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Though Sajia’s trips to Oakland had been limited, like anyone serving a scion she’d been given lessons in geography and human politics. She knew the general direction of the outer harbor controlled by Rimmon, though not how long it would take to reach it.
“We’ll have to hurry if we hope to get the boat into the bay by nightfall,” she said as they left Temptation, matching actions to words—only to be halted within steps by a manacle of fingers.
“We’ll continue our search for the scion tomorrow,” Addai said, swinging her around to face him. “Tonight we return home.”
The familiar arrogance was back. Deadly purpose returned to eyes as black as any abyss.
“No and no again,” she said, her hand going to the knife at her waist, thoughts flashing first to their battle at the chalet and the blood she’d drawn there, then to his back coated with it as she’d wielded the cat-o’-nines.
The fight left her, though her determination didn’t. She abandoned the blade in favor of stepping into him, close enough to share breath and heat.
She touched her hand to his chest and felt his heart beat against her palm. Steady strokes that made her think of home and safety, of a love so deep it defied even death. Of passion found in firm touches and feathery caresses, of desire all-consuming and eternal. Addai.
“Please,” she said, knowing she couldn’t allow herself to waver in her resolve. “This is important to me. Surely the boat has a cabin. We can take shelter there. It should be safe enough in open water, and if danger comes, I’ll go willingly. A blink and we can be in your home, your bed.”
“Our home. Our bed,” Addai said, resolve melting with her entreaty and the soft pleading in her eyes as she looked up at him.
He was glad none of the brothers allied with the Djinn were here to witness his defeat. He conceded it only because he could tell himself that traveling to and from the chalet with Sajia posed a greater danger than taking possession of the Constellation for the night. With the sigils on her skin weakening, her Djinn nature might reveal itself as they traveled. His own passing through the metaphysical plane created little more than a ripple, but a Djinn breaching it left a trail of sound that would summon angelic enemies if they were near.
They would arrive with the intention of killing her. They would die in the attempt. But there was risk even in that, and victory over them wouldn’t come without a cost.
He couldn’t capitulate without giving her fair warning. He leaned in, lips touching hers, the image of her bound to the bed arriving in his thoughts as he issued his threat. Don’t think to control me with your body, Sajia. Soon enough you’ll discover that I am the master of it.
She shivered. Not fear, her scent and the hardening of her nipples spoke only of arousal. He smiled as he contemplated turning defeat into a chance to give her the first of her lessons in submission. No boat left the dock without a multitude of ropes onboard it.
“Let’s go,” he said, denying them both the kiss they craved, the exploration of wet heat and the thrust of tongue against tongue, the sharing of breath that bound their spirits together more tightly each time it happened. Her whimper at the loss of his lips against hers was a soothing balm laid over the turbulent, intense emotions her presence created in him.
The farther they got from the Victorian-lined street with its clubs serving human vice, the more deserted the red zone became. Shops gave way to clusters of homes where the poor lived, and then, as the air took on the smell of the ocean, to twisted steel and rusted ruin, what remained of cranes and shipping containers from the days of the humans’ Last War.
Beyond the jungle of ruin, the exposed hulls and sunken debris of ships turned the harbor into a treacherous, watery graveyard. As they boarded the Constellation, Addai said, “Throw off the ropes. I’ll start the engines.”
He was unconcerned about navigating the dangerous outer harbor. Tir’s memories were his. His brother had been the one to recover the Constellation for Araña and guide it through the minefield of wrecked ships.
To ease Sajia’s mind, they searched for the fishing boat Saril had described until darkness crowded into dusk. Then Addai insisted they stop, and, as the anchor dropped, a hot swirl of desert-scented wind blew across the deck, announcing the arrival of a Djinn.
Irial’s eyes lingered appreciatively over Sajia’s form, settling briefly on the scorpion pendant at her throat before meeting Addai’s. “So this is the reward my father spoke of. Now I understand why I was sent with food . . . and bedding. Perhaps I’ll remain and aid you in the latter.”
Addai took a threatening step forward before he could stop himself. With a laugh, Irial set down the basket he carried, then disappeared as suddenly as he’d arrived, choosing to take no form rather than become the raven of his House.
“Your brother?”
“ No.”
“He called me your reward.” There was no anger in her voice, just the hesitant question, Your reward for doing what?
For traveling down the path your death set me on, Addai said, choosing to answer intimately, in a reminder of what they were to each other. There is nothing I’ve done that I wouldn’t do a thousand times again if that’s what it took to get you back, or if doing it would rewrite the past so you were never lost to me in the first place.
Sajia’s heart turned over in her chest at his pronouncement. “I’m not the same person,” she forced herself to say, silently confronting the fear she harbored, that one day he’d realize he loved the memory of who she had been in the past more than who she was in this life.
He crossed the distance, arms enclosing her. His expression harsh as his lips descended, claiming hers in a taking that left no room for resistance.
In all the ways that matter, you are the same, he said, his hardened cock an exclamation mark against her mound and belly. Never doubt it, Sajia.
As the last of the light faded, she pulled from his arms and picked up the basket left by their visitor. “I’ll set out the food and make the bed.”
She couldn’t bring herself to ask him to keep searching for Corinne during the night, not when the risk existed that he could be pulled from the sky by a bioengineered sea creature or a supernatural one, hindered and drowned because of his wings. It didn’t stop worry from gnawing at her, but deep down she accepted they’d done what they could for Corinne today, and she had to believe tomorrow they’d find and free her.
They ate at the small table in the cabin. Had Addai not been driven by thoughts of binding Sajia to the bed, he would have fed her by hand on the mattress. He would have dribbled honey over her naked breasts and watched as it slid over her curves, then along her flat stomach, filling the well of her navel before coating her sweet mound in an irresistible invitation for his tongue to follow.
