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Georgie and her two male lovers stopped, dumbstruck, at the bedroom door. One of her companions was a handsome genie, the other a tall angel. Wonders nearly as glorious as theirs halted her in her tracks.
“Well,” she said. “This certainly is an escape from the everyday.”
Her voice was breathy, even a bit unsure. The room was—literally—fit for royalty. That distinction didn’t apply to her. She was human, maybe a little magical but not fancy in the least. Back in her world, she made a living turning other people’s junk into furniture. Junk wouldn’t dare slink in here. Instead, chairs and chaises gleamed with gold leaf and glittered with precious gems. Miles of pale blue silk stretched up towering walls to a Sistine quality ceiling. Beneath the exotic djinn-themed murals, plump velvet pillows in charming meadow shades heaped as lush and pettable as kittens. The floor was a lake of gold-flecked white marble. Along one wall, windows that arched like the Taj Mahal opened onto a roof courtyard. The evening light slanted in, not quite night but not day either. Like a vision out of a fairytale, two long-tailed white birds nestled cheek-to-cheek on a green palm branch. The feathered pair was beautiful enough to seem enchanted.
Pretty much like everything in Iksander’s residence.
“My apartments are big enough for the three of us,” the sultan pointed out. “I know you liked the commander’s more modest quarters, but he’s occupying them now.” His breath caught with hesitation before he spoke again. “If you and Connor prefer simpler surroundings, I can find somewhere else for you. I, however, ought to move back into the royal suite. Considering everything my city has been through, people need to feel I’ve truly returned, that my hand is on the wheel of state again.”
The sultan looked at Georgie, assuming per usual that she could speak for herself and her long-time boyfriend. Once she would have, but Connor was also Iksander’s lover. More importantly, the angel was becoming increasingly individual. These days, he might have different preferences from her. Georgie was mostly glad for him that this was the case. He liked evolving, as he put it. Now and then, though, the fact that he wasn’t automatically on the same page as her took adjusting to.
She glanced at Connor to get his take. He was smiling, his kind blue eyes encouraging. She thought she understood the message they conveyed. She turned back to Iksander.
“We’d like to stay with you. We’re not used to this much luxury, but it’s not going to scare us off.”
“Absolutely not,” Connor seconded. “Sharing more of your company is what matters. If you want us with you, we want to be here too.”
Iksander probably would rather they not notice his shoulders relaxing. A proud man, he wasn’t yet comfortable with his feelings for members of two species he’d spent the majority of his life viewing warily. Djinn considered humans rivals for the Almighty’s affections. Angels were even worse. They’d taken humans’ side in the celestial battle for who would be most loved. That’s what djinn believed anyway. Georgie’s concept of the deity wasn’t as nailed-down as Iksander’s.
“I want you here,” the sultan said. He cleared a hint of huskiness from his throat. “You two are what I’ve longed for all my life without even knowing it.”
Well. That was more of a declaration than Georgie expected from the generally guarded man. Her cheeks felt hot . . . and other parts as well. She couldn’t look away from Iksander’s beautiful lime green eyes. One corner of his full mouth twitched. He saw he’d moved her, and it amused him.
“Good!” Connor said, never uncomfortable with affection. “I want to look at everything.”
The angel wasn’t kidding. Though he could perform certain types of magic, he had a mostly human body. No wings declared his secret nature, no uncanny celestial glow. Today he wore slippers with felted soles, the same as Georgie and Iksander. Relying simply on his impressive muscles, he propelled himself across the floor hockey-player-style, sliding from object to object that intrigued him. When he went to his knees to investigate the underside of a gold divan, Iksander laughed softly.
“I guess I don’t have to worry about him making himself at home.”
“No,” Georgie agreed, noting how the sultan’s gaze lingered on the angel’s rear. “Connor is adaptable.”
“Georgie!” Connor called from the distance he’d skidded to. He sat back on his heels grinning. “Iksander’s people have stuck jewels beneath the furniture too!”
“Of course they have,” Georgie said. “They’d run out of places to put them otherwise.”
“It’s a sign of respect.” Iksander sounded a teensy bit defensive. “The ruler of the city is supposed to have—”
“—the fanciest, bestest, most sparkly stuff?”
“I didn’t start the tradition,” Iksander muttered.
“I’m teasing,” Georgie said. “Connor and I know your top priority isn’t how twinkly your belongings are.”
Iksander crossed his arms and huffed. She hadn’t said it wasn’t a priority at all.
“Should we not joke so much?” she asked, worried she’d exceeded his tolerance for humor. “Your palace is beautiful to us. We’re just a bit overwhelmed.”
“I believe you’d rather I housed you in a hut.”
“No,” she denied. “We like it here. Really.”
“So if I draped you in pearls and diamonds, you wouldn’t mock my taste?”
Connor had skidded back to them. He considered her thoughtfully. “Would you drape her in only pearls and diamonds? Because I think that would look nice.”
“Right,” Georgie scoffed. “I’m exactly that kind of girl.”
“At least it wouldn’t be a dress. I know you don’t like those.”
She gaped at him. He was utterly straight-faced.
“We could skip the pearls,” Iksander offered. “Nothing but ropes of diamonds from head to toe.”
“She’d need a tiara,” Connor interjected. “And maybe rubies for her toes.”
“For God’s sake. I’m not a damned princess!”
“The rubies would match your hair,” Connor said.
“No,” Iksander contradicted. “Rubies aren’t the right shade at all. Padparadscha sapphires perhaps.”
“You’re not decking me out like a—”
“Maybe she’d prefer a diamond tool belt,” Iksander proposed instead.
“With a 24 karat hammer,” Connor agreed, “and maybe a platinum wrench.”
Georgie shut her open mouth. They were teasing her. Both of them. Like a comedy skit they’d practiced ahead of time. She wasn’t used to her men teaming up that way.
“You’re ganging up on me,” she said.
The sultan smiled. “Only with fond intentions. You do seem to have a—” he searched for the human phrase “—slight phobia about expressing your femininity.”
“It’s not a phobia! And I’m plenty feminine!” Her fists were planted on her waist. She’d tucked a khaki t-shirt into her favorite buckled black leather pants. Admittedly, the garments weren’t girly, but who said every girl had to love ruffles? These clothes—which she’d brought from her human home—had gotten her through their adventures in the icy city of Iksander’s enemy. Without warning, her defensiveness switched gears. Did Iksander mind that she was a tomboy? Worse, had Connor all this time?
That possibility knocked her off kilter. Connor always acted as if she were perfect.
“Georgie.” The sultan cupped her face between his hands. “You don’t have to look so worried. Connor and I love you as you are—leather pants and tattoos and eyebrow rings.”
He brushed the last with a gentle fingertip. Georgie wished she felt mollified. “You wouldn’t hate it, though. If I tried to . . . be more typically seductive.”
Iksander’s irises lit the way genies’ did sometimes, the glow causing his green eyes to burn. Him meeting her gaze so steadily stirred shivery sensations. “You can’t imagine you aren’t seductive now.”
“I like feeling tough,” she admitted. “I feel safer when I’m dressed badass.”
He stroked her choppy, streaky pale red and dyed yellow hair, yet another unfeminine fashion choice. “I’m not used to women who think that way. I suppose we both have to work to understand each other. I do hope you feel safe with me.”
“Doesn’t everyone who risks their heart feel a little unsafe sometimes?”
“True enough.” His smile slanted crookedly. “Unless, of course, they’re Connor.”
“Hey,” Connor said. “I get scared. Occasionally.”
Iksander grinned at his aggrieved tone. Compared to most everyone they knew, the angel was fearless. He’d faced death without blinking to save them. He loved because he loved. Whether the feeling would be returned didn’t enter his equation.
“Right now, for instance,” Connor continued. “I’m super-anxious you won’t let me jump on your bed.”
“You want to jump on my bed.”
“I knew it,” Connor said. “That’s not something genies do.”
Iksander rolled his eyes, realizing Connor was still teasing. “Djinn children jump on beds when they’re too young to fly.” He glanced doubtfully toward the mattress-piled structure. Set off from the room by a long balustrade, the gleaming, gilded thing had four tall posts and solid head- and footboards. A rope chandelier the size of a pickup dangled twenty feet above it. “I suppose the frame would stand up to your weight . . .”
“Great!” Connor said, already jogging off. “Hope I don’t break it and make you have to explain that to everyone!”
When Iksander breathed a curse, Georgie patted his tense arm. “He probably won’t break it. He wouldn’t deliberately embarrass you.”
She thought he wouldn’t anyway. She bit the side of her thumb as Connor vaulted the railing and thumped both feet onto the mattresses. Though the move was athletic, Connor’s landing didn’t sound gingerly.
Then he laughed like a maniac and jumped.
“It’s springy!” he announced delightedly. “Maybe I can bounce to the chandelier.”
“Don’t,” Georgie called, suddenly picturing catastrophe.
It was too late. Connor bent his knees and sprang. She guessed he’d decided to pretend he was Michael Jordon. Using his levitation power to assist, he didn’t just touch the crystals; he grabbed onto a branch and hung.
“Woohoo,” he cried, piking his legs forward.
The mass of the chandelier swayed with him.
“Oh my God,” she said, hands pressed against her mouth.
Iksander hissed as crystals clashed crazily. He’d gripped Georgie’s bicep with panic strength. Little pieces of plaster began to shed from the high ceiling.
“Oops.” Connor laughed, dropping down to the bed again. “I guess that particular chandelier isn’t meant to be swung from.”
Iksander covered his face. The not-really-abashed angel shuffled back to them.
“Sorry,” he said. “The light fixture was so huge. I thought it would support me.”
He was saying he was sorry, but his eyes danced with amusement.
“You’re impossible,” Georgie scolded.
“Well, the bed held up. Knowing that isn’t worth nothing.”
“What am I going to do with you?” Iksander asked with his head shaking.
Connor grinned, ready to make a lewd suggestion. Before he could, a melodious chiming of birds and bells rang out behind them.
“My staff must have arrived,” the sultan said. He pointed one stern finger in their direction. “You two behave yourselves.”
Well, that wasn’t fair. Georgie had been behaving fine.
Connor smoothed his dark gold hair, composing himself as the sultan went to the suite’s main entrance. “How do I look?”
“Like mischief on a stick. No one would guess what you really are.”
“Good,” he said. “I hate when Iksander’s people assume I’m dangerous.”
They’d decided to conceal his angelic nature, since his aura of specialness allowed him to pass as djinn. Georgie’s human identify, alas, was already out of the bag. As he sometimes did, Connor guessed what she was thinking.
“You being human won’t matter,” he soothed her. “Iksander’s citizens already love the commander’s friend Elyse.”
“She’s a hero.”
“You’re a hero too. Thanks to you, the empress and her curse were destroyed. You slayed this city’s worst enemy. Once that story spreads, Iksander’s people will beg him to keep you here.”
His words inspired complicated feelings. The sultan had tricked her into condemning Luna to a horrific torture, one the empress had endured for months. He’d had reasons Georgie couldn’t swear she disapproved of. All the same, was she over being made complicit without consent? Even if she were, did she want to stay in his city for more than a long visit? That Connor wanted to was clear. Whatever Iksander’s flaws, Georgie cared about him a lot. Maybe she’d rather he become attached to her of his own accord—not because his people approved of her. Back in the human world, most everyone Connor met was drawn to him. He radiated caring and sunniness. Georgie wasn’t half as good at making friends. She was too off center. Growing up, she’d cultivated a prickly image to be less of a target for bullying.
Iksander liking her for herself meant something.
“Hm,” Connor said—and not because she was lost in thought.
Iksander was returning. He wasn’t alone. A female swathed in layered red and orange silk trailed a few steps behind. Her hair was veiled but not her face, her arms heaped with bundles wrapped in sparkly pastel paper. Georgie understood the sultan was an important man. He’d more than carried his weight during their adventures. Back on his home turf, his people wouldn’t expect him to tote and carry things. All the same, it was strange to see a female piled with burdens when his perfectly capable hands were free.
Fighting a wince, she told herself the djinniya was probably lightening the packages with magic.
“Georgie,” Iksander said, “the harem has sent this servant to you with gifts.”
The woman’s gaze had been lowered respectfully. At Iksander’s words, her eyes—which were a lustrous gray—startled up to him. Her reaction suggested he’d misstated something, but she didn’t correct him. Instead, she dropped her head again. She spoke in a sweet, soft voice.
“It is with a deep sense of honor that the harem presents our glorious sultan’s new companion this token of esteem. All owe the breath of life to her bravery and selflessness.”
As she sorted through the flowery speech, Georgie wondered if she understood the nuances of what djinn meant by companion.
“I didn’t do that by myself,” she protested. “Connor and I teamed up to help Iksander.”
The woman seemed to hear her discomfort. She smiled and lifted her face. Wow, she was pretty—like, sink a thousand ships and raise them from depths again gorgeous. Her skin was creamy beige velvet, her lips pomegranate red. Georgie didn’t think she’d ever seen lashes so strikingly thick and black. Though the woman undoubtedly knew how to primp, she appeared to be makeup free. As a rule, djinn were a good-looking race. This female was a few orders above that already high standard.
“You’re not a servant,” Georgie blurted. “You’re one of the concubines.”
She guessed she wasn’t supposed to say this. Iksander jerked and looked hard at the djinniya.
“You’re a member of the harem?” he asked sharply.
A hot red blush burst in the female’s cheeks.
“Don’t you recognize her?” Connor asked before she could reply. “I thought all the concubines were yours . . . unless you have so many you can’t keep track?”
Georgie almost snickered. Despite Connor’s innocent tone, she suspected he was trying to spare the embarrassed woman a reprimand. The djinniya dropped to her knees still holding the packages. Her flustered state didn’t make her less graceful. Not a single item fell off the towering pile.
“Forgive me. I know I shouldn’t have left the women’s quarters without permission. I was simply curious to meet our rescuer. I couldn’t resist bringing the gifts myself.”
“Your ‘rescuer,’” Iksander repeated cynically. Clearly, he doubted this was her true motive. “It’s Yasmin, isn’t it? Daughter of the merchant Aydin, who pioneered the process for transporting goods across the In-Betweens?”
Yasmin inclined her head more submissively. “Your Majesty’s memory flatters my lowly self.”
Iksander frowned harder.
“Maybe Yasmin and I could, um, take our conversation elsewhere?” Georgie suggested. “If it’s really inappropriate for her to be here.”
“Fine,” Iksander relented—but not like the harem girl’s infraction was forgiven. “There’s a conservatory with tea things you might find pleasant.”
He gestured toward the glassed-in space.
“Great,” Georgie said with more cheeriness than she felt. She watched Yasmin rise with her pile of presents and couldn’t quite hold her tongue. “Do you need help carrying that stuff?”
“Oh no,” Yasmin said. “I promise this is nothing.”
Because Yasmin seemed to be waiting for her to lead, Georgie preceded her to the garden room. This was yet another enchanting chamber—courtyard outside, greenery inside, beveled edges of the panes sparking tiny rainbows into the air. Georgie wouldn’t have been surprised to see the queen of faeries materialize. She didn’t but, as promised, tea supplies awaited. Low cushioned chairs surrounded a pretty table on which a silver samovar and glasses sat.
“Please don’t kneel again,” she said when Yasmin began to. “I know you’re probably supposed to, but it makes me feel weird.”
“Because you’re human.” Yasmin looked at her directly. True to her claim, her expression was curious.
“I’m just regular folk,” Georgie said.
Yasmin considered this. Was a concubine regular folk or something more privileged? “Shall I sit?” she asked after a moment.
“Please.” Georgie pulled out a chair for her.
Yasmin didn’t object. Instead, she smiled happily, seeming glad to relinquish formal restrictions. She set the heap of packages on the table and patted them. “These are clothes and other female necessities. We heard you arrived with no belongings except what were on your back. The sultan will provide for you, of course, but women do know better what makes them feel attractive.”
Georgie must have pulled a dubious face, because Yasmin laughed softly. “It’s true then. You don’t care about attracting males. You’re a modern human female. How delightful!”
“Is it?” Georgie asked, wondering at the concubine’s reaction.
“For me, it is. I’m so interested in people from your dimension.” She pressed slender fingers to her full mouth. “I hope our gift doesn’t miss the mark. Please don’t feel bad that we didn’t bring one for your friend. We of the harem can’t offer presents to other males.”
“Because you belong to Iksander.”
“Well . . . yes, but you mustn’t get the impression he visits us all the time. Nothing could be further from the truth. Sultan Iksander was devoted to his kadin. He rarely favored us with his presence once she arrived.”
The kadin was the sultan’s deceased wife. As it happened, Georgie met Najat as a ghost, after Luna, the sultan’s evil enemy murdered her. Apart from differences in coloring and temperament, Georgie and Najat very much resembled each other. Spirit twins was what the djinniya had termed them. Yasmin spoke as if Georgie would replace Najat as premiere consort . . . and as if that idea didn’t distress her. In truth, she seemed to be reassuring Georgie that the path to claim Iksander was wide open.
Confused as to what Yasmin’s angle was, Georgie braced one hand on the table and leaned forward. “Am I missing something? Don’t you concubines want Iksander to, um, favor you again? Didn’t him going exclusive with Najat undermine your reason for being here? I’d think you guys resented her.”
This question must have been too blunt. Yasmin’s extraordinary lashes fluttered for a few seconds. She looked down, her hands twisting together in her silk-covered lap. “Perhaps some felt that way.”
“Only some?”
Yasmin’s mouth worked. “Most?”
“Be honest,” Georgie pressed. “Whose idea was it to bring those gifts?”
“Iksander’s mother, the valide sultana . . . though I might have suggested it would be a civilized thing to do.”
Georgie snorted in amusement, and Yasmin looked up again. She seemed to decide to be frank. “Living in the harem can be boring when there’s little chance of fulfilling your purpose. Maybe when there is as well. I was so flattered to be picked at first. My appointment was a great honor for my family. Now I fear I’ve had too much time to think. I’m not sure even the prospect of giving birth to a future sultan would bring me happiness.”
“I get that,” Georgie said.
“I knew you would. That’s why I had to come. Just to be understood, even once, is a miracle to me.” Overcome with feeling, Yasmin gripped Georgie’s hands. “Please don’t think badly of the sultan for his anger at my intrusion. He’s a good man, not to mention a skillful lover. It really was disobedient of me to come.”
Though the genie was acting like the opposite of a rival, Georgie’s brain veered in its own direction. Yasmin knew Iksander was good in bed, which implied they’d been intimate. Iksander hadn’t recognized her at first, but Yasmin didn’t seem the type any male would forget.
She’d also said she had a lot of time. What sort of man-pleasing tricks did bored harem females learn?
“How many of you are there?” Georgie asked impulsively.
“Of me?”
“Concubines.”
Yasmin waved her hand airily. “No more than four or five dozen. I heard Iksander’s grandfather had three hundred.”
“I guess the current sultan is a paragon of restraint by comparison.”
Georgie’s sarcasm flew over Yasmin’s head.
“Quite,” the djinniya said earnestly.
Georgie rubbed her earlobe, reminding herself she had no real right to be upset with Iksander. So he had fifty or sixty lovers with nothing to do but wait for him to show up. This was his home, his culture. Thus far, everyone they’d met—Yasmin included—seemed to regard him as a good leader. For a man in his position, to have a seraglio was normal. Committing himself to a single partner—or two, in her and Connor’s case—was the controversial choice. Yasmin acted as if she wouldn’t mind, but she might be the exception.
Georgie had been silent a bit too long.
“Shall we open your packages?” Yasmin suggested politely, no longer in confiding mode. “You can let me know if I forgot anything.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Georgie said.
Maybe kindness did motivate the woman. Regardless, if all the concubines were like her, matching their scrupulous manners was going to be challenge.
~
“WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE Georgie and your harem girl are discussing?”
Connor had followed Iksander’s seemingly aimless meander to a corner of the bedroom. Here, scattered atop a cushioned platform, he recognized a lute, a skin drum, and an oddly shaped tiny violin. He supposed musicians came here, perhaps to play their sultan to sleep. The area wasn’t near the garden room, but it did have a straight line of sight to it.
Iksander had been plucking a zither’s strings, reacquainting himself with his possessions now he was home again. At Connor’s question, he jerked and looked up at him.
Connor realized he must have hit on the text of the sultan’s thoughts. He often did that. Being an angel meant he had extra empathy.
“She’s not my harem girl,” Iksander said.
Connor smiled faintly. “She isn’t anyone else’s.”
“Fine. I slept with her. Once.” Iksander waved his hand vaguely. “I slept with all of them during the interval when Najat and I were estranged.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. I assume you have the right to make love to them any time you want—assuming they don’t object.”
Iksander’s lips pressed together and turned down. “They’re not likely to do that.”
“Are they afraid of you?”
He shook his head. “They might be afraid of my mother. She runs the harem. Mostly the women compete for my attention.”
He didn’t seem pleased by this. “Will they view Georgie as competition?”
“Probably. You as well, in case you’re wondering. Mind you, they’ll be surprised. You’re my first male lover.” Connor couldn’t deny the burst of warmth this inspired. Apparently, he wasn’t the only mind reader. Iksander’s mouth curved up at his reaction. “I trust you appreciate me risking a brush with scandal on your behalf.”
“I do, though—for your sake—I hope it doesn’t become uncomfortable.”
Iksander touched his arm reassuringly. They hadn’t been lovers long. Connor’s body stirred at the contact, not taking it at all for granted.
“I made love to her in my smoke form,” the sultan said.
He’d alluded to this once before, with the same air of confession. Evidently, for the djinn of his city, having sex while not in a physical body was considered a perversion. Though the sultan had more than one unconventional erotic interest, he wasn’t necessarily proud of them.
Connor suspected he’d rather be normal.
“Did Yasmin dislike what you did?” he asked.
This wasn’t a question Iksander was expecting. Color stained the golden skin over his cheekbones. “She . . . appeared satisfied with the results.”
“And the others?”
Iksander cleared his throat. “They too evinced pleasure.”
“You realize having sex that way wouldn’t bother me. I don’t think it would, anyway. I suppose I’d have to try it and see.”
Iksander’s lips parted in surprise.
“I can’t speak for Georgie,” Connor continued, outwardly innocent but enjoying the other’s shock. “She does seem to prefer her partners vigorous. Unless you can be vigorous when you smoke. You’d know better than I on that score.”
Iksander shut his mouth. Connor smiled. The djinni’s cheeks were bright red now.
“You— You’re trying to make me hard,” he accused. “You know that particular topic triggers me.”
“I’m trying to make you realize there’s nothing in your actions for me to judge. If that arouses you, I’ll count myself lucky.”
Connor slid two fingers down the sultan’s spine, brushing his vertebrae through the silk tunic. Iksander shivered as the contact reached his tailbone.
Connor watched him fight to accept the touch casually. “You’ll have to count your luck later. The last thing I need is stories getting back to that girl’s colleagues. Knowing the three of us are together isn’t the same as witnessing our attraction.”
“I know I’m not as suspicious as you or Georgie, but do you really think she’ll cause trouble?”
Iksander shrugged. “Harems run on gossip as much as sex. Yasmin might mean well, but some of the concubines won’t welcome your arrival. Also, don’t forget Georgie might not react like you. Human or djinniya, women tend not relish sharing men they care about. Najat grew up in our culture, and it didn’t appeal to her. In part, I made her my kadin to avoid hurting her.”
Connor scratched his jaw in thought. Was Iksander correct to be concerned? Georgie had embraced the idea of her and him and Iksander being together. Would she mind if Iksander stepped outside their circle to claim his traditional rights?
Actually . . . might Connor mind himself? Now and then he did experience jealousy. When Iksander first showed up, before Connor fell for him, he’d been unnerved that Georgie desired another man. Connor’s understanding of a harem was that diplomacy dictated who was in it more than romance. Concubines represented connections between important men. That didn’t mean they couldn’t develop real feelings. If any were in love with their master—and Iksander was lovable—they’d be even more bothered.
These were matters to mull over. Connor preferred everyone be happy. What if, in this particular situation, that was impossible?
Iksander was preoccupied with the contents of his own head. He patted Connor’s shoulder as if ending a conversation rather than starting one.
“I’m going in there,” he announced, his head twisting toward the conservatory. “Those two have been alone long enough.”
Given his own niggling of concern, Connor accompanied him. As soon as they reached the doorway, Yasmin scraped back her chair and bowed. A length of hair fell forward from her veil. Connor saw it was dark and smooth.
“Your Majesty,” murmured the djinniya. “Forgive me. I’ve lingered here too long.”
“It is no matter.” Iksander’s head nod was stiff but polite. “We appreciate the thoughtfulness of your errand. Perhaps, however, you have duties to get back to—?”
“Your Majesty is gracious to remind me.” She bowed again and left the suite backwards. Her grace in retreating suggested she had practice. Connor concluded there must be a rule against the harem turning their backs on Iksander.
“Well,” Georgie said as if her time with Yasmin had given her food for thought.
“Are you all right?” Iksander asked. “The girl didn’t upset you?”
“I can’t pretend I read her perfectly, but she seemed nice enough.” She waved toward the unwrapped gifts as if they flummoxed her. “These ought to be hung up before they crease. Do you have somewhere I can put them?”
“I had the staff clear space in my closet.”
“I’ll carry them,” Connor volunteered, every part of him delighted by the colorful, diaphanous silks. Gold embroidery ornamented them artfully, the pearls and gems that studded them as pretty as patterns on butterflies.
Georgie laughed at his eagerness to help. “I should have known those would appeal to you.”
When he saw Iksander’s staff had cleared half of his large closet, more happiness bubbled up. It seemed the sultan really did expect them to stay a while.
“Look how much room!” he exclaimed, pleased for Georgie and himself. “This is way better than a drawer and a spot to stick toothbrushes!”
Georgie lifted a small leather bag with handles. “Yasmin included those in her care package too. I think they run on magic. Iksander, you’ll have to explain how they work.”
The sultan didn’t answer. Seeming bemused, he watched Connor hang the clothes.
“Am I doing this right?” Connor asked.
“I imagine so,” he said.
“Oh boy,” Georgie chuckled. “You’re really tempting me to tease you about being waited on hand and foot.”
Iksander raised one eyebrow. “I’m sure I’m grateful for your restraint.”
Grinning, Georgie held out a small flower-printed tin. “Show me how to use this, please.”
He took the tin from her and unscrewed it. A shining silver disk lay inside.
“You place this between your teeth, bite firmly, and say the activating prayer. ‘Clean teeth are divine teeth’ is the usual formula. This particular brand is mint, I think.”
“I can’t accidentally blow up my head if I do it wrong?”
Iksander smiled. “The enchantment that infuses the disk is mild. The most you’d do is make your teeth too squeaky.”
Georgie had reason to be cautious. Back in the human world, her spiritual gifts were slight. Here in the djinn dimension, where magic abounded, they functioned less predictably. She’d achieved results none of them expected a time or two.
“Here,” Iksander said when she hesitated. “I’ll demonstrate.”
The disk lit up when he said the prayer. Amusingly, at least to Connor, it left his teeth literally twinkling. He removed the device and handed it to Georgie.
“I can use the same one?”
“Yes, sharing is perfectly hygienic. The disk sterilizes itself.”
Unfamiliar with speaking around the thing, Georgie said the prayer awkwardly. Connor guessed the effect was startling. She jumped when the disk lit up. It fell out into her hand.
“It tingles,” she explained.
Iksander smiled. “Shall I test if it worked?”
“Pretty sure it did,” she teased back.
He leaned in and kissed her anyway, gently molding his lips to hers. His hand went to her face, hers to his trim waist. By the time he pulled back, the air felt thicker in Connor’s lungs. Georgie’s palms settled on the sultan’s chest. To Connor, the way the sultan held Georgie’s eyes seemed the teensiest bit unsure. Iksander didn’t take her kiss for granted any more than Connor took Iksander’s touch.
“My schedule is clear of responsibilities until the morning,” the sultan informed her. His gaze slid to Connor and back to her. “We three could . . . spend this evening as lovers.”
Georgie rubbed Iksander’s pectorals up and down, his nipples pebbling at the treatment. “I suspect Connor would like me to try out my new clothes.”
“I’m sure I would as well.”
She bit her lip before breaking into a grin. “Okay, shoo you two. I’m picking my seduction outfit by myself.”
“We could help,” Connor pointed out. “In case you need advice.”
Georgie shook her head laughingly. “I have a better idea.” She mimed pulling off a shirt, after which her gaze hooked Connor’s. They weren’t just lovers. They were long-time friends. Messages passed between them that didn’t require words. Connor’s blood heated in his veins, his cock stirring with a fresh knock of arousal. “You’ll keep Iksander entertained while I get ready?”
“That would be my pleasure,” he promised.