StoneHardPassion Page 5

  Rotating her hips, pressing up to meet each drive, Jasmina felt the first spasm of orgasm, held on to it and reached for the next. As the waves hit she closed her eyes, arching her back to maintain the contact with her clitoris, riding the climax, trying to stretch it out as long as she could. Finally it was enough.

  “Stop, stop.”

  As the dildo slid free of her body, she whispered the dispersal spell without opening her eyes, not wanting to see the conjured image of Vidar disappear. Pushing the phallus aside with her leg, Jasmina rolled onto her side and wondered why what had seemed enough just moments before now left her feeling so empty.

  Wiping tears away, she admitted that magic sometimes really wasn’t enough.

  Chapter Five

  Two fucking weeks.

  Jasmine strode across the Café, smiling in greeting at patrons who called out to her, but inside she was seething.

  It had been almost two weeks since Vidar and she had their intimate encounter. Eleven days, to be precise, but it felt like a year. Seeing his name in the appointment book, having to laugh through Ula’s snide comments, just made her already high stress level peak. Hopefully she looked her usual cool self because inside she was a quivering mess.

  No matter how she told herself it was his right to stay away as long as he liked, that he’d told her it would be a while before he could come back, it still rankled. Reminding herself they were supposed to be just friends didn’t help either. If the situation were reversed, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop from seeking him out a lot sooner. But while she’d been drowning in lust for him, unable to restrain herself from conjuring his image while she masturbated, he’d probably not given her a thought.

  She refused to wait by the desk staring at the door like a lovesick dork. At least if she sat at the bar the entrance would be out of her line of sight.

  Fucking troll.

  Hopping up on a barstool, she grinned at Bolaka. The bartender smiled in return, slapping his towel against his shoulder as he came over.

  “What can I get for you, Jazz? A shot of tequila? Senderac?”

  Wishing she could have a glass of the sweet palm wine favored by her people, Jasmina shook her head. “Nothing, thanks. I have a client coming soon.”

  “How about something soft?” The elf winked. “Come on, I have to look like I’m busy.”

  “Hard to do on a night like this.” The place was almost empty, with a couple of guys playing darts on the other side of the room and a slightly morose-looking werewolf slumped at the other end of the bar. “Okay, give me a rosehip barley water, please.”

  Bolaka wrinkled his nose, even as he was reaching for the bottle beneath the bar. “Don’t know how you can drink this stuff, sweetheart. If something tastes this bad, it should at least be alcoholic.”

  “I like it.” She gave him a haughty look, which just made him laugh. “It’s not my fault you don’t have any taste.”

  “I have impeccable taste.” Bolaka was looking over her shoulder, and his voice fell to a low croon. “And I’d looove to get a taste of what just walked in.”

  If the place hadn’t been so empty, Jasmina would have turned to look but she didn’t want to be obvious. Besides, she knew Bolaka’s taste in men.

  “One of those pretty boys you like so much?”

  “Not this time.” The elf ran his fingers through his hair, a slight frown between his brows. “In fact…” A look of almost comical shock widened his eyes and caused his mouth to sag open for a quick second. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was Vidar.”

  She swung the stool around so fast she banged her elbow on the bar, and when she saw the man standing just inside the door, the breath locked in her throat.

  Oh. My. Stars.

  Even her ability to curse seemed to desert her and she sat there stunned, her heart racing.

  Gone were the long, wild tresses, shaggy beard and whiskers. His hair was swept back from his face and fell in thick blond waves to just cover the tops of his ears. Without the beard and moustache all his craggy beauty was revealed, right out there for the entire world to see. Stern, chiseled lips and a firm jaw were in perfect balance with his strong nose, and his eyes, with those lovely, fair curly lashes, seemed even bluer than ever.

  All she could do was stare, blood rushing with dizzying force through her veins, pleasure and desire swirling inside.

  Did he do that for me?

  The thought caused something warm to flower deep in her belly, tendrils of joy unfurling and making her grin.

  The corners of his mouth twitched, and he started across the room toward her, his gaze never straying from her face.

  “Sweet goddess.” Bolaka’s words were barely audible. “How come I can’t find a man to look at me like that?”

  Jasmina didn’t answer, so caught up in staring at the new Vidar she hardly heard the bartender’s words. So enthralled she almost didn’t notice the slight tingling warning of her magic, the distortion of the air between her and Vidar.

  Just as it registered what she was feeling, a body materialized in front of her. Startled, it took her a long moment to realize who she was seeing, and the shock of it caused her to press slightly back against the bar before she could arrest the motion.

  “Mahmud.” She lifted her chin, forcing the name to flow smoothly from her lips. Every nerve in her body said to flee but she stayed seated, even rested a casual elbow on the bar. “What a surprise.”

  The man she had once been promised to looked the same—prosperous, slickly handsome and smug. His dark hair was artfully coifed into a sleek style. The light-gray suit was of the finest quality, fitting his broad shoulders and slim hips to perfection. But a rivulet of loathing trickled down Jasmina’s spine as she remembered their last encounter and glimpsed the hatred he tried to conceal behind half-lowered eyelids.

  “Jasmina Binaar Elalmadhoun, we finally meet again.”

  He spoke in the traditional jinn language, his words imbued with such mockery every hair on Jasmina’s body immediately stood on end. She smiled, stretching her lips to the utmost, sending his disdain back at him.

  “Uh-huh, I guess so.” Refusing to relent even a little, she used the common language. “What do you want?”

  Mahmud bowed, bending at the waist in the traditional greeting, but his leering gaze raked her from head to toes. A shudder of revulsion started in the middle of her back, had to be suppressed.

  “Princess.” Now, as he used her old title, she was glad he spoke in jinn and no one else could understand. “I bring word from my new ruler, His Highness King Ahmet. He asked that I advise you of the death of his father, King Farkan and request your return to the palace. Apparently your brother sees fit to welcome you back into his family.”

  A wave of cold enveloped her torso, washed up into her face, freezing the muscles.

  Father—dead?

  It didn’t seem real, even possible. He had been indomitable, so big, so strong and powerful. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain she knew would come. And yet, hadn’t he been dead to her for all the years since she left? There was sadness, but mostly at the realization she’d hardly known the man who’d sired her, and that she’d been little more than a useful pawn to him.

  Drawing a deep breath, she opened her eyes. Mahmud was watching her, his hands folded in front of his waist, but despite his posture she felt he was gloating.

  Why would he gloat? And why would Ahmet send him as emissary, knowing our history?

  Trusting her instinct, she nodded and, switching to jinn, replied. “Thank you for coming all this way to inform me of my father’s passing. Tell my brother I will attend at court within the week.”

  “No.” For a split second Mahmud’s urbane façade fell away, revealing something ugly and dangerous. Jasmina’s muscles tightened and she braced, ready for whatever he might try next. “His instructions were for me to accompany you back to Eldmar. We will go now.”

  “I’m afraid not, Mahmud. I have
work to do, and I’ll come to Eldmar when I’m ready.”

  “You will come now.”

  The anger in his voice was evident, and his magic rose as he reached out as though to grab her arm. But she was prepared and jerked back before he could touch her, sending a silencing blast at him, stealing his ability to cast any spells. She was about to follow it with an immobilizing spell when a massive forearm appeared around his neck and Mahmud was suddenly suspended in the air. Unable to translocate away, the jinn hung suspended from Vidar’s headlock, his eyes wide, face turning red. Mahmud’s fingers scrabbled at the forearm of the man holding him, but the troll didn’t seem to even notice.

  “What do you want me to do with him, Jazz?”

  She’d thought she’d seen him angry, but now she realized what she’d experienced before could, at best, be described as annoyance. His face looked as though it were carved from stone, his voice was as cold as the winter wind. She shivered.

  Before she could answer, both Hervé and Jakuta appeared beside her, obviously alerted by Ula of the problem. And she could see the goblin standing on her desk, hands extended, ready to join in should there be the magical fight. Even Bolaka, who always described himself as a pacifist, was on her side of the bar, although when he got there she had no clue.

  “You okay, Jazz?”

  Anyone who knew Hervé wouldn’t be fooled by the dragonkin’s calm tone, and there was a decided scent of ozone emanating off Jakuta, as the storm god readied for battle. Tears pricked her eyes as she looked at them all, and then at Vidar, who watched her with that unfathomable gaze.

  She truly was surrounded by friends. This was her family.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. “I am now, thanks. And if Vidar will put Mahmud down, I’ll send him back to where he came from.”

  The sound of disgust Vidar made needed no deciphering, and he released Mahmud so abruptly the jinn had no chance to keep his balance. Hitting the floor with a thump, his leather-soled dress shoes sliding on the polished concrete floor, he went sprawling, landing on his hands and knees.

  Stepping down from the barstool so as to move closer to him, Jasmina grinned. “That silencing spell is a nice little trick, isn’t it? I learned it from a grand mage one night over a few drinks. Hard to perfect, and I don’t think I got it completely right. You’re only supposed to be without the ability to cast spells for a short time, but I find my spells last a hell of a lot longer than they should. Don’t worry though, I’m sure you can find someone in the souk to reverse it for you.”

  Mahmud lifted his head, a sneer twisting his thin lips. “This isn’t the end.” He spoke in the common tongue, as though wanting everyone there to understand. “The protection your father provided you died with him. You were promised to me, and no matter how long it takes, I will possess you.”

  Vidar growled, and Jasmina knew she had limited time to prevent an out-and-out brawl. Leaning down, she snapped her fingers under Mahmud’s nose, knowing the insult used by jinn street urchins would rankle more than anything else she could do. Rage sparked in his eyes, and she grinned as she said, “In your dreams, asshole.”

  With a flick of her fingers and a translocation spell, she sent him back to Eldmar.

  Well, not exactly to the city, but to the middle of the desert a couple of days walk from it. Unrepentant, she shrugged to herself. He could use the time to consider the error of his ways.

  A bubble of laughter rose in her chest, began to expand. She didn’t dare give in to it, because underneath it was a surprising lake of pain over her father’s death. Once she started laughing she might fall apart.

  “Jazz.” Hervé pulled her to one side. Over his shoulder she saw Bolaka translocate back to behind the bar. Jakuta took another look around and then he too disappeared. Ula was settling at her desk, but still glanced their way.

  She didn’t dare look at Vidar. Not yet.

  Thankfully no one understood her conversation with Mahmud. Her origins were unknown to her friends so she could just be Jasmina, one of the group, not a princess. Losing that camaraderie, the sense of belonging, would be devastating.

  And what was that bullshit Mahmud had spouted about her father’s protection?

  “Jazz. Did that guy just say your father died?”

  Blinking, she focused on Hervé, realized she’d zoned out on him. “Sorry. Yeah. It’s a bit of a shock.” She swallowed, forced the words out carefully, enunciating them as drily as possible, shaken but trying to hold it all together. “I wasn’t expecting that kind of shit at all.”

  For a moment Hervé said nothing, but she felt he could see right past her defenses with his sharp emerald gaze. Hopefully he wouldn’t commiserate. She didn’t think she could deal with it right now.

  “And that guy? Who is he, and will he make good on that threat to you?”

  She released her pent breath, relief making her almost lightheaded. “He might, but you know I can take care of myself. He’s inconsequential right now. But if it’s okay with you, I’m going to take a few days off, try to wrap my head around everything.”

  “Huh.” Hervé’s lips firmed into a grim line. “I know you can handle yourself but be careful. In fact, I’d feel better if you stuck around where we can keep an eye on you.”

  Forcing a smile, she shook her head. “I need a little time to make sense of everything. I’ll wander around for a little, go visit some of my old haunts and just relax. It’ll be fine.”

  Hervé didn’t look impressed. “If you insist, but just shout if you need help, any time of day or night. Come back when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks, Hervé.” She touched his arm, seeing his frustration and concern, appreciating his forbearance. “I’ll be in touch.”

  With a nod, he strode away, heading back toward the bar, no doubt to try to pump Bolaka for information. Once the two men had been lovers and, although they’d both moved on, sometimes she could still see the connection between them.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned, finally, and looked at Vidar.

  He hadn’t moved, and his gaze was searing. She fought the urge to just go, wrap her arms around him, take comfort in his embrace. Instead she walked over to where he was standing, tipping her head back so as to look up into his face. Crossing her arms she tried to smile, but gave up when the motion faltered on her lips.

  “Not quite the evening I thought it would be.” Was it just a few minutes before that he’d come through the door? It felt like a month. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Not that you really needed it.” There was no inflection in his voice, but his eyes stayed riveted on her face. “What are you going to do?”

  “I—” Glancing around, feeling the gazes directed their way, she suddenly couldn’t bear it a moment more. “I can’t talk to you here. Come.”

  Leading the way across the room, she was aware of every eye on her, sensitive to it in a way she hadn’t been for a very long time.

  “Shit.”

  She said it under her breath, but Vidar obviously heard, and understood.

  “They’re worried about you.”

  “I know.” Jasmina sighed, wishing she could smile, make it look like everything really was fine. But she just couldn’t dredge up the balls for that, even approaching the acerbic Ula’s desk. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “Well slap my ass and call me blonde.” Ula was grinning, but her fingers thrummed a tense rhythm on the desk. “I guess you were right, jinn-girl. Definitely not ogre ugly after all.”

  Jasmina sent the goblin a grateful smile for breaking the tension, then slanted a glance at Vidar. He was looking at Ula, a little frown between his brows.

  “What was that all about?”

  She chuckled. “Nothing to concern you. Ula’s a little nuts.”

  “Huh.”

  He didn’t sound convinced, but she was glad when he also didn’t pursue the subject. Impatient to get away from the stares she could still feel burning into her back as she we
nt up the stairs, she was tempted to translocate away. But Vidar wouldn’t forgive her if she did. Damn him for disliking one of the most basic of faie abilities. Most beings, like trolls, who couldn’t do it weren’t averse to being translocated by others. What the hell was his problem with it?

  Pushing open the door to her private room was a relief, but she still felt as though she were walking through a fog. So many questions swirled in her head, all clamoring for attention, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate on any given one.

  Turning to face Vidar, she didn’t even try to smile. “I have to get away from here for a while. I need some space to think.”

  Something flashed in his eyes, but was quickly gone. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  She shook her head, more in negation of the tears suddenly pricking her eyes than at his words. “I hardly knew the man, and what I did know tells me I was more of a commodity to him than anything else. I’m sorry he’s dead, but I can’t say I’m really hurting over it.”

  Vidar stepped a little closer. Reaching out, he touched her shoulder, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her arm and making it tingle. “No matter what they are, the loss of a parent is always hard. You’ll feel it later, believe me.”

  Torn between wanting to move away and get closer, Jasmina stayed where she was. “I doubt it, Vidar. What he did was unforgivable, when you look at it objectively.” Her voice was rising, and she tried to bring it under control. “If I were what he thought I was, sweet, innocent, defenseless, when he locked me in that bottle with Mahmud I would have been traumatized. I can’t forgive him for that. I won’t forgive him.”

  His fingers tightened, as though to steady her, and she heard him sigh. “But according to Mahmud he also tried to protect you after you ran away. Maybe he regretted what he’d done?”