AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you fuck—?” she began asking a question that I felt was going to be quite vulgar.
“Not everything has to do with fucking,” I assured her, although I regretted saying that immediately. I had a bedroom in the back of the plane, and I definitely wanted to fuck her in it very soon, but not now. She’d mentioned cats, and cats were now on my brain. It made my whole spine shudder. I had to misdirect my brain to something—anything—less disgusting to get my mind out of it, but it kept veering around to cats. “Sometimes you just get people who compliment you, and you should always keep those people around. You don’t always have to be so crass about it.”
“I’m not crass,” she assured me, leaning back in her seat as the plane went through turbulence. “I have been human for a while, until a couple of weekends when I was corrected about that, and although I did not understand why I felt differently, I can tell you that humans fuck a lot. They can’t stop thinking about it—it’s an obsession.”
I raised an eyebrow at this. “True,” I finally replied. “But I’m not a human.”
“You have a reputation for fucking everything that moves,” she assured me, and then I remembered she was a personal investigator… and she had been investigating me before she actually walked into my mansion and let me smell her delicious, amazing scent. “And this guy fucked me two seconds after stealing something of his,” she added, jerking her thumb towards Murtagh.
“I fucked you after spanking you for it,” Murtagh corrected, still flipping through the pages of the book. “Because you have a delicious bottom and I was eventually going to be fucking you anyway. I had a multi-year game-plan with you already in-play before I was going to even introduce you to that.” He pointed at me casually, not looking up from his book. I, apparently, was the ‘that’. I frowned with annoyance, but then smiled, because she was blushing now.
She didn’t like the fact that she got spanked. Or maybe she did like it, but didn’t like that she liked it. It was hard to be sure. I liked it when she blushed; it made her look that much more delectable, innocent, and sweet.
It definitely made me forget for a moment that most of her blood was djinn.
She hadn’t forgotten, though—it was obvious that she was already separating herself out from the species. I would have thought it might take her longer to start calling humans ‘humans’.
“Point taken, I suppose,” I sighed. “No, I am not fucking my familiar.” I pointed to Miles. “Is that clear enough for you?”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you were,” she assured with a shrug. “You’re not my boyfriend or anything. It’s not my business.”
“You’re our mate, so it’s very much your business, and what you do with other men, is very much Murtagh’s and my business,” I replied, rather crisply. “We’re lucky, because if you are a djinn from Daconia, then you probably feel about humans the same way I feel about squirrels.”
She straightened. “Hey, I’m half, so my father was apparently able to get it up for a human,” she reminded defensively. “They’re not all squirrels.”
“Your father was probably turned on by his goals of being the squirrel god,” I hummed with a smirk, despite the fact that her father was an extremely horrifying monster, and I had no idea what that must have been like for her mother. Zazie simply didn’t know, couldn’t understand, and had no frame of reference. She was taking things casually in stride, bit by bit.
“What I mean is that it is hard to get you going if you’re not surrounded by gems. You feed off the power. Or me, maybe.”
“Feed off your power? You don’t have power. You’re not a gem.”
“Dragons are very hard to kill because we are mostly made of gems, on a cellular level. We’re living stone,” Murtagh offered, looking up from his book.
“Stone? Stone that smokes cigars and drinks cocktails?” She turned her head towards him, apparently to make a scoffing expression as if we were just making all this up. “And then what am I?”
“Also stone with some human thrown in. That’s why you smell so good,” I told her, and she lifted her eyebrows, surprised and confused all at once.
“My smell?” she asked, blinking at me.
“You smell like Daconia, our home-realm,” I explain. “Probably because you’re mostly from there. Normally humans don’t smell like that.”
She scrunched her nose like we were talking nonsense. I hadn’t actually talked to a Daconian djinn before, and I realized that I didn’t know as much about them as I’d thought. I hadn’t been in the realm for over a thousand years, of course—maybe I’d forgotten what I did know. I was surprised for a moment that she didn’t seem to have much of a sense of smell when she asked, “What do humans smell like?”
“Soap.”
“Bacon.”
Murtagh and I looked at each other, surprised that we’d both answered at the same time. Then we looked at her.
She was suddenly looking askew at us, shaking her Shirley-Temple in our direction. “Wait. Do you eat people?”
“Not often,” Murtagh replied. “We mostly just salivate and go without. Unless they box us in a corner,” he added.
“Where you had to eat them?”
“Had to?” I leaned forward, smiling wryly at her. “Got to. Believe it or not, the quality of the soul gives it its flavor,” I assured her. “A good soul is really bad for digestion, to say the least. Doesn’t taste good going in, either. Bad souls, however, do make the body sometimes resemble something delicious to the palate.” Her expression was still very judgmental, I noticed. “What?”
“Gross,” she assured me, definitively, then sipped on her Shirley Temple. “I do wish there was booze in these,” she sighed, looking down at it.
