Forsaken (The Djinn Wars Book 5) Page 13

  She didn’t smile. “And you don’t think it’s strange to be attracted to someone who might as well be a child to a djinn?”

  “Oh, you are most certainly not a child.” Her expression remained solemn, and so he did reach out to take her hands in his. “Humans and djinn are different, true, but I know you are an adult woman, capable of making your own decisions. And capable of many other things, I would hope.”

  This time the corners of her mouth did twitch faintly. “Oh, I’m capable.” Her fingers tightened on his. “I suppose I’m just trying to figure out how this would even work.”

  “Why make it so difficult for yourself?” he asked. He used their interlaced fingers to pull her nearer to him. “I want you…and it seems that you want me…and so I don’t see what the trouble is.” Because they were so close, it was easy enough to place his mouth on hers again, to kiss her and feel once again the way she responded to him.

  When they pulled apart, her breathing had sped up, and a warm flush had spread over her cheekbones. “Well, when you put it that way — ”

  “I do.”

  “Okay.” To his disappointment, she let go of his hands and rose from the couch. “Let me show you the rest of the place.”

  Because he could tell she needed to put some distance between them, he didn’t argue, but got up so he could follow her out into the corridor and down to the other rooms. He had already seen the family room — which also served as a sort of media space, where she would watch the television or listen to music — but there was also a dining chamber with a long table that could seat as many as eight or ten people, several other bedrooms, bath chambers and rooms that seemed to function only as storage areas.

  “I want to know how you got through all those airlocks,” Madison said as she led him out of the main living area and into the hallway where he’d first entered the shelter.

  “Airlocks?”

  “These,” she replied, and pointed toward one of the heavy metal doors with the strange round handles.

  “Ah. So how is an airlock different from a door?”

  “These were made to seal against all kinds of chemical, biological, and nuclear contaminants. Of course, even they probably weren’t much protection against the Heat.”

  “Was…anyone down in the shelter when the sickness struck?” Qadim generally did not consider himself squeamish, but he didn’t much like the thought of Madison living down here while trapped with the remains of one of her associates.

  “Oh, no,” she said at once, repressing an obvious shudder. “My — my father passed away in his own house a ways from here, and I honestly don’t know what happened to Clay, the man who built this shelter. There was no sign of the dust in his home. I think he must have been at the labs when it happened.” She stopped there, her expression sad and faraway, and Qadim found himself wishing he had not asked the question. “Anyway,” she went on, in a brisk tone that he didn’t quite believe, “you didn’t answer me about how you were able to open those doors.”

  “I am an earth elemental,” he said. “Metal comes from the earth, and so it obeys my command. All I had to do was tell the doors to open for me, and they did.”

  “Well, damn. If I’d known you were able to do that, I would have — ” Madison broke off there and shook her head.

  “You would have what?”

  She offered him a rueful smile. “I probably wouldn’t have run in the first place. No place to go.”

  “It was not my desire to make you feel trapped.”

  “I don’t. I’m not.” This time she went to him and wrapped her arms around her waist, then laid her head against his chest. At once he put his arms around her as well, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair and reveling in the sensation of her breasts pressed to his stomach. In fact, he could feel himself stiffening, and he willed the arousal away. This was not the time. She continued, “You gave me the choice. I could have said no. But then I realized I really didn’t want to say no. I wanted this.”

  How could he debate the subject with her any further? As she’d just told him, she wanted this. She’d had to fight to acknowledge that truth within herself, but it seemed she had abandoned that fight…at least for now.

  Madison pulled away and looked up at him. “Let me make you dinner to apologize for running off like an idiot.”

  “You are not an idiot.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Besides, I seem to recall you telling me that you hate cooking.”

  “I do,” she said frankly. “I figured that would be my form of groveling.”

  “I don’t need you to grovel.” She appeared unconvinced, so he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. “Why don’t we both make it together? Perhaps that way you’ll decide you don’t hate cooking quite so much.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Then she shot him a quizzical look. “Here, or at the hotel?”

  “The kitchen there is much bigger.”

  “True. Can I pack a few things to bring with me?”

  Qadim thought he liked the sound of that very much. If she wanted to bring some of her belongings with her back to the Hotel Andaluz, then that must mean she planned to be with him for some time.

  For how long, he didn’t know. But he figured he’d let the universe decide what to do about that.

  Chapter Ten

  Qadim didn’t comment when she put her things in the same room where she’d been staying previously. Oh, they both knew where this was going to end up — with her in his bed — but she didn’t see any reason to force the issue. It could be tonight, or two days from now. No, scratch that. Madison knew she didn’t have the willpower to last that long, not after the way they’d kissed. She’d felt his arousal as he held her, and she could tell Qadim didn’t want to wait much longer, either.

  But they should be able to hold out until after dinner.

  Maybe.

  She went to join him in the kitchen after she’d hung up the clothes she’d brought and put the extra toiletries in the bathroom. He had a cookbook propped up on a stand and was reading it with the sort of intensity that usually was reserved for people trying to follow a bomb-defusing diagram.

  “Everything all right?” she asked, then went on her tiptoes so she could kiss his cheek. Back in the day she would have said she didn’t care much for beards, but something about the feel of his short, crisp hair against her lips sent a little shiver through her. And at least it was a short, neatly trimmed beard. She couldn’t stand those bristly faux-lumberjack things guys had started sporting the last few years.

  Well, she could say one good thing about the Heat. At least it had gotten rid of the hipsters.

  “It is fine,” Qadim replied, still glaring down at the cookbook. “I wanted to give you a New Mexico meal, but this may be more involved than I thought.”

  “You don’t have to,” Madison told him. “I’m fine with some steaks and baked potatoes. Something easy. Anyway, I’m supposed to be helping you, remember?”

  “No, I would like to try this cuisine,” he replied. “And I did not really expect you to assist me, except to help clarify a few things. But I will admit that trying to analyze these recipes is somewhat like learning a new language.”

  “Well, your English is excellent. So I’m sure you can manage this without a problem.”

  “Hmm.”

  But despite his apparent concern, once he got to work, Qadim seemed far more on top of the situation than Madison knew she would have been if she’d attempted to prepare the same foods. Before she could even blink, he had red chile sauce simmering on the stove and was flame-broiling some chicken for the enchilada filling. Then back over to the counter to chop up summer squash and onions for calabacitas, the side dish Madison had been craving for months, since she didn’t have the fixings at the shelter to make anything remotely similar. There had been frozen vegetables in the kitchen at the shelter, but not squash. And then Qadim began working on the rice, and the black beans, which he must have used some djinn magic to c
oax along, because otherwise they should have been soaking for hours before they ever went into the pot.

  The combination of those wonderful smells made her mouth begin to water. Clay had made sure the shelter was stocked with food items that were nourishing and which could also last a long while, but he hadn’t been worried about preserving his home state’s cuisine. Madison hadn’t breathed in the wonderful aroma of warm red chile sauce for over a year, and likewise the more delicate scent of the green rice that Qadim had just begun to toss together, with its coating of cilantro and parsley and peppers.

  And sopapillas, and flan for dessert —

  “How on earth do you think I’m going to be able to eat all this?” she asked as Qadim began assembling the enchiladas.

  “You must have worked up something of an appetite when you ran all the way back to the shelter,” he said slyly, and she gave him a sour look.

  “Not as much as you might think,” she replied. “Are we eating here, or on the roof?”

  “It is too cold for the roof today, I think. I have a table prepared for us out in the dining room.”

  Madison nodded. A sudden thought came to her, and she asked, “How long before it’s all ready?”

  “Perhaps ten minutes. Why?”

  “Oh, just something. Do you mind if I go upstairs for a little bit?”

  He looked slightly puzzled, but only said, “No, of course not.”

  She kissed him on the cheek again and headed for the stairwell. One thing was for sure — between climbing all these stairs and that hasty trip she’d made to the shelter earlier in the day, she wouldn’t have to worry about how many calories she might consume during the extravagant dinner Qadim was making.

  Because he’d gone to so much effort, Madison wanted to go to some effort, too.

  She hadn’t brought any “nice” clothes with her to the shelter, since she hadn’t thought the world she was headed into would require heels or dresses. But she had taken a few pieces of jewelry, and Qadim had already provided something more beautiful than any dress she’d worn in her previous life.

  The blush-colored outfit was still hanging in the closet where she’d left it, and so she stripped out of her jeans and T-shirt, and pulled on the silky garments. They slid, smooth and sensual, over her skin, making her wonder what it would feel like to have Qadim remove them, to have those big, strong hands of his move over her body, reach down to cup her breasts….

  She bit her lip as the warmth of arousal awoke between her legs. This was crazy, getting herself so worked up. But God, it had been a long time.

  And she’d never been with anyone like Qadim. True, he was a djinn, and so that made him beyond the pale right there, but there was more to his differences than merely his otherworldly heritage. She’d always been drawn to people who were unusual-looking rather than conventionally attractive — Jacob had always seemed to her like the love child of Adrian Brody and Ichabod Crane — and while Qadim could also be said to be more interesting in appearance than truly handsome, there was something about him that evoked a bad-boy biker vibe. Maybe it was the hair, or maybe it was the beard.

  She could only imagine what her straitlaced father’s reaction would have been back in the day if she’d brought home someone who looked like Qadim. Pure horror, probably.

  The thought sent a little pang of sadness through her. Tom Reynolds would never get to meet Qadim al-Syan, for good or ill. Most of the time Madison had managed to ignore the enormity of her loss — of the world’s loss — but every once in a while it sneaked up from behind her and brought everything rushing back.

  Don’t think about that, she told herself. Your lovely djinn is down there making a meal fit for a king, so don’t screw it up by getting all maudlin.

  She took a breath, then went into the bathroom to complete the sprucing-up process. Among the items she’d brought with her was the wide-toothed comb that helped to keep her hair from looking like a bramble bush. A few cosmetics — blush and mascara and her favorite rosy-colored lip tint. She put on the makeup, but sparingly, just enough to wake up her complexion and make her look a bit more polished.

  And then finally the silver filigree dangling earrings that had once belonged to her mother, and the antique locket that had come down from much farther back — it had been her paternal great-grandmother’s, bought in New York for her by her fiancé. The locket was engraved white gold set with tiny single-cut diamonds and rubies, and it was Madison’s most treasured possession, especially because of what was inside: a tiny reproduction of her parents’ wedding picture, the two of them looking young and happy, Sarah Reynolds with the same curly hair as her daughter, although it had been light brown instead of pale red. The red hair had come from Madison’s father.

  She closed the locket and hung it around her neck, then gave her appearance one last quick inspection. Yes, she looked far better than she had when she’d woken up this morning, and even better than last night, since then she didn’t have the makeup to help things along.

  Would Qadim like it?

  Back down the stairs, and then on into the restaurant, where she could smell all the various aromas of the New Mexican feast he’d prepared for her drifting on the air. The table he’d set up was off in one corner, intimate and safe; candles flickered all around.

  Qadim was just setting down the bowl with the calabacitas in it as she approached. The light in his eyes as he took in her outfit and her overall appearance told her everything she needed to know.

  “You are a glorious creature, you know that?” he asked, then went to her so he could take her hands in his and pull her close.

  “No, I didn’t know that,” she replied. “But if that’s what you think, I’m okay with it.”

  “It’s not just what I think. It’s the truth.” He kissed her, but softly, as if he was also aware of how close to the edge they both were, how they needed to be careful for the moment. Then he pulled away and cast a rueful glance down at himself, at the stained T-shirt and jeans he wore. “I fear I am not quite as splendid as you. But I can remedy a small portion of that lack.” A wave of his hand, and the shabby clothing was gone, replaced by the open djinn robe and billowy pants, these in a deep steel gray bordered in black.

  Madison swallowed. Sure, Qadim looked amazing in jeans and a T-shirt — how could he not, with those fabulous arms of his — but there was something about the djinn garb that made him smolderingly hot. Of course, a lot of that could have something to do with the way the robe bared his broad chest and showed off the hard muscles of his stomach.

  Suddenly, that warm, throbbing sensation was back between her legs.

  “Dinner looks amazing,” she said quickly, hoping that if she focused on the here and now, she could force her body to behave itself.

  “Thank you. I suppose we should see if it tastes as good as it looks.”

  He pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down, again wondering if that was a human custom he’d borrowed, or whether djinn men always showed that same courtesy toward their women. Because he spoke English so well, and did seem to understand something of modern American culture, it was sometimes difficult for Madison to know for sure.

  After she was settled, he seated himself in the chair to her left. A bottle of wine sat on the table, already opened. So it could air, she supposed. Qadim lifted the bottle and poured some of the dark wine within into her glass, then filled his halfway as well.

  “This is one thing we djinn and humans have in common,” he said as he raised his glass. “For we also make some kind of pledge when first we drink, if there is something we wish to celebrate.”

  “And is there?” Madison asked, although she thought she knew how he would answer.

  His gaze lingered on her lips, and she felt blood rise to her cheeks. Would she ever stop reacting to him like this? It was as if, once she’d acknowledged to herself that she wanted him, her body wouldn’t stop reminding her that it needed more than merely shared glances and a few kisses.

&nb
sp; “Oh, I think so,” he replied.

  Trying not to look away from him, she lifted her glass so they could clink the two of them together.

  “To…explorations,” he said as their wine glasses just barely kissed.

  Oh, dear God. She knew she wanted to explore every inch of his perfect body. “To explorations,” she echoed, then drank quickly in an attempt to ignore the tide of heat that had begun to wash through her. At this rate, she was never going to make it through dinner.

  The wine was good. A local vintage, she noticed as she read the label, from Casa Rondeña Winery. Had Qadim found it in the hotel’s cellars, or had he done more exploring around Albuquerque than she’d thought? Casa Rondeña was located at the north end of town, up in Rio Rancho, actually, and so while it was within the borders of the djinn’s “grant,” it was still a good ways from the hotel and the center of town.

  Qadim seemed impressed, too, because he nodded and took another sip from his glass before he set it down and turned his attention to the various dishes and serving bowls on the tabletop. “If I may?” he asked, then gestured toward Madison’s empty plate.

  “Thank you,” she responded, handing it to him so he could load it up with enchiladas and rice and beans and calabacitas. The finishing touch was a sopapilla placed carefully between the rice and the calabacitas so it wouldn’t get too soggy. He’d even set out a bottle of honey on the table so the sopapilla could be eaten in the traditional way.

  Clearly, djinn were fast learners, or Qadim was some sort of savant when it came to all things kitchen-oriented.

  She waited while he filled his own plate, then took another sip of wine before plowing into the enchilada. Maybe it was only that she had sex on the brain, but that combination of blue corn tortillas and grilled chicken and cheese and red chile was positively orgasmic.

  “This is insanely good,” she told Qadim once she’d finished chewing.

  An almost boyish look of pleasure passed over his face. “It is?”

  “God, yes. If the world were a different place, I’d be telling you to open a restaurant.”