The red haze slowly cleared from Ashur’s vision and a sense of purpose pulsed through him. Pleasing Zoraida was the only thing he cared about anymore. None from his father’s kingdom had searched for him after he’d disappeared. No one had tried to save Nasir from the Pits of Jahannam, where he’d died. Zoraida, on the other hand, took care of those who lived up to her expectations. He saw it every day in the faces of those around him. It was the rebels she punished. Those like Tariq, who were selfish and defiant and refused to give in to her will. And in their stupidity, they missed out on the most important things. In her service, there was no pain. Only riches, power, and more pleasure than any djinni could hope to find.
He rose from the side of the bed where he’d been kneeling and watched Nuha tie the robe at her waist, her dark hair falling down her back like a river of black silk. His desire was still strong, but more than anything, he just wanted Zoraida to show the fuck up so he could get on with that pleasuring. And forget, once and for all, a life he’d never go back to.
A knock sounded at the door, and Nuha said, “Enter.”
The door pushed open, and a guard stepped into the room, his armor clinking as he moved. But it was his expression that caught Ashur’s attention. Pale face. Wide eyes. A Holy Allah look that said something big had happened. “Lady Nuha. I was sent to fetch you. She’s back. The mistress has returned.”
Nuha’s head came up, and her own eyes went wide. “Where? When? Have you seen her?”
“Just now, my lady. Downstairs. In the great hall. She’s back, and she wants you and the pleasure slave. Right away.”
Ashur’s pulse picked up speed as Nuha quickly stepped into her slippers. At his throat, the fire opal he wore grew warm.
“Come, slave,” Nuha said, moving for the door. “And hurry.”
Ashur followed Nuha out into the hall. Candles from sconces on the walls lit the corridor. His bare feet passed over stone as they moved. Zoraida’s compound was hidden in the mountains of the djinn realm—where, Ashur wasn’t entirely sure, but it was always cold here. Memories of his time in the dungeons flashed in his mind as they descended steps toward the main level, and his nerves shot up at the prospect of seeing Zoraida again. The last time they’d been face-to-face, she’d been ordering his torture, all in an attempt to get Tariq to do her will. Would she send Ashur back to the dungeons, or would she see what he’d become since her absence?
Smooth marble caressed the soles of his feet as they reached the main level. Ahead, double doors were parted to reveal an eerie orange light.
“This way,” Nuha said. “Quickly. We mustn’t keep her waiting.”
His pulse pounded as they reached the doors. The guard pushed them wide, then stood back to let them enter. Across the room, a fire roared in the enormous stone fireplace, and a female dressed in a black gown with pale blonde hair falling down her back paced in front of its warmth.
She turned when she heard them, and her icy gaze landed on Ashur. “He’s not bound.”
No, how are you? No, You look well. Ashur swallowed hard, unsure of what to expect.
“No, sayyeda,” Nuha answered, folding her hands in front of her in respect. “The djinni has learned much in your absence. I think you will be most pleasantly surprised. He’s my best pupil.”
“Bring him to me.”
Nuha stepped aside and held out her hand, indicating he should move forward, but before Ashur could, he caught the look in her eyes. The one that said, don’t fuck this up.
His heart beat faster. Hesitantly, he moved forward. When he was a foot from Zoraida, he stopped and drew in a breath that smelled like…roses.
She was tall—almost as tall as he—but it was her beauty that grabbed his attention with the strength of a vise. Milk-white skin, flawless features, lips made for tasting and a body that looked as if it had been created solely for sin. Even with circles under her eyes, indicating the length of her journey, she was beautiful. His gaze landed on her abundant cleavage in the dark gown, and the desire he’d been denied reignited in his veins.
Zoraida’s blue eyes searched his features, then ran down the length of his bare chest and finally held on the cotton pants tied low at his hips. Without a word, she circled him, and Ashur’s pulse skipped while she inspected him from every angle. When she was finally facing him again, she reached out and cupped his groin. “You’re hard, djinni.”
The shock of her touch made him draw a breath. He wasn’t fully hard, but he could be. He wanted to be. “Yes, sayyeda.”
“Your brother was never hard for me.”
No, Tariq was never anything anyone wanted him to be. “Yes, sayyeda.”
Zoraida’s eyes narrowed as she studied his face, but her hand didn’t move. He sensed this was a test, and he wanted to pass. Needed to. He willed himself to grow harder but as the seconds ticked by nothing happened. If she’d just move her hand…
As quickly as she’d grasped him, Zoraida let go. Looking over his shoulder toward Nuha, she said, “What is his level of training?”
“Level four, sayyeda. He’s been an exemplary pupil. A very fast learner. Eager to please.”
“Eager to please,” Zoraida muttered, looking back at him. “And what of his…defiance?”
“There is none.”
“I find that hard to believe, considering the lengths his brother went to defy me.” Her expression hardened. “It is because of him I was trapped these last few months.”
Ashur swallowed hard. Fucking Tariq…
“He has not shown even the slightest resemblance to your last pleasure slave, sayyeda,” Nuha said. “In fact, his work ethic has been so strong, he’s moved ahead of all the others currently in training.”
“Ahead of all the rest?” Zoraida asked, still not looking away from Ashur’s eyes. “Tell me, slave, do you not seek to destroy me, as your brothers did?”
It was the question he’d known would come. Ashur’s pulse skyrocketed.
“Answer me,” Zoraida snapped.
He thought of Nasir. Dead in the pits. And Tariq living life as a human without a fucking care. And finally, of his kingdom, which didn’t give a flying rat’s ass about him. The last remaining prince of Gannah.
Anger brewed hot, but he tamped it down, knowing control would be his savior. He’d learned that here the last few months. Thrived on it. “I am not my brothers.”
Zoraida’s gaze raked his features. She was trying to decide if he was telling the truth or lying. His pulse pounded hard. If she sent him back to the dungeons…
“That remains to be seen,” she finally answered. “Tell me, slave. What is your purpose?”
“To serve you, sayyeda. That is my only desire.”
Her gaze dropped to the fire opal resting at the base of his throat. “And if I asked you to kill your brother in the human realm to prove your loyalty… What would you say to that?”
Kill Tariq? No, he couldn’t. He…
Behind him, Nuha coughed. And a visual of the image he’d been shown months ago flashed in his mind. Of Nasir dying in the pits. And of Tariq, smiling and laughing in the human realm with the woman he’d betrayed them for.
He clenched his hands into fists, and the fury born into his tribe from the beginning of time flared hot and bright. “My brother deserves to die. If my sayyeda commanded it, I would do her will. Gladly.”
Surprise rushed over Zoraida’s face, and she looked over his shoulder toward Nuha. “No brotherly love for Tariq?”
Ashur ground his teeth. “None. I want Tariq to suffer.”
A smile spread across Zoraida’s face, one that made her even more beautiful. “I want Tariq to suffer for what he did to me too. But first, I have a more important task for you.”
More important than revenge? Ashur’s brow dropped low, but he knew better than to ask.
Zoraida stepped back, and for the first time, he noticed how her fragility. As if the journey had robbed her of sleep. The circles under her eyes seemed darker now, her shoulders n
ot as proud. As he studied her, he wondered what she’d meant when she’d said she’d been trapped.
“Before we deal with Tariq,” she said, “I need a soul.”
Excitement burst beneath Ashur’s ribs, overriding his need for revenge. That meant he was finally going to be sent to the human realm to corrupt a soul, which would fuel Zoraida’s immortality and make her stronger.
“As you wish, sayyeda,” he said. “I am here only to do your will.”
“We shall see,” she muttered. “Though you say you want revenge, I fear the blood of your tribe is still strong.”
Panic set in. “No, sayyeda. I—”
“So we’re going to consider this your test, djinni,” she went on. “Shortly, you will be called upon by a human female. Pleasure her in each and every way she requests. And corrupt her soul for my glory. When you are done, if you’ve succeeded with no complications, you will have that revenge we both so eagerly seek. If you fail…” Her expression hardened, and those eyes that had seemed bright and oh-so alluring before turned to hard, icy chips of glass. “I will send you to the Pits of Jahannam, just like Nasir. And you will know pain like you’ve never imagined. Are we clear?”
Pain versus pleasure? That wasn’t even a question. He bowed. “Yes, sayyeda. Your wish is my command.”
CHAPTER TWO
Stop stalling…and get on with that seduction.
Claire’s pulse skipped as Sura’s words echoed in her mind. Her friend had told her which atoll the bottle had washed up on in the Marshall Islands, but it had taken Claire a good two weeks of searching the beaches to locate the bottle herself.
Now, with the firebrand opal sparkling under the late afternoon sun, the chain of the necklace falling through her fingers, all Claire could think about was the fact this necklace was linked to a djinni in another realm. A thrill rushed through her when she imagined him wearing one just like it, followed by a gut-twisting shot of nervousness.
Angels and djinn were not encouraged to interact. It was a rule of her order she’d not bothered to question before. Now though… Now she couldn’t help but wonder why.
Palms swayed overhead as she ran her fingers along the smooth stone, alive with reds and yellows and oranges. Waves lapped gently against the shore and the white sand was warm beneath her body, but a chill still spread through Claire.
Opening the bottle had been uneventful. She’d expected some cataclysmic event, but the ground hadn’t even rumbled. All she’d felt was a whoosh of air, almost like a sigh, and then the amulet had fallen into her hand.
The sorceress was now back in the djinn realm. Claire knew opening the bottle had freed her. But if the laws of the cosmos held true, Zoraida couldn’t cross to the human world until the soul of the one who wore the opal was corrupted. Only then could she come here and take Claire’s soul. And Claire had no intention of letting that happen.
It’s all up to you…
Before any djinn could corrupt her and make her lose all focus except for pleasure, she planned to do exactly what Sura had guessed. She’d seduce him, convince him to take her back to his world, and then she’d find the other opals and set herself free.
Of course, for that to happen, Claire had to put the damn necklace on.
Her skin grew hot, and all kinds of erotic images popped into her mind. Things she’d read in books and seen in videos in the hopes of figuring out what a pleasure slave would expect a human to fantasize about. She had to admit, she’d been shocked. All the popular romance novels seemed to focus on bondage and multiple partners and sex, sex, sex. Was that what human women wanted? Was that what a pleasure slave would expect her to want? Though she had to admit some part of what she’d read excited her, she didn’t understand it, nor was she sure she could go through with any of it. She’d tried sex a few times, just after she’d been banished—mostly because she’d been curious about a temptation that got so many humans in trouble—but it hadn’t been anything like she’d read. Either she’d done it wrong or she just couldn’t be pleasured. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to enjoy sex until the opals were finally destroyed.
That thought didn’t ease her anxiety. She chewed on her lip, gazed down at the opal, and tried to think logically. She wasn’t as unintelligent as the High Seven thought. If anything, she’d discovered just how smart she was since becoming mortal. And even with the myriad emotions running through her, she’d think this through and come out the winner in the end. Because it was the only thing she could do.
So stop stalling and get on with it…
She clasped the necklace at her nape before she could change her mind. If she couldn’t enjoy sex, she’d fake it. The pleasure slave bound to this necklace was djinn. He was ruled by his own desires. He’d probably never know the difference.
She drew a deep breath and traced her fingers over the opal as she stared out at the rolling waves and the warm turquoise water of the private lagoon. She’d rented this small hut on purpose. So that whatever happened would be shielded from any prying human eyes. Only about fifty people lived on this atoll—most congregated near the one main village —but still, the last thing she needed to do was expose a djinni to human eyes. If she did, no doubt the High Seven would think of a new torturous punishment for her.
“Come to me,” she whispered. “Fulfill my desire.”
“Your wish, my command,” a voice echoed at her back.
Shit, that was fast. Claire whipped around and squinted up at the shadowy figure. He was tall, but with the sun shining at his back, she couldn’t see much else. His voice though… Just the sound of the deep, raspy tones sent a thrill through her entire body.
Which was just downright weird.
She pushed to her feet and faced him. He had shoulder-length dark hair. Tanned skin. Chiseled muscles covered in nothing but lightweight cotton pants. And his face… Her stomach tightened at the strong jaw, lush lips, and piercing black eyes staring back at her.
His master obviously knew how to make a mortal weak in the knees. She’d sent not just a pleasure slave but a pleasure god.
Heat burned Claire’s cheeks, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her khaki shorts, feeling suddenly…nervous. She should have done something with her hair. She’d let the unruly curls dry on their own, and she hadn’t even run a brush through them yet. At least she’d left the nerdy glasses in her hut.
“Um, hi. I’m Claire.”
That was smooth.
One side of his mouth curled, and oh lovely, he had dents in his face. Really sexy, dents that sent flutters all through her belly. “Claire,” he breathed. “A very beautiful name for a very beautiful woman.”
It was a line. A really bad line. One that should have made her roll her eyes but didn’t. Because all she could focus on was the way he said her name. As if his tongue were caressing the syllables. Which made her wonder…what would it feel like to be caressed by that tongue?
Tricky djinni. He was playing her. Messing with her head. Djinn had that power. She wasn’t about to fall for it. She straightened her shoulders. Remember who’s in control here.
She was. She couldn’t forget that. She gave herself a mental slap and squared her shoulders. “And what is your name? Or would you prefer I just call you djinni?”
The smile faded, and his brow wrinkled. “You know what I am.”
“Of course I do. Do you think I put the opal on and summoned you by accident?”
“I’m…not sure what to think. You are” —his gaze slid down her body— “not what I expected.”
Those nerves came back full force. He couldn’t possibly know what she was, could he?
No. He couldn’t. She tamped down the panic. She was banished. Her powers were bound. He couldn’t tell. No one could. Reminding herself of that fact, she realized he was hitting her with another line. The way he was studying every inch of her body, the heat in his stare… He wanted to put her on edge. And, dammit, she was. Her skin heated, and she couldn’t help but shift her weight. No human had ev
er looked at her like that. Like she was a meal he wanted to devour.
Think. Don’t let him manipulate you. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, took stock of what he was seeing. Definitely not perfection. When the High Seven had banished her to the human realm, they’d picked an unremarkably ordinary human body for her to serve out her punishment. Her legs were too long, her body straight instead of curvy like women should be, her breasts no more than mosquito bites, really. Normally, she didn’t care what she looked like, but suddenly she did. Suddenly, she wished she’d taken time to highlight her blue eyes—the only part of her body she truly liked—and put on a skirt instead of the shorts that made her look like a flamingo.
Which again, was just freaking weird. She never cared what she looked like. What was wrong with her?
She shook off the thought. “You still haven’t given me your name.”
“Curious,” he said. “I like that. My name is Ashur. And I have been sent to fulfill every one of your desires. ”
Ashur… Her entire body lit up like a firework.
She fought back the excitement and nerves that seemed to come out of nowhere and glanced around the small cove. Even though it was fairly secluded, that didn’t mean it was completely private. A road ran along the ridge, and every now and then, locals wandered this way to and from town.
She gestured toward her hut on the edge of the beach, surrounded by palms. “Why don’t we take this inside and then discuss the details of…”
The words trailed off as heat burned her cheeks all over again. She swallowed hard.
He chuckled. “Your pleasure? Yes, let’s. I’m as anxious to get started as you.”
The comment caught her off guard. He was anxious? Why?
She looked down at the hand he held out for her even as a tingling ignited in her belly and slinked lower. “Come, Claire. Let’s begin.”
Begin? Why did that word set warning bells off in her head?
And why, sweet Allah, didn’t she care?