Authors: Sara King
Alaskan Fury (29 page)
Fighting the urge to fling off
the hot arms he settled around her, Kaashifah whispered, “Tell me something,
‘Aqrab.”
The djinni moved above her and
she felt him looking down at her. “What?”
Eyes fixed on his chest because
she could not meet his gaze, she whispered “How many of my sisters do you think
survive?”
The djinni tensed above her.
“Honestly, mon Dhi’b?” After a pause, he ventured, “My wager is that you’re
one of the last.”
The last Fury. Of course she
would be expected to fulfill that role. And not once, but
dozens
of
times. Very quickly, Kaashifah’s world was crumbling around her. If she were
expected to produce more of her kind, she should find a human male, someone
whose blood could not overpower that of a Fury. And yet, when she tentatively
lifted her head to look into the djinni’s violet eyes, she could no more
imagine herself allowing another man to touch her than she could removing her
own intestines.
“You’ll have to bed me,” she
realized, in a spasm of horror.
The djinni tightened his grip,
pulling her back against his hot chest, wrapping the warmth of his arms around
her. “We’ll get there, mon Dhi’b.” He smoothed her play-tousled hair.
“Someday.”
Imelda was sitting up before
she’d even opened her eyes. All night, she had dreamed of angels battling, of
cities falling, of roads cracking and returning to the earth, of the slow,
wasting death of Man. She had not only watched, but her decisions, her every
thought
,
had been key, shifting the image this way or that. Each action, each
whisper
,
had become the basis of a kaleidoscope of events, the wings of a butterfly on
the tides of Fate.
God had given her a message.
Now, she needed, more than anything, to
know
.
She crawled out of bed, fully
dressed, not remembering how she had gotten there, not caring. She had to see
her Padre. She grabbed her pistol from the nightstand and tucked it into her
shoulder-holster. She was reaching for her boots when she felt the IV line
snap tight against where it had been taped to the back of her hand.
For a moment, Imelda just stared
down at it. Then she ripped it from her hand and went back to tugging on her
boots.
A moment later, she was standing,
rushing from the room, yanking open her door. A very worried-looking Jacquot
was pacing the hall outside, and when he saw her burst from the door, he
started. “You’re
awake
, ma mie?” As if the fact surprised him.
Deciding she probably didn’t want
to know why he was staring at her with the same pale, wide-eyed respect one
would give a ghost, she said, “What’s the status on the djinni?”
Blinking at her, he said, “The
djinni has not been found. We’re thinking he’s somewhere on the north side of
the Alaska Range, considering his speed and trajectory.”
“Good, stop looking.”
Jacquot’s brow dipped slightly.
“But Zenaida said…”
She made a dismissive wave,
cutting him off. “I don’t care what Zenaida said. The djinni is the least of
our concerns. We need to figure out why the wolf is going north. I want an
unmanned
surveillance drone sent to the Brooks Range. High-altitude. Inform the
technician it will not drop below thirty thousand feet.”
Jacquot frowned at her. “And
what should I tell her we’re looking for, Inquisitrice?”
Imelda took a deep breath and let
it out slowly. “Dragons.”
Both of the Frenchman’s eyebrows
went up. “Drag
ons
, Inquisitrice? As in, more than
one
?”
“Possibly,” Imelda said. “I have
nothing more than a hunch right now, but I’m guessing yes.”
Slowly, Jacquot said, “The Order
is not prepared for one dragon, Inquisitrice, much less many of them.”
“Which is why,” Imelda said,
“we’re going to find them, if they’re up there.” Glancing down the hall at the
door to the basement, she said, “The djinni can wait. Zenaida has enough on
her hands downstairs as it is. Right now, we need to figure out what we’re up
against.”
“Then the wolf…is a dragon?”
Jacquot asked.
Imelda remembered her dreams of
angels lighting the clouds afire with their wings and grimaced. “I don’t think
so, Jacquot. I think it might be worse.” She shook herself and gestured at
the hall. “Make haste. Like fools, we’ve already allowed the wolf to make it
across the Alaska Range. The worst territory is already behind them.”
“And,” Jacquot added, “once the
snow-machiners begin their treks north, they could simply steal their machines
and finish the journey.”
Imelda’s gut told her this wasn’t
the case. Not once had the djinni or the wolf tried to steal a boat or a
4-wheeler in their trek north, and in the six months of preparation for the
strike on the Sleeping Lady, Imelda had heard several neighbors comment that
the ‘young Arab’ seemed adverse to riding the 4-wheelers, instead ‘walking
everywhere she went to keep that lovely figure.’ Which made her wonder just
how old were the creatures they were dealing with. Either—the djinni by his
nature and the wolf by virtue of the Third Lander’s curse—could have easily
seen the time of Christ. If she was an
angel
, then only God knew how
old she could be. “I’m beginning to think,” Imelda said, shaking her head,
“that they have an aversion to machinery.” Then she laughed. “After all, why
carry a machine with you when you can walk the Void? You’d lose it the first
time you opened the veil.”
Jacquot crossed himself. “Such
things are unnatural.”
Imelda agreed with him, but was
too tired to open up that particular discussion with a man as devout as
Jacquot. “Go get the drones in the air. I want a report by this evening.”
“Uh, yes…” Jacquot hesitated.
“Actually, ma mie, I need to cancel your funeral preparations.”
“My funeral preparations.” She
raised an eyebrow at him and he coughed, his face flushing with embarrassment.
He fumbled with his cross,
looking acutely nervous. “The priest just left. He administered you the
Extreme Unction.”
Imelda raised a brow. “That was
a bit premature, wouldn’t you say?”
“You were dead for
minutes
,
Inquisidora,” Jacquot babbled, almost as if he would have preferred her to
still be abed, quite dead. “The doctors counted three different times where
you had no pulse.”
Imelda waved it off in disgust.
“I needed sleep, nothing more.”
Jacquot swallowed, fumbling with
his cross, and looked as if he planned to say something. Then he just nodded.
“Herr Drescher will be happy to see you awake. The imbecile has been drinking
himself stupid in the mess hall. Already refused the orders of a Père to
stop.” Turning abruptly, he strode off, his boots clicking smartly against the
hard linoleum.
Sighing, Imelda went to see the
German.
Thunderbird did not appear for
their nightly song, and after a long hour of waiting, ‘Aqrab turned away from
the cave entrance with a sigh. “Looks like he’s not coming.” After ten nights
of singing in a row, ‘Aqrab had come to look forward to entertaining the
First-Lander. Vain though he was, Thunderbird made an excellent audience.
Unlike some
other
First-Landers…
“How
horrible
,” his magus
said, right on cue. “I’ll be blessed with
silence
for a night.” She
stabbed a few more sticks onto the fire, still in a foul mood from falling into
a hidden glacial crevasse on the final leg of their journey through the Alaska
Range. He’d had to melt a hole in the ice to get her out, and she was still
drenched from the result. “What depravity do you have planned for me tonight,
djinni? Massage your back?
Bathe
you?”
‘Aqrab’s face twisted at the
latter. “No, I think I can do without that.”
She made a disgusted snort. “If
you say so.”
‘Aqrab crossed his arms in
consideration, grinning despite himself. “For that, I think you will massage
me
naked
, mon Dhi’b.”
She dropped the stick she was
poking into the fire, her face reddening like a pomegranate. “That is not
going to happen.”
‘Aqrab shrugged. “That’s what
you’ve said about the others, and yet you’ve done an excellent job of proving
yourself wrong.”
“
Bah-shi rejlee fee teezak
,
‘Aqrab!” she screamed at him, throwing a half-charred stick at his face.
‘Aqrab ducked it, grinning. “I
take it I’ll be eating dinner tonight alone, then? Smoked salmon—”
“Name your terms,” she growled,
violence searing back up at him from her pretty brown eyes. “Let’s get this
over with.”
He caught himself staring at
her. Just like that? She wasn’t even going to
argue
?
“What?” she demanded, when he could
only gawk at her.
Shaking himself, ‘Aqrab summoned
the Law of the Fourth Realm and said, “I, Yad al-‘Aqrab, sand-singer of the
Scorpion clan, firstborn son of Bakr al-Shihab, eleventh djinni Lord of the
Fourth Lands, hereby offer a bargain to you, Kaashifah the Fury, Handmaiden to
Ares, Warrior-Priestess of Horus, Angel of Vengeance, and Justice of the
Battlefields: Massage me naked, to my satisfaction, and I will bring you a
meal fit for a king. Do you accept?”
She waved a disgusted hand at
him. “Yes, whatever. I’ll clear a spot for you to lie down.”
‘Aqrab had just enough time to
register surprise at her complacency before the rush of power hit him like a
sledge, knocking him free of the rules of time and space, casting him adrift,
at the center of a spinning universe. His world became tinged with purple as
the Law boomed through him, “As agreed, so decreed, the bargain has been made.”
Once it was over, ‘Aqrab slumped
to his knees, still unused to the exhilarating feel of so much flirting with
Law, in such a short space. He hadn’t even made this many bargains back in his
homeland, when bedding djinn. He’d had the habit of being attracted to women
that preferred to get messy.
“Is this going to work?” the Fury
asked, when he was finally able to lift his head and look at her. She had
uncovered a bed of moss and undergrowth, pushing the snow aside in a wave.
“Looks delightful,” he said. In
all honesty, sleeping on stone had begun to wear on him.
“Good. Disrobe and lie facedown,
there.” She pointed imperiously to the ground beside the fire.
Seeing the matter-of-fact way she
was approaching the subject, ‘Aqrab wondered if now was a good time to tell her
that, by ‘massage me naked,’ he had not meant himself. But he obliged her
anyway, tossing his sirwal to a branch. There was plenty of time for her to
discover such details later. He eased his chest and stomach to the ground with
a groan of blessed relaxation. “You know, mon Dhi’b, dragging you through the
ice was…difficult. I think I strained something.”
The Fury, who had patiently
waited with her back turned while he undressed, turned back to him and
immediately began running her delicate hands in firm, smooth motions down his
spine, rubbing her knuckles into the knots, pulling at the muscle groups with
her fingers. It felt
heavenly
. In only moments, ‘Aqrab was drooling.
“Why is this taking so long?” the
Fury eventually demanded.
‘Aqrab started awake. “Huh?”
Her hands were still rubbing him
into sweet oblivion from above. “You’re obviously enjoying yourself, you damn
word-twisting ba—” She caught herself with a strangled sound. “Did you forget
to bind it in Law?”
‘Aqrab winced. He was pretty
sure she was about to get unreasonable, but at least he’d gotten a good massage
from the affair. “Uh. No, mon Dhi’b. It is thoroughly bound in Law.”
He could
feel
her glaring
at him. “Then why, when I kneel here, massaging your naked ass into oblivion,
does it not—” Her words choked off and her fingers, which had become sweet
bliss upon his back, hesitated. “You meant me.”
‘Aqrab slowly rolled to face
her. Too late, he realized that doing so would reveal to her that which she
had been taught to loathe, and she twisted her head quickly to look at
something else.
“Tell me, djinni,” she growled,
“that you did not mean
me
when you said ‘naked.’” Her voice was low and
dangerous, and, in the way tendons were standing out in her neck, he got the
very vivid image of a sword slicing his spine.
“Uh,” ‘Aqrab began. He gave a
nervous chuckle.
“Isn’t,” the magus bit out, “that
something you should have
told
me? Or were you going to let me paw at
your back all night like a fool?”
“It
does
feel divine,” he
admitted. “You have a way with your hands, mon Dhi’b.”
Slowly, the Fury twisted back to
face him. Her eyes were filled with fire when she said, “You are going to
amend our bargain.”
“The bargain is made,” ‘Aqrab
said, stiffening for the fight he knew would come. “I can’t—”
“—because, after an hour of
rubbing your damn back like a fool, like Hell I’m letting you have all the
pleasure. I fell into a
crevasse
. My back is
killing
me.”
At that, the Fury began to
undress. Belying the confidence of her words, however, her fingers hesitated
at the hem of her sweater for several long moments before she tentatively
pulled it over her head, giving him an intimate view of her bloodstained bra.
She unbuttoned her pants and her fingers hesitated yet again. He saw the
indecision in her face, saw her eyes dart to his groin before quickly looking
away. She slid the jeans from her legs and put them in an awkward pile beside
her, exposing her fine, beautiful legs.
‘Aqrab knew his jaw had fallen
open, but he couldn’t find the muscles which with to close it.
His magus reached behind her to
unbutton the bra, then quickly hid the tantalizing brown areolas with her arms
as she pulled garment free. She cast him an uncertain look. Then, her hands
trembling, the Fury dipped her thumbs under her panties and pushed them down the
roundness of her buttocks, over her fine, lithe legs.
“Goddess,” ‘Aqrab whispered. He
could find no words to describe the boon she was giving him.
“You’re staring at me,” she
muttered. She had covered her pert breasts with crossed arms and was looking
at anything but him. “Where do you want me?”
In my bed,
he thought, in
agony. Unable to speak, ‘Aqrab simply inched aside and gestured at the ground
beside him.
If the magus noticed his silence
for what it was, she made no comment. She simply stretched out facedown on the
ground, as he had done a moment before.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen
me before,” his magus muttered, when he continued to stare. “I know you spied
on me as I undressed.”
Embarrassed, ‘Aqrab felt his face
heat. “Well, uh, three thousand years of sexual desperation can do interesting
things to a djinni’s moral bearing, mon Dhi’b.”
“Desperation.” His magus
snorted, laying her head against the mosses to look up at him. “You should
tell that puffed-up pigeon to stop wasting his time. He seems to think he’ll
somehow make it easier for you to bed me if he does the act first himself.”
She wiggled as she got settled, flexing the delicate mounds of her ass with
such exquisiteness that ‘Aqrab’s heart skipped. Blithely unaware of what she
was doing to him, the Fury went on, “I almost think he perceives it as him
doing you a favor. You need to break it to him he won’t be doing you any favors
before he makes a total fool out of himself.”
She still thinks I can’t bed
her
, he thought, in despair. ‘Aqrab decided now was as wretched a time as
any to inform her of her false conclusions regarding that fact. “Actually, mon
Dhi’b—”
She interrupted him with a
nervous laugh. “I mean, hell, if I didn’t know you couldn’t
do
anything
with it, I’d never have taken off my shirt. But I don’t know. It kind of
makes it bearable to know I could crawl all over you and you’d never be able to
do anything about it.” She looked up and gave him a playful wink.
‘Aqrab hardened in a rush. Now
there
was a thought…
Clearing his throat, he sat up
and placed his hands upon his mistress’s cool back. She groaned almost
immediately upon his fingers touching her spine. “Oh my
gods
,” she
moaned, as he began kneading out the knots in her tiny body, “that feels so
good
.”
“Well worth a day’s meal,” ‘Aqrab
agreed.
“I’ll say.” She continued to
groan as he followed the muscles of her back up into her shoulders.
Watching her face relax with
pleasure as the minutes continued to pass, something occurred to ‘Aqrab that
had been bothering him ever since he’d first contracted with her to touch him.
“That night on the mountain, after Thunderbird knocked us both on our asses…”
he ventured, after he’d given her plenty of time to relax.
“Nnnggghh?”
He bit his lip. How to broach
the subject without losing everything he had gained. “You said I’d have to bed
you…?”
As he had feared, her small body
went tense beneath him. He saw her eyes open, saw her stare at the mosses by
her face.
“Don’t worry yourself with it,”
his magus said. “It’s not going to happen. I forgot that you’re cursed.” She
closed her eyes again and settled back into the ground, conversation apparently
over.
‘Aqrab cleared his throat again,
nervously. “Ah, mon Dhi’b, what if I were to tell you, ah, that I can, ah, bed
you?”
She laughed beneath him. “Then
I’d say you were about to lose your powers as a djinni. You already told me
you couldn’t. Now keep
going
. I gave you a good
hour
, you
cretin.”
‘Aqrab stiffened as Law rushed
through him once more and boomed, “You have reset your seven days.”
“Damn,” she cursed, into the
moss. “I had
four
days that time.”
“You’re improving,” ‘Aqrab
admitted, though his mind was elsewhere. “Mon Dhi’b,” he ventured, “what if I
told you I never said I couldn’t bed you?”
She cackled at him. “You never
told me you couldn’t—”
Suddenly, she was twisting out
from under his touch, her delicate breasts bouncing as she scrambled away from
him. “You wald il qaraqir!” she screamed at him, from the other side of the
fire. “You
told
me…”
“You have reset your seven days—I
told you I couldn’t bed
women
,” ‘Aqrab babbled, realizing from her look
of horror that he had quite possibly made a horrible mistake.
“What,” she snarled, anger
beginning to liven her eyes, “because you only have one dick, djinni?”
“Because I can only bed
you
,”
he blurted. Then winced, because, in saying it, it had to be true.
Kaashifah stopped, mid-scrabbling
for her pants. Frozen in place, she looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “
What
did you say?”
He was, he realized by the look
of Fury on her face, totally screwed. Hence, the words that spilled from him
were completely unplanned, the words of a fool. “I made a wish after my last
lover spurned me,” he stammered. “Normally, a djinni can’t wish for himself,
but if he’s filled with enough passion, sometimes the Law will follow its
flow. I made a
wish
, mon Dhi’b, and I got
you
.”
She hovered over her clothes,
staring at him in a mixture of anger and disbelief. “You…
wished
…for
me?”
“Not you specifically,” ‘Aqrab
blundered on. “My wish was, “May I never bed another woman who is not the
mirror to my soul, and, once I find her, may she be a slave to my heart, may
she seek nothing of me I cannot give, and may she revile the touch of other
men.”
