oddly devoid of furniture and decoration other than an overstuffed couch loaded with fluffy pillows and a flat screen TV bolted to the wall. He sifted the air for magic, seeking signs of Elim’s portal. The apartment smelled of anise, just like the salon, but it hadn’t been coated in an oily glamour to dull its appeal.
The kitchen proved to be similarly plain, holding only a small folding table and two folding chairs. On the table sat an open bag of candy, empty metallic wrappers rolled into little balls and piled to one side. One cupboard hung open, revealing two cans of soup and a box of rice crackers.
Setting the takeout on the table, he asked, “Are you moving?”
“What?”
“This apartment looks… barren.”
“Oh. Things just… tend to get broken a lot here at home.”
He clenched his jaw, hating the thought of anything she valued being broken. No wonder she called her djinn a poltergeist. He opened the Styrofoam carton, allowing the rich aroma of butter chicken to fill the air. “I hope you like Indian food. There was a little hole-in-the-wall place along the way, and it smelled so good, I had to stop.”
She remained standing. “Please, just tell me what you want from me.”
Right to the point, then. The time for pleasantries was over. His heart broke a little that the intimacy they’d developed at the restaurant was over, but perhaps if he regained her trust, she’d let him back in. First things first, however. Once again he sifted the air for Elim. “Is he here?”
She narrowed her eyes. “He’s locked away. Why?”
Her words sent a chill down his spine. Just as contact with metal disabled his casting, a portal completely surrounded in enough metal could be rendered inert. No wonder the other djinn had looked so gaunt. Ophir had assumed it was merely the drain of an unfulfilled wish held open for so many years. Now he realized it had to be because Elim had not only been unable to broker more wishes for energy, he’d not had enough food to replenish his corporeal body. He was literally burning his own magic reserves like a human burned fat. “How did he come to the restaurant?”
“He uses the wish connecting us like a conduit.” Her skin looked a little green at the words. “But he says it takes a lot of energy. Twice in one night is a lot. I doubt he’ll be back again soon.”
Ophir’d never heard of such a possibility; Elim must be a very powerful djinn. Thinking about Elim using her like that made Ophir’s blood run hot. “Is he hurting you?”
She cocked her head, arms crossed. “I believe you said you’d answer my questions. So far I’m the only one answering anything.”
“Fair enough.” He took the other seat and placed a second plastic fork on the empty side of the table in invitation. “I’m looking for a way home, and Elim’s is the first portal I’ve come this close to finding. Probably because your wish is keeping the portal ajar.”
“What happened to your portal?” Her brows furrowed.
“Destroyed.” He put a bite of chicken into his mouth, but she was looking at him with such concentration, he hardly tasted it.
“So you’re free?”
He swallowed. “Free? I suppose so. I’m not tied to a portal. But I can’t get home, either.”
She perched hesitantly on the opposite chair and shifted her gaze to the empty countertops. “Do you grant wishes?”
He watched her obviously forced nonchalance. Was she searching for a way to break Elim’s bond? “I can’t negate one wish by granting another if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not what I asked. I want to know if you…” Her breath shook as she finished her sentence, “harvest souls.”
Wariness settled hard against his breastbone. She wasn’t hoping for another wish, then. She was searching for a reason to hate him. His djinn nature urged him to spin a vague answer that could be interpreted multiple ways. She’d asked in present tense, so he could honestly answer no. But that wouldn’t be the real truth she was looking for. And he’d promised to tell her the truth. He felt as bound to that promise as if he’d made a deal for a wish. You’ve been among mortals too long, he thought to himself, even as he said, “Not anymore.”
After a short pause, she asked, “But you used to.”
“I will not lie. I did.” He watched her lovely face for signs of hatred. Instead, he saw guarded curiosity.
She fiddled with her hands in her lap. “Why did you stop?”
He cleared his throat. This was another question that had both an easy answer, and a difficult one. He decided on a halfway point. “After eight hundred years, I no longer feel the addictive pull.”
She seemed to consider. “What you really mean is you can’t.”
He had to appreciate her intelligence. She’d obviously had much experience with her djinn’s double-talk. “I can perform small magic to suit my own purposes. However, the heavy magic required to grant a wish is beyond me.”
“Because you lost your portal?”
“A portal provides a connection to the deeper magic, yes.”
Once again she crossed her arms, gaze so intense it threatened to ignite anything flammable it touched. “That’s why you need me. You want to use my djinn’s portal and resume trading wishes for souls.”
“No,” he denied, although his mind spun with contradictions. He’d been searching for a portal so long, he’d forgotten his motivation. Was it to resume his previous life? Or was it to escape the eternal grief of losing those around him to mortality? He hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he located a portal. All he knew at this moment was that he wanted Tanika to be happy. “I want to help you escape the trap you find yourself in.”
She laughed, her face lined with derision. “You’re basically a djinn forced into in rehab. Why should I trust you? Or for that matter, why should you trust yourself? Drug addicts think they’re free, as well, until they have the opportunity to use again.”
Ophir stiffened, once again shocked by this mortal who could see things more clearly than anyone—djinn or human—he’d ever met. Was he simply an addict? The long ago memory of souls he’d taken, the dramatic rush of energy and power, washed over him in a way he’d not experienced in a very long time. A remembered hunger almost impossible to fight. The absolute euphoria of consuming a mortal soul.
And he realized it paled in comparison to the way he felt around Tanika.
Tanika’s nails bit into her palms as she waited for Ophir’s reaction to being called an addict. With all her heart, she wanted to believe not all djinn were like Elim. But Ophir had admitted to harvesting souls, and the way Elim talked about the experience made her believe it must feel like a giga-hit of meth. How could any djinn who’d experienced that reject an opportunity if it came along again?
Ophir’s features clouded, and he seemed lost in thought. Then he bent over the butter chicken and inhaled, eyes closed as if in meditation. “The combination of spice in this dish is like nothing found on my world.” Opening his eyes, he wrapped his long fingers delicately, almost reverently around the carton. “When I am surrounded by sensations like this, I feel… almost human.”
She remained frozen with her arms crossed, almost afraid to move. The sensual way he enjoyed the aroma made it difficult to concentrate on his words. The conversation was serious, yet all she could think about was the way his big hands caressed the carton.
“My time here among mortals, who can’t take a single day for granted, who manage to create wonders in spite of their limited individual existence, has changed me.” He released the carton and leaned back in his chair. “Djinn are only creative in deal making. We don’t produce things, don’t innovate solutions. From the phone I used to Google your address, to the convertible I drove here, there are no limits to human imagination. You excel over and above my race. Taking even one of you before your time is finished is a waste of potential.”
God help her, she wanted to believe him. But he still hadn’t actually answered the question, and she knew from her dealings with Elim how tricky words could be. “That’s just like saying how pretty a cake is right before you cut it.”
That elicited a laugh, not the gloating kind she was used to from her djinn, but one of pleasure, eyes squeezed shut while he shook his head. “You are truly delightful, Tanika. Both charming and quick-witted. And you are correct. Let me say in plain words what I mean.” He met her gaze, his dark eyes filled with intense purple light. “After eight hundred years among humans, I find the thought of taking a human soul repulsive. I personally don’t ever want to do that again.”
She took a deep breath, considering what he’d just said, looking for loopholes. Elim would bend words, but he prided himself that he never lied. Apparently truthfulness was a djinn value or something. She couldn’t find any wiggle room in what Ophir said. Hesitantly, she offered, “Promise me you won’t harvest anyone again, and I’ll believe you.”
His gaze remained steady. “I will not harvest a mortal soul ever again.”
Shoulders relaxing, she realized she could finally take a full breath. “All right. Then why are you looking for a portal?”
The purple light infusing his gaze flickered. “I… don’t know that I am.”
She frowned, uncertain all over again. “Isn’t that what you claimed when I let you though the door?”
“It is. But you’ve made me rethink that goal.”
Her belly tightened with anticipation. What goal might a djinn have, other than harvesting souls? Unless… “Wait, I know what’s going on.” She thrust up a hand. “Elim’s cast a spell on you to make you complete my wish.”
“Impossible.” Ophir shook his head. “Djinn are immune to each other’s magic, at least here on Earth.”
A wave of relief flooded her. She wanted Ophir’s attention to be real, not the product of some charm. “Are you sure?”
He smiled. “I’m sure. I’m here to save you from your djinn.”
Maybe he is with the djinn police. “How?”
“Elim’s wasting away under the wish’s burden, and would probably do almost anything to be free of his debt.”
She sneered. “He would. He’s offered to renegotiate our deal many times.” Her temper flared at the thought of all the things he’d suggested. “But like I told you in the restaurant, I don’t want him free. I want him dead.”
Ophir cocked his head. “That won’t bring back your mother.”
His words hit her like a blow to the stomach. “I know that. But I can at least be damned sure that monster never harms another human being.” She fought back self pity. She’d resolved to follow this path years ago, and wasn’t about to let another tricky djinn talk her out of it.
“You’re not only refusing your wish, you know. Elim’ll torture you until the day you die.” Ophir leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Did you know he’s put a glamour on the salon? He’s dulled it to make it less appealing to customers.”
“Bastard.” She slumped back in her chair and scowled, hands going limp on the table. “I knew he’d done something, but he’d never admit it.”
“What if I send him back to my dimension? Permanently? So he can never return to this realm?” He reached across the table and enveloped one of her hands with his. “Would that satisfy your quest to protect humanity?”
His touch set her blood on fire. Focus, Tanika. “You said you can’t access strong magic without a portal. Plus he’s immune. How do you plan to beat him?”
“The way all djinn deal with one another. A deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
He licked his lips. “I believe I may be able to assume his debt.”
Her heart stopped beating for a moment. “As in… you become my djinn?”
“I’d take up ownership of the portal, yes.”
“I knew it!” She jerked her hand away, betrayal burning through her.
“I meant it when I promised to never harvest another mortal.” His gaze remained locked with hers, but he withdrew his hand. “But I can’t think of another way to break Elim’s hold on you.”
She was still coming to grips with meeting a second djinn, let alone trust his motives. And yet some part of her wanted to trust everything about Ophir. The way his touch could make her brain turn to pudding was uncanny. Suspicion blossomed in her chest. “Are you casting a spell on me?”
“I am not. In fact, I can’t.” His response was long, drawn out, and sexy. “I’ve never met a human like you.”
Her breath fluttered in her throat. “What do you mean?”
He leaned forward, the cheap folding chair creaking as he shifted. “It could be the magic of your wish infusing you, or perhaps you carry a trace of djinn blood.”
“As in, a djinn was my ancestor?” Her stomach flip-flopped, the chocolate she’d eaten earlier churning uncomfortably in her stomach. The idea of having ancestral ties to a djinn made her physically nauseous.
He shrugged. “It’s possible. During the early years of our ventures to Earth, before it was discovered that mortal souls could be consumed, a few djinn found human mates and bonded. After so many millennia, however, the remaining bloodlines are very thin.”
Even more than the prospect of being part djinn, talking to Ophir about mates and children made her uncomfortable. She swallowed, squaring her shoulders. “So I’m a special snowflake or whatever. That still doesn’t explain why you care so much about my happiness.”
He rose, his body slow and languid, and moved around the table to stare down at her. “Consider it selfish. I don’t want you running away from me every time I look at you because you’re afraid of a wish.”
If she’d been standing, her knees would’ve buckled under his hungry gaze. His cologne had been masked by the butter chicken earlier, but now he was standing close enough to bump her knees, and his masculine scent filled her with heady desire. With one hand, he pushed the folding table aside, the rubber-capped feet squeaking against the linoleum, and moved into the space it had occupied. Squatting, he placed one hand on each of her knees.
Captured by his intense stare, she couldn’t form words. A long, heart-stopping moment passed. Slowly, he pressed his body between her unresisting thighs, pushing them open until his breath fanned her face. He teased his tongue along the seam of her mouth, sending a shiver straight to her navel. Quivering, she felt her lips part to accept him.
Heaven help her, this man turned her very thoughts to jelly, not to mention her body.
He nibbled her top lip first, then her bottom, as if sampling her for the first time. Her hands crept to his shoulders, slid up and caressed the back of his neck. A tilt of his head, and his mouth captured hers, tongue running along her teeth before stroking long and firm inside her. She clung to him, letting him lead her in an erotic dance, his hands sliding up her thighs to rest at the bend of her hips.
A hungry noise escaped him, telling her how badly he wanted her, sending rockets of anticipation deep into her core. She hooked her ankles around his waist, thrilling at the rigid length of his erection pressing against her sex. He tilted forward, grinding himself against her clit and deepening the kiss. Remembering the way he’d coaxed an orgasm from her at the restaurant made her core quiver with excitement. What they were doing was dangerous. Forbidden. It only made her want Ophir more, to experience all he had to offer. To accept his promise of freedom.
“Tanika,” he groaned against her lips. Sliding both hands under her bottom, he rose, keeping her entwined about him like a starfish. His muscles rippled as he moved, sure and secure even with her added weight. As if he’d been to her apartment a million times, he easily carried her through the living room to her bedroom, nudging open the door with one foot and lowering her to the bed. All the while never breaking contact with her hungry lips.
The sound of someone clearing his throat froze them both.
“Looks like I got here just in time.” Elim’s voice grated through the room like breaking glass.