Forsaken (The Djinn Wars Book 5) (11 page)

“They have no reason to,” Qadim told her. His voice was calm and rich, and Madison had a feeling she could easily fall under its spell if she didn’t watch herself. “This is not their territory. The one who was most zealous about ‘cleansing’ this city — his words, not mine — has been given lands to the north of here, in a place called Chama.”

That news was slightly heartening, mostly because Chama was almost two hundred miles from Albuquerque, near the Colorado border. “Oh, that’s a beautiful place. You’d think he’d want to stay up there, then.”

“You have been to this Chama?”

“A couple of times. There’s a train — that is, there used to be a train that you could ride up into the mountains and cross over into Colorado. Lots of pine forests, a river. It’s gorgeous.” It would have been a better place for Qadim, who clearly loved the land and who most likely would have been a good steward of those forests and mountain meadows. But then, if he’d been given lands in that part of New Mexico, she never would have met him.

She wasn’t sure why that thought should make her feel a little sad.

“Hasan did mention a good number of trees.”

Another shiver went over her, and Madison began to wonder if she’d been premature in telling Qadim that she was comfortable up here in the night air. “Hasan? So he was one of the djinn I saw?”

“I’m afraid so.” Qadim snapped his fingers, and in the next instant a serving cart laden with all sorts of delectable-smelling dishes appeared beside them.

She’d seen him use his powers in small, subtle ways before this, but it was all she could do to keep herself from jumping out of her seat at that apparition. Convenient, she supposed, because this way Qadim wouldn’t have to leave her to go fetch the food, but still….

“Let us not talk of Hasan,” he continued. “For I wanted this to be a good dinner for you, and I would not wish to spoil your appetite.”

“You’re right,” Madison said. “As you said, he won’t bother us.”

A nod, but she caught the flicker of unease in his expression before he turned so he could start dishing up their food. She barely held back a shiver as she remembered the manic delight in that other djinn’s eyes as he cheerfully slaughtered Albuquerque’s few remaining survivors.

And she wondered just how confident Qadim truly was in his belief that this Hasan would actually stay away.

Q
adim wished
that they had avoided the subject of Hasan. Madison seemed to accept his explanation that the other djinn would stay far away from them, but…would he?

Do not think of that,
Qadim admonished himself.
Think of the woman before you.

For truly, she was an astonishing sight. Even in the oddly sexless clothing she seemed to prefer, he had seen that she was beautiful, but now, outfitted in something which enhanced her form rather than hid it, he could see how lovely she truly was. Very slender, yes, almost to the point of thinness, but her breasts were still rounded enough for all that, and her waist tapered in a way that made him ache to slip his arms around her. The soft rosy hue of the silk ensemble he’d provided for her lent some color to the clear pallor of her fine skin, and once again he had to resist the urge to reach out and touch her hair, to feel the soft springiness of it against his fingers.

And he might be flattering himself, but he’d noted the expression of shocked admiration in her eyes when she saw him in the dress of his people, rather than the human garments he’d lately adopted because of their practical nature. Her expression had quickly shifted to one of pleasant neutrality, but he couldn’t forget what he’d seen. Perhaps she was not quite as indifferent as she wanted him to think.

Which of course pleased him greatly. He knew that at any time he could have cast the djinn glamour on her to make her think that she desired him, but he did not wish to do so. That particular subterfuge had not worked very well on Julia Innes, true. Even so, he had no reason to think the glamour would not be effective on Madison Reynolds, although she certainly seemed as strong-minded as Julia, perhaps ever more so. He had no true frame of reference, for all his former partners had been djinn, and more than willing. Something kept him from attempting the experiment, though. She should want him because she truly did want him, and not because he had used his djinn powers to convince her otherwise.

Now she sat quietly, eating the ragout of venison he had prepared — another dish where everything had already been cut into bite-sized chunks, and so she wouldn’t need to use her injured arm. Once or twice he’d seen her move it without wincing, which seemed to indicate that she was healing quickly, but he still thought she would require a few more days to recover her full range of motion.

“Would you like some more rice?” he asked politely.

“Yes, please.” He dished it up for her, and she offered him a smile. It looked somewhat more relaxed than the one she’d given him earlier, but perhaps that was only because of the wine and the food. Then she said, “This is amazing. Where do you get all the ingredients?”

“I gather them to me as I need them,” he replied. That seemed to be the simplest way to explain how he was able to draw items from all over the world to create their meals. Sooner or later those stocks would begin to be depleted, he supposed, and the djinn would have to lend their talents to agriculture and animal husbandry, but for now there existed enough abundance that he could call to him the things he required.

Her eyes were full of questions, but she seemed to understand that he didn’t want to go into more detail than what he’d already provided. “Do you work from recipes, or do you just make it up as you go?”

“It depends. I have had this ragout many times before, and so I could re-create it from memory. But if you wished for me to make one of your New Mexico dishes — ”

“Blue corn chicken enchiladas with Christmas chile,” she broke in, an impish light in her eyes. Or perhaps that was only a reflection from the candlelight.

She might as well have been speaking a different language. “Precisely. I have no idea what that is. Something you make at your holidays?”

That question made her actually chuckle. “Not exactly. ‘Christmas’ just means you’re asking for both green and red chile on top of your food. That’s all.”

“What is chile, precisely?”

Madison shot him a look of mock-horror. “You’re living in Albuquerque and you don’t know what chile is? It’s a sauce made from chile peppers. There are red and green varieties, and they range in heat level from mildly interesting to nuclear explosion.”

None of this was making much sense. Yes, his people had some spicy dishes, but what Madison had just described seemed very different. “And a nuclear explosion is good?”

“In this sense, yes. I mean, some people take a lot of pride in how much hot food they can eat. That is, could eat,” she amended, the light in her eyes dying out abruptly.

He knew she must be thinking of all the people who had died from the Heat, and wished he’d been able to guide the conversation in such a way that the topic could have been avoided altogether. That wasn’t possible, but he still wanted to do what he could to take her mind off the subject. “And you liked nuclear chile?”

“No, I was always somewhere in the middle.” She reached for her wine glass and took a larger gulp than she’d probably intended.

Qadim obligingly poured some more into her glass. He didn’t wish for her to become truly intoxicated, but on the other hand, if she was just a little elevated, she might be more open to…whatever might come next.

“Perhaps if I attempt to make something with chile, you can assist me?” he asked then.

“Well, I don’t know how much help I would be at making it from scratch,” Madison replied. “We always just bought ours at the store. But I suppose I could do some taste testing for you.”

“That would be very helpful.” Indeed, he had a sudden vision of her perched on one of the stools in the kitchen, licking chile sauce — whatever that was, precisely — from a wooden spoon. The image made his groin tighten, and he reached for his own wine, glad of the dimly lit corner where they sat and the baggy nature of his trousers.

“It’s a plan, then.” She smiled, apparently distracted from the topic of the Heat’s victims, and Qadim found himself relaxing as well. Surely she wouldn’t be talking about helping him in the kitchen if she planned to leave any time soon.

Would he allow her to leave? That was a question he’d wrestled with himself ever since he’d brought her back here. He didn’t want to make her his prisoner, of course, but he also didn’t want her to leave, if for no other reason than he thought she’d be safer here with him.

No, that was a specious argument, for she’d been able to survive without his help for more than a year. It was only that he wanted so very much for her to stay, at least until a time when they both decided that it was time to move on.

So yes…he would allow her to leave…as long as it suited his own purposes.

* * *

D
amn it
, Madison, what the hell were you thinking? You might as well have said you were going to move in with him and start picking out glasses from the Pottery Barn catalogue or something.

She settled back in her chair, wishing there was some way to put a little more distance between herself and the djinn. There wasn’t, though, not without making herself very obvious.

That comment about taste testing the chile had come out of nowhere. She’d been babbling, letting the wine do the talking for her, probably because talking about people’s tastes in chile had made her think about how her father could eat anything slathered in sauce so hot he might as well have been consuming ignited rocket fuel. And how Jake had been just the opposite, and she used to tease him unmercifully about what a wimp he was and how he needed to turn in his New Mexico card.

Well, she supposed in a way he had. Turned it in so he could move to Washington.

But she didn’t want Qadim to know how those memories had brought a sting of tears to her eyes, so she’d quickly taken another of swallow of wine and let it warm her and help her to forget.

No, she’d never forget. Not really. It would be easier if she could.

Now the djinn was removing their dinner plates and setting down small ramekins filled with a dark chocolate-y substance topped with raspberries and whipped cream. She raised an eyebrow, and he said, “Chocolate mousse. It was a delicacy, wasn’t it?”

“You could say that.” At this point, nothing he might do in the culinary department would really surprise her. For all she knew, he’d spend all night studying cookbooks about New Mexico cuisine and would surprise her the next day with enchiladas and sopapillas and calabacitas, followed up by dulce de leche cake.

Anyway, chocolate mousse sounded amazing. The shelter had a cache of organic, high-cacao-content chocolate bars because of their health benefits, and Madison had allowed herself a small piece several times a week. But a few bites of dense, dark chocolate wasn’t the same as chocolate mousse with whipped cream and raspberries on top.

A single bite was enough to tell her that she’d never had anything this good in a restaurant. If only the ramekin wasn’t so small….

She ate every bite, then wished she was alone so she could lick the bowl. God knows how Qadim would have reacted to that sort of display, so somehow she managed to restrain herself.

“Good?” he asked, once she was done and had set her spoon crossways on top of the ramekin.

“Better than good. Amazing.”

“That was what I wanted to hear.”

They were both quiet then, gazing at each other across the table. Madison found herself studying his features, finding nuances like the high bridge of his strong nose, or the cleft in his chin, mostly hidden by the neatly trimmed beard he wore. It was probably just the wine talking, but once again she realized she was asking herself if it would truly be such a bad thing for things to take a turn for the physical. And it sure didn’t help that her body was telling her no, it wouldn’t be a bad thing at all. She’d tried to take care of herself as best she could, thanks to a few helpful items looted from adult stores in town, but using a collection of carefully designed toys wasn’t the same as being with a man, feeling his hands on you, feeling him
in
you….

She put her good hand on the tabletop and pushed herself upward. “I — I’m starting to feel a little tired. This has been a wonderful dinner, Qadim, but I think I need to go to bed.”

The second the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to curse herself. Why the hell had she been stupid enough to use the word “bed”?

He didn’t react, though, except to say, “Of course, Madison. Let me take you to your room.”

Somehow, that sounded like a very dangerous suggestion. “Oh, you don’t need to do that — ”

“It would be churlish of me to leave you to fend for yourself when I can make the process so much easier.” He rose from his seat and came toward her, then took her by her good arm.

She managed to keep herself from flinching. Not that it felt bad to have his arm around hers — actually, it felt good, just as it felt good to have the heat of his body helping to protect her from the night wind as they left their sheltered little corner and went toward the stairwell. But it shouldn’t feel good. He was a djinn, not some random survivor she’d met here in the ruins of Albuquerque. If he’d been human, then maybe….

One of those jarring blinks, and then they were standing outside the door to her suite. Next to her, Qadim seemed calm and imperturbable. He certainly didn’t appear affected by their proximity. Once again she told herself that she’d been seeing things that weren’t there, manufacturing a tension between them that really didn’t exist. All he’d done was guide her to her door, and now he would leave her to her lonely bed. Anything else was just a crazy fantasy she’d concocted in her mind.

No need of key cards anymore; the door swung open as soon as she rested her fingers on the handle. She turned back toward Qadim to find him standing much closer than she’d expected — so close, in fact, that the hem of his robe brushed against the toes of her right foot.

That whisper of silk against her bare foot made her shiver, even though it was much warmer in here than it had been on the rooftop.

“You did take a chill,” he said, his voice a soft rumble.

At once she shook her head. “No — no, it’s just — ”

“Just what?”

Madison forced herself to look up at him. Those dark eyes seemed so very close. And his mouth — why hadn’t she noticed the sensual curve to his lower lip before?

“I’m just tired,” she said. She knew she needed to get herself inside before she did something spectacularly stupid. Kissing him wouldn’t solve anything, would only create a whole host of new problems. The thrill of need that she’d felt just then as she gazed at Qadim — that was only the wine talking. Wine, and loneliness. But if she managed to get away from here, run to Los Alamos, maybe she could meet someone who was just as lonely as she. A nice human guy, not someone who belonged to a race that had done its best to wipe humanity right off the map.

“You’re not cold?” Qadim asked. Something in his voice seemed to intimate that he knew all too well how to warm her up.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you for dinner.” She pushed on the door handle and made herself put one foot in front of the other. Another step or two, and then she would be safely inside and could shut the door behind her. Only, would she really be safe? Qadim could blast that door right out of existence if he wanted to.