She thought of Devin. His sandy blond hair and devastating smile. He definitely didn’t see her as desirable, even though she’d had a crush on him forever. He saw her as any other girl in the office. And that chapped Mira’s ass more than anything.
The woman smoothed her hands over the box. Seemed to debate…something. Just when Mira was sure the woman was going to boot her out of the building, she said, “The opal’s power is not to be underestimated. It will burn through you, tempt you, and if you are not careful, it has the power to destroy you.”
Mira didn’t like the way that sounded. Claudette hadn’t said anything about being destroyed. She’d simply said the opal had the power to grant wishes.
The woman opened the box and extracted a silver chain before Mira could ask what she meant. A tear-shaped fire opal, alive with red and orange hues and edged in silver, hung from the bottom of the chain. Light from the opal seemed to glow throughout the room, sending shimmering ribbons of color across the walls. Mira’s eyes widened. The woman held it out to her, and before Mira could stop herself, her fingers were brushing the stone, its warmth searing her skin.
“When you leave here, put this around your neck,” the woman told her. “Once you make your wish, do not try to remove it. You will not be able to until your wish is fulfilled. But heed my warning: Choosing to wear the Firebrand opal opens yourself to consequences you may not yet foresee. Be sure it is a risk you are willing to take.”
Mira held the opal in the palm of her hand, stared down at the red and orange colors dancing like fire as her entire arm warmed. Though the woman’s warning made her pause, the longer she stared at the opal, the less worried she grew.
She’d never seen anything so beautiful. Couldn’t seem to look away from the stone. An uncontrollable urge to keep it with her…always...consumed her. “Wh-what happens to it when my wish is fulfilled?”
“The opal will find its way into the hands of another. That is all you need to know.” The woman rose as if in a hurry. With the box tucked under one arm, she gestured toward the curtain. “Now go. And do not put the talisman on until you are far from my store. I’ll not have its magic unleashed here.”
In a fog, Mira found her feet. She was still having trouble looking away from the stone. When the woman pushed her toward the curtain and out into the store, though, Mira finally snapped out of her trance and tucked the opal into the pocket of her jacket. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? That doesn’t seem right. This necklace has to be worth something.”
The woman’s silver eyes narrowed once more. “You will discover its price soon enough.”
Before Mira could ask what that meant, the woman disappeared through the curtains, and a chilling silence settled over the shop.
CHAPTER TWO
Mira bit her lip as she stared at the opal laid out on her kitchen table an hour later. It wasn’t glowing anymore, and looking at it now, she was pretty sure she’d imagined that to begin with. The thing was nothing but a pretty necklace, really. A trinket.
And yet, she couldn’t get the shop owner’s warning out of her head. Choosing to wear the Firebrand opens yourself to consequences you may not yet foresee. Be sure it is a risk you are willing to take.
She pushed out of her chair, went into the kitchen, made herself a cup of tea. On the street below, cars honked in the Pearl District of downtown Portland. She should be at work, but she’d taken the afternoon off after visiting that shop, and she knew there was no way she could work from home right now. Not when the opal was all she could think about.
The microwave beeped. She pulled the steaming cup out, dropped the tea bag inside. Looked back at the necklace on the table and tried to think logically.
What consequences? What kind of magic did it really have…if any? Mira had a degree. For a while in school, she’d been pre-med. She knew all about the placebo effect. About sugar pills tricking patients into thinking they were receiving medications that were helping them. In her head she didn’t doubt this necklace was the same sort of mirage. If someone who wore it believed it had power, it gave them a confidence they wouldn’t otherwise have.
She blew on her tea. Winced when her subconscious said, Okay, then why did you go all the way down to that shop? And why do you now have the gemstone?
She brought the tea back to the table. Didn’t sit but stared down at the necklace as she debated her choices. Just because she was aware of something didn’t mean she wasn’t open to trying it. After all, she was also “aware” that the power of persuasion was a big one. And she wanted Devin. Had wanted him for a while now. She’d finally just reached a point where she was tired of waiting for him to realize she was his perfect match. If wearing this silly necklace somehow gave her the confidence to take things with him beyond friendship, then she was willing to give it a try—whether it had real power or not.
She set her tea on the table, lifted the necklace. And told herself to stop being such a pansy. As she slipped the chain around her throat and closed the clasp, then brushed her fingers across the opal nestled just above her cleavage, she reminded herself that she was a smart woman. A successful architect. She wasn’t desperate. She didn’t need a man to complete her, but she wanted one. And if this didn’t work, well, it wasn’t the end of her world. Nothing bad was going to happen, as that shopkeeper had cryptically led her to believe.
“Your wish, my command.”
Mira whipped around at the sound of the deep voice and stared through the archway at the man standing in the middle of her living room. Fear raced through her chest. She took one step back toward the kitchen counter behind her and the knife block she knew was there. “Wh-who are you, and how did you get into my apartment?”
A slow, mesmerizing smile slinked across his deeply tanned face. “My name is Tariq. And you wished for me. That is how I came to be.”
Mira’s heart pounded so hard beneath her ribs, she was sure he had to hear it. She bumped into the counter, inched her hand backward until her fingers knocked into the knife block. “I—I didn’t call for anyone. Leave. Now. Or I will call the cops.”
His gaze dropped from her face to her chest. “Did you not put on the necklace?” He stepped into the kitchen, and Mira’s eyes widened when she took a good look at him in the light streaming through her kitchen window. Shoulder-length dark hair, ebony eyes, a strong, square jaw covered in a dusting of scruff, and a body sporting jeans and a light blue T-shirt that didn’t hide the fact it looked as if it were carved from marble. “Azizity, I am from the opal.”
Holy hell, the guy was psycho. Mira stared at him with wide eyes. He didn’t make another move toward her, only stared back with a knowing and heated expression, one that, for reasons she couldn’t explain, shot warmth straight to her center.
No way this was real. She glanced past him to the door, which was still locked, the chain exactly where she’d left it when she’d come home, then to the windows that didn’t show any evidence of having been opened.
“What…? How…?”
“Have you ever heard of a race known as djinn?”
Mira’s eyes grew even wider as they swept back to him. “As in Arabic folklore? Are you saying you’re a genie?”
Correction, not just psycho. This guy was off the flippin’ charts insane.
“Folklore to humans,” he said with only the slightest narrowing of his fathomless eyes. “And genie is such a derogatory word.”
She looked around again, knowing she was either about to get sliced and diced by some escaped mass murderer, or that she was hallucinating. Big-time.
She had to be hallucinating. “I—I don’t see a lamp.”
One corner of his lips turned up in amusement. “We don’t use lamps. Another myth.” He took one small step closer to her, and even from across the distance, she felt the heat of his body stir the air around her. “I am Tariq from the Marid tribe and the Kingdom of Gannah. And I am here to fulfill your wish.”
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Tariq waited for the woman to say something—anything—but she only continued to stare at him with those unbelieving eyes. Eyes that were a unique mix of green and brown, rimmed in gold.
As those pretty eyes grew wider and she still didn’t say anything, he fought from frowning. She had summoned him, dammit. She was the one who had gone looking for the Firebrand opal, and now she was standing stock-still before him as if she’d seen a ghost? He would never understand humans. They wished for things they didn’t want, and then when they had them, they wished for something else.
Bile churned in his stomach over the fact he was being forced to do this yet again, but he reminded himself what was at stake here. For his brothers, he would seduce again. As many times as he had to until they were both free. This one wouldn’t be a total hardship, he realized as he took in the strawberry-blond hair that fell to her shoulders, the high cheekbones, the small mouth, and seductive mole just to the right of her lips. But he’d done this too many times during the long years of his imprisonment to be anything more than only slightly intrigued by the woman in front of him. And until she cooperated and stopped looking at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, he couldn’t get this thing started then finished so he could focus on a plan to destroy Zoraida for good.
“Azizity?” he asked, careful not to touch her, at least not yet. “Are you all right?”
“I—” Her gaze raced over his features; then her face paled, and her eyes rolled back in her head just before her whole body went limp.
“Humans.” Tariq wrapped his arms around her before she hit the counter and fell to the floor. The scent of peaches assailed his nostrils. Smooth skin and sensuous curves filled his hands as he lifted her into his arms. She was lighter than he thought but still deadweight against him as he carried her into the living room and laid her out on the couch.
No, he would definitely never understand this race. Even with the shock he was used to seeing on their faces when he first appeared, he’d never had one pass out on him.
He wasn’t sure what to do, so he went back into the kitchen, grabbed a towel from the drawer, and ran it under a stream of warm water. After ringing it out, he came back to the living room and sat on the edge of the couch next to her.
Soft waves fell across her cheeks. He brushed them back, felt the satiny strands against his fingers, and marveled at the contrast between his dark flesh and her much paler skin tone. Long lashes feathered the skin beneath her eyes, making her look almost angelic. And her mouth—plump and pink—drew his attention. A mouth he would soon be taking, soon be licking, soon be tasting.
A wicked shot of heat rolled through his groin. A dark desire he usually had to work to conjure. But this came suddenly, without force, without the magic he always needed to become aroused. The realization caught him off guard more than the fact she’d passed out on him.
It would make things easier, he told himself. It didn’t mean anything. Pushing the thoughts aside, he ran the damp towel along her forehead. “Wake up, azizity. I’m not here to hurt you, only to pleasure you with your wish.”
And corrupt your soul to feed the immortality of one evil sorceress.
He ignored that thought too. Dwelling on it would get him nowhere. And he was as much a victim in this as she was. More so, because she’d asked for it.
Slowly, her head rolled to the side, the muscles around her eyes tightened; then she blinked several times before opening those mesmerizing eyes and looking up at him. It took several seconds before recognition dawned, but when it did, her eyes flew wide all over again. She pushed up on her arms and scrambled back into the corner of the couch. “Oh my God.”
“Relax, azizity. All is well.”
Her gaze shot from him to the kitchen and back again. “I wasn’t hallucinating.”
He chuckled. He sorta liked this human. Even with her odd reactions. “No, you most certainly were not.”
“I… You… This…”
Still scared, he realized. There was only one way to fix that. Even though it was a risk, he sensed unless he took this chance, they were going to circle around each other and never get down to business. And that wouldn’t help his brothers.
“Listen to me, azizity. You have the power here. I have none. I’ll show you. Brush your fingers over the opal at your chest.” When she only continued to stare at him, he added, “Go on. Nothing bad will happen. I promise.”
Cautiously, she brought her fingers toward the opal, then touched it gently, caressing the stone in such a way he felt the vibration in the very center of his chest.
Which was weird. Because even though he was bound to the stone, he wasn’t connected to it physically.
Before he could ponder what that meant, he was flying across time and space, then materializing back where he’d started.
Sunshine-laden walls and comfy feminine furnishings gave way to drab gray, cold stone, and iron bars. The guard outside his cell whipped around when he heard Tariq appear, narrowed his eyes, and shot a look toward the chains in the wall.
Contempt brewed in Tariq’s chest. Even in his cell, they didn’t trust him. Not after he’d attacked Zoraida’s guards upon return from his last assignment. And this guard had to realize he was back sooner than anticipated, which meant he’d failed.
Hopefully not. Hopefully his assignment possessed that human characteristic that made his job possible, even if she was different from all the rest.
Curiosity.
The guard took a step toward the door, his jaw hardening. Metal clanged as he pulled the sword from the sheath at his hip. But before he could get the key in the lock, Tariq was flying again.
Relief whipped through him. As awful as it was to be forced against his will, spending time with the woman was a thousand times better than being locked in that cell. Or punished.
He materialized again in the middle of her living room. She was sitting up on the couch, her eyes still wide, a lock of hair brushing her cheek. But like he’d hoped, her fingers were once again brushing the opal near her breasts.
“Where…where did you go?” she asked.
“To my world,” he answered, not moving from his spot. Not yet. He didn’t want to do anything to spook her. “My realm exists on another plane. The opal is the doorway through which I cross. And you, azizity, are the key master who either summons or sends me back.”
“Whoa.” She pressed a hand to her head. “I feel like I’ve fallen into a twisted version of the Ghostbusters Only I don’t remember any of the actors looking like you.”
He chuckled again. Because her reactions were not at all what he expected. “You seem surprised by this. Were you not instructed in what to expect from the Firebrand?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” She raked a hand through her long hair, the soft strands falling against her cheeks and shoulders like waves of silk. “I mean”—she looked up at him—”all I knew was that the opal had power. That it could make wishes come true. Not that it housed a gen—” Her cheeks brightened. “I mean…you.”
Shocked and cautious but observant. Another interesting reaction. “And now that you know, do you wish you’d made a different choice?”
“I don’t know. How does this work? You’re djinn. Isn’t that like…a demon?”
Add smart to her list of attributes. He sat on the ottoman of a nearby plush chair. “Djinn are as old as angels. We are spiritual beings who take on solid form. Like humans, some are good, some are evil, and still some are benevolent. My brothers and I hail from the Marid tribe. We are the most powerful djinn, but we are also the ones you want on your side.”
“Do other djinn…besides you…cross into the human world?”
“Yes. Frequently. Many are fascinated with human behavior. They camouflage themselves, allowing them to remain unseen as they cause trouble. As spirits, it’s easy to influence humans to do one thing over another. Think of it like the devil sitting on your shoulder, whispering in your ear. You can’t hear him, but he’s there.??
?
“Well, that’s comforting,” she mumbled, glancing toward the floor.
He smiled again. He did like this human. He normally didn’t feel compelled to give this much information, but she was truly interested, and he also sensed without it, they’d never be able to move on. “Some of us don’t relish causing havoc. We grant wishes. Which, you have to agree, is a good thing.”
Her eyes slid to his, and he saw the hesitation in their hazel depths. And for the first time in all the years he’d been doing this, a shot of guilt spiraled through his stomach.
“So how does it work?” she asked. “The wish? Do I tell you what I want and that’s it?”
Guilt was replaced with another wave of heat rolling through his groin. A heat that was again a surprise. “Yes, azizity. Your wish is my command.”
He knew what was coming. Some twisted female fantasy where she had all the control and he was forced to pleasure her in whatever perverse way she wanted. The scenes changed from woman to woman—sometimes he was ordered to act as a Viking, other times a soldier, even others a pool boy—but the end result was always the same. He did whatever, wherever, and however they wanted. No matter how humiliating it may be for him.
Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked back down at the carpet again, twisting her fingers together. “Oh.”
As he sat in silence, waiting, he couldn’t help but be taken aback by her reaction. Why wasn’t she telling him what to do? Why wasn’t she already commanding him? Her embarrassment was so different from the other females who had summoned him. By this point, most were already naked, laid back like an offering, waiting for him to get on with it. And yet she sat across from him, embarrassed by what she wanted.
“There’s nothing to be apprehensive about, azizity. I am yours to command.”
Her eyes grew wide just before she covered them with her hands. “Oh, boy,” she mumbled. “This is so not what I was expecting.”