Forbidden (The Djinn Wars Book 6) Page 5

  By then full dark had fallen, but the absence of light was no real impediment. Djinn eyes were sharper than human eyes, and could see well enough even in total darkness. Anyway, a large yellow moon had begun to rise in the east, and its light helped to illuminate his way.

  The house did not have a cellar, but it did possess several outbuildings in addition to the garage, which still contained a largish vehicle — a truck with a shell, he thought. One shed held gardening equipment, and indeed, he saw the remains of what had probably once been a flourishing vegetable garden off to one side of the property. Unfortunate that it had not survived, and Aldair knew he would probably have little luck coaxing it back to life. That was the province of the earth elementals, who could create an oasis from a dry desert.

  Or at least they could here on Earth, a world suited for sustaining life. Very little grew on the plane where they had been exiled, save those specimens that were carefully nurtured in protected courtyards and atriums.

  The other shed contained only a jumble of discarded machinery and household items. Odd, since the interior of the house itself was so spare and neat. But perhaps the owner of the home had managed to keep it tidy by relegating any unwanted bits and pieces to this cluttered little storehouse.

  He did not find anything of any particular value, though, and so he went back inside. The air in the house felt stuffy after the evening breezes outdoors. While the day had been warm verging on hot, with the sun gone behind the hills to the west, the atmosphere outside had cooled rapidly, even as the house trapped its heat indoors.

  Well, he could do something about that. Turning on the cooling system might tax the solar-supplied energy, but he would supplement it with a boost of his own. It would be worth the expenditure, to sleep comfortably after so many tortured days and nights in the outer circles, where his only pillow had been a lump of molded sand.

  Cool air began to blow from the vents, and he nodded in satisfaction. Much better. While he was forced to admit to himself that he was still in exile, this house provided a far more pleasant situation than the one he had just escaped. He would do well enough here for a while until he could think of a way to regain his true freedom, the freedom to leave this place and make his own home in the world…and take his revenge on Jasreel.

  For he knew that whatever else happened, he would never be a prisoner again.

  Jillian opened her eyes, unsure as to why she should have awakened. Yes, it had taken her longer than usual to fall asleep, partly because of the thought of Aldair being in such close proximity, and partly because she was sleeping in a strange place, but normally that sort of thing didn’t faze her, even with a possibly hostile djinn across the hall, asleep in his own bed. That is, she assumed he must be sleeping. If djinn didn’t sleep, then Aldair would have had no reason to claim a bedroom as his own.

  Cool air moved over her face, and she realized that must be what had awoken her. The room had been stuffy and warm when she went to sleep, despite the wide-open window. However, she’d been so tired that even the heat hadn’t been enough to keep her from eventually passing out, her body craving the rest it so desperately needed. There wasn’t a clock in the bedroom, so she didn’t have any idea how long she’d been asleep. At some point, though, the air conditioning had come on.

  She doubted it had magically turned on by itself. Aldair must have activated the system. Did djinn have poor heat tolerance? Probably not all of them, since some, she knew, were fire elementals. Aldair hadn’t specifically said what his talent was, but, judging by the way he’d lifted her into the air and flown her here, he must be an air elemental.

  Well, whatever the reason, she could only thank him for turning on the A/C. Already the dark room around her felt much more comfortable. She rolled over and stared into the darkness, which wasn’t quite as dark as she’d expected, not with that pale silvery moonlight flowing in past the sheer curtains at the window.

  She knew she should go back to sleep. Her head ached slightly, a clear signal that however long she’d been lost in slumber, it certainly hadn’t been long enough. Yes, the situation was beyond weird, to be trapped in this house on the outskirts of Madrid with a djinn who might or might not be some kind of hardened criminal, and yet she told herself that only meant she should get as much rest as possible now, just in case the opportunity presented itself to get away.

  And get back to what, exactly? she thought as she rolled onto her other side and hoped maybe she’d be more comfortable that way. Who is even going to miss you?

  Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. She’d had a few acquaintances in Los Alamos, but she didn’t know if any of those relationships were intimate enough that the people in question would truly mourn her absence. Her own fault, because the hurt from Jack’s death had translated into her not wanting to get too close to anyone else, not even as a friend. When you kept people at arm’s length, you didn’t have the right to expect them to miss you when you were gone.

  What she’d had with Jack…it was special. Sure, everyone always thought that about their relationships, but deep down she’d known how lucky she was, had known the way she and Jack had clicked from the moment they met that there would never be anyone else for her. Even the silly way they’d joked about their names, Jack and Jillian. An outsider probably would have thought their lives pretty ordinary, the high school biology teacher and the office assistant at the real estate firm, but they’d been happy. It had been enough.

  She’d thought it would always be enough, that nothing could ever separate her from the only man she’d ever really loved.

  Right then the ache inside was almost unbearable. More than once, she’d thought if God was really merciful, then He would have taken her along with Jack. At least then they would have died together.

  But then, how could God be merciful when He let the djinn do this to humanity? He’d stepped aside and let a bunch of vengeful elementals hit the reset button. A latter-day flood, she supposed, only much cleaner. A few billion piles of dust, and it was time to start over.

  Jillian did what she could to shove those thoughts to the back of her mind. They’d already played in her head over and over again, and brooding over what had happened and could never change wasn’t going to improve her current situation. She needed to save her strength and then do what she could to get away, get back to Los Alamos. Aldair certainly didn’t need her here; she’d already done the one thing he needed most — getting him back here on Earth. After that, he could go it alone.

  At last her eyes shut, and she fell into an uneasy slumber.

  The muffled cries and whimpers had no context, waking him as they did from deep sleep. He pushed himself upright. His surroundings were unfamiliar, but he knew where he was — a human-built house in this strange little town called Madrid. And when he sent his senses ranging out into the night, he could tell he was the only djinn within many leagues. No humans, either, except the one who slept across the hall from him.

  Which, he realized, was where those noises were coming from.

  He pushed back the covers and stood, then wondered if he should let it alone. It sounded as if the human woman was having a bad dream. Surely it would end sooner or later, and then she would subside.

  In the meantime, though, she would keep him from sleeping, and he would not tolerate that.

  Her door was shut, but that mattered little. He would not let courtesy prevent him from going inside.

  She thrashed on the pillow, her eyes tightly shut. In the moonlight, he saw the glitter of tears on her cheeks. Murmurs of “no” and little hiccuping cries escaped her lips, but he could tell she truly was asleep, that she had no idea how much noise she was making.

  “Jillian,” he said sternly, hoping the sound of her name would be enough to rouse her, but she gave no sign that she had heard him.

  Biting back a sigh of frustration, he moved closer to the bed. Although the room was now cool enough, thanks to the air conditioning, she had pushed back the covers, was now exposed a
gainst the pale sheets.

  It was easy enough to see that she had taken off the constricting undergarment human women wore to support their breasts. They now pushed against the thin knitted fabric of the top she wore, dark in places with splotches of perspiration. Again he experienced a sudden unwanted and unexpected tightening of the groin, a burst of sudden need. Not for her in particular, but for any female. It had been far, far too long since he had experienced that kind of exquisite release.

  He pushed the desire away, burying it for now. When he had cleared his name and could think of himself as truly free, then he would find a djinn woman to be with. Certainly he could do better than this human female, however superficially attractive she might be.

  “Jillian,” he said again.

  She was crying outright now, little hitching sobs even as she gasped with terror at a threat only she could see. Wherever she was, it must be far, far away from the sound of his voice.

  Since it seemed obvious enough to him that merely speaking to her was having no effect, he went over to the bed and touched her arm, shook her. “Jillian, you must wake up. You are having a bad dream.”

  She startled then, eyes flying open, pale in the darkness, even as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Jack — what?”

  “No,” Aldair said, thinking that he was being remarkably patient, “I am not Jack. You are safe, here in Madrid. Do you remember?”

  For a long moment she said nothing, only stared at him as if she had never seen him before. Then she let out another of those scratchy-sounding sobs and bent over, her entire body shaking, her hands pressed against her face. Before he really even realized what he was doing, he sat down on the bed, put his arms around her, and pulled her close. He stroked her hair, thinking the caress might comfort her. At the same time, he had to do what he could to ignore the sensation of her full breasts pushed against his bare torso. The fabric of the top she wore was so very, very thin….

  Then she pulled in a breath, even as she drew away from him, her eyes still wide. “I am so sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t — I forgot where I was.”

  “Apparently,” he replied dryly. He needed the sarcasm, needed it to prevent his body from reacting to hers. One part of him wanted nothing more than to push her down on the bed so he might take her then and there, but he forced himself to stay calm and cold. The last thing he wanted was to have a human woman make him so completely lose control. “What was it, anyway?”

  She had backed up against the pillows, thus putting as much distance between them as possible without her actually getting up off the bed. “Nothing. A nightmare.”

  “I gathered that. Perhaps it would help if you told me?”

  A shake of the head. “No, that’s — it’s nothing. I have them sometimes. It’s probably just from sleeping in a strange bed. That’s all.”

  From the way her voice shook, Aldair didn’t think it was nothing, but he wouldn’t bother to press the issue. She was a stranger, and her fears and night terrors meant very little to him…except when they disturbed his sleep.

  “Very well,” he said as he got to his feet. “Perhaps it would help if you told yourself you are safe here.”

  “Am I?” Still with that little tremor in her tone.

  “Of course,” he said curtly, glad that mortals could not read minds, that she could know nothing of the desire which had coursed through him only a few seconds earlier. He went to the door and paused there for a second before saying, “Why wouldn’t you be?”

  And then he shut the door firmly so she would not have the opportunity to reply.

  God. Oh, God.

  How could she have lost it like that in front of that hard-faced djinn?

  What made it worse were those blissful few seconds that had passed when he held her but she hadn’t recalled who he was, had only felt the comfort of a man’s strong arms around her. It had been so good to be held like that…before she realized it was Aldair who was doing the holding.

  The nightmare was always the same. She’d been having it ever since she got to Los Alamos, about a week after the Dying had ensured that the haven in the Jemez Mountains would be the only refuge for humans left in the region, possibly in the entire world. Before then, on the frightening trek from Albuquerque with a few survivors she had met, she’d been too terrified to let herself relax deeply into sleep. After that, though, once she’d been given her house and had been assured that the djinn could not touch anyone living in the mountain town, she’d relaxed enough that the demons of her subconscious could let loose.

  She was back in Albuquerque, running through the ruins of the city where she’d been born and where she’d spent her entire life. Crazy, too, because in reality, the djinn hadn’t destroyed the city itself, only the people who lived there. But in her dream the place looked like some hellscape out of a post-apocalyptic vision, buildings shattered, skies gray and lowering. And she ran through those ruins because she’d caught a glimpse of Jack, had discovered that he wasn’t dead, that he must be Immune, just as she was. For what felt like hours she chased after him, but he always stayed far enough ahead that she could barely see him, only caught a flash of his sandy hair and the blue polo shirt and khakis he’d been wearing when he drove off for work that warm early autumn morning.

  At last, though, she got close enough to call out his name. Then he paused and turned toward her, wearing the easy, friendly smile she loved so much. And she went to him so she could hold him, but he dissolved into dust at her touch, flying apart into millions of particles that fell all around her, choking her, making her fall to her knees as she coughed out her life, the way so many others had….

  Sometimes she could wake herself up before she got to that point. Sometimes, but not always. Just like tonight. She’d probably been too tired, too overwhelmed.

  And then Aldair had come in. Just the realization that he’d seen her sobbing and terrified was bad enough, but to let him hold her, to be pressed up against his bare chest while she was wearing nothing except that skimpy tank top….

  She didn’t know if she’d be able to face him in the morning.

  The worst part, though, the one she really didn’t want to acknowledge to herself but knew she must, was that she’d enjoyed it. Not consciously, true, but…it went beyond merely the reassurance of having a presence there, someone to hold her and tell her it was only a dream.

  No, a thrill had gone through her body…a sexual thrill. Just for a second, until she came to her senses, but in that second she’d felt her nipples start to go hard, a warm, familiar ache between her legs. She’d wanted him, before her higher functions kicked in and told her that was about a thousand kinds of wrong.

  Had he been able to tell? She prayed not, because that would make everything so much more awkward. Bad enough that she’d acted like such a terrified idiot in front of him. But if he’d sensed her arousal, well, he must be thinking she was a weak human, unable to keep herself from lusting after a djinn even in the aftermath of a horrible nightmare.

  She didn’t want him. Of course not. All that had been was a physical reaction, one easily explained away. It had been a very long time for her. No one since Jack. She hadn’t wanted anyone, because no one she’d met had been able to measure up to him. Or at least measure up to how she remembered him.

  These days, she really wasn’t sure which was the real truth anymore. And that made it even worse, because she’d begun to wonder how accurate her memories of Jack really were, whether she’d started to idealize those recollections as they began to fade more and more with the passage of time.

  Did this happen to everyone? She didn’t know, because the survivors at Los Alamos didn’t want to talk about what they’d lost. They only wanted to look forward to the future. That made sense, perhaps was the wiser course, and yet Jillian didn’t know how to let go.

  How could she, when she’d had the love of her life and lost him?

  Chapter Five

  Jillian was taking a v
ery long time to come downstairs this morning. Aldair didn’t find her behavior all that unusual, however. After the events of the night before, she was probably embarrassed to be around him. He knew he would be, if their positions had been reversed. Not that he would have ever allowed himself such a loss of control. A nightmare was a silly thing, compared to what he had endured in the outer circles.

  At any rate, she lingered upstairs for a good deal of time after he heard the water in the bathroom shut off. They did seem to have a good supply here, thanks to the well, and so that was one less thing to worry about. He himself had also showered, washing away the dirt and dust of his exile. Djinn tended to favor baths, long, luxurious affairs with scented oils and other comforts, but he had to admit there was also something quite satisfying about the human invention of the hot shower.

  As was the tradition of morning coffee, something the djinn had adopted millennia ago. He found a stash of it in the pantry, in a large airtight canister, so it had not gone too stale. And besides the pre-ground coffee, he had also located several bags of whole beans and a grinder. It would be a long time before they had to go in search of a supply to supplement what they had here, or he had to take what he needed from the stores in Santa Fe.

  Of course, speculating on how long the coffee would last led his thoughts to precisely how long he intended to stay here. Not forever, no, he did not think he could stomach that. But djinn could be patient — they must, in lives measured in centuries and even millennia, instead of the short decades allotted to mortals — and so he thought it would be some time before he felt compelled to venture forth from this sanctuary. Certainly enough of a span for the hue and cry to die down.

  If there even was a hue and cry. He had never detected any kind of surveillance while he was trapped in the outer circles, so he had no idea whether the elders even knew that he had managed the impossible by escaping from his exile. They saw a great deal, but he tried to reassure himself that they certainly did not see everything.