INSPIRATION FOR HIRE

 

Purgatory, Inc.

 

Coral Moore

 

Copyright © 2015

 

 

When my savior showed up, he sported jeans nearly worn through at the knees and a beat-up leather jacket a few seasons past its prime. He was the very image of a rock ‘n’ roll cliché, and somehow, that was perfect. The calling card in my back pocket had grown steadily warmer since I’d dialed the number embossed on its surface in glossy black beneath his name, Zuhal, and the tagline, Inspiration for Hire. I shifted on the uncomfortable chair my manager had parked me in to sign some autographs after my latest gig, wishing I’d never agreed to the farce.

The room was disappointingly empty, with only a few dozen people standing in line to wait for my attention. A couple of years before there would have been hundreds of fans crammed into the tiny backstage area. Strike that—I never would have done a show at a venue this small when my songs had actually been on the charts.

I distracted myself from the depressing reality that had become my downward-spiraling career by searching out Zuhal again. My pulse raced when our gazes met. Eyes the color of a fine, aged bourbon appraised every inch of me and made goose bumps rise along my arms. I had to convince him to help me with my next album. Since the last time I’d seen him I hadn’t written a song worth a damn.

A redhead that might have been appealing on a different night stepped between us and murmured, “Your music changed my life Mr. Santos.” A flush painted her cheeks bright pink.

“Call me Ramón, please.” I smiled, signed the t-shirt she put in front of me, and tried my best to make a passable attempt at conversation.

When the adorable redhead moved aside, I looked toward him again. He stood closer now, a sly not-quite-smile teasing his lips. Had he made the people in front of him think of something more important to do, or was his trickery more harmful? I really couldn’t afford to lose any more fans.

I signed another t-shirt, another album liner, another random body part. All the while I could feel his stare warming my skin as he drew closer. When he finally stood across the table from me, I hesitated before looking up.

Zuhal was lean in a way I generally didn’t find attractive, too much sinew and bone showing through his sun-kissed skin. Still, something about him drew me in a way no one else could since I’d met him. I had no idea how old he really was, but he’d seemed to be in his early twenties for the decade I’d known him, with the beauty of unspoiled youth clinging to him and refusing to let go. I told myself he was too pretty, but that was a lie; he was exactly pretty enough, devastating even. His face balanced hard angles with soft curves to perfection. Now that he was so close, I could hardly catch my breath.

“Why have you summoned me?” The words were part of the ceremony and he always spoke them when he appeared to me, his voice low and full of dark promises.

The backstage room around us was deserted. Was that another of his tricks? I swallowed to get some saliva back in my mouth before speaking. “I need an album.” I left off the part where if I didn’t produce new music soon, I was most likely out of the business for good.

His perfect lips twitched into a frown that didn’t make him the slightest bit less attractive. “And what makes you think I would help you with such an endeavor?”

“It’s your job.”

He turned away in a whirl of heated air and stalked toward the door without a word, his dark hair streaming out behind him. Every step tightened my throat. The fear of never being able to write another song bore down on me.

“Please!” I shouted after him. “I need you.” My voice echoed in the empty room, amplifying my plea.

Zuhal stopped so quickly that if he had been merely a man he would have tripped. For a few heart-pounding seconds, he faced away from me without moving, and then he lifted his left hand to make a beckoning gesture without looking back.

* * * *

My hotel room was depressing in the way only on-the-cheap traveling can be. Empty bottles of liquor, dirty clothes, and last night’s takeout combined into an unappealing stench. I probably shouldn’t have left the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign out, but I hadn’t been expecting company when I left.

Zuhal came in behind me. In a room this small, he heated the air a few degrees just by entering. He took in the mess with a sweeping gaze that lighted on me after a few seconds. A thrill tightened my stomach.

He slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto my unmade bed. “Why haven’t you called me? I’ve missed you.”

I ignored his question and stepped closer. I had missed him too, but I wouldn’t admit it. He already had enough hold on me. Bracing for the heat, I tilted my chin upwards.

He lowered his head until our mouths met. His hand clasped the back of my neck and kept me on my feet as the molten tide of his kiss scoured me clean. My pulse raced, spreading fire through my body with every heartbeat. As my cock swelled, I craved more contact. I slid my hands around to his ass and squeezed, bringing his hips hard against mine.

Zuhal broke from the kiss with a feral growl. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it somewhere behind me. Dark red markings were etched into his torso and shimmered when he moved. I traced one curved line and heat radiated into my finger. They were some sort of script, elegant and otherworldly, but I couldn’t read them.

“Turn around.” My voice was rough and low.

His eyes blazed with defiance, but he complied. He stared into the mirror on the wall in front of him, locking his gaze with mine. I moved closer, until my chest was flush against his back and I felt his heat baking through my shirt. I reached around him, running my hands over the markings on his stomach. The muscles of his torso flexed as he writhed under my touch.

I followed the depression in the middle of his stomach downward and around his bellybutton. He wasn’t human, but whatever magic had formed him had remained faithful to the tiniest detail. His eyes dropped shut as my fingers entered the coarse hair just above the low-slung waist of his jeans.

His hips rocked back so his ass brushed against my aching groin. My hand skated downward over the bulge in his jeans and pulled him back against me. He shivered at the rougher treatment and a groan escaped his slightly parted lips.

“Take me,” he said in a whisper so dry it might have caught the linens on fire given time.

I ground against his ass and tilted my head until my lips nudged his ear. “I’m going to fuck you until the music pours out of you.”

He slipped out of my grip before my brain registered the motion, moving faster than any creature of flesh and bone could. My head swam with vertigo as he spun me around and slammed my back into the cheap hotel wall. If he had used much more force he might have brought the ceiling down on top of us.

Zuhal lifted me by the throat one-handed. “Why must you always insult me?”

I gasped and spluttered, trying to get air past his firm grip. Talking about the music when we were about to get it on always pissed him off, but he was quicker to anger than usual. Frustration made me bolder than I had any right to be, given the situation. “Because you made every good song that has ever come out of me, and I hate you for it.”

My feet hit the floor hard when he dropped me. I could still feel the heat from his fingers burned into my skin even after he’d backed away. He stared at me for a handful of seconds that felt like an hour, his gaze weighing and calculating, then shook his head and stooped to pick up his clothes. On his way out the door, Zuhal paused. “You’re an idiot,” he said without turning just before he left me alone in the hotel room.

Once I stopped shaking, I poured myself into a bottle of bourbon. Every time I lifted the glass I was reminded of the liquid fire of his eyes when they’d met mine in the mirror.

* * * *

After making it all the way through my next gig with no hint of Zuhal’s brooding presence, I loitered around the club for an extra half hour to be sure he wouldn’t show, signing autographs and pretending to have fun despite my hangover. By the time I left, anger had replaced desperation. I didn’t need him. I had written songs without his help, and I could do it again.

I retired to my lonesome hotel room with a bottle of liquor, vodka this time so as not to remind me of him. Sipping the foul-tasting stuff from a plastic cup, I tried to find the quiet place inside where the music flowed, but every chord I strummed sounded wrong. I tuned and retuned until the notes lost all meaning and I couldn’t have found a melody with a map. I drank until the world spun around me, and then I drank some more.

When the shrill ring of the hotel room phone woke me some time later, I was face down on the bathroom floor in the most revolting puddle of puke I had ever had the bad luck to meet up close and personal. I barely managed to make it to the toilet in time to empty the rest of the vodka from my stomach. Slumped over the basin, I wished an urgent and painful death on whoever kept ringing my phone.

Eventually, someone shaking my shoulder woke me from a dreamless sleep. I decided to pretend I was still asleep.

“I know you’re awake, Ramón.” The annoyed voice of my manager, Mandy, echoed in the pounding cave of my skull.

I should have known she was the source of the ringing phone. She probably paid extra for the phone company to add extra annoying on to each ring. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving, so you might as well get up.”

Grumbling, I pulled myself into a sitting position and immediately regretted moving. I leaned over the toilet and heaved twice.

She reached over me to flush the toilet. “Extra cleanup charge is coming out of your end.”

I tilted my head up while still leaning over the bowl, just in case. “Doesn’t it always?”

Mandy’s dark hair was artfully curled and pinned up, and the mile and a half of caramel cleavage she showed off in her not-quite-see-through lace shirt would have been distracting if I hadn’t been almost dead. She pursed her ruby red lips. “Jesus, you look like shit and smell worse.”

“Thanks, babe. Just what I needed to hear today.”

She went to the shower and fiddled with the knobs until the water came on. “You’ve got a meeting with the producer of your next album in an hour. I need you to clean up.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t have any reason to. “I can’t make an album with no material. Just cancel it.”

“Your contract terminates at the end of the year. If you don’t make another album you’re going to have to pay the penalty. I know you well enough to know you don’t have anything put aside to cover that.”

I didn’t help her peel me out of my disgusting shirt, but she managed anyway. Her entire career was probably a direct result of that talent. “There’s no music left in me, Mandy.”

“Sure there is.” She dragged me unsteadily to my feet. “You think everything is hopeless when you’re hungover.”

“This time it’s different. Nothing sounds right anymore.”

She shoved me toward the shower. “You probably just need to get laid, and that will be much easier once you’re not covered in vomit.” Once I was situated, she twirled the knob so cold water blasted out of the showerhead, and then shut the curtain with an authoritative swish.

I called her an uncharitable name that I didn’t regret until I had warmed up much later.

* * * *

The meeting was a disaster, as predicted. The guy wanted answers I didn’t have and I ended up storming out of the building not too long after we’d begun. Mandy was lighting up my phone soon after, but I sent her to voicemail.

I dug in my back pocket and pulled out Zuhal’s calling card. On the back was the same script that marked his body, some sort of incantation in an archaic language. I dialed the number printed on the front. There was a long delay with a strange scratching noise in the background that made me wonder where exactly I was calling, and then a beep.

“It’s Ramón Santos. I need to see you.”

Mandy would be looking for me, so I couldn’t go back to my hotel room to wait. I found a bar dark enough to suit my mood and ordered a double bourbon, neat.

I knew when he came in even though I wasn’t watching the door, because a hush fell over the room. People took notice when Zuhal entered. I certainly did. I held my breath as he came closer, trying not to look up until the last possible second. I gestured to the seat across from me and finally met his eyes.

His face was set in a hard expression that didn’t suit him, but it didn’t make him any less beautiful. “Why have you summoned me?”

I sighed. Just once I wish he wouldn’t say it, that he had come for a reason other than the summoning. “I just want to talk.”

A furrow formed between his dark eyebrows. He slid into the opposite side of the booth. The waitress was there in a heartbeat. He copied my order and slid the drink over to me when she came back with it.

“Let’s start with the basics. What are you?”

He hesitated for a long beat, and then seemed to come to a decision. “I’m a jinni.”

“Like Aladdin and all that?”

Zuhal leveled a withering look my way. “I don’t live in a lamp and I don’t grant wishes. I provide the fire of inspiration.”

“That’s all I want. Why can’t you do that for me?”

He considered quietly for a few moments before answering. “I want to, but I can’t. I don’t do music. My art is all visual, painting mostly, sometimes sculpture.”

That couldn’t be true. He’d been there for the writing of every song of mine that had gained any traction on the charts. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s always been you, Ramón. I didn’t do anything but admire you and desire you.”

A knot of anger formed in my chest. “So all these years you’ve been lying to me? You’ve been taking credit for my music when you did nothing?”

He had the audacity to look offended. “I have told you on many occasions I couldn’t help you the way you wanted.”

“But you let me believe you were responsible for all my best music.”

“I did it so I could be near you.”

His pained expression nearly broke my resolve to be angry with him, but he’d lied for years. I couldn’t forgive the depth of his betrayal. “You’ve been pretending to be the inspiration behind my music for a decade so you could follow me around like some kind of groupie?” If I had slapped him, he couldn’t have been more shocked. I hoped the insult hurt, a lot.

He looked down at his hands where they rested on the table. “When I first saw you, you were playing your guitar on a street corner as I walked by with a client of mine. Your music was lovely, but your passion was what drew me to you.”

When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “I’ve watched your talent mature and encouraged you where I could, but that’s all. There is no magic.” He met my eyes. “I’m sorry for the pain this deception has caused you. I realize now how wrong and selfish it was.”

I wanted to tell him it was all right, but the stubborn bastard that lived in my skull wouldn’t let me. He had betrayed me, after all. I hit the table hard enough that my glass jumped. “Get out.”

Zuhal stood up but didn’t leave. His heated gaze made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. After a long hesitation, he moved away. I didn’t look up until he was long gone, because I didn’t want him to see how close to forgiving him I was. I didn’t want him to go. I ordered another drink and told the waitress to keep bringing them.

An uncounted number of bourbons later, I looked up blearily and tried to find someone who would let me forget about Zuhal, if only for a little while. At the bar, a woman in a tight black dress that emphasized her ample curves danced alone to music no one else could hear. Her hips and arms undulated in faultless rhythm; her blond curls swayed. The men around her whistled and called out rude suggestions, but none of them took up her invitation.

I managed to work my way across the bar to her without falling, though there were a couple of near misses. She favored me with a cryptic smile when I approached and held out her hands.

* * * *

In the alley outside after last call, I pressed the dancer up against the brick wall with sloppy kisses. I made a clumsy move for my belt, and she swooped in to help. Her hand dove into my jeans and gave me a squeeze. I looked into eyes of dazzling blue under a fringe of golden bangs. She was lovely, but the deep passion that had stared back at me from the mirror wasn’t there, just a yawning emptiness.

“What’s wrong?” She tried to revive my flagging interest with slow strokes. It almost worked.

Pulling away from her, I tried to do up my fly, but I was too drunk to manage it. “I need to go home.”

She grabbed my arm before I could stumble very far down the alley. “Zuhal can’t help you, but I can.”

I stopped but didn’t turn back. I was sure I’d heard her wrong. “What do you know about Zuhal?”

“He’s a cheap knock-off, but I’m the real thing.” Her voice floated around me, rich and melodious.

Of course she was some kind of monster; it just fucking figured. “How the hell do you guys keep finding me?”

She leaned against my back and wrapped one arm around my waist. “We’re drawn to those who have your gifts.” She slid her hands into my pants again and gave me another squeeze.

Despite my better judgment, my cock responded to her touch. I tried and failed to untangle myself from her hold. She was a lot stronger than she looked. “I thought you wanted me for my music?”

“I do.” She rubbed her palm over my hardening length.

I rocked my hips into her caress. “How do I know you’ll follow through?”

She manhandled me until my back was against the same brick wall I’d pressed her into a few minutes before. One corner of her mouth lifted into a sultry smile. “Would you like a sample?”

The sane part of me wanted to say no, tried to say no. The self-destructive part just wanted to screw something, anything. “Fuck yes.”

“When people hear the music we’ll make together, they will fall at your feet.”

She knew exactly what every musician craved. My cock swelled until it ached.

Her grin sharpened when she felt my response. “That’s more like it.” She dropped to her knees fluidly and tugged my jeans until my cock bobbed free.

When she engulfed me in one long pull, I groaned and leaned into the wall. My fingers scraped the rough bricks for purchase. Pressure built swiftly, tightening the muscles of my stomach when I thrust deeper into the moistness of her mouth.

In that breathless moment where I tried to hold on to make the sensation last, the music began. The melody unwound from somewhere inside me that I couldn’t have pointed to or named. I struggled to hold onto it, to commit the song to memory, but my body had other ideas. I arched my back and drove my cock deep one last time. My balls tightened as I exploded into her mouth. Blood roared through my ears. I held onto the wall until the dizziness passed.

By the time my breathing had returned to normal, she was standing in front of me with a hand on one hip. She had already done up my fly without me noticing, somehow. Though the alley was far from clean, there wasn’t a smudge on her.

“What the fuck was that?”

She smirked. “Do I get the job?”

I tried to recall the music, but it seemed to be hovering just out of reach. “Yeah, let’s get a cab.”

* * * *

Several days passed in a dull haze of sex, alcohol, and music. Mandy eventually hunted me down in a different cheap hotel I didn’t remember checking into. She banged on the door until I let her in. I had no idea where the dancer had run off to, and I didn’t really care as long as she came back when I needed more of the song. I’d been sitting alone in the hotel room for a while, strumming the melody to my new tune and grinning like an idiot.

I went back to the chair and my guitar. “How’d you find me?”

“Tracked your cell phone.” She watched me play for a few seconds in silence, her lips pursed. “You okay?”

I laughed and played a few more bars. “Yeah, don’t I sound okay?”

She shrugged. “More worried about how you look. Are you doing drugs?”

“You’re not really going to after-school-special me are you?”

“You’re sitting alone in a hotel room that smells like old sweat and piss, and have lost about ten pounds since I saw you last. I think I’m entitled to ask.”

“No drugs, just music.” I smiled up at her between chords, but she didn’t look amused. “Nothing to worry about, Boss.”

“I try to give you space because I know you’ve got a weird process, but you’re not playing anything but noise, Ramón.”

Anger bubbled up and I stopped strumming. “Are you kidding me? This is the best thing I’ve written in years, maybe ever.”

Mandy bit her lip and somehow managed to look even more miserable. “The guitar isn’t even in tune.”

“Get the fuck out. You’re fired.”

At her sides, her perfectly manicured fingers clenched into fists. “You can’t fire me for no reason. We have a contract. But I don’t care about that right now. What I care about is that you’re falling apart.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I pointed for emphasis, because she didn’t seem to have heard me the last time.

She headed for the door, but paused before reaching for the knob. “Call someone who cares about you. Please, Ramón. You need help.”

I played as loudly as I could until she left so I wouldn’t have to tell her I’d chased off the only person who cared about me. I caught myself strumming the melody of one of the songs I’d written for my last album—a melancholy tune about lovers going separate ways.

Now that I knew Zuhal wasn’t the source of the song, it was easier to see myself in the lyrics. I sang for a while, but lost the heart for it halfway through. I needed to finish the new song. That was the only way to get him out of my head. I went in search of a bottle that wasn’t empty.

* * * *

One raunchy invitation by text message later, my inspiration arrived. She wore a filmy skirt that bounced when she walked and a tube top that could barely restrain her breasts.

“Where’d you run off to?” I stepped back to let her in the room.

“You’re not my only client.” She grabbed me by the belt and pulled me inside as she walked backwards. “But you are the most prolific.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“As well you should.” She rubbed the growing bulge in my pants.

“Bend over and we’ll make this fast.”

She laughed and shoved me backwards onto the bed with no effort at all. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Whatever you want, as long as it’ll get me my song.”

“That is music to my ears.” She leapt on top of me, grabbed my throat with one hand, and tore open my jeans with the other.

The abruptness of her assault rattled me a little, and I let out a nervous laugh that she cut off by tightening her fingers around my windpipe. She mounted me with a groan of satisfaction. I couldn’t draw breath, though I strained for one as her hips ground against me.

My attempts to push her away ended when the music started. The song flowed through me, the driving beat matching the rhythm of her hips. I was sure she was killing me, but as long as the tune kept playing, I didn’t much care. She loosened her hold and I sucked in a wheezing breath. She slid her hand down my sternum as she picked up the pace, pinning me down with her unnatural strength. Gold markings on her skin glowed and faded, surging in time with the music in my head. Her fingers curled into a fist at the center of my chest, setting off a tugging sensation deep in my gut.

I groaned as the pain intensified when she lifted her hand. Realizing this latest bout of self-destructiveness was probably going to get me killed, I tried to reach up to disrupt her, but I had no strength. I could only lie there and watch her as she tore whatever the hell it was out of me. A transparent golden thread rose from my chest, swaying to the same beat that pounded in my ears. Leaning forward, she sucked the thread into her mouth.

She devoured the strange fiber in large gulps. Each swallow tore at me. Darkness loomed at the edges of my vision. I cried out for her to stop, but she sat forward to cover my mouth without missing a beat. The pain became a constant, burning agony. I closed my eyes and wished the torture would end, but she kept on ripping me apart from the inside out. I sobbed into her hand until the darkness consumed me.

* * * *

I woke sometime later, with my entire body sore and the damned song thrumming in my head. When I finally managed to crack my eyes open, I realized I was alone in the motel room. Numbness drew my attention to the area of my chest where she’d pressed her hand. Her golden handprint glowed in time with my heartbeats. I had no idea what she’d done to me, but I knew it wasn’t good.

I stumbled around looking for my cell phone. Considering the closet-like proportions of the room, the process took entirely too long. Then I had to search for Zuhal’s card. I’d almost thrown it away a handful of times, but a part of me had wanted to hold on to that tiny piece of him a little while longer. With no idea how long I had before she came back, I was in a panic by the time I found it. I dialed the number with shaking fingers and held my breath through the distant scratching until the beep.

“I’ve gotten myself in some trouble and I need your help.” I was about to hang up when I thought of something I wanted to say in case I never got the chance to speak to him. “I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

After I hung up I tried to get dressed, but I’d already used up what little energy I had. I collapsed onto the lumpy mattress and closed my eyes. Zuhal sometimes took a while to find me, and I worried that the dancer would return before he did. I wasn’t sure I could survive another encounter with her. I kept the card pressed against my chest, hoping the contact would help him locate me.

I’d never asked him how he found me, or why sometimes it took an entire day and other times just minutes. He always came when I called and I’d taken it for granted. How could I have been so thoughtless? He’d proved how much he cared about me at every turn and all I did was bitch about the music.

The truth was, I missed him. I should never have let him go. After a bit of fidgeting, I fell into an uneasy doze. My dreams were filled with lean muscles and skin like fire.

A slap woke me all too soon afterwards. The dancer had shown up first. I’d never had very good luck.

I was way too groggy to deal with her. “What the fuck was that for?”

“I thought you liked it rough.”

“I’m generally the aggressor.”

“Not anymore, cupcake.” She had my pants undone before I could even protest, but her maniacal grin wilted when she found me flaccid.

“Really not in the mood.”

“I can fix that.” The music blasted from nowhere.

Despite my exhaustion and my complete lack of interest, my body responded. My pulse quickened and the blood rushed to my groin so fast it made me light-headed. The resulting erection felt unnatural, almost alien. I wasn’t turned on. I didn’t feel excited. I felt nothing but the throbbing.

She didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t into it. When she moved to straddle me, I put up my hands, trying to push her away, but she was too strong.

“Get away from him, Teri,” Zuhal growled from the doorway. The music cut off abruptly. I’d never been so glad to hear silence in my life.

Her delicate nose wrinkled, and she glanced over her shoulder. “And why would I ever obey a command from the likes of you?”

“Because if you don’t unhand him, muse, I’m going to burn you to cinders, and fuck the tribunal afterwards.”

She made a clicking noise with her tongue. “You aim too high above your station, jinni.” She emphasized the final word as if it was distasteful.

His eyes burned like molten metal. “I was made for battle and you were made for reclining on a divan. Try me.”

She backed away a few inches and shrugged. “You missed your chance. He’s already mine.”

Zuhal’s gaze raked over me and stopped where her handprint glowed golden on my chest. “You marked him without his consent?”

“Oh, he consented.”

 

They were talking about me like I was a side of beef, and I was tired of it. “I did well fucking not.”

She grinned down at me, showing a disturbing quantity of teeth. “You said, and I quote, ‘Whatever you want, as long as it’ll get me my song.’”

The blood drained from my face.

Zuhal barked something in a language I didn’t understand as he stepped closer. They now stood on opposite sides of the bed with me in the middle. “He didn’t know what he was agreeing to.”

“Informed consent is for doctors, not supernatural law.”

He looked down at me. His jaw worked as he hesitated. “What do you want for him?”

I glared at him. “I’m not for sale.”

Neither one of them acknowledged me.

“I want you,” she said in a silky tone.

Zuhal chuckled. “Is that what all of this has been about, you wanting back in my pants?”

“This has nothing to do with your pants.” She smirked when she eyeballed his groin. “I want your talent. I have a client whose deepest desire is to be a painter.”

I shut my mouth with a snap. “You and her?”

He met my eyes. “It was a long time ago.”

“I just thought you had better taste.”

His lips twitched despite his best effort to keep a stony face. “Let’s not discuss that now.”

The muse interrupted our banter. “What’s your answer?”

“Hold your breath.”

At first I thought he’d been speaking to her, but his eyes never wavered from mine. He made an exasperated expression, and I took as large a breath as I could. Zuhal leapt on top of me.

The world erupted into fire.

My skin heated until it prickled. I closed my eyes reflexively and concentrated on not taking a breath I was pretty sure would fry my lungs. Zuhal cradled my head against his chest. His strong arms surrounded me. I had no idea what he was doing, but I trusted him. Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold my breath any longer, a loud whoosh pulled the heat away from us.

Zuhal lifted my chin. “Are you all right?”

I blinked my eyes open and saw his concerned face hovering over me. My back was cushioned against something soft. “Yeah. Where are we?”

He scanned my face and traced the outline of my cheek. “Your skin is a bit red.”

That explained why his caress made my skin itch. “Feels like a sunburn.”

He tapped the handprint on my chest. “She’s going to be able to find you with this, but we have a while before she figures out I brought you here.”

The cozy room around us felt safe. “You never did say where here is.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek before answering. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“The mysterious and vague thing really isn’t working for me right now. Where are we?”

“It’s not easy to articulate. We’re in another plane of existence that occupies the same time and space as yours, sort of layered over the top of it.”

“That really didn’t clarify anything.”

“Your people call it purgatory, but it’s not the mystical land of the dead. It’s just another place that happens to be in the same place as Earth.” He sighed. “This is my home.”

I looked around again, taking in the details: soft fabrics and warm tones. “This is your bedroom.”

“It is. You are the first human ever to have seen it.”

I met his eyes and let myself drift in them for a moment. “You should have told me sooner.”

“I know. I was afraid you would send me away.”

And of course, I had done exactly that. “You caught me off guard and I was angry.”

“Understandable—”

He looked like he was going to continue on, asking for my forgiveness again, but I interrupted him by lifting my head to kiss him briefly. His lips were warm almost to the point of discomfort on my singed skin. “I forgive you.” I pulled back before I was tempted to continue down that path. “Now tell me what we’re up against.”

“Terpsichore is a muse.”

“Is that how she made me hear music?”

“She gave you a tiny taste of your own music back so you would think she was creating it rather than stealing it from you.” He smoothed a crease that had formed in my forehead with his thumb. “I told you before, you have talent. You don’t need inspiration; you’re the source of it.”

The reverence in his voice made me want to do things to him we didn’t have time for. “What else?”

His fingers brushed over the handprint on my chest. “This is a marking of ownership.”

“Like branding a steer?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “I don’t want you to think we’re all barbarians. Most of us don’t acknowledge this kind of ownership over other sentient beings any longer, but there are factions that still follow the tradition.”

“So how do I get out of this?”

“First we talk to my regent. She may be able to help us through official channels.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“I have no idea. I haven’t completely dismissed the idea of burning her to ash.”

“What was that about you not being a barbarian?”

He grimaced. “I’m not sure rescuing you from slavery should be considered barbarism.”

“While the idea of you defending my honor is deeply amusing, I don’t want you to murder anyone because of me.”

“Fine.” He glanced away moodily.

I could tell he was chewing on something he didn’t want to be the first to bring up. “Should we talk about why I was with her?”

“That seems obvious. She’s very attractive.” He tried to sound matter-of-fact, but his expression tightened.

“Yeah, and she’s sucking my soul away a piece at a time.”

“She is rather adept at sucking, if memory serves.”

“Fuck, yes.” I turned his head so our gazes met and touched my thumb to his lower lip. “You’re better though.”

He stared into my eyes for a long moment, then broke into a shy smile. “I am?”

“I never lie about blow jobs.” I kissed him again, letting my mouth linger on his afterwards. It had always been so easy to lose myself in him. “When this gets sorted out I want to try this thing between you and me again, for real this time.”

“Even though I can’t make music for you?”

“Being with you is all the magic I need. I’ll make music the old fashioned way.”

For a response he kissed me, pressing me into the bed. The moist warmth of his tongue nudged between my lips. Even after my recent bad experiences, his attention was enough to get me going in record time. I tilted my hips to prod his thigh with my erection.

He came away from the kiss breathless. “We don’t have much time.”

I leaned to rub my face in the crook of his neck. The heat of his body irritated my burned skin, but I reveled in the discomfort for the opportunity to be closer to him. “Okay, let’s go talk to the lady in charge. I want to get this over with so I can enjoy making up with you properly later.”

He leaned down to capture my mouth with his, and I lost myself again in the heat of his kiss. When he finally pulled away, he nipped my lower lip. “It’s a date.”

* * * *

Zuhal loaned me a shirt so I would be a bit more presentable, but he was narrower across the chest than me so I ended up looking like runway model who was trying too hard. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap or kiss the grin off his face when he ogled me.

From where he was slouched against the wall, he beckoned me over. I stepped closer, aware of his eyes taking in every inch of the fabric stretched across my torso. He slid an arm around my back and held me against him. The right corner of his mouth rose. “Don’t breathe.”

I closed my eyes and nodded, then took a deep breath. The rush of hot air surrounded us again, and my skin ached in protest, but this time the heat faded as quickly as he’d summoned it. He had transported us to a large room with a mosaic tiled floor and a vaulted ceiling. The pattern of the tiles evoked flames in a dozen shades of red and gold that curled toward an arched doorway opposite where we stood. Zuhal took my hand and we crossed the room together.

He knocked on the heavy metal door blocking our way. The sound echoed in the large room. A moment later the door swung open, and Zuhal shot me a reassuring smile before going in first.

I’d expected the regent to be an older woman of regal bearing, perhaps wearing a pantsuit, seated behind a huge wooden desk with various official-looking decorations. I should really have known better.

The regent was taller than Zuhal, and just as lithe, with a golden silk robe draped around her that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Her ebony hair was piled atop her head in intricate braids, and her skin was the color of burnished copper. She sat in a raised chair etched with flames, her fingers tapping the arm idly as we approached.

“This had better be good.” Her voice resonated in the small anteroom, the timbre of it leaving me vaguely uncomfortable.

Zuhal cleared his throat once we’d stopped in front of her. “Highest, this is an acquaintance of mine, Ramón Santos.”

“I assume there is a reason you’ve brought a human into my presence?”

He lifted my shirt to expose my chest. “Terpsichore marked him without his consent.”

Her eyes scanned the handprint, and then rose to take in my face. “Is this true?”

“Yeah. I told her I’d do anything to get a song, but I didn’t mean she could have my soul or whatever.”

“When dealing with supernatural beings you should probably learn to be more explicit in your requests.”

“I understand that now.”

The regent leaned back in her chair and looked us both over carefully. I had to stifle the sudden urge to squirm.

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do, Zuhal. She’s not one of my subjects. Her actions are not my concern.”

“Could you speak to her regent on his behalf?”

She chuckled, deep and throaty. “As if Zeus would care. He stopped worrying about what happened to humans when they stopped making sacrifices in his name. He’s terribly vain.”

My prospects weren’t looking so good. I just hoped he wouldn’t start considering murder as a viable backup plan again.

He tightened his hand around mine as if he’d sensed my unease. “So there’s nothing you can do?”

“Not directly. Neither of them are subject to my reign.”

I couldn’t tell if we’d bored her, or if she was trying to make a point, but she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Zuhal stood a little straighter. “She offered to take me in his place.”

The regent’s hand came down hard on the arm of her chair. “That’s ridiculous. I won’t allow it.”

He bowed low, tugging my hand so that I would do the same. “I understand, Highest.”

“Good. Now get out of here. I have more important matters to attend to.”

After a murmured farewell, he led me out of the room by the hand. Once we were outside the metal door, I pulled him to a stop. “So that didn’t go very well. What’s next?”

“Next we find Teri and trade me for you.”

“Didn’t the boss lady just say she wouldn’t allow that?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

* * * *

“Can I just reiterate how much I hate this plan?” I watched Zuhal pacing from where I sat on his bed. He’d been growing increasingly agitated since we returned. I expected him to start punching the walls at any moment.

“What don’t you like?”

“The part where you trade yourself for me, which the very large lady in charge specifically said she didn’t want.” I didn’t know much about the ruler of the jinn, but the impression I had was that she didn’t like being disobeyed.

“She’s going to intervene and resolve the situation once I’m in peril.”

“Do we know that for sure? It sounded to me like she didn’t want you offering the trade.”

He stepped toward the bed, some of his bluster falling away as he registered my concern. “You don’t know her as well as I do.”

“I’m not disputing that. I just think we should try something else first.”

“Do you have an idea what that should be?”

“Not yet.”

“Then we should go with the plan we have.”

“I just don’t want to have to solve this with violence.”

“She assaulted you first.”

“Yes, but I don’t want the situation to escalate even further.” I pulled him closer, resting my head against his chest.

He combed his fingers through my hair. “For a self-absorbed musician, you’re very considerate of others.”

“Don’t let it get around. You’ll ruin my bad boy image.”

Zuhal tilted my face so that I looked up at him. “I won’t tell. I like the idea that only I know the softer side of you.”

He leaned down as if to kiss me, but paused right over my mouth. A breeze from nowhere ruffled my hair. Zuhal whirled around quicker than I’d ever seen him move and growled deep in his chest.

“Hand him over, Zooy,” Terpsichore said in an annoyed tone.

I leaned around Zuhal to get a look at her. She was dressed head to toe in red leather that hugged every luscious curve. She stood with one hand on her hip and the other arm wrapped around a stringed instrument I didn’t recognize.

“I’m not letting him go without a fight and you aren’t going to win a fight, so let’s discuss other options.” I wanted to hug Zuhal for backing my plan, but taunting Terpsichore probably wasn’t a good idea, so I stood next to him instead. He slanted a warning look my way.

Her eyes raked over him, the possessiveness in her gaze making me want to get between them. “I told you I was willing to take you in trade.”

There was no way I was letting that happen, no matter what. “Not an option.”

“It’s cute that you think you have any input at all on this situation.”

I let her insult slide because her desire to be the center of attention had given me an idea. “What if I could promise you a nearly endless supply of musicians and fans to adore you?”

She focused her predatory stare on me. “How do you plan on delivering on that offer?”

“You come with me on my tour.” I gestured toward her instrument. “You play on stage and all the kids go wild. More music juju than you’ve probably ever felt in one place. It’s a huge adrenaline rush.”

Her lips compressed in thought. “Can I dance?”

I’d seen how much she loved to dance—I had her. “I would be honored.”

“I want to be part of the songwriting process too.”

“No sex, non-negotiable.”

“Agreed. Only mundane musical collaboration, no magic.” She glanced between us and then grinned. “And I want some of his talent for my client.” She pointed at Zuhal.

My hopes to find a non-violent solution to my problem dwindled. I wasn’t going to let her have any hold over him. “This is between you and me. Nothing to do with him.”

Zuhal touched my arm. “It’s fine.”

I wanted to fight this point, but when I met his eyes I could tell he wasn’t going to back down. “Fine, but he gets to dictate the terms of that.” One side of his mouth lifted into a small smile.

“Agreed. I get to decide when the partnership is over.”

I wasn’t crazy about that stipulation, but if it got her mark off my chest I could work with it. “Deal.”

Zuhal moved to step between us when she started across the room. “If you harm him, you’re done.”

“I’m content with the bargain we’ve made, but don’t test my patience.” Beaming an angelic smile his way, she shoved her instrument into his arms. She placed her right hand in the center of my chest, and raised her other hand to the side of my neck.

Music rose around us. I shied away, both from the contact and her magic, but she held my neck to prevent me from backing up.

“Stand still,” she snapped. “I need to undo the connection.”

Zuhal narrowed his eyes, but nodded. His reassurance gave me a little more confidence, and I relaxed in her grip. She bowed her head and the music grew steadily louder. The beat pulsed through her hands and surged into my body. If I hadn’t been concentrating on staying still, I would have swayed to the rhythm.

The mark on my chest burned as the music reached a crescendo. There was a sensation of tugging, and then a few seconds later a sharp snap. I reeled away from her, breathless, almost falling to the ground.

Zuhal was next to me, holding me up before I could recover on my own. “Are you okay?”

I pulled my shirt up and was relieved not to see the mark of her hand. “I will be.” I leaned against him, reveling in his warmth.

Terpsichore cleared her throat. “My lyre? Before you clumsy oafs break it.”

Zuhal handed her the lyre without looking, and then wrapped his arms around me. “Take it easy for a few minutes.”

From behind us, Terpsichore scoffed. “You two are really quite adorable. It’s making me a bit nauseous.”

Zuhal’s chin came to rest on my head. “Feel free to leave.”

“Let me know when work will start on the album.” She raised her arm with a flourish. A cascade of golden sparks burst from her hand and dazzled me.

When my vision cleared, she was gone. “Wow. That went way better than I thought it would.”

“Me too.” He lifted me and walked us to the bed, placing me lightly on my back. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, sore, and a little burned.”

He caressed my face with his knuckles. His dark eyes smoldered as he stared down at me. “That was very impressive.”

His soft-spoken praise made my stomach flip. “Thanks. I really just didn’t want to fight. I’ve finally figured out what I wanted all along. I’m glad I found something she wanted more than my music. Sorry you got roped into it.”

“I would give up much more for you.” Low and rumbling, his voice cascaded over me and raised goose bumps on my skin.

He leaned into me, kissing and nuzzling my jaw. I sighed out a long breath as his hands smoothed over my chest and down to my stomach. His lips moved down to my neck, leaving a trail of warmth behind. He removed my shirt slowly by sliding his hands beneath the hem and pushing upwards. When my head came out, he covered my mouth with his. His kiss scoured me clean, driving away the worry of last few days and replacing it with an entirely different kind of tension.

Needing to feel his body against mine, I reached around him and drew him down on top of me more forcefully. He straddled my hips and ground himself against me, the rough fabric of our jeans the only barrier between us. I moaned into his mouth when I felt the hard length of him against my cock. His heated breath feathered over my face as he broke from the kiss.

I helped him out of his shirt. “I’m not sure I’m up for our usual level of intensity.”

His molten gaze raked over me as his lips curved into a slow smile. “Let me do all the work.” He tilted his hips to increase the friction. When I gasped he leaned down to kiss me again, filling my mouth with his tongue. He matched the pace of his kiss to the rocking of his hips, stroking me in two intimate places at once. He pulled away from the kiss. Unbidden, a sound of frustration escaped me.

I watched as he slid down my body. He placed kisses at random, his dark hair tickling my neck, chest, and stomach as he descended. He met my eyes when he reached my waistband and worked my fly with one hand. The teasing of his fingers over the fabric only made me want him more. I lifted my hips to help when he tugged my jeans down just enough to free my cock.

He took hold of me gently and licked slowly up the ridge along the underside from base to tip. I was panting by the time he reached the top. He sucked the head of my cock between his lips and laved the tip with his tongue. I gripped the covers to fight the urge to shove all the way inside his heated mouth. He kept at it until my hips trembled with tension, and then pulled back until my cock popped free.

I gulped for air. “Oh, fuck.”

He grinned mischievously. “Not quite yet. I’m having fun.”

Without giving me more time to recover, he gripped the base of my cock and took me into his mouth halfway. His tongue stroked the underside as he slid his lips up and down a few times to work up some saliva. His mouth was hot almost to the point of discomfort and intensified every sensation.

I writhed under him and tried to push my way deeper, but he held my hips down easily. He continued to tease me with short glides until I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached for his head and tangled my fingers in his hair at the base of his neck. His eyes rolled up to meet mine. He groaned when I tugged his hair, and opened his jaw further. I pushed his head down, expecting resistance, but he swallowed me deep.

I arched my back as his heat engulfed me fully, exhaling a harsh moan. I held him there as I struggled for control. Once I regained some composure, I eased the pressure of my grip to let his head come up. He let me dictate the rhythm. I slid him up and down along my cock, fucking his mouth as hard as I knew he liked.

The heat, the friction, and his muffled noises of pleasure ratcheted the tension building inside me. I buried my cock to the hilt in his hot mouth and tilted his head back until our gazes met. The naked desire on his face almost undid me. “I need to fuck you, right now.”

He moaned around my cock. I pulled his head back until he released me before untangling my fingers from his hair. He slid off the bed, walked to a desk a few feet away, and then rummaged in a drawer for a moment. He slipped out of his jeans on the way back. I watched him walk, admiring his grace with each step. He offered me the lube.

I shook my head. “You do it.”

Zuhal emptied some of the lube into his palm and set the tube aside. He warmed it between his hands briefly. The slick heat spread down my cock as he used both hands to apply the lube. His breathing quickened when I lifted my hips a few times, forcing my cock through his slippery fingers.

I reached to caress his ass cheek, smiling when he shivered under my touch. “A little more.” I slid my hand over his hip to stroke his cock as he fumbled with the lube.

He bit his lip in concentration while I teased him, his hips rocking slightly. When he finally managed to deal with the slippery tube, he returned his attention to my cock. His eyelids drooped as he fell into the rhythm of my hand.

I increased the pressure of my grip to get his attention. “Get on.”

He crawled onto the bed facing my feet. I had a great view of his ass as he swung one leg over me. Looking over his shoulder, he backed up until my cock nudged his ass crack. I grabbed his ass in both hands, sliding my cock between his cheeks and pulling him back further. I rubbed the head of my cock up and down a few times, spreading the lube and teasing him into a frenzy.

“Please, Ramón.”

For an answer I let my hand trail down his spine, stopping just above his tailbone. He straightened a bit, and I used the other hand to guide myself inside him, gritting my teeth when I felt him around me.

His head fell back, sending his dark hair cascading over his shoulders. The markings on his skin glowed and dimmed along with the frantic beating of his heart. He stayed there for a few seconds, drawing deep breaths that made his ribs expand.

I grabbed his hip and pulled him back and down, slipping in another inch. The heat of his body under my hands and around my cock was intoxicating. He bore down and slid back, taking almost all of me.

A bone-deep groan shook him. I gave him a moment to adjust, and then pulled him the rest of the way home with a sharp tug. He gasped my name. I ran my hand up his side, feeling the tension of his muscles.

“There is nothing like being inside you.” I pushed up onto one elbow and wrapped my other hand around his hair. He leaned back into my hold, arching his back.

I let up on the pressure so he could rise a few inches off my cock and then pulled him down in a gradual slide. At the bottom, I tilted my pelvis to get a deeper angle. The muscles of his back flexed as his ass ground against me. I pushed up higher, changing my grip to the back of his neck. He exhaled a harsh moan.

Though he could have pulled away from me with ease, he let me direct his body. My cock disappeared inside him as his hips rose and fell in a slow, hypnotic rhythm with the slightest nudge. I finally took pity on us both and increased our pace. I dug my fingers into his neck when his hips began to buck. He cried out hoarsely at the bottom of each thrust. I didn’t slow when his muscles clenched around me as he climaxed, but the increased friction and heat quickly overcame me. I buried myself to the hilt one last time and shouted as my release swept through me. He shuddered as my cock throbbed inside him.

After I regained my breath, I wrapped my arms around him and maneuvered us onto our sides. I pulled his shivering body against my chest and kissed the back of his neck. We were both sticky, but I didn’t care. I planned on dragging him into the shower with me for round two just as soon as I could stand up.

He was the first to break the silence a few minutes later. “Wow.”

Laughing into his hair, I hugged him tight. “After that performance I’m never letting you out of my sight.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the side of my wrist just below the thumb. The gesture felt strangely intimate.

My throat tightened with emotion. “Please don’t. My heart couldn’t take it.”

He squeezed my hand. “Never.”

 

The End

 

 

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