Bound to Seduction (3 page)

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.”

* * *

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.”

Heat
arced through his pelvis again, and this time…the thought of acting
out those fantasies didn’t turn his stomach. In fact, thinking
about acting them out with
her
excited him in a way that left him feeling the slightest
bit…confused.

“
Fear
not,
azizity
. Tell me
your wish, and we will commence at your speed. For however long it
takes until you are thoroughly satisfied.”

She
dropped her hands into her lap. Frowned. “Why do you keep calling
me that?
Azizity
?”

“It’s a term of endearment where I’m from.
It means ‘my darling.’”

Her frown deepened. “I’d rather you call me
by my name. Mira. Mira Dawson.”

“Mira,” he said slowly. “It is an old name.
Latin. It means peace.” Interesting. Since he couldn’t remember the
last time he’d had any kind of peace. Not that it mattered, since
he was a slave. He pushed the thought aside. “I am Tariq.”

They stared at each other across the room
long seconds. And he sensed she wanted to rise, to cross to him,
but didn’t know how. It was his job to push her. To influence her
thoughts and actions so Zoraida could feed from her soul’s
corruption. But somehow he knew if he pushed, this one would back
far away. And there was no telling how long it would be until the
Firebrand opal fell into another’s hands. Time his brothers just
didn’t have.

Reluctantly, he pushed to his feet. This
action would enrage Zoraida, but in the long run, he hoped it would
pay off. “Think about what you want, Mira. And when you are ready,
summon me back.”