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On the run back home, Cassia stumbled over every stone in the country and received a dozen angry car honks in the city. Her mind’s eye locked on Faruq, leaving her physical ones just sorta dragging three steps behind. But c’mon! What was the man’s problem?
Djinn didn’t have physical medical conditions that she knew of. That didn’t, however, speak to mental strains that might befall any Magical. The next thought that popped into her head landed her straight into a thicket of dead rose bushes. The pain hardly registered.
Oh, why hadn’t it come to her sooner? Someone must have had his lamp. The dear thing had likely been under the servitude of some jackhole who’d drained him dry. The thought of it sent her blood boiling and she had to do an extra two laps around the block before continuing on. She very rarely got so angry that magic bubbled to the surface, but trees withered around her and bugs chattered in protest. Even worse, she didn’t have enough control over her power to shut ‘em up. The extra two laps became an extra five.
No, she wasn’t a decent witch. She knew no spells by heart and her pull on power was never as strong as her sister’s. But she had a feeling that if the person who hurt Faruq stood in front of her right now, she’d light ‘em up.
How had it even happened in the first place? Tig’s lamp stayed safe around Dinah’s neck or his own. Faruq must have slipped up and lost it somehow. She shuddered and did a sixth lap. Djinn couldn’t be made to hurt themselves, but their kind had a long history of being tools of murder and torture. That would mess anyone up in the head.
By the time she reached her house, she prayed for a rock to slither under. It was no wonder Faruq hadn’t wanted to touch her when they met. Instead of concern for his condition, she’d jumped from unnecessarily cruel to annoyingly flirtatious. Even worse, the beautiful man had taken her crazy in stride. If Faruq ever spoke to her again, she promised not to embarrass herself.
Drenched, she kicked off her shoes and slid across the floor on damp feet. Every few steps, a new lump of clothing dropped to the floorboards as she stripped out of her running gear. She’d overdone it. Her arches ached, her blowout was now a ‘fro out and she had to roll down her panties to get them off.
Upstairs, she hopped into the shower and rested her head against the fogging glass. Even here, that djinn invaded her thoughts.
His face.
His short cropped hair.
His lips weren’t bad either and the image had her hands moving. She’d been too long without a man’s touch and with her schedule, there weren’t any prospects on the horizon. Memories of Faruq clouded her mind and as her fingers danced over her body, she imagined his hands leading the way. He’d be a patient lover, slow and considerate.
Then again, the quiet ones always surprised you. Thoughts of Faruq having her against the wall or balling her hair in his fist were enough to turn her shower into a far more pleasant enterprise than she’d anticipated. She was just rounding third base...and pondering if one could third base oneself...when her cell phone rang.
She ignored it for all of 0.2 seconds.
On the infinitesimal chance it could be him, she scrambled out of the shower, sliding wrist first across the tiles. One hand shaking, the other was forced to bear the burden in her Frankenstein crawl to the bedroom. “Hello? Hellohellohello?”
“Cassia?”
“Yes, um, hi. Uh, Faruq?”
“If I’m bothering you—”
Be cool. She let out the breath she’d been holding, ignored her now scraped wrist and pushed the throbbing pain away to feigned awesomeness. “I wasn’t sure I’d hear from you again.”
“I’m sorry for my behavior.”
“Strong ditto. Mine, I mean. We should start over, don’t you think?” She thought she heard a whoosh of air on the other line and a little something fluttered in her tummy.
“That’s why I’m calling. I hoped that you could show me around.”
“A run?”
“Not exactly. I had drinks in mind.”
Her fist pump to the air was immediately followed by a wince at her burning wrist. She used to know a spell to fix that sort of thing.
“Cassia?”
“Right. Yes, I’d like that. Soon?”
“Tonight. If you’re not busy. I know it’s short notice but—”
“Pick me up at eight. Gotta go. Bye.”
She hadn’t meant to hang up on him.
Well...she had. Drawing that out would have left her open to more humiliation. Nope, best to end strong...ish. She had business to handle and only nine and a half hours to find the perfect outfit, do her hair and erase the ridiculous grin crawling across her face.
She ran to her closet, fast on the hunt for something tight, sexy but not slutty.
Hair? Flat ironed.
Grin? Still plastered on. No help for that.
Game? Got it.
Magical wrist fix? She’d work on it.