Her blood went white-hot when she thought of what she wanted. And how he would work into that wish.
On shaky legs she stood, and when he took a step toward her, that thrill turned to excitement, but she held up a hand to stop him—and her. “Wait. I have some questions first.”
His eyes narrowed in speculation. But his expression cleared and settled before she could wonder what he was thinking. “Ask me anything. I am yours to command.”
Command. There was that word again. Only this time it didn’t sound sexy as it had before. It sounded…forced. She dropped her hand, swallowed the nerves, feeling both foolish and a little disturbed. But this was important. She didn’t want to be with someone—even if it was just a wish—who didn’t want to be with her. Even if he was a super-hot genie sent to fulfill her every desire.
“I did some research while you were gone,” she said. “And I believe you. What you told me…it’s crazy.” She looked around the room, only half-believing she was saying this. “Twenty-four hours ago, I never would have thought this was possible, but now…everything is different.” She looked back at him. “But before we move on to my, ah, wish, I need to know one thing.”
When he only stared at her, she shifted her feet and forced herself to go on. “Are you here by choice? Or are you being forced by some…master…to fulfill my wish?”
Her heart thumped hard. So hard she was sure it had to be bruising a few ribs. And under his heated stare, she couldn’t read him. Didn’t have a clue what he was thinking. Or feeling—if anything. Did djinn even have feelings?
“You researched me,” he said slowly, still staring at her.
“Yeah. Well, not you specifically,” she managed, though her throat was thick with nerves. “But your tribe. And everything I read says those from the Marid tribe keep to their own realm. They don’t cross over into the mortal world like the Jinn and Jann tribes do. Like the Shaitans and Ghuls.” She swallowed back the rising sickness when she remembered what she’d read about the last two djinn tribes. While the Jinn and Jann were mostly just curious about humans, the Shaitans and Ghuls preyed on both the living and the dead, loved to torment and destroy whenever they could. She’d been so relieved Tariq was not one of them.
“You researched me,” he said again.
“Yeah,” she repeated, twisting her hands together. “Does that bother you?”
“No, Mira,” he said softly. “It does not bother me. It…surprises me. No one in all my long years of servitude has ever gone to the trouble of trying to learn more about me.”
His admission sent pleasure through her chest, and a smile curled her mouth. But the elation was dampened when she realized he’d used the word servitude.
The warmth dimmed. “So you are being forced to be here with me.”
He took a step toward her and, before she could think to stop him, ran his palm across her cheek, cupping her face and looking down at her with eyes that were soft inky pools of…confusion.
Heat rushed in again.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, the simple touch sending tongues of wicked fire licking through her torso. “You are unlike any mortal I have ever met.” His gaze drifted down, and he ran the fingers of his other hand across the opal nestled in the top of her cleavage. “While it is true I am bound to the Firebrand and am forced to serve, for the first time in forever, I feel…tempted.”
Tempted was good, right? It meant at least part of him wanted to be here with her. Or so she hoped.
She held her breath. Waited. His gaze lifted back to hers. And someplace deep inside her went dark with desire at the longing she saw reflected in his sinfully wicked eyes. Longing she had put there.
“Who are you, Mira Dawson? And why do you have this strange effect on me?”
Tariq wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, fantasizing, or just plain finally going nuts after all the years Zoraida had kept him locked up. But even if this was some schizophrenic hallucination, he didn’t care. Mira had researched his tribe. She’d truly cared whether he was forced to be with her or not. No one—not a single human he’d granted wishes to in all those years—had once thought of him. What he wanted, what he needed. Not a single one had looked at him as anything more than a lowly genie.
But not her. Right now, staring up at him with those hypnotic hazel eyes, she was looking at him as if he was a man.
Which was a huge misconception he should remind her of. He was not a man. Had never been a man. He was djinn. The heir to his kingdom. A lethal warrior who had commanded armies. One who had eventually been captured, tortured, and condemned into slavery. But none of that mattered right now—not even his failures. All that mattered was her. And this tiny moment of relief he’d found because of her.
“I’m…no one special,” she said softly, breaking his train of thought. “I’m just…me.”
She was more, though. Something in the center of his chest said she was much more.
“Tell me your wish, Mira.”
She looked down at his T-shirt. And again he watched a blush creep across her cheeks. A blush that excited him with each passing second. “I…it’s a little embarrassing.”
“Nothing you wish for will shock me.” Especially because he was already starting to think of all the ways he could pleasure her. And was actually looking forward to them. Which was a first for him. A big first.
“This might,” she mumbled. Then, drawing in a breath, she looked back at his face. “I want to learn about…seduction.”
When he opened his mouth to ask how she wanted to be seduced, she held up a hand, stopping him. “Before you ask, no, I’m not a virgin. I’ve had boyfriends. And I like men. I like sex. But…”
She hesitated. Bit her lip. Looked back down at his shirt. And he waited because he sensed this was hard for her. And because the way her top teeth sank into her bottom lip was so damn sexy, he had a wicked, all-consuming urge to take a bite out of her himself.
“Oh, man,” she said. “This is so embarrassing.” Then she squared her shoulders and met his eyes again. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m the first one in my family to go to college. My parents were both blue-collar workers who couldn’t afford to send me to school and worked extra jobs so I could go. I sacrificed partying and boys in favor of studying so I could make them proud. Then, when I graduated, I was focused on getting a job to prove to them their sacrifices were worth it. And I did. I got a great job. I love my job. And it was enough. Until my dad got sick a few years ago. I found myself torn between work and helping my mom when I could, but all the while I was starting to feel as if something was missing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends, but no one special, you know? I guess a relationship didn’t matter much to me before, so maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Then my dad died last year, and my mom went to live with my aunt in Idaho, and suddenly I found myself…”
“What?” he asked before he could stop himself, mesmerized by her words, her voice, that she was sharing something so personal with him.
She looked back up at him. And there was such regret in her eyes, he couldn’t look away, even if he’d wanted to.
“Alone,” she said softly. “I’m alone.”
His heart thumped as she closed her eyes, shook her head. Opened them with a look of longing that speared straight to the center of him. The same longing he felt on a daily basis.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said, “but I’ve a feeling something I’m doing consciously or subconsciously when I meet men is sending the impression I’m not interested, even though I am. I’m not asking you to turn me into some Playboy bunny, I’m just asking you to help me learn how to be more…desirable. I want to know that when I do meet that right man—if I haven’t already—that I’m confident and skilled enough for him to want me just as much.”