Djinn Justice (The Collegium Book 2) Page 8

  She blinked and stared at the shrimp she’d nabbed. “I’m the ex-president’s daughter, bred for my magic.” Magic tended to decline and renew over the generations. Given her great-grandparents’ strength, her father had married her mother on the calculation that her offspring would have a lot of magic; far more than either Richard or Yolanthe commanded. They’d had Fay, and Yolanthe had fled when she discovered how her first husband had used her to attain powerful offspring.

  “That doesn’t make you a princess.”

  “So what does?” She ate the shrimp, enjoying the burst of fresh ginger and pepper from the sauce.

  “Sometimes Uncle’s statements are prophecies as much as anything.”

  “I won’t wear a tiara,” Fay said. “If the Suzerain’s partner is meant to, I’m just putting that out there. No tiara.”

  He snorted. “There’s no crown. We’re judges, not royalty.”

  Reluctantly, Fay considered the question. Why, then, had the djinn called her a warrior-princess? Princesses tended to be fairy-tale creatures, even the real life ones. They were media creations, fantasies. But a warrior-princess wouldn’t wear pretty dresses and pose for cameras. She wouldn’t be a silent, smiling asset for her husband.

  “What do you think Uncle meant?” she asked Steve.

  He finished his beef stir-fry. “It could mean anything, but I hope it was simple recognition of your strength. You’re a princess in the sense that no one rules you. You broke your oath ties to the Collegium, and now, you’re bound only by the loyalties you choose. You decide when to fight and for what.”

  “But then he’d have called me queen or empress of the world or something.” Her joke failed to disguise her seriousness.

  “There’s one other connotation of princess,” Steve said slowly. “A queen or empress rules, alone. A princess is part of a family.”

  She stared at him. “Yours?”

  “I’d like to say that’s up to you, but the truth is…I come with a whole load of relationships. There’s Mom’s wolf clan, family and friends, and not to forget the Suzerainty. Your introduction wasn’t the best, with Grand-mère being difficult. But families are challenging. We fight among ourselves, but touch one of us and we all attack. You’re one of us.”

  “Unless they decide to protect you from me.” As his grandmother wanted to do.

  He shook his head. “You’re my choice. The only reason the family hasn’t already descended on you en masse to recruit you for their various causes and games is because I made it clear that you and I needed time alone. Only Uncle broke that ban.”

  “I guess getting a djinn to listen isn’t easy.”

  “You have no idea. Finished?” He indicated the decimated contents of the takeaway containers. She nodded. He cleaned up while she made cups of green tea.

  They returned to their chairs by the window, and she expected Steve would discuss next steps in finding the rogue mage and if there’d been any progress in identifying the weres Uncle had shown them.

  Steve surprised her. “About my performance at the Collegium…”

  “I liked your snarl.” She smiled.

  He stayed somber. “Claiming you so publicly is a sign of my insecurity.”

  She put her cup of tea aside, worried. “You’re the least insecure person I know.”

  “How well do you know me?” His expression was bleak. He gazed at her with darkness lurking in his light brown eyes. “I planned to let you learn about me gradually.”

  “So you keep telling me. The Suzerainty, your family, a meddling djinn. How many surprises can remain?” Giving the lie to her sharp words, she slipped onto his lap. Touch and the truth of it was important to his were-nature. Just this simply, she reminded him that she was with him. She was his.

  He unbraided her hair, combing his fingers through the length of it, stroking her back as he did so. He was petting her and gaining comfort himself. “You fell in love with me in my role as a mercenary. I was independent, like you. I chose my own jobs, lived with the consequences of my actions. We related on that level of dangerous loners.”

  His hand settled at her waist. “I’m not that man. Or, not only that man.”

  “You have a family, commitments.” She struggled to understand the bleak resolve in him. She’d accepted that his life was complicated, filled with far more people than her own; and she’d made her statement in the Collegium and kissed him there.

  Apparently for Steve, it wasn’t enough.

  “One of the things I love about you, Fay, is your directness. You don’t play games. The person you present to the world is you. You are your own truth, incorruptible.” He stared into her eyes, his own flaring to the topaz-gold of his aroused leopard nature. “I’m scared that you won’t understand that I’m different.”

  “Different, how? You won’t convince me you’re any less honest. I know you, Steve. I’ve fought with you, loved you. I trust you.”

  A low, frustrated growl resounded in the back of his throat.

  She put her hand over his heart. “Trust me. Tell me what you think the problem is.”

  “All right.” His chest moved with a deep inhale, exhale. “Leopards are camouflage hunters. Wherever we go, we fit in.”

  She nodded. “I saw that your grandfather is a diplomat. Everyone thinks that he sees their side of a story. He fits.”

  Steve grimaced. “Yes, that’s how Granddad’s leopard is. Mine’s more violent, more…combative.”

  “Uncle suggested that’s a good thing. That you’ll fight.”

  “Hmm. But first I like to get close to my prey. I like to learn all there is to know about them. I feel safe when I’m observing, unobserved.”

  “Steve, all of that is just common sense. It’s why I use cloaking spells.”

  “You use a spell, but I change who I am.” He rubbed his palm up and down her arm, agitated. “In England, at school, I was the essence of upper class privilege, rude and discriminatory and hiding it behind impeccable manners.”

  “Like your school friends,” she said slowly. “You said your other grandfather is an earl?”

  He nodded. “And a wolf-were. In the holidays, I was the gregarious daredevil to match my wolf cousins. Then at university, I was a flirt, then an extreme sports junkie, and finally, a scholar.”

  “I’m not seeing the problem. People try on identities as they grow.”

  “Did you?”

  “You’ve met my dad. Do you think I had a chance?”

  He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have anyway. You’re always Fay.”

  Suddenly, she was angry, bracing a hand against his chest and pushing away. “What do you mean by that? Who do you think ‘Fay’ is? Some girl who can’t cope with life outside the Collegium and in a relationship? Because maybe you’re right. No, I know you’re right! I know I’m going to make mistakes and we’re going to fight.”

  “It’s not you who I think won’t cope!”

  Her anger died, her resistance vanishing. “Your grandmother said that you’re risking more than I know. I thought she was talking rubbish.”

  “She was.”

  “No, she hates the idea of Uncle taking away her husband’s, and hence, her power, but her concern for you was genuine. Steve, the hardest thing I’ve ever done is to trust you, totally and irrevocably. My whole life, I was taught to stand alone, and now, I don’t. I believe you’ll be there for me.”

  “I will be. I am.”

  “But your whole life was about hiding, fitting in. You hide your were-nature from mundanes and you hide your power from other weres.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do. You just told me. You reveal aspects of yourself and make others believe, according to context, that the aspect on show is the totality of you.”

  He stared at her, eyes blazing, poised for a leap into hiding or deeper into their relationship.

  She wriggled around, kneeling up with a knee on either side of his thighs. She put her hands on his shoulders, drew courag
e from his strength, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Then she drew back and looked him in the eye. “We should have had the time alone together that you wanted. We’ll have that time, but I don’t need it to see all of you, to see you.”

  His hands flexed on her waist, large hands, powerful and gentle.

  “I love you, Steve, and I love that I’m the person you trust to see all of you. I won’t flinch and I won’t get confused. My heart knows you.”

  His hands tightened. “Stop talking.”

  “Make me.”

  Fay’s smile dared him to ravish her.

  “You have no idea what you’ve unleashed, sweetheart.” His voice was little more than a growl, blood thundering in his ears. She’d uncovered his fear so gently and truly, and answered with her own innate generosity. “I have to have you.”

  “In the chair?” Her smile was in her voice as she kissed his jaw. She was learning to be adventurous about sex.

  He tilted his head, capturing her mouth. He thrust his tongue in, no smooth moves, just wanting to drown in her flavor. He slid both hands up from her waist, squeezing her breasts, growling as her knees collapsed and the heat of her settled over him. He wanted her here, immediately, but he also needed more control. He needed to be the dominant partner this time, the one setting a pounding pace.

  She moved, rubbing against him.

  He tore at her shirt, hauled her up as he pushed down a bra cup and sucked, no preliminaries, hard on her left breast. Her parted legs stretched the fabric of her trousers. He put his palm there, where she was hot and dampening, and pressed. He loved the sound she made, high and hungry, as desperate as he felt.

  “Let me get these off,” she panted. He released her and she scrambled up, legs shaky, unzipping and pushing down trousers and knickers at once. Swearing and using magic to kick off her boots.

  “Bed.” He kicked off his own boots, unbuckled.

  She dropped her torn shirt and bra on the way to the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, blocking her entrance, gripping the frame. She was naked. He had his shirt open, trousers unzipped.

  They stared at one another, breathing fast, her breasts swollen, nipples hard. He could smell her arousal. He half-smiled, daring her.

  She put her hands either side of his face, plastered her body to his, and slowly dragged her hands down his throat, over his chest. She rested her face against his stomach as she sent her hands lower, lower yet, skimming down his thighs and back on a return journey.

  He trapped one hand inside his trousers, guiding it to shape and tease him. She licked his stomach, surprising him. He picked her up, game time over and lowered her onto the bed. She edged to the middle of the mattress as he finished undressing, putting on a condom because he was achingly ready.

  He kissed her, keeping himself back a fraction, wanting her arousal to peak.

  “Foreplay later,” she muttered against his mouth, and using a wrestling move, had him down and on his back.

  He rolled them over and she laughed silently up at him, even as her legs locked around him.

  “You think you’ve got what you want?” he asked.

  “Nearly.” She rippled beneath him in a sensuous shiver. “Give me everything.”

  He did.

  They’d made love before, passionately, but he’d always been aware that it was all new to her. That she’d trusted him with her body and self, her first—and he swore—last lover.

  This time he needed to give her the wildness in him. Anything less would be an insult to her courage and his, and to the love that bound them. So he let himself get drunk on the scent and taste of her, on the heat of her body and her demands, verbal and physical, for satisfaction.

  He drove into her with all his power and shuddered at her answering urgency, as if she couldn’t take him deep enough, couldn’t suffer enough pleasure, couldn’t give enough. She had a hand in his hair, hurting as she writhed and fought for more. He wanted more, too. Words were far gone. There were only noises, their breathing, the sounds of bodies in near agony.

  And she was there, climaxing, beautiful, all of his dreams and hopes and a sure hold against fear. He let go of his own control, shouting her name.

  Silence crept back into the bedroom. Their heartbeats slowed, their breathing evened out. He slid unwillingly from her body.

  Her sleepy voice halted him. “In case you ever wonder who you are, in the heart of you, Steve Jekyll.”

  He waited.

  She rolled up on one elbow, bent and kissed his chest, over his heart. “You’re mine.”

  Chapter 6

  Over breakfast, Fay learned that Steve had identified the female were from North Carolina.

  “There aren’t that many lone wolves, especially female ones. Barbara Winnet lives in a small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I don’t know much more than that since I didn’t want to ask questions at the fort and she doesn’t seem to have much of a cyberprint online.”

  “So how did the rogue mage identify her?” Fay paused in eating her microwaved oatmeal.

  Steve sat opposite her with bacon and sausages he’d found in the freezer and fried up, and toast from a frozen loaf of whole-wheat bread.

  There was a relaxed quality to the morning. No, a contentment. Fay hugged the feeling to her.

  As much as she loved Steve, she’d worried that she’d somehow mess things up by her lack of relationship experience. To learn that he’d been just as unsure, if for different reasons, reassured her. She had a new confidence. They’d met their first relationship challenge and it hadn’t destroyed them. In fact, it had deepened their understanding of what they were building. They were equal partners, each providing something the other needed, making them whole.

  Perhaps their fortnight alone together at his villa would have achieved the same result, but maybe not. Steve would have controlled how he revealed himself to her. He was a strong, proud man. He wouldn’t have shown her his vulnerability, that hidden hope and fear that she saw and accepted all of him.

  Had Uncle purposely and wisely forced the pace?

  She’d suspected the djinn cared for Steve’s grandfather, but maybe Uncle cared for Steve, too? It wasn’t an assumption to rely on. The djinn could care and still set Steve up for a fall. The djinni were capricious.

  “There’s a private airport we can fly into,” Steve said. “Then it’s a forty minute drive to Barbara Winnet’s house. The were who owns the airport—Gordon Forde, the wolf alpha—will lend us a car. Depending on what we find there, we’ll either pass responsibility for Barbara’s safety to him or bring her with us back to Alexandria—even if I have to tranquilize her to do so.” He paused. “If I was Suzerain, I could force her to change into her animal form. As it is, we’ll have to transport an unconscious woman.”

  “I can hide her,” Fay said. “The magic affects the world around her, not her, herself, so the fact that she’s a were doesn’t cancel its effect. I’m going to do some reading on the plane about dream essences. The concept isn’t covered in Collegium training. Or rather, I think it might be tangentially addressed under astral projection, but mages tend to dismiss astral projection as New Age nonsense.”

  “Why astral projection?”

  “It’s the only part of my studies that mentioned a ‘dream self’. There might be something in the method of separating that dream self from the sleeping body that will help me understand the Ancient Egyptian spell and how the rogue mage has used it.”

  Steve topped up their coffee mugs. “If I can help, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll clear my emails. Judging by the couple I skimmed, the family has heard that Uncle’s testing me and they want to help.”

  “Can they? What are the rules of a test?”

  “No rules. But if they don’t know that a rogue mage is stealing dream essences, I’d rather keep it that way. It only takes one slip of the tongue to start a panic.”

  Fay stared at him, slowly lowering her mug. “I hadn’t considered…” His grim tone triggered an avalanche
of understanding. “If weres begin fearing mages, they’ll attack.”

  “And be punished under were law,” Steve said. “But by then, it would be too late. Mages would retaliate.”

  She stared at him, stunned. The situation was so ordinary: a man and a woman, sharing breakfast. But looked at another way, it was rare: a were and a mage, trusting one another.

  Mages and weres had always gotten along by ignoring one another. Unaffected by magic, the weres went their own way in the supernatural community, while mages studied and collaborated with other magic users. But if mutual suspicion and fear replaced the existing disdain…the bloodbath would destabilize the world order. Were and mages operated at every level of society and were tightly embedded in it.

  “Do you think Uncle knows the identity of the rogue mage?” Fay asked.

  “Since we can’t compel him to answer the question, it’ll only drive you crazy wondering if he could.”

  “So we’re on our own.”

  “Except that Uncle might meddle, anyway.”

  “Great. I wonder if there’s a spell for containing djinni?” she muttered.

  “I’ll buy you a brass lamp.”

  Four hours later, coming in to land in North Carolina, Fay magicked the last reference book back to the Collegium library and groaned. She could use three wishes about now.

  Studying the research on astral projection hadn’t told her much.

  It was shamanism, which a lot of mages tended to look down on as little more than wishing. Primitive magic.

  Fay had met shamans who could summon, control and banish demons. That was not minor magic. But she realized she’d been a bit snobby about their power, too. She’d dismissed it as will-based magic; requiring less learning.

  Shamans studied their whole lives, and generally, inherited a code. That code distilled the expected behaviors to maintain their world, as they saw the world.

  There was her stumbling block. Astral projection, described within a shamanic world view, required the interpreter to understand it in context. Without the context…Fay rubbed at her forehead. There were three key aspects.