Last Wish

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Last Wish ISBN 9781419911255 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Last Wish Copyright © 2007 Shelley Munro Edited by Mary Moran. Photography and cover art by Les Byerley. Electronic book Publication December 2007 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

LAST WISH

Shelley Munro

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Crowded House: Crowded House Touring, Inc. The Lord of the Rings: The Saul Zaentz Company DBA Tolkien Enterprises Corporation

Last Wish

Chapter One “Are you ready yet?” The front door to his house slammed shut loud enough for the neighbor to hear—the one living a kilometer down the road. Swift footsteps spoke of impatience. “Dillon!” Dillon Sanderson glanced at his watch and groaned softly. Susan. Well, hell—in trouble again. “I’m in my office. Is it time already?” He scowled at his watch and gave the glass a sharp tap with a forefinger then shook his wrist for good measure. Maybe it was running fast and his sister had arrived early? Susan barreled into his lounge-come-office and stared at him with accusation in her blue eyes. “I told you to be ready when I arrived. You haven’t even showered.” The hands planted on her ample hips underlined her irritation. He dragged his hand through uncombed hair and leaned back to scratch his bare belly just to annoy her. After all, that’s what brothers were for. Luckily, he’d taken the time to pull on a pair of ratty sweatpants because otherwise he would have really rattled her cage. Another thought occurred and he speared a suspicious look in her direction. “You’re alone, aren’t you?” With his testy words still echoing between them, he craned his neck, attempting to look around his sister to see if there was anyone behind her. Susan kept trying to fix him up with her friends. “Chill,” she snapped. “There’s no one with me.” Dillon relaxed fractionally but the slight pink tinge in her cheeks brought back a wave of suspicion. He waved his hand in front of her face. “Hello! I’m gay. Not interested in sleeping with women. Remember?” “I know you’re gay! I can hardly forget. You told me last time when I visited with Jennifer. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

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A chuckle slipped out. He remembered the occasion and his speechless red-faced sister clearly. Susan’s reaction alone had made his public outing worth it. That and the fact she’d stopped trying to fix him up with her friends. His declaration at the rugby after-match function had set the seal on it. He was officially out, even though some of the women in Sumner were finding it difficult to deal with, there being a shortage of men in the town and all. He stood to stretch. “I told you I preferred to hunt romance on my own. I don’t need help.” He lifted his hands over his head, joints popping and protesting after hunching over the computer for so long. “Why aren’t you ready?” “Some bastard hacked my computer and left a virus,” he said, anger burning through him again for the umpteenth time. When he got his hands on them… “I’ve been trying to locate the culprit and send the virus back. A mutated one,” he added. Revenge was gonna be sweet. So sweet. “That can wait,” Susan said, going into what he called her teacher-parent mode. He just wished she’d stop treating him like one of her children. “Go and shower. We’re leaving in five minutes. If we don’t hurry, all the good things will sell before we arrive at the market. It’s the last one before Mum’s birthday.” “Yeah. Okay. Sorry.” Dillon moved, knowing he’d only come off second best if he tried to tangle with her in this mood. Although petite compared to him, her determined jaw and ramrod straight posture told him he’d pushed his sister far enough this time. Ten minutes later, fully clothed with his hair semi-tamed, he crammed his body into Susan’s small bubble-shaped car and they headed to the market to buy silverware for their mother’s birthday. Or at least that was the plan. Susan drove so fast the scenery blurred during the drive from his house, set in a rural pasture on the banks of the Marin River, to the center of town about ten kilometers away. The town of Sumner was pretty typical as far as New Zealand rural towns went. The main street consisted of a butcher, a stationary and bookstore, a baker, a few cafés and takeaway joints, a hardware store, a post office, a petrol station and a bank. The 6

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police station sat on an adjacent street along with the town hall, library and council buildings. A supermarket, church and a real estate agent rounded out the local amenities. Maybe he could have moved like most of his friends had once they’d completed their education, but he liked the place. He liked looking out his window to see the countryside, hearing animals and feeling the cool breeze on his face when he walked along the riverbank near his house. It was a place where everyone knew each other’s business and walked into houses without knocking. Sometimes that wasn’t a good thing, Dillon thought with a quick glance at his sister, but he still loved the relaxed pace of life and had no desire to move to the city. The feature that made Sumner different from the neighboring townships was the large grassy square right in the center of town. Perfect for markets, fetes and special town celebrations and a real hub of activity. One of the events was an antiques market held on the third Saturday of each month and designed to bring visitors from the surrounding district into the town and separate them from their money. Susan was positive they’d find something for their mother at this market. He glanced away from the sign advertising the upcoming Christmas parade and looked at the oncoming traffic. Bloody hell. His left foot frantically worked the brake but of course the car didn’t slow since he sat in the passenger seat. “Someone in this town unleashed the virus on me,” he said hurriedly, talking to take his mind off Susan’s driving and her close proximity to a cyclist. He closed his eyes when they almost took the poor woman out. “Will you shut up about your precious computer?” Dillon looked back and saw the vicar’s wife wobble to a hurried stop. Still in one piece. His breath hissed out in a soft sigh of relief. “It’s my job, my livelihood. How can I write and design adventure comics when my computer has a virus?” Susan snorted rudely. “Get another computer.” “I’m not made of money.” “You would be if you went back to practicing law.” 7

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An old argument and one his sister wasn’t going to win. He ignored her dig. “The person is going to pay.” “How do you know it’s someone from Sumner?” “Because through a stroke of good luck I managed to track down the Internet service provider, but so far I don’t have a name. A couple of my friends have contacts in the right places. It’s Two Gates, a local place, which means it’s possible the person lives here in Sumner—quite probable actually with the big computer club at the local college.” “Yeah, all right. Don’t go on about it. Concentrate.” Susan pulled into a vacant space in the car park on the far side of the square, stopping about two inches away from the neighboring car’s bumper. Dillon had no idea how the driver would get out if they wanted to leave first. He shrugged and climbed from the car. Not his problem. More important things to worry about. “Right,” Susan said. “Here’s the plan. Since we’re late, we need to split up. Mum collects anything silver but likes teapots most of all. You know how to tell it’s real silver, right?” “Yeah. I look for the silversmith’s mark. Teapots. Got it.” She’d only mentioned it about ten times when they’d first discussed the idea. He was tired of the lecture. “And you’ll concentrate on silver, right? No more virus talk. Don’t get distracted if you meet one of your friends. It’s no big deal.” No big deal? No big deal? “The virus has screwed up my hard drive,” he howled loud enough to attract the attention of a trendy young woman towing a kid by the hand. She took one look at his contorted face and made a wide detour. He inhaled deeply and strived for calm. “You need to get a life,” Susan retorted. “Then you wouldn’t need to worry about hard drives.” Easy for her to say. Susan had snagged her man already and that had made her complacent. There weren’t many eligible males in Sumner, which was why he ended up 8

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engrossed in work instead. They entered a market area crowded with eager customers. A Christmas carol about reindeer and Grandma rang out while several of the stalls had a Christmas theme going with flashing lights and gaudy strands of tinsel. The aisles were thick with people, not a clear patch of grass visible. Susan deftly applied an elbow to an unlucky passerby in an attempt to enter the flow of foot traffic. “Damn, I knew I should have told you an earlier time. We’re going to miss out on the good buys. Oh…looks like that guy selling both vegetables and antiques is here again. I’ll get him to keep me one of the mixed boxes before they all sell. They’re organic and very tasty.” He scowled, scanning the locals and strangers crowding the open market area. One of these people might be responsible for giving him the virus. “Silver,” Susan said in a firm voice, obviously reading his mind. Her teacher-parent persona again. Dillon grimaced and attempted to shove his problems aside to concentrate on buying a gift for their mother. “Yeah, yeah. Teapots. Got it.” Susan hurried off, leaving him to his assignment. He weaved between the stalls and customers browsing them, scanning each one when he passed and assessing the goods for sale. Thank god, he was tall. This was an occasion when his height and size became an asset. “Hey, Dillon.” “Matthew.” He nodded at the president of the computer club, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You shopping?” Was he the bastard who had set a virus on him? The young man had the knowledge and probably the incentive, given that his girlfriend had decided Dillon belonged in the husband category. A shudder of horror worked down his spine when he recalled the blatant come-on from the woman. The embarrassment. He barely resisted the need to wipe his mouth again even though it had been almost two weeks since Matthew had seen his girlfriend plant the lip-smacking kiss on him. With tongue. Yuck! 9

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“Nah, helping my uncle out with his stall. I’m looking forward to your class. We all are. See ya later.” “Sure. I’ll see you there.” Dillon watched the departing nineteen-year-old closely, more leery than ever. Matthew attended the class he taught on computers for the computer club and their use in comics. He was doing it as a favor to the tutor and had enjoyed the classes he’d given so far this term. He stared after Matthew for an instant longer before an elderly woman dug him in ribs with her elbow and managed to run over his foot with her shopping cart while she busily apologized. Oops. At least the pain of a vegetable-laden shopping cart reminded him of his mission. Susan would do more than dig him in the ribs if he turned up empty-handed. He kept moving, scanning the goods for sale. Pottery. Glassware. Leather. Tacky plastic watches. Hell, he thought this was an antiques market. Obviously the word “antiques” was a loose interpretation of the goods on sale. Jewelry. Coffee tables. More leather. His footsteps slowed. Maybe he’d check out the leather afterward. That jacket looked as if it might fit him. With real regret he kept walking. Jewelry in a different style. Art. Sculptures. He reached the end of the aisle. Nothing. Frowning, he turned and spotted a small row of stalls off to the side. They weren’t very busy, probably because they’d already sold out. Worth a try. Dillon wandered over, taking the opportunity to study the crowd. Now that was a nice-looking ass. An attractive blonde woman saw him looking and wrapped her arm around the man’s waist. Aw, damn shame. Looked as if he were taken. Not much luck in the love-life department, not since Jack had left to live in Australia. Dillon strode past the stalls before coming to an abrupt halt. Silver. At last. At least he thought it was silver. He peered into a cardboard box and pulled out a tarnished saltshaker in a garish greenish-black color. He turned the shaker upside down, stroking his thumb across the base so he could read the mark on the bottom. Yeah, that looked like one of the marks Susan had shown him. He pulled out two different-sized goblets.

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“Ah, there you are,” Susan said, appearing suddenly from the other direction. “Found anything?” “This box of assorted stuff. I don’t think there’s a teapot but Mum might like the goblets.” “Buy it,” Susan said. “I’ve found a teapot.” She patted a shopping bag dangling off her arm. “Dillon, can you make your own way home? Jennifer is here and we thought we might go out for brunch.” “Fuck, is she frightened I’ll bite?” he asked when he noticed Jennifer hovering a few stalls away. “Be nice,” Susan said, patting his hand. “Yeah, okay. Should I clean the worst of the grime off these before I pack them for Mum?” Susan peered into the box. Cobwebs and what looked like mice droppings covered most of the articles inside. “Buy the whole box,” she said in an undertone. “The salt shaker and goblets are nice. Mum will like them. Just wipe the worst of the dust off. Let Mum do the real cleaning. She’ll get a kick out of it.” “Okay. Ah, here’s the stallholder now.” “Later,” she said, standing on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the cheek before speeding away. Dillon turned to the stallholder, an elderly man who teetered toward him with the aid of a walking stick. “How much for the box of stuff?” The man gave it a cursory glance and sniffed. “I picked the box up at an estate sale. I can give it to you for one hundred and fifty bucks.” “One-fifty? For this?” Hell, he wasn’t sure he had that much money in his wallet. “How about one-twenty?” He knew he had that much for sure. “Done!” The man grinned, flashing a large gap where two front teeth were missing. The gleam in the man’s eyes made him wonder if he’d made a mistake in offering that

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much. Too late now. He grabbed his wallet from the rear pocket of his jeans and handed over the money. The man grinned again and Dillon noticed one of his bottom teeth was missing as well. The man stuffed the money in his pocket and started to pack up his stall. “Are you leaving already?” “My work here is done,” the man said, his rapid moves belying Dillon’s initial guess at his age. He didn’t lean as heavily on his stick. It was as if he were in an almighty hurry. “Here. Take your box.” The man’s curt words confirmed it. Dillon placed the saltshaker and the goblets back on top of the box and lifted it. In bemusement, he watched the man load his fold-up table, a chair and his remaining stock into the back of a utility vehicle. He shook his head, wondering at the man’s weird behavior. Still at least he had the silver and was in Susan’s good books. For a change. He smirked and moved out of the man’s way, coughing at the wave of dust kicked up by the vehicle when it sped away. Turning away, he juggled the box on his hip. The contents shifted inside, clinking together with a metallic ring. The distinct rumbling of his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten for a while. He’d grab brunch at one of the cafes in the square before heading for home and tracking down the rogue who’d loosed the virus on his computer. Revenge was gonna be sweet. Dillon took two steps and the bottom fell out of his box. Metallic pieces rained down on his feet and hit the ground, rolling in all directions. The saltshaker plopped onto his right boot. “Ow. Bloody hell.” He hopped on one foot and scrambled to gather his new purchases, hoping like hell he hadn’t dented anything too badly. Susan would kill him, and it wasn’t as if he could hide the evidence. She seemed to know—probably her mother skills coming out. Unfortunately he seemed to end up on her radar system no matter how hard he tried to extract himself. Not a single stallholder in sight. Not a box or a bag within snatching range. With an impatient sigh, he started to assess the damage. Using the hem of his T-shirt, he rubbed pieces of grass and dust off the blackened silver, giving each piece a perfunctory glance.

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Finally he stood. Yep, he’d managed to grab them all. Apart from one. He squatted and picked up the piece, a slow grin of delight curling across his lips when he turned it over in his hands. Well, heck. What do ya know? A teapot. A strange-looking one but definitely a teapot his mother would love. When it came to collecting, unusual was good—according to his mother at any rate. The pot had four chubby legs and a long arching spout. Small hidden hinges attached the lid, and the body of the pot matched its chubby legs. Dillon picked it up and stood to check the bottom for silver marks. He rubbed it briskly and softly exhaled when he saw the requisite symbols. Bingo. He rubbed a fraction harder across the belly of the pot to clean off a smudge of dirt. Without warning a puff of smoke curled from the spout. He blinked. The smoke grew in volume. Multicolored in pink, red, silver, gold and green, it reminded him of a fireworks display but on a smaller scale and without the accompanying explosions. Slowly the dazzling smoke coalesced into the body of a man. Dillon blinked again but when the muscular man remained, he wanted to lick his lips. Oh yeah. Why the hell couldn’t he meet a man like this in Sumner? He rubbed his eyes with the hand not holding the teapot and focused again. The man was still there. It wasn’t his overactive imagination acting out. At least he didn’t think so. He reached out to touch, positive the tip of his finger would shatter the hot vision standing right in front of him. He’d almost made contact when the vision spoke. “Huh!” The man scanned the area before turning his gaze back on him. “Looks like you’re it. One wish and be quick about it. One wish—that’s all that remains on my contract. One wish and I’m free. So, come on. What’s it gonna be? Time’s a wastin’.” Dillon stared, only half taking in the man’s husky and hurried words. His free hand dropped to his side. More struck by the muscular body of the attractive man standing impatiently in front of him than interested in his words, he continued to study him closely. A genie? Instead of wearing genie-type garb, the man wore a gray polo shirt and tight black jeans. Silver bands decorated his wrists, catching the late morning sun and shining brightly with each movement of his hands. His clothing clung to his body,

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highlighting his broad chest, lean hips and muscular legs. He guessed without looking the stranger would have a tight, firm ass. Sort of went with the territory. His tan face contained determination, not handsome but arresting with sharp angles and soft lips. Black hair, long and thick, curled in haphazard manner over his shoulders. Dark stubble shaded his strong jaw while a silver ring pierced one ear. Blue eyes glittered from beneath dark brows. Dillon’s gaze slipped to his mouth. Oh yeah. Talk about sin…that soft mouth was made for kissing. Dillon shuddered, his brain freezing and refusing to move onward. Every muscle in his body tensed as he imagined how that luscious mouth would feel curled around his cock, working it. Teasing. Stroking. Sucking. “Hello. Hello?” The man clicked his fingers in front of Dillon’s face. “A simpleton.” Pure disgust distorted the sensual curve of his mouth. “My contract’s almost done, one wish left to issue, and I get the village idiot.” The disparaging tone jolted Dillon back to the present. “I’m not an idiot, merely surprised,” he said, his heart pounding with a combination of lust and amazement. “Who are you?” “Zanofredo. Genie contract number twenty-one. Enough chitchat. We need to move this along. The sooner I grant you one wish, the quicker my contract terminates. Freedom but for an idiot,” he muttered. “So close I can taste it.” “Freedom?” Dillon didn’t understand and his mind wasn’t exactly keeping him up to speed. He shifted his stance, trying to ease the fit of his jeans. “Damn, I was right. You are the village idiot. Listen very carefully. I shall say this only once. Each genie contract stipulates one hundred wishes. We may give out a maximum of three at a time. I have one wish left on my contract. That wish is yours.” Dillon frowned, listening carefully to the man’s sexy rumble. “Zan…o…fredo?” “Call me Zane. It’s easier.” No mistaking the impatience this time. Zane. The name fit the man perfectly. “Yeah, okay. A genie, huh? What happens to you once your contract expires? And how come you’re dressed like the rest of us? Your 14

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English is perfect.” Dillon wanted to touch and taste the man’s sarcastic mouth so badly he trembled. He hadn’t felt the same urgency, the same desire, for a long, long time. Zane’s sigh held clear irritation. One black leather boot thumped the ground, tapping out his impatience. “My teapot has cable and Internet. I like to keep up with the modern trends. Here it is—the quick version of Genie Law 101. We have three options. One, we can voluntarily sign another contract for one hundred wishes. Two, we gain freedom, but only if we elude capture for ten days, or three, Hasim, the genie boss captures us and we are forced to sign another contract. According to legend there is a fourth way but this method has never been used and the knowledge lost.” “Sounds like slavery.” The genie shrugged. “Being a genie isn’t a bad life, but after two rotations I wished to try something different. I didn’t intend to sign up for a third time but the genie boss had other ideas and caught me in California. This time I will try harder. I do not want a fourth rotation.” “But how do you get to be a genie? Are you born that way?” “No, genies are made, not born. My parents were poor, and when I was fifteen, Hasim approached them with an offer of a job for me. These days, things are more modernized and men and women apply for what they think are ordinary sales jobs. Hasim is very crafty.” “You lived on Earth?” “Of course. I was born in Italy. When I accepted the job, I became a genie with powers governed by the wristbands and gained entrance to the magical dimension where we live.” Dillon frowned at him. “But what about your parents? Do you see them? What do they think about your job? Your name doesn’t sound Italian.” “My parents are long dead.” Clear impatience simmered in his eyes. “All my family is dead because genies live very long lives. Hasim renamed me because he couldn’t

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pronounce my original name, and I didn’t mind. Baldassare was a mouthful. I like Zane,” he said firmly in an obvious bid to halt questions. “But—” “So many questions. My parents agreed to me serving as a genie, but to protect the anonymity of the genie dimension, once they received payment and completed the formalities to everyone’s satisfaction, Hasim wiped their minds. They didn’t miss me.” He held up his hand to halt the questions hovering on Dillon’s lips. “They agree to this as one of the conditions. After much thought, I agreed to sign a contract because my parents and brothers and sisters needed money and it was best for everyone. I signed willingly. No one is forced to become a genie. Now, your wish. What is your wish? I do not have time for idle chitchat. This time I wish for freedom.” Dillon thought of his poor computer and the explosion of evil laughter that had spilled from the speakers when the virus grabbed hold of his hard drive. One wish was simple. “I wish a pox on the people in this town who spread computer viruses,” he snarled, anger once again pounding through him. His computer. All that lost work. Fuck, he’d been so tired last night he’d forgotten to back up and this morning…this morning, it had been too late. The damage was done. “That is your wish?” “Yes! That’s my wish.” Zane crossed his arms in front of him, touching fingers to elbow joints, and closed his eyes. His silver wristbands touched and blue sparks shot toward the ground. His head jerked sharply and his blue eyes snapped open. “It is done.” “What? What is done?” The silver wristbands on the genie’s wrists opened with an audible click. They fell to the ground, bounced once and vanished. “I am free.” He crossed his arms again and the color of his shirt changed from gray to blue. “I will go now.”

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Dillon grasped his arm to halt him, his heart jumping at the warmth of the other man’s skin. He didn’t want to let this fascinating man leave. Hell, he wasn’t usually so damned wimpy and indecisive, but damn, the man of his dreams hadn’t popped out of a teapot before. This was new territory. “Wait! Don’t go. Can’t I buy you breakfast or a coffee or something before you leave?” He groaned inwardly. Needy, dammit. He hadn’t meant to sound so desperate but he didn’t want this sexy man to disappear as quickly as his armbands, not when he’d just found him. Dillon held his breath while he waited for the other man to say something. The muscles of Zane’s forearm flexed beneath his touch and he realized he hadn’t let go yet. His hand dropped away, his gut jumping with nerves. Somehow he was going to spend time with this fascinating male. He had no intention of letting this sexy hunk walk away before discovering which team the man batted for. Taking a deep breath, he extended his hand. “Hi, my name is Dillon.”

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Chapter Two Zane stared at the blond man in shock. Never before had a man or woman offered to spend time with him, not without an ulterior motive. They didn’t treat him as an equal. Always they showed more interest in his ability to grant their wishes. And they mostly took a long time to decide, weighing the benefits of one wish against another. This man…Dillon…had decided quickly and the wish hadn’t been a greedy one. “I do not wish Hasim to find me,” he said finally. He’d granted his wish and performed an extra magical task—changing the color of his shirt—to make Hasim think he’d popped to another location. Everything was going according to plan. All he needed to do now was leave on foot and act like a human. No more magic. “How does he usually find genies?” Dillon asked. “How does he track them?” Zane couldn’t help but stare at the way the sunlight colored the man’s hair to gold. Everything about him seemed golden from the gleam of his skin to the small gold stud that glinted at his left earlobe. He wore faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt. The fabric stretched across his chest. Dirt and green grass stains marred the front. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes since they were covered by dark glasses but his voice sounded sincere. “He tracks us when we use magic. Every time a genie grants a magical wish, it creates a signature footprint, invisible to the naked eye. Hasim uses the footprints to track and recapture genies.” Especially experienced genies. The genie boss had summoned him to court wishing to know if he wanted to sign a new contract. He’d tried to trick Zane into renewing his contract before the old one had expired. Hasim had arranged for twelve nubile maidens to serve sweetmeats, fruit and cool drinks. They had waited on him, giving him their full attention, feeding him by hand, peeling grapes. They’d entertained him, and all before the genie boss had started his pitch. Bottom line, 18

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he needed Zane more than Zane needed him. He’d lost a couple of genies recently. One had gained their freedom while the king had allowed one to retire after ten tours of duty. Hasim didn’t like to train newbies, and of course everyone knew it was bad luck for numbers to drop below fifty. “Do you retain your magic when your contract expires?” Zane nodded, attempting to hide his unease. “Eventually the magic fades but initially I will have my powers. Hasim will know where the silver amulets disappeared—my last location.” He’d assured the genie boss he intended to sign up again for another tour of one hundred wishes. He’d lied and done it with an impassive face and great skill. Hasim had believed him, thinking him sincere. He’d seen it in the man’s bloated face. “Right then,” Dillon said, whipping his T-shirt over his head to bare his chest. Zane catalogued the sculpted flesh and muscles and the fine dusting of hair that arrowed downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of the man’s jeans. It was the first time he’d allowed himself to actually look at a man. One of his rules—don’t mess with the people for whom he granted wishes. He’d learned that after making a big mistake in the past. The new rule had kept life simple, but now…now he had options—as long as he evaded the boss for the next ten days. It wouldn’t be easy. A pissed Hasim was a vindictive one. If the unthinkable occurred and he failed to retain his freedom, he would suffer greatly with a beating and possibly torture—not enough to stop him from carrying out his job but enough to make him miserable. The boss possessed great creativity when it came to punishments. Dillon scooped up the items of silver, including his teapot, and placed them inside the T-shirt, using it like a basket. “Come with me. You can tell me about being a genie while we eat breakfast. Besides, won’t your boss expect you to leave Sumner?” “That is true,” he conceded. The previous time he’d left the area of his last wishes, popping to the other side of the world to a country called America. Most genies who desired freedom popped to another place. Hasim had captured him in a place called

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California. Zane scowled at the memory. He’d found a man he liked, a man he would have enjoyed spending more time with, but he’d grown careless and let the man charm him into using too much magic, allowing the boss and his team of merc-magicks to track him. Ultimately his fault, even though he still blamed the man for enticing him. This time he intended to do things differently. No magic for a start. No exceptions. Not a single one. The man raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Zane hesitated, wanting freedom so badly and yet dithering. Being a contracted genie wasn’t a hard life or a bad one, but waiting between gigs became a bit of a drag. And sex. Let’s face it. There wasn’t much of that because of being constantly on call with his job. He wanted to find someone special to spend time with, to give and receive love in return. For once he’d like to know a man made love to him for the hell of it, because he wanted pleasure as much as Zane did. A man like Dillon—that was what he wanted—a man who treated him like a human instead of a golden goose. “All right,” he said, suddenly aware of the hunger pangs in his stomach. He would experience what it felt like to spend time with an attractive man. Then another thought occurred. “I have no currency to pay for my meal.” He had American dollars since they were readily convertible no matter where he ended up, but it would be best not to change them to local currency in this small town where the bank workers might remember him. “No problem, mate. My treat,” Dillon said. “Let’s go.” Zane followed the human, glad to leave the vicinity. Under the rules of the genie charter, the genie boss couldn’t start tracking until an hour had elapsed and he couldn’t use magic to find him—apart from following magical footprints. Genies had an hour to return and sign on the dotted line. “This place…it is private?” 20

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“One of my friends runs the restaurant. We can go in the back way. I’ll ask Jamie for a private table. He won’t mind.” “That is acceptable.” Zane fell into step, deciding to trust the other man for the time being. He didn’t know much about him since a genie didn’t have a choice about who found their teapot. He knew he was in a country called New Zealand. From cable communications, he knew the country was a newish colony, discovered by explorers in 1642. It was isolated by distance, yet with modern communications, determination and ingenuity the population thrived. Yes, New Zealand was a fine place to hang out. The human led him through a maze of stalls and around the edge of a large, mainly grassy square. Zane, although keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings, experienced great pleasure from observing the other man. He had an almost overwhelming desire to touch, to cup the tanned skin of the man’s biceps and feel if it felt as smooth and warm as it appeared. And his scent…a masculine blend of musk and greenery. The sexy cologne tempted him to lean in close and take a bite. “Holy shit.” Dillon halted so suddenly Zane walked into the back of him. “My wish. That man has pustules all over his face. I wished for a pox on people who spread viruses. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant!” Zane wanted to howl in frustration. Not now. He hadn’t pegged the man as a wisher who complained. “That is what you wished,” he said, his voice stiff with both tension and a hint of disappointment. He wanted sustenance. Drink. He wanted privacy with the human. And most of all, he wanted to avoid capture. He must leave now. “That man unleashed a virus on my computer,” Dillon whispered in a fierce tone. His jaw clenched, a tic springing to life beside his mouth. “I don’t know who he is or why he did it, but he will pay.” “Oh my god! Ritchie, look at your face,” a young woman shrieked. When she turned, Zane saw pus-filled lumps covered her face too. In fact, when he glanced to his left and right, he noticed many people bore the pustules on their faces. Some appeared

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more like a mild rash while others, like the ones in front of them, were full-blown eruptions. Dillon frowned in a thoughtful manner, wondering about the variations. “Holy shit,” he said again, clapping his free hand over his head in consternation. “They can’t all be guilty of the crime.” He stared at another couple and their two children who wandered past, oblivious to the fact ugly pimples covered their faces. “Can we go now?” It was dangerous out here, still way too close to the magic footprint he’d left. And knowing Hasim, he’d probably misread his timepiece and arrive early. Dillon set the silver-filled T-shirt aside, stepped close and grasped his shoulder tightly. Zane froze at the sensation of warmth seeping through his shirt. The heat spread across his chest and danced downward to his groin, the faint tightening and filling of his cock bringing a delicious frisson of pleasure. His small gasp drew Dillon’s closer attention. The man stared at him but Zane couldn’t see his eyes since the glasses still screened them. Dillon opened his mouth as if he intended to say something before closing it again. “You’re right. We need to go,” he said. “We can talk about this over breakfast.” Searing disappointment swept through Zane even though he agreed with the need to leave the area. He’d thought…well, never mind what he’d thought. Dillon picked up the silver again, the muscles of his shoulders bunching with the move, drawing Zane’s attention. Before he had a chance to savor the sight, the human hurried off. Leading the way, he set a brisk pace, still keeping to the edge of the marketplace until they emerged at the far end of the square. With a quick glance both left and right, Dillon darted down a small alleyway that ran between two red brick buildings. They rounded a rubbish bin that took up most of the alley before he spied a white door. It opened at the touch of the human’s fingers and he stepped inside, gesturing for him to follow. Zane hesitated on the threshold, wondering if he were doing the right thing by placing his trust in this man when every instinct told him to flee. Hasim and his team

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would search for magic fingerprints and when they failed to find them, they’d ask questions. This time he’d taken pains to dress the part, to blend, but the boss was sly and clever. He’d heard whispers of corruption. “Coming?” “Yeah. Sure.” Zane stepped inside and closed the door behind him, hoping he was doing the right thing. Clattering and the muted hum of conversation assailed his ears. The scent of fresh bread and frying meat started his taste buds humming. He’d found it difficult to eat when he’d realized his teapot was on sale at the market. A new channel appeared on his cable TV whenever conditions were good for the granting of a wish. Since it was the final wish on his contract, he’d immediately gone into last-minute preparations, changing his clothes to blend and going through his plan, searching for ways to maximize his chances of success. Eating had come in low on the list. He followed Dillon farther into the kitchen. A large man dressed in baggy white trousers and shirt and sporting a white cap on his head shoved a tray of small pies into an oven and closed the door before prowling over to them. “Dillon! Long time no see. How’s it hangin’?” He cast a curious look at Zane before turning back to the human, a huge grin on his bearded face. Jealousy and a slice of envy hit him without warning. With hungry eyes, he watched the easy way the two men interacted. It wasn’t like that where he came from since genies under contract were constantly on call. Socializing was rare, apart from the formal receptions at court. Dillon laughed, set the T-shirt filled with silver on the floor and clasped the big man in a bear hug, clapping him over the back several times before releasing him. “Hey, Jamie. Haven’t been out much lately. Been working on a new issue of the comic. We’ve come for something to eat but don’t want Susan to find us. Mind if we come in the back way?” He tugged off his sunglasses and folded them, clutching them in his hand.

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“No problem. Watch the wet floor. The booth at the back is available. Do you want to sit there?” “Sounds great. Susan is trying to introduce me to one of her friends.” “Still?” Jamie winked. “Never fear. You’re safe here. Besides, I need the customers since the new café opened next door.” “Jamie, this is Zane, a friend from university.” Jamie held out his hand and Zane performed the greeting ritual automatically. Dillon had introduced him as an old friend. “Ready to eat?” Dillon asked. Zane nodded, fighting back confusion, and followed the other man like a tame pet monkey wanting a treat. He couldn’t help wondering why the human had claimed friendship and wanted to spend time with him, buying him a meal. He stiffened. Unless…unless he wanted more wishes? “You can’t go out into the main restaurant looking like that,” Jamie called after them. “I don’t want to start a riot. I think I have a spare T-shirt in my locker. You can borrow that. What happened to your shirt anyway?” “I purchased some silver at the market but the bottom fell out of the box. That’s why I’m shirtless. Had to carry the silver somehow. Hell, who told you about the other day?” Dillon asked with an exaggerated shudder. The muscles in his abs rippled in an enticing manner, catching Zane’s attention even though he’d decided to play a cautious, waiting game. “I ripped my shirt playing rugby last week and had to change mid-game. The women mobbed me at the after-game function. It was bloody terrifying.” It was easy to see why, Zane thought. The man had charm in abundance, but did he have an ulterior motive? Would the human harm his chance at freedom? Jamie smirked at the human and waggled his bushy eyebrows. “That why you’ve come out of the closet?”

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“Yeah, self-protection,” Dillon said. “I figure I’m safe enough from the men. There’s not many single men around Sumner,” he explained to include Zane. “The women snap them up before they know what’s hit them.” “You shouldn’t look so pretty,” Jamie said. “Break your nose or something. Claire keeps telling me she’s going to run off with you if I don’t behave myself.” “Huh! We both know the woman loves you.” Jamie’s nod was smug. “Yeah, I know. So, where did you find Zane?” “He popped out of a teapot,” Dillon said, tipping a wink toward him. Zane found himself grinning back even though he harbored doubt. Suspicions. It was difficult to ignore the human’s charisma. “Don’t tell me then,” Jamie said huffily. “He’s here on holiday. It’s a surprise. He didn’t tell me he intended to visit.” “Oh how long are you here for?” Jamie asked. “Where are you from?” Zane glanced at Dillon, unsure of what to say. Luckily his newfound friend fielded the conversation for him. “Auckland. I told you we went to university together. He’s come down to Sumner to check out the South Island and see what the mainland is like.” Yeah. All that. If he stayed, he’d need to remember the cover story Dillon had spun for him. They stopped near a table and wooden benches. The high back separated it from the rest of the restaurant and Zane couldn’t see the other customers, although he could hear their muted chatter. In a pensive mood, he slid into the booth and accepted the menu Jamie handed him, still feeling slightly confused. This time he desperately wanted to avoid a new contract, he wanted to live his life the way he chose even though it would mean his lifespan would become the same as a human’s and he’d eventually lose his magic, becoming fully human again. It wouldn’t matter. Living forever was no fun without friends and lovers to share the time, both good and bad. That was the

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reason he’d decided to make the break. Time to experience life rather than standing on the sidelines watching via cable and the Internet. “Usual for me, thanks, Jamie.” Dillon gestured at the menu before turning to Zane. He set his sunglasses on the table in front of him. “All the food here is good.” His brown eyes held lazy warmth. Friendship. There didn’t seem to be anything else to raise Zane’s suspicions higher than they were already. “In that case I’ll have the same as you.” Zane decided to continue playing a waiting game and hoped like hell he was doing the right thing. He was hungry for more than food. The idea of more conversation, more time spent with this fascinating man dangled like a ball of temptation in front of him. Jamie nodded and returned to the kitchen, leaving the two of them together. Zane swallowed hard, hating the indecisiveness clawing at his mind. For the first time in his life he felt vulnerable. Hell, he was vulnerable. He’d known putting aside his magic would take great strength but had consoled himself with the fact it was only for ten days. The gradual loss of magic once he gained freedom would be different, more like aging from what he’d heard from others at court. This abrupt halt was an icy shock to the system. He hadn’t realized it would make him feel helpless and almost naked. Defenseless. “Do you have a plan?” “No magic. Without magic footprints, Hasim will find it difficult to track me. It’s probably best if I stay out of sight or I might try a disguise.” “And after the ten days are over?” Zane shrugged. He hadn’t allowed himself to think past that, to dream of the possibilities. “I haven’t made firm plans.” “You can stay with me—if you want. I have a spare room.” He stared at the human, his heart beating a sharp staccato against his ribs. The lingering suspicion came to the fore, gripping him tightly while he tried to discern the other man’s meaning. Was he after more wishes? What exactly did he want? 26

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“Whoa, no pressure,” Dillon said, holding his hands up in front of him in the manner humans said “stop”. “I thought you were interested…no problem. Forget I said anything.” “Here’s the T-shirt,” Jamie said, lobbing it over the booth walls. The door swished when he re-entered the kitchen. “Interested?” “Yeah, in me,” Dillon muttered. “Doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.” He tugged the T-shirt over his head, hiding his face. Interested? Zane didn’t understand and he wanted to know. “Interested in what way?” Had he misjudged? The human’s expression grew guarded. “I saw…I thought I saw you checking me out. I’m sorry. Guess I need to get out more. My social skills are rusty.” “You don’t want me to stay just to get more wishes?” “No! Granted, I should have worded my wish a little better since I think just about every person who has spread any sort of computer virus has come out with the pox.” Dillon chuckled, the musical sound catchy. Zane found himself grinning. Could it be? Even though his wish had gone wrong, the man still wanted to spend time with him? “It’s true. I was checking you out.” Zane straightened until his spine hit the wooden backing of the booth. “I guess I could stay for a while, as long as I kept a low profile.” He paused. “What do you mean the wish didn’t go well? My wishes always produce results.” “They certainly do.” Dillon laughed again, but all the time Zane was thinking, hoping, the human had checked him out because he wanted to touch and do more. “I meant to wish a pox on the person who gave my computer a virus. Hopefully I’ll be able to check out the people showing symptoms and eliminate them one by one until I get my hands on the real culprit. You’ll stay? For a while?”

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Jamie interrupted them when he arrived with their meals. Two plates of sausage, eggs, tomatoes and baked beans were set before them along with toast. He left, returning minutes later with a pot of coffee and two cups, along with milk and sugar. “Yes,” Zane blurted. “That’s great,” Dillon said. “You can help me find out who launched this virus on my computer.” “No magic.” And hopefully things would take a turn toward the bedroom. “Hell, give me a little credit,” Dillon snapped. “I heard you the first time. No, I figure we’ll work out a disguise for you and instead of hiding away for the entire ten days you can come out with me. What do you think?” “Hide in plain sight?” he asked, exhaling slowly while he considered the suggestion. “I don’t know. Let me consider it for a bit longer.” “Yeah, and meantime, I figured we could get to know each other better. I haven’t felt an instant attraction like this for a long time. If you’re agreeable, I figure we could find out where it might lead.” Zane dithered. Yep, dithered. There was no other word for it. He wanted this man physically, but hell, after the last time in California when all the man had wanted was more wishes… This time he wouldn’t let a pretty face cajole him into making mistakes. Extra wishes equaled capture. It was difficult to give his trust with so much at stake. His future for one. But Dillon’s suggestion to disguise himself and move about as if he belonged was a good one. He didn’t have any plans, any specific place to go. Zane picked up a piece of crunchy sausage and took a bite. Salt and meat exploded in his mouth. He chewed while he came to a decision. “All right,” he said finally. “It’s a deal. I’ll stay with you for now.”

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Chapter Three After Zane finally agreed to stay, Dillon couldn’t have described what he’d eaten or what they talked about. Hell, he’d thought the genie would knock him back, but instead he’d admitted he was interested, whatever that meant. Now all he could think about was kissing the man, tasting those sexy lips and licking away the crumb that clung to the side of his mouth. And the genie’s scent… Dillon sucked in a deep breath just to savor the fresh citrus blend all over again. “Do you have a plan to find the person who damaged your computer with the virus?” Hell, yeah. The genie was going home with him and they’d go from there. Handcuffed to the bed sounded good. Naked. An erection. Make that two erections. Things worked better that way. “Yeah.” Zane’s brows rose and he cocked his head, his blue eyes twinkling, full of mischief and carnal knowledge. The man knew exactly what played on his mind. It was written on his face and punctuated with a knowing grin. “Gonna tell me what it is?” The genie reached across the table and placed his hand on top of his. A surge of acute sexual energy zapped up his arm and down his torso, finishing in his groin. The velvet tension electrified him. He shifted uneasily on the hard wooden bench. Fuck, what the hell was he thinking? His brains had seeped downward and suddenly his dick exerted control. “A plan?” the genie prompted, releasing Dillon’s hand to pick up his cutlery. “Ah, yeah.” Snap out of it, man. He’ll think you’re a fruit loop. An unwilling grin tugged at his lips when he recalled their first meeting with Zane calling him the village idiot. Perhaps the genie had it right. He was acting with idiotic behavior. Hell, what 29

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were they talking about? Oh yeah. A plan. “I’m going to check at the doctor’s surgery. I went to school with the practice nurse. She’ll tell me what she can without breaking confidentiality rules. From there I’ll work up a list of names and check them out one by one. It’s obvious a five-year-old wouldn’t have the expertise while any computer experts will go to the top of the suspects. Oh and meantime, I’ll keep digging into the info I’ve already uncovered.” Zane nodded, pausing to slather butter over a piece of toast. “I know quite a bit about computers. I’ll help.” Decisive and confident. Curiosity grew inside Dillon. It was difficult to conceive— the idea that a fifteen-year-old would agree to leave home and everything he knew so his parents and the rest of his family lived their lives in comfort. Could anyone become a genie? Zane hadn’t actually told him much—just enough to make him curious. No doubt he’d learn if they spent more time together. And the teapot. What the fuck was that about? Dillon imagined it would be a tight squeeze inside there for a man let alone a computer and a few other possessions. Cable television. How big a screen fit inside a teapot and was it a flat screen? Maybe it was one of those roll-up jobbies. He cocked his head to the side and grinned at the genie. “Just how big is this teapot anyway?” Muscular shoulders moved in a careless shrug. “You’ve been reading too many tall tales. We don’t spend all our time in our vessels. We have apartments at court. We hang out with other genies some of the time and Hasim monitors us closely. It’s a bit difficult to make plans though, since we’re all on call. Instinct tells us when it’s almost time for our next assignment, and that’s when we’re confined to our vessels. It’s not an exact science, but normally we don’t have to hang around for longer than a couple of days once the gut instinct kicks into gear.” “Hmm.” Dillon gave up the pretence of eating and set his cutlery across the middle of his plate before pushing it away. “I don’t think I’d like it. I prefer lots of space. Did you know about the escape clause when you first signed up?”

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“Hasim doesn’t spell out the finer details until it’s too late to go back. At first I didn’t care. I was helping my family and I didn’t have to look after goats anymore.” He shrugged and changed the subject. “How long do you think it will take to find the person you search for?” Longer than ten days, or so he hoped, if the genie was volunteering to stay around until he’d caught the culprit. Ten days wouldn’t be long enough to learn about the fascinating male. “I’m not sure. You finished?” he asked, steering his thoughts away from murky waters. “Yes, that was a tasty meal.” “Good, we’ll leave via the rear entrance.” He feasted his gaze on Zane’s chiseled face, the dark slash of eyebrows and the sensuous curves of his lips. The man was striking—too striking. He’d attract attention, especially with his long loose hair. Hell, he’d love to feel the long strands drifting across his naked skin. Dillon shivered and shoved the longing for tactile sensations aside. It had been a while since he’d met someone this attractive but he was civilized. He was capable of friendship—if that was all that was offered. “You’ll need some sort of disguise, just in case. Tie your hair back. I’ll ask Jamie for a hat and you can borrow my sunglasses.” He stood and the genie followed suit. “Very well.” Zane lifted his right hand before letting it drop to his side with a succinct curse. “Fuck.” “What is it? What’s wrong?” “No magic. I almost slipped. This is going to be hard. Using magic is instinctive.” Dillon placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, wanting to alleviate his distress. Instead heat pounded him, sensual heat that could have only one outlet. He glanced down at his groin, already knowing what he’d see. Yep, hard and needy. Bloody hell, this was neither the time nor place. “Come on.” Dillon sucked in a breath and hoped his condition wouldn’t appear obvious to everyone else. Ignore it and his erection might go away. Yeah, right. And maybe he’d win the lotto this weekend. He 31

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dropped money on the table to cover the meal and strode to the kitchen. Footsteps behind told him Zane followed. Somehow, some way, he had to get a grip on his unruly body before he scared the genie away. He forced his mind to his computer problems. Funny how thoughts of sex drove away his anger at the person who had hit him with a virus. Dillon shouldered his way into the kitchen. “Do you have any rubber bands?” “Yeah, over there in the office.” Jamie brushed a pastry brush over the tops of several pies, giving them a shiny coating. Dillon quickly averted his gaze. Shiny things and thoughts thereof were out of bounds. That way lay ruin. With long strides he hurried across the kitchen to the small cupboard Jamie laughingly called an office. He found several rubber bands and handed them to Zane. “Tie back your hair. Jamie, can we borrow a hat?” “Sure.” The oven door clanged shut. “There’s one hanging behind the door over there. I put your T-shirt and silver in a bag. It’s by the door.” “Thanks.” Dillon retrieved the hat and gave it to the genie as well. “Tug it low over your face.” He stepped back to check the result and almost groaned out loud. Oh yeah. A great improvement. Now the blue of his eyes stood out even more along with the strong and determined jaw. The glint of the silver hoop in his earlobe was damned sexy too. He wanted to grab the genie and suck at both silver hoop and earlobe—among other things. Tamping down the wave of lust, he handed over his sunglasses and strode to the exit, turning briefly when he reached it. “See ya, Jamie. Thanks. Coming?” He picked up the bag of silver. “Yeah. Great meeting you, Jamie.” Zane waved and closed the door after them. “What are we doing first? Where are we going?” “I thought you’d want to stay out of sight for a while. Your…friend has probably arrived by now.” Dillon kept moving toward the opening of the alley because if he stopped, he might succumb to his urges and kiss the man. When he reached the end, he glanced both left and right, freezing when he spied the group of strangers at the far end 32

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of the square. Zane came up behind him and they both gazed at the five men. “Is that him?” “Yeah. Hell, what am I going to do? I can’t go back. I want more. I want a life.” Desperation colored the genie’s voice. Heartfelt longing that made Dillon want to offer him the moon and stars and quite a lot besides. For an instant Zane’s fear was palpable then the genie straightened with decision. “I’ll have to go back through the café and make a run for it.” The genie boss looked nothing like the man Dillon had imagined. He’d expected a rotund man with a jolly smile and icy cold eyes. He’d expected a man wearing white robes with a round hat sporting a tassel on top, not this urbane man wearing a designer suit. Yes, he appeared soft around the middle but no one would make the mistake of thinking him harmless. Four men flanked him, their sharp gazes surveying the square and the people still browsing through the market. They also wore suits but seemed less imposing, despite their obvious size and muscle. “There’s my sister and her friend,” Dillon said, an idea forming. “Follow me.” With long strides he caught up to Susan and Jennifer, dragging the resisting genie with him. “What are you doing?” “Saving your butt. They’re looking for one man. See how they’re not paying much attention to the people in groups?” “Dillon,” Susan said in surprise. “I thought you’d gone.” “This is an old university friend. He’s come to visit,” Dillon said easily. “Jennifer, I promise not to bite. You don’t have to look so terrified. I’m really sorry about the other day. I was pissed with Susan and took it out on you. Forgive me?” The genie was in way more trouble than Jennifer. Zane, he’d love to bite, while the woman didn’t interest him in the slightest. “Do you want a ride?” Susan asked. “It will be a squeeze but I can drop you home if you want.”

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“Thanks, that would be great.” Even though they were taking their lives in their hands accepting a ride with his sister, she was the lesser of two evils. Dillon set a steady pace until they were out of the open and walking down the aisles between the different stalls. Most of the stallholders were packing up, ready to go home. Another successful day in the office. “My god,” Jennifer said, horror coating her voice. “Look at that girl’s face.” Dillon looked and took a mental note of her name. Another one for the list. It was becoming longer by the minute. “Oh the poor girl,” Susan said, making sympathetic clucking sounds. “Maybe she’s allergic to something?” Jennifer mused. “There are more people with the same rash on their faces,” Dillon said. Oh boy, he should have worded that wish a lot better than he had. It was hardly the genie’s fault he’d taken him literally. Susan picked up the pace, circling the inflicted people carefully. “I certainly hope it isn’t contagious.” “Oh do you think it’s catchy?” Jennifer touched the tips of her fingers to her flawless skin, a moue of distress wrinkling her forehead. She stuck closely to Susan, as if she feared touching one of the diseased by mistake. He couldn’t resist. “I’ve noticed several people with the same rash.” In fact, his sister’s face looked decidedly red. He decided not to mention it and hoped he was wrong. “Some look worse than others.” And at a guess he’d say those inflicted worst should go to the top of his list because he figured they’d obviously spread more viruses than those where the infliction appeared mild. “But—” Zane broke off when Dillon dug him in the ribs and placed a finger to his lips.

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“We should probably leave as soon as possible,” he said to his sister. “No point taking any risks. I didn’t notice any rashes when we arrived this morning. It seems fastacting. Maybe it’s airborne.” Two of the strangers searching for the genie appeared from between a SUV and a market stall. Dillon kept moving and they walked right past them without a hitch. As he’d assumed, they were looking for a single man on his own and since they were part of a group and were obviously together, they didn’t rate a second glance. Acting confidently plus the hat and borrowed sunglasses helped as well. “Do you own this car?” an irate woman demanded when they hurried up to Susan’s red bubble-shaped vehicle. “Yes,” Susan said. “I’m terribly sorry. I’ll move straight away.” “Well, I really!” the woman said with an indignant huff. “I’ve been waiting here for half an hour. Some people have no consideration for others.” Susan ignored the woman’s irritation and turned to Jennifer. “We were right to leave so quickly. The rash must be contagious. Look, this lady has it as well.” “Rash? What rash?” The woman peered into the side-vision mirror on the driver’s side of her car and gave a screech of horror. “Oh! God! A doctor. I must see a doctor.” Susan unlocked her car, opened the door and pulled forward the seat for them to climb into the back. After placing the bag of silver in the rear, he gestured for Zane to get in first and clambered in after him. It was a tight squeeze. Cozy. Their legs rubbed together and Dillon bit back a groan, wriggling about on the backseat, trying to move away from temptation. It just made things worse. The genie’s masculine scent combined with his citrus aftershave and wound through his senses, teasing and taunting. Hell, he was gonna be so screwed if this was a one-sided attraction. Yes, the genie had admitted to checking him out but that didn’t mean he had considered moving into close and personal territory. Dark humor burst out in a bark of laughter. Yeah, he’d be screwed if he found the genie didn’t want him. Huh! Bad word choice. There wouldn’t be any

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screwing at all. It would be a solo deal and would do nothing to quench the gnawing ache currently writhing through his belly. “How long are you staying with Dillon?” Susan asked, backing from her parking spot. The genie glanced at him before looking away again. “I’m not sure yet.” At Zane’s words, his head jerked up. Dillon stared at the genie. Surely he wasn’t going to leave—not before they’d had a chance to learn about each other? His sister zoomed from the parking lot, pulling out in front of the mayor’s wife. The woman braked and Dillon glanced back to see her face pale with shock. Normally his sister’s driving took his mind off everything apart from the need to survive. Not this time. All he could think about was the feel of Zane’s leg cozying up to his and the heat coming off the genie’s large, muscular body. They arrived at his house with a screech of brakes. Susan switched off the ignition and climbed out so they could exit. Dillon grabbed the bag of silver and brushed a quick kiss on his sister’s cheek. “Thanks for the ride.” Susan looked from him to the genie and back. “Where are Zane’s bags?” Hell, his sister was too clever for her own good. She didn’t miss much. “I—” “They’re inside. I left them here before the taxi dropped me in the square,” the genie said with scarcely a blink. “I’m lucky the house wasn’t locked. I figured I’d come back later and hopefully Dillon would be here. It was a stroke of luck running into him at the market.” And that was no lie. Dillon was extremely thankful he’d run into the man. Now if only Susan would leave so he could get to know him better. “Thanks for the ride,” he said again. “Maybe Zane could come to Mum’s birthday party with you.” The gleam in Susan’s blue eyes told him his sister was adding two and two and coming up with an answer before he’d done more than think about it. “Mum and Dad don’t believe you’re gay.

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They think you’re having me on. I’ll admit I had my doubts, but not anymore.” Her glance toward the genie was meaningful. Man, his sister was full of it, always analyzing and dissecting people. She didn’t know jack. “Bully for you. Go away and let us catch up.” “Sure. Thanks for the ride, Susan,” she mocked. “I said ‘thank you’,” Dillon said in exasperation. “Twice.” With a casual wave of his hand, he headed up the narrow concrete path leading to his front door. “Come on in.” He ushered Zane inside and closed the door firmly once the man had entered. Alone at last. They stared at each other for a long intense moment. The need to touch thrummed through Dillon but he turned away, determined to take this slowly. He removed his boots and socks, and Zane followed suit. “Want a beer?” No need to rush things and drive the genie away. Zane frowned before nodding. “Sure.” Dillon heard the genie’s measured footsteps following him into the kitchen. The bag of silver rattled when he set it down on the veneer bench top. A beer. Alcohol. Something to ease the tension and help them both kick back and relax. He jerked open the fridge with a trembling hand and peered inside, his jeans tightening over his ass. It was difficult to remember the last time he’d felt this nervous.

Zane drew in a sharp breath, the air hissing through his teeth in a distinct whistle. He’d seen the human checking him out—he’d have needed to be blind not to notice. And he returned the interest. In the past he hadn’t had much time to pursue sexual inclinations, but maybe while he was hiding out…as long as there were no wishes involved… The decision was easy to make. Seize the opportunity.

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“We can sit outside and come up with a plan,” Dillon said. Yeah, bugger the consequences. When Dillon turned to hand the beer over, Zane moved close and kissed him hard. A surprised sound whooshed from the man but he didn’t fight or shriek with horror. Good. Zane’s cap sort of jammed between them, getting in the way. Impatiently, he wrenched it off, tossing the annoyance aside before kissing the human again. Zane softened the kiss, giving instead of taking. The contrast of hard muscled body and firm lips kissing him back made him want much more, but he kept it slow and easy, letting their tongues tangle together. Discovering. Exploring. The human groaned, the rough sound reverberating between them and he pulled away, panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared in shock. Zane smiled and briefly cupped the human’s cheek before moving into his personal space. A shiver slipped down his body when their erections brushed for a sweet moment. When they repeated the move, shockwaves ricocheted through him. More. Urgently, he backed Dillon up so the countertop halted retreat. Now he had him. Thigh met thigh. Groin brushed groin, and Zane sighed at the firm friction of cock against cock. They were both big men, of a similar height. Good matches physically, which was great because he had designs on this man’s body. He nipped at a bottom lip then soothed it lovingly with his tongue. Two beer cans thudded to the bench top and arms clasped him close. A moan slipped from Zane at the additional heat and the total acceptance of his advance. Dillon caught the sound with his mouth, sliding their lips together again. His kiss, Zane thought, smoothly taking control again. His hips moved at the same instant he slipped his tongue into the warm recesses of the human’s mouth. Sweet. So sweet. A hint of coffee danced across his taste buds, fragrant with a hint of spices and dark chocolate and underscored by the essence of man. The hot, wet slide of tongues moving together sent blood crowding painfully into his cock. Chills raced across his skin at the rightness of it and the knowledge the genie boss and his mercs were

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searching for him propelled him onward. This might be the last time for a while. His cock jerked. Sex and danger—the perfect combination. “Enough.” Dillon jerked his mouth away, breathing hard. “You mean stop?” They’d barely started. “I didn’t bring you here for sex. Tell me about genies. Can anyone become one?” Zane stepped away, shock shooting his erection down. Fuck, he hadn’t considered that possibility. A man who didn’t like to rush. A man with scruples perhaps. “I guess. These days Hasim likes to advertise on the Internet and receive online applications. The applicants aren’t really sure what sort of job they’re applying for until they attend an interview. If he interviews someone who turns out unsuitable, he simply wipes their memories and they’re returned to their homes none the wiser.” He frowned. “You don’t want me?” A rude snort sounded and Dillon reached down to cup his bulging erection without shame. His brown eyes glittered with banked passion. “Does this look like a disinterested man? I mean, we have time to get to know each other first.” “And what if Hasim and the merc-magicks track me here? What if they take me and all we’ve done is chat?” “I see your point.” “Yeah.” Zane flashed a quizzical smile. “Does that mean you’re going to reconsider? Am I going to get lucky?” The human studied him for a few tense seconds before nodding and holding out his hand. “Might as well do this in comfort. My bedroom is this way.” Stark relief filled Zane, followed immediately by a bolt of fiery lust. Grinning, he clasped Dillon’s hand and followed him across the tiled floor to a door on the other side of the room. It led to another short passage and he caught glimpses of the rooms they passed. A lounge room. Messy with lots of books covering the large brown leather chairs. A computer. Flat screen television. Large, he noted with approval, before they

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moved on, passing a bedroom with a single bed. The next door was another bedroom, masculine with a huge bed covered with some sort of purple-reddish cover with swirls of gold and embroidery. It reminded him of the Far East, and the dark ebony furniture and the bamboo prints on the wall highlighted the Oriental feel. Dillon tugged him inside, pausing to let Zane look his fill. Sunlight spilled into the room through large windows. Curtains hung but they were pulled back to maximize the view. A sigh of appreciation escaped. Green, as far as the eye could see. Grass, trees and a bright blue sky. A river curled lazily through the paddocks, passing near the house. Animals— sheep, cows and horses—grazed and slumbered. After confinement in his vessel, it was a slice of heaven. During trips to the court, genies stayed in the palace apartments. There was nothing like this. They never left the court or traveled into the vast deserts surrounding the palace. “You are a lucky man.” “I know.” The human opened the windows and Zane realized they were doors. “It truly is paradise.” There were even tubs of bright red and white flowers on the tiled area outside the doors along with small trees with lush and spiky leaves. “Yes. I’m very lucky I don’t have any close neighbors. It’s totally private.” “Can you swim in the river?” Everywhere he looked there was freedom without the intrigue of court and genie politics. Freedom. Zane decided if he managed to evade capture, he’d find a place like this. His tastes were simple—food, a bed, his painting and drawing materials and a plentiful supply of sex with someone who cared about him. “Sure, we can go swimming later or if it gets too cold, we can sit in the hot tub and watch the sunset.” The thought pleased him. Maybe he could paint the scene later. Grinning with pleasure, he turned to Dillon and nodded. “Yes, I would like that.” “Good. That’s settled.” Masculine hands curled around his shoulders and warm breath feathered over his ear. “Close your eyes.” “But I want to—” 40

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“Close your eyes,” the human repeated. Zane followed the instructions, his pulse rate soaring. Normally he liked to give the orders when it came to his sex life. It was an instinctive gut reaction against genie law, a chance to exercise control instead of following another’s bidding. Somehow Dillon made him feel secure, drew instinctive trust even though he hardly knew the man. Weird, but for once he intended to follow intuition. Chill bumps prickled across his chest, his arms and legs while he waited anxiously for Dillon’s next move, every sense hyperaware and alert. He smelled the perfume from the flowers he’d noticed growing in tubs outside the sliding doors, heard the human’s soft breathing and the scrape of fabric against skin. A gentle kiss landed on his mouth. A sharp nip followed, arrowing pleasure straight to his dick. Dillon trailed kisses across his jaw, biting and sucking on the tender skin of his neck. Zane gasped, his cock reacting with enthusiasm, filling and lengthening until it pressed firmly against the fly of his jeans. And still his eyes remained closed, the sensations layering one on top of the other. Warm lips tugged at his earlobe. A tongue traced the whorl of his ear and finally he felt Dillon tug on the end of his ponytail. Slowly the human drew off the rubber band and Zane’s hair fell around his shoulders. “You have beautiful hair. I can’t wait to feel it on my skin.” The longing in the musical voice tugged at something inside him. “Undress me. Take off my shirt.” “Ah-ah. I’m doing this slowly. I haven’t been with anyone for a long time—almost a year now. I want to unwrap you slowly, savor the experience. You’re an early Christmas present.” Zane’s chest expanded with his inhalation, his heart knocking against his ribs with real urgency. Unwrap. He loved the sound of that. Dillon pressed another kiss to his lips, probing the seam of his mouth and silently demanding he open to allow access. Fine with him. Their tongues lazily stroked and tangled. Dillon drew him close, 41

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pressing their chests together. Zane leaned in and their cocks brushed. An electric pulse arced through him at the intimate contact, even though they were both fully clothed. “How long are you going to make me wait? It’s been a while for me too. I don’t wish to spend myself too soon.” Zane opened his eyes so he could see the other man’s reaction, read his body language. A smile curved the human’s mouth. “In that case I’ll move a little faster. We have the rest of the afternoon and night. Tomorrow.” Yeah. Zane liked the thought of that. Maintaining eye contact, he yanked off his shirt, paused, and decided it was bloody uncomfortable wearing jeans. Without another thought, he popped the metal button fastening and tugged down his zipper, almost groaning out loud at the sheer relief when the tight denim peeled away from his cock. He pushed the jeans down his hips and legs, stepping out of them. “Don’t leave me in suspense,” Dillon said, stepping back to watch. A quizzical smile tugged at his lips while his brown eyes darkened with something Zane thought was lust. For him. The thought brought joy and the need to tease, as Dillon had teased him. Without a second thought, he dragged off his plain blue boxers and kicked them aside to pose for the other man. Dillon circled him in a slow prowl and Zane could literally feel his touch even though several feet separated them. Anticipation pulsed through him. Hurry. Now. He needed relief. Impatiently he waited until the human faced him again. “Well?” “Fuck, you’re beautiful. I don’t know where to touch first.” “Would you like me to give you a hint?” “Nah, I can do this on my own,” the human drawled. “I have a few clues. Close your eyes again and don’t open them until I say you can. Do it!” Zane’s pulse spiked at the order. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited, part apprehensive and part excited about what Dillon might do to him. He strained to hear, desperate for a clue as to what might happen next while arousal simmered in his gut. His dick lengthened even more, bringing tension. He suspected if he opened his eyes 42

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and glanced down, he’d see pre-cum beading on the tip of his cock. All this and they’d barely touched. The first touch was so soft and delicate, he thought he’d imagined it—a mere stroke of tongue across his tip. Holding his breath, Zane waited for more until pressure in his lungs reminded him to breathe. Just when he sucked in a deep breath, he felt a warm mouth surround him. The light flick of a tongue over his slit and soft suction made him realize this was more than imagination. It was bloody heaven. “Please, please can I watch?” he murmured, his voice low and guttural. Husky with longing. Zane swallowed, waiting for permission. “You may watch this time.” Unfortunately Dillon had to release his cock in order to speak, but the reply brought a smile. It wasn’t all bad. He waited with heart thudding for the human’s warm mouth to engulf him again. When it happened, he opened his eyes and looked down. Dillon met his gaze and grinned as much as he could given his mouth was stuffed full of cock. Hot. It was so damned hot seeing the sexy lips wrapped around him and the feel… The feel of that burning-hot mouth surrounding him, the suction and the stroking of Dillon’s tongue lapping at his crown…it was indescribable. It was too much. Already he felt the preceding tingle at the base of his spine foretelling orgasm. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold on, to make it last longer, but the human was talented and seemed to instinctively know what he’d like and how he liked it. He laved the sensitive underside and traced the heavy vein running along his length. Zane couldn’t help it. His hips jerked and he thrust into the human’s mouth. He tried to keep his strokes slow and steady, but the man sucking him so sweetly, pulled him nearer. The tip of his cock went deep. He gasped and drew back, not wanting Dillon to choke but the tight grasp on his hips forced him back. Zane gave up the fight and thrust steadily, fascinated by the way Dillon’s mouth moved and the way his tongue teased him. Zane curled his fingers through the silky strands of the man’s blond hair and held tight. His eyes slid closed without volition to better enjoy the rush of 43

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pleasure, the feel of that soft mouth stimulating him. He came in an explosive rush, the sensation so good it was almost painful, his groan echoing in the sunny bedroom. Gradually he eased his grip on Dillon’s hair and would have pulled away but the other man held him in place, swallowing then gently cleaning him off before he pushed away and climbed to his feet. With a lump choking his throat, Zane pulled him into a tight hug, gratitude plus the hum of continuing pleasure robbing him of speech. Finally, instead of trying to speak he kissed the human, pouring every ounce of emotion he felt into the kiss. He tasted himself on Dillon’s mouth, his cock jerking to life again at the thought of a repeat. By the deities, that had felt good and he wanted to return the pleasure tenfold. The idea that someone else would put his needs first still had the power to unman him. It had never happened before. Genies served. Zane deepened the kiss, sliding their tongues together and starting up a slow surge and retreat that duplicated the act of sex. “Enough.” Dillon pulled away from him, panting. Zane looked at him. A dull red highlighted the human’s cheeks while his lips were deep red and swollen from their passionate kisses. Mine, he thought, for as long as he’ll have me. “You are finished?” Hell, he hoped not. The human cursed and ripped his T-shirt over his head. “Fuck, no!” He gestured at the bulge in his jeans. “Does this look like I’ve finished?” “Maybe not, but I don’t know much about people in this town. As far as I’m concerned, it could be a weird sexual ritual I haven’t heard about.” It was difficult to maintain a passive expression but he managed. “On the bed,” Dillon ordered. “Only because you ask so nicely.” Zane strode over to the king-size bed and climbed onto the covers. He noticed sturdy brackets attached to the headboard and a quick glance at the foot of the bed confirmed the thought that popped into his mind. Dillon liked bondage. For some reason the thought didn’t bother him as much as it might have the previous evening while he was waiting for a summons. Then, he had 44

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craved freedom so badly he hadn’t slept and being bound and helpless in any manner wouldn’t have sat well. But now having met Dillon, he wasn’t quite sure where his boundaries lay. Time would tell if he misjudged the other man. His brows rose when the human shed his remaining clothes. The man was very well endowed and a desperate one, judging by the set and determined face. Acute anticipation crawled through his veins when the human prowled toward him. The glint in his brown eyes and the intense stare enforced the predator simile. Zane licked his lips, more than ready for round two. “How do you want me?” “Let me count the ways,” Dillon snapped back with a wide and very suggestive grin. “But this time I’m going to take you from behind. Hard and fast once you’re ready for me.” Hell, yeah. Watching porn movies on cable wasn’t the same. Jerking off wasn’t the same. “Works for me.” Zane couldn’t contain his smirk, not that he tried very hard. Talk about understatement. Anything sounded bloody good right now. Without conscience thought, he palmed his growing erection. “Hands off,” the human barked. “Assume the position.” Zane’s brows rose. Their gazes connected and held for a long moment before his breath hissed out. Slowly he turned away, rising on his hands and knees. A drawer rattled at the side of the bed. When he turned his head, he saw Dillon rifling though the contents. Finally soft satisfaction sounded. The other man scooped out several items but too quickly for him to identify. “You do not have to use condoms with me,” he said. “Genies do not suffer from diseases. We can not get sick since it would interfere with our job.” The drawer slammed shut and the mattress depressed when the human moved behind him. “That’s interesting, but if you’re going to lose your magical powers, you need to get used to condoms. Widen your stance.”

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More orders. Instead of alarm and resentment, each demand actually brought a sizzle of sensual awareness. His skin prickled from head to foot and each breath he took seemed abnormally loud. Slowly he obeyed the barked order, moving one hand and knee at the time. Each slow movement pulled on his muscles—his shoulders and chest. His butt flexed and for an instant, he felt an agreeable pull across his upper thighs. The move arrowed straight to his groin and a low moan escaped. The anticipation was going to do him in far more quickly than anything Dillon could do. He wanted to demand the other man hurry, but bit back the plea. He could do patience because after all, he’d had plenty of practice. “A bit more. I want to see you spread out and ready.” A jagged bolt of excitement shot through his veins and his heart gave a distinct stutter before pumping into a racy beat. Zane repeated the move, keeping it slow, purposeful, and again enjoying the play of his muscles and the light sway of his erect cock. Once he’d followed the order, he waited, a slight tremor rushing the length of his body. Dillon moved farther behind him, out of his line of sight. When was the other man going to touch him? When? And more to the point, how? Zane didn’t care. All he wanted was for the waiting to end and pleasure and satisfaction to take over. A clock ticked over at the far side of the room and a cow mooed outside. The foreign sound was enough to make him smile and really believe he was outside his vessel. Then he felt it. Unsure at first if it was his imagination, he tensed. “Relax. I would never do anything to hurt you—not unless it was something we both agreed on beforehand. I’m touching you. Exploring. That’s all. There’s nothing to alarm you.” Zane opened his mouth to reply when he felt something brush down his spine. He shivered, attempting to relax as Dillon bid him. It wasn’t easy. The other man skimmed 46

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the soft object over his back, across one buttock and brushed it over his inner thigh. He caught sight of a brush that looked like a butter brush but the bristles were petal soft. With each stroke of the brush, his skin became even more sensitive. A stroke across his balls made his cock jolt, his breathing deepen and become close to a pant. Part of him wanted to demand that Dillon hurry while the other part was enjoying the slow buildup of pleasure and the exquisite care the other man was taking to arouse him, to arouse them both. A new touch brought a jump in his pulse rate. Lips. He was sure Dillon had kissed him on the butt. Zane fought the urge to wiggle his ass like a pleased puppy. “You have a stunning ass.” “Plenty of time to exercise in my vessel while I wait for my next assignment,” Zane said. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to let yourself go now you’ve decided it’s time to move on to something else. That would be a crying shame.” If Dillon would keep worshiping him in this manner or even better fuck him, Zane knew he’d do almost anything for the other man. Except grant him more wishes. That wasn’t going to happen. Lips caressed his ass again, slipping into the dip between his buttocks. Zane gasped, waiting for more. This time Dillon licked all the way down to his puckered entrance, sending jolts throughout him. His dick reared in reaction. “Please, please do that again,” he whispered. “Oh I intend to,” the human said with sultry promise. His tongue made another sweeping pass, extracting another loud pant from Zane. That felt so good. He settled in, waiting for more, then to his acute disappointment, Dillon stopped. The man backed away and Zane felt nothing. His cock throbbed while his entrance felt damp, his entire body aching and needy. “Why did you stop?” he demanded, intending to move and end this pointless torture. 47

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“I haven’t stopped,” Dillon said. “I’m merely moving on to the next stage.” “Oh.” Zane wasn’t sure he wished to experience the next stage. He just wanted to come. “I’m becoming impatient.” “I know.” Clear laughter shaded Dillon’s voice. “You’ve become so used to instant gratification you’ve forgotten that half the pleasure is in the buildup.” “I—” Maybe the human was right. In the past, if he wanted anything, he wished it and it was. Possessions meant nothing when he was able to come by them so easily. Maybe that was part of the reason he’d started to feel such dissatisfaction with his profession. He needed a challenge. “Maybe,” he conceded. Something to think about in the days to come. “I’m right. Just wait. When you finally come again, it will be really good.” “It’d better be. I’m holding you personally responsible.” Zane smiled as he made the threat. “Oh you’ll like this next stage. I promise.” Zane wondered if he’d explode from the sound of human’s sexy voice. A possibility since it was smoky and low and brought a rash of goose bumps to his skin whenever the man spoke to him in that particular tone. They were in direct contrast to the heat simmering through his veins. He smelled the rich, evocative scent of sandalwood seconds before the cool liquid hit his skin. It was a wonder steam didn’t come off his ass, such was the contrast between the oil Dillon smoothed into his skin and the fiery heat the slow, gradual arousal had generated inside. Zane felt the liquid trickle between his buttocks. Dillon’s fingers chased the liquid, soothing it across his rosette. Back and forth. Back and forth. Zane’s eyes drifted shut and he opened his senses to the experience. The gentle massage of Dillon’s fingers moved onward. He gripped Zane’s cock and gave it a slow, steady pump. The calloused hand felt great against his smooth cock. The exotic sandalwood made him think of the Far East and the pleasures he’d experienced there once or twice while the quiet tick of the clock and the cheep of a bird anchored him in the present. 48

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Dillon. The man knew how to taunt and tease a lover, to drive him high and keep him there. Dillon removed his hands, making Zane want to howl in outrage. Instead he remained exactly where he was, head bowed and eyes closed while he waited. The other man smoothed more liquid—he’d decided it was some form of oil—over his butt and teased his hole. This time he inserted one finger inside. Zane quit breathing for a few seconds, his world zeroing in on the feeling of that lone finger pleasuring him. Like a finely tuned musical instrument, he quivered. Damn, he’d play a tune too if Dillon didn’t stop teasing him. A man wasn’t made to take this much tension. He certainly wasn’t meant to wait, even if the delay had him so turned on he thought he might explode. “I can’t do this,” he said quietly. The human seemed to know exactly what he meant. “You can. You will.” Dillon pushed the finger deeper, the intrusion feeling damn good. Apart from the fact that it wasn’t enough. He needed the other man’s cock thrusting steadily into him. That was what he needed. “Not much longer now,” the human soothed, sensing Zane was at the end of his tenuous control. He withdrew his finger, leaving him aching, throbbing. Needing. Zane heard the lid of a bottle opening, smelled another hit of the evocative sandalwood. The oil flooded his entrance and a squelch sounded when Dillon pushed two and then three fingers inside. The added fingers brought a twinge of pain, a sense of stretching. It had been a while but Zane knew it would be good. He would reach beyond the pain to pleasure so good that his toes curled. Dillon pushed his fingers inside and the discomfort eased. Slowly, he stretched him, driving Zane closer to the pleasure he knew awaited. The other man angled the strokes, grazing across his gland. A hiss emerged, making the human laugh. “Well, hell. I think I might be doing it right,” he said, another rich chuckle filling the bedroom. 49

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“If you do it any better, it’s going to be all over,” Zane muttered through clenched teeth. “Good. Sounds like it’s time to move on.” “At last!” Dillon removed his fingers, leaving him feeling empty. Needy. Fuck, call it desperate because that was what it boiled down to. A quiver racked his body, bringing a trace of vulnerability with it. He wanted to beg the other man to take him, to pound into his ass and bring them both pleasure. The concept terrified as much as it surprised him. Aware he was in danger of blurting out words a genie should never say aloud and especially one who craved freedom, he bit down on his bottom lip until the coppery taste of blood flowed across the tip of his tongue. The throb of emptiness was an echo inside his mind, a depiction of his life, but he shoved aside his unease, reminding himself he wanted Dillon. The sharp sound of foil ripping jerked him from thoughts verging on self-pity. His injured lip curled into a grimace. Bloody losing it. He felt the drift of fingers across his butt and suppressed a shiver. Enjoy the moment. That was exactly what he needed to do and cut himself some slack. Lack of sex had turned his brain to mush. Given a good pounding by Dillon, he’d be back to normal. Strong. In control. A free man. Before he could analyze and angst some more, the human cupped his hip with a warm hand. The gentle touch grounded him and drove away the residual inner panic. “Are you ready?” He felt the blunt tip of Dillon’s cock at his entrance. His gut flip-flopped with excitement. “Fuck me.” The pressure increased and with it his excitement. Balanced on a tightrope of pleasure and pain, he attempted to relax. The other man kept up the pressure until he breached the ring of muscle, all the while stroking him, pressing kisses on his back and shoulders before letting his hands wander at will. A pinch here. A kiss there. It was a slow and careful entrance, an easy surge and retreat until Zane took all of him. 50

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Fully impaled, he paused, his breath hot against Zane’s neck. “How does that feel?” “Good.” A bloody understatement, but he didn’t want to burst his macho act by babbling. “Only good?” Dillon’s laugh was contagious and brought a twitch of a grin to him. “Let’s see if I can take it up to brilliant.” And send him cross-eyed? His grin died as he acknowledged the truth. A future between them was impossible. He couldn’t allow his feelings and gratitude to Dillon to blind him to the truth. Eventually he needed to strike out on his own and establish a new life—ultimately one where magic didn’t exist. In that moment, he acknowledged a truth. It took time for the magic to fade from a retired genie, time for the genie to become wholly human again and the memories of his magical service to fade. Hasim wasn’t one for playing by the rules. He had to keep his wits about him or else face recapture. A sharp pinch of one nipple jerked him back to the present. “Ow, what was that?” “Making sure I have your full attention,” Dillon retorted. “I thought you’d gone to sleep.” “Never.” “My pride is wounded. I’m obviously not doing a very good job. Maybe out of practice. Can’t have that.” Another tweak and a sharp tug of one nipple sent a jolt of sensation straight to his erect cock. Zane’s breath hissed through his teeth. Okay, so he’d drifted for a moment but he was concentrating now. His cock left a damp trail across his belly each time Dillon thrust into him. The other man increased the pace, changing the angle and hitting the perfect spot. A moan escaped. His cock twitched and he attempted to balance using one hand only. “Mine,” Dillon snarled, batting his questing hand away from his straining erection. He stilled, imbedded root deep inside his body. “I’m responsible for your pleasure today.” It was obvious he wanted Zane’s submission. 51

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“Yes, sir.” Zane’s reply held wry humor along with simmering expectation. Pleasure. Hell, yeah. Slowly, he replaced his hand on top of the quilt cover and only then did Dillon reach between his legs to curl a hand around his aching dick. He resumed his steady thrusts and pumped Zane’s cock, smoothing his pre-cum over his hand for easy strokes. Faster and faster, angling until Dillon’s thrust shot over his prostate. “You’re so hot. Tight. I love the way you push back, the way you groan whenever I nail your gland.” “Oh fuck.” Zane gasped, pushing back to eagerly accept each hard thrust. Under Dillon’s expert ministrations, his cock seemed to lengthen even farther. He trembled at the tingle that commenced. It bloomed slowly before bursting on him like a freight train. A raw and guttural cry came from deep in his throat. He shot, hot spurts of cum exploding from his cock in an intense burst of pleasure that left him weak and breathless. “That’s the way to do it, genie,” Dillon said in approval, carefully pumping Zane’s cock again. It made his ass tighten, gripping the other man’s cock strongly. “And none too soon. I’ve been waiting for you to come first, but you’re so fuckin’ hot…” Dillon groaned, his breathing ragged. When he stroked inside again, Zane’s cock jumped and his ass milked Dillon, wringing another pained groan from the man. He slammed into him, the power in the thrust making Zane grunt, then the human stilled. The man leaned on him, warming his flesh. Zane could feel the urgent beating of Dillon’s heart against his back and smiled at the knowledge that he had done this to the human. “Hell.” Dillon pulled slowly from him and removed the condom he’d donned despite reassurances of good health and stood. Zane collapsed into a lazy and very satisfied sprawl, heedless of the dampness on his stomach and quilt cover. He was vaguely aware of water running and Dillon returning but was happy with his eyes closed and the remnants of pleasure still buzzing through his veins.

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“Turn over.” Lazy amusement colored the man’s voice. Obeying without hesitation, Zane flopped over onto his back. A warm cloth landed on his chest and he cracked his eyes open. “Let me,” Dillon said when he went to grab the cloth. It was so easy to let the other man take care of him. The thought brought a frown and a hint of alarm. Did genies starting to regain their humanity lose brain function? This lazy satisfaction wasn’t him at all. In fact, he hadn’t acted like himself from the moment he met Dillon. “Thanks.” He kept it brief and curtailed the smile that wanted to curve across his lips. This relationship was temporary, a bolt-hole to hide in while the boss and mercmagicks searched for him. It couldn’t become anything more because what he wanted above all else was freedom and independence. A lover represented loss of both.

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Chapter Four Dillon found the complexities of the genie fascinating. He ran his fingers through the silky strands of Zane’s dark hair, content merely to pet and touch since he’d worn him out. Yeah, the genie presented a puzzle. When he’d stopped trying to think and just given in to his needs, he’d been perfectly submissive, following every order Dillon had given him. Yet despite the fact he’d come and obviously enjoyed the experience, the genie still held part of himself aloof. Interesting. Dillon pressed a kiss to the genie’s cheek, enjoying the contrast between the light stubble and the softness of his lips. Luckily for him, he adored a challenge because the genie certainly presented one. It wasn’t as if he were into the lifestyle but he did enjoy taking control in the bedroom. The mind games and the give and take between consenting partners, the trust involved turned him on as much as the sex. He hoped he’d have time to explore a sexual relationship with Zane, but his gut instinct told him the genie would leave before they realized the full possibilities between them. The realization brought aching disappointment. A quick glance outside confirmed it wouldn’t be long until the sun went down. Dillon freed himself and rolled away with a sense of loss. A wry smile bloomed. Hell, he had it worse than he thought. “Where are you going?” His lover hadn’t moved but blue eyes watched him intently, his body stiff and poised for flight. “I’m going to get a beer and sit outside to watch the sun set. Coming?” The tension visibly seeped from the genie. He pushed upright and stood, grabbing his jeans. “Hey, I didn’t say anything about dressing. I’m going as I am.” He indicated his natural state and strode from the room without waiting to see the genie’s reaction. God, 54

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he hoped Zane didn’t decide to cover up. It was a crime to cover such splendor. His cock throbbed as if agreeing with the thought. A crime all right—one of the century. Dillon grabbed two beers from the fridge and took the chance to inhale deeply and do a slow count to ten. His entire body pulsed with vigor, as if he’d imbibed a lifeextending tonic. It had been ages since he felt this way. A trace of panic pushed against the feel-good place where he currently resided. Had it been a dream? With another deep breath, he strode to the bedroom, hoping like hell he really wasn’t in the middle of a frustratingly realistic dream. To his relief, he found his visitor standing uncertainly in the middle of the terracotta-colored Persian rug he’d purchased while doing his big overseas experience. The guarded expression on the genie’s face screamed of uncertainty. Maybe a little mistrust. Dillon tried to put himself in Zane’s place and realized he’d feel the same way. The genie had a lot to lose. His freedom for one. Dillon wouldn’t want to end up stuck in a teapot having to grant wishes for long endless years to greedy people who didn’t appreciate the honor. “Come and sit outside. It’s beautiful out there this time of the day.” And even better when he had a prime male specimen to ogle. The genie still hesitated, bringing forth a wave of protectiveness in Dillon, not that he let it show. Instinctively he realized Zane wouldn’t want his sympathy or pity. All he could do at the moment was enjoy the hot sex, the sparks that flew between them and offer friendship. Show the genie he was trustworthy by action and deed and take each day as it came. Decision made, he led the way outdoors. A soft breeze tugged at his hair and whispered across his overly warm skin. Oh yeah. Just thinking about the genie in a sexual way had his blood pumping south. Difficult to think when his dick acted so militantly. Dillon ignored his hard-on and sat, lounging back in the chair, the canvas padding still carrying the heat of the sun. “Have a seat.” He gestured at the wooden chair next to him. They faced out to the river, in the perfect position to watch the setting sun. The copse of kahikatea trees

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across the other side of the water always reminded him of a platoon of soldiers, their upright appearance so straight and proper. The silence stretched between them until Dillon became uncomfortable. It was difficult to stop from fidgeting. In desperation, he thumbed open the tear tab on his beer can and chugged some of the liquid down. The cool, crisp taste of hops danced across his taste buds but did nothing to ease his discomfort. Normally he sat and let his mind drift, but today he decided to switch on some music in the hope the genie would relax, that he could relax. He set his beer down and jumped to his feet again. “Back in a sec. I just need some paper and stuff. Thought I might put on some music.” Aware he’d started to babble, Dillon scowled inside and shut his mouth with an audible clack. He never succumbed to nerves like this. Long strides took him back inside to the cool interior of his lounge-cum-office. All he could think of was Zane and the incredible sex. Falling fast. Damn, perhaps Susan was right to worry when she said he should get out a bit more. Determined to get a grip on the nerves dancing through the pit if his stomach, he grabbed a pen and lined pad, paused by the sound system to hit play and strolled back outside. He had no idea which disc would play but the volume was low. It wouldn’t matter. Anything to break the blooming silence. When he reclaimed his seat, he saw Zane sat with his spine pressed against the back of the chair. Tension bracketed his mouth and he looked as if he might run at the first loud noise. The cans of beer sat on the small wooden table that joined the two chairs together. Condensation beaded on the aluminum surfaces, and despite the fact he must be thirsty, the genie ignored the drink. “You okay, man?” Dillon tossed the paper and pen at his feet, concern bringing a furrow between his eyes. Surely the genie didn’t regret getting down and dirty? Tension clogged his throat at the thought and he anxiously waited for Zane’s reply. Some of the greatest sex he’d ever had—what if the genie hadn’t enjoyed it? Yeah, he’d come, but what if—? Hell, he couldn’t torture himself like this. He was an adult, a

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grown man. If the genie wasn’t interested and had merely used him, he’d suck it up and carry on with his life. “You didn’t have to sleep with me.” Dillon was proud of his measured tones. “I would have helped you without expecting any type of payment.” “What?” The genie’s gaze snapped to him. “I said—” “I heard what you said. No, I don’t regret the sex.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It looked forced but it was a start. “I haven’t had sex with someone else for a long time. I…I enjoyed it.” He reached across to grasp Dillon’s forearm and squeezed. “You could squeeze somewhere else,” he muttered, attempting to shift the blaze of emotions swirling between them into something more useful. “I thought you wanted to watch the sunset. It’s almost down.” Dillon glanced at the multicolored sky with indifference, noting tonight’s sunset was pretty spectacular but more interested in Zane. “Do you still want to stay here with me? I would never tell anyone who or what you are. You can trust me.” His voice rang with truth, but would the genie accept his offer? The idea of walking away… “It’s possible Hasim will offer a reward for information leading to my capture.” “I would never—” The imperious wave of Zane’s hand cut him off before he finished his denial. “The boss isn’t stupid. He won’t appear in his normal guise. He’ll pretend to be part of a law enforcement agency, tell people I’m a dangerous criminal on the run. When modern technology is teamed with magic, it’s almost impossible to outrun the mercmagicks.” “But you’re still trying, despite the odds. I will do everything I can to help you retain your freedom.”

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The genie leaned over and closed the distance between them, curled a hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a kiss of thanks, unhurried and thorough. Dillon laced his fingers through his lover’s silky hair and angled his head for the perfect fit. Molten heat darted to his groin with each nip and suck, each slide of firm lips. A groan slipped free and the genie took advantage, pushing his tongue between parted lips and exploring the hot interior of Dillon’s mouth. The sweet intimacy brought a tremble, the need pulsing through his body heightening with each stroke of his tongue against Zane’s. Panting, Dillon pulled away, jumped to his feet and straddled the genie’s legs. Chest to chest they stared at each other for a heated moment before Zane resumed the slow, languorous kissing. Satisfied with the silent surrender, Dillon leaned inward. The bump of their cocks roused sheer need and desperation. Zane’s grunt told him the genie felt the same magic shimmering between them and it had nothing to do with a teapot. Pulse jumping, Dillon reached between them, gripping their dicks in one hand. Both leaked pre-cum and the beads of moisture eased his hand, making each slide across the swollen heads smooth and arousing. His eyes slipped closed and he concentrated on feeling. The song of a cricket came from the potted palm on their right, chirping over the background jazz. The wind tugged gently at Zane’s hair, sending it floating across Dillon’s cheek. The fragrant scent of citrus and patchouli filled the air. The genie tore their lips apart, breathing hard. With heads bowed, they rubbed cheeks, the sensual slide of hair counteracted with rough stubble. All the while Dillon continued the pump of his hand, the intimate feel of their cocks making his pulse race and toes curl. “You close?” Dillon gritted out. Hell, he hoped so. His own climax was ready to roar through him. No sooner had he thought it, his orgasm became fact. Semen shot from his cock, splashing over the genie’s tight stomach. Dillon kept pumping and nuzzled his lover’s neck. He scraped his teeth over the sinews and muscle and bit down on the fleshy part where neck and shoulder met. The faint taste of salt crept across his tongue. The genie jumped but didn’t utter a sound when he bit a fraction harder. Seconds later hot jets of semen pumped onto his own stomach. He slowly eased off the 58

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stimulation, stopping entirely when the genie slumped against him with a groan. They embraced silently, holding each other tightly while the sun disappeared beneath the horizon and darkness closed in. Finally he moved, slipping off Zane’s legs. “I’ll get a towel.” With rubbery legs, he made his way into the en suite and pulled a flannel from the cupboard. After washing the stickiness from his stomach and rinsing the cloth again with warm water, he took it out to the genie. “I’ll stay. For meantime,” Zane said. “But you realize having me here is dangerous? The boss wants me back so he won’t need to train a replacement.” “Sounds lazy to me,” Dillon replied. He squatted beside the genie and cleaned off his stomach and sticky cock, taking pleasure in the small service. By the time he’d finished, Zane was ready to go another round but Dillon didn’t push for more. Maybe later tonight. Right now they had things they needed to discuss, and he had to do something with his computer. His deadline approached. Even though there was still a month to go before he needed to hand in the next installment of his comic, he preferred finishing in plenty of time. “Why can’t he delegate?” The genie’s inelegant snort brought a twitch to his lips. Dillon stood, tossed the damp cloth into the washing basket in the corner of the en suite and returned to his seat. He picked up his beer and tipped back his head to take a sip, grimacing at the warmth of the brew. “What’s it like being a genie? At first, I mean.” “Exciting. The training was fun, learning all the rules and how to do things the right way within the genie covenant. I liked having food to eat and clean clothes.” He laughed. “It was good not having to tend the herd of goats.” Zane scowled. “I don’t like goats.” “But?” “After a while things that come too easily become tedious.”

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Dillon nodded, understanding because he’d come to hate law—the constant grind of drawing up legal papers for the sale and purchases of commercial properties. “You needed a challenge. That’s why I started writing and illustrating comics.” The thought reminded him of all the work he’d lost and had to redo. “I’ll have to fix my computer and start my latest comic all over. When I get my hands on the person who sent that virus…” “I can help you find the person.” “But I’ll need to go into town. Is that safe for you?” “I can’t stay hidden here forever. Besides I’m sure Hasim and his merc-magicks have left the area by now. They’ll assume I’ve gone offshore. I confided that to one of the other genies,” Zane said with great satisfaction. “I know they’ll question the others.” “Clever. And what will you do after the ten days are up?” The connection between them was new but Dillon hated to think of the genie leaving. And he wasn’t so sure about Zane going into town. Maybe it was a better idea to stay in hiding. “I want to work with horses. It’s something I’m good at.” Great. His knowledge of horses wouldn’t fill an index card. So much for common ground. “That’s good. There are a few horse studs around, several racing stables. You’re bound to find a job.” Even if it did put the genie out of his reach, he still wished him the best. “That would be good. I don’t have any references, but once I’m free I can manufacture them easily enough. Hasim allowed me to exercise the royal horses when I was at court.” Dillon scooped up his pad and pen, starting to jot down his list of suspects. He had to do something to take his mind off Zane’s departure. Ten days. If that was all the time he had with the genie, he’d better make the most of it. By the time he’d finished, he had six names on his list. Zane leaned over to check the list, using a hand on his shoulder to balance. “Your sister might have more names for you to add.” 60

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It was difficult to concentrate with the genie leaning so close, his sinful scent filling each breath he took. “Yeah, I thought of that. The only trouble is that I don’t want Susan coming over here. She’ll ask questions about you.” He didn’t want his sister hanging around, coming up with ideas about them. The genie removed his hand and he immediately felt the loss acutely. “Are you ashamed of me?” “Hell no! I didn’t think you’d want the locals knowing you were staying here with me, just in case your boss hears. The locals love to gossip. It’s part of Sumner’s charm.” The phone rang before he had a chance to reassure the genie further. It could be his agent. Cursing under his breath, he stomped inside to answer it. “Is that man your lover?” Fuck. “Susan, what do you want?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the tiredness from his voice. “I want to know when you intend introducing your visitor to Mum and Dad.” “Zane really is just a friend. He’s staying for a couple of weeks before he starts looking for a job.” “What does he do?” Susan demanded. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to piss off but he knew she’d persist until she received her answers. It was better to give her the information instead of acting as if he were hiding something. Even if he was—a genie for instance. “He works with horses.” “Really? He’s a bit big for a jockey.” Dillon recalled the feeling of the genie’s body writhing beneath him and suppressed a shiver of arousal. They were perfect together. Oh no. Size wasn’t an issue. “I never said he was a jockey, although I believe he’s been involved in training horses.” “When he’s ready to look, have him contact me. I have a friend who works at one of the local stud farms. They breed and train horses specially for polo players.”

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“Thanks. Did you see any more people with that strange rash on their faces?” “Yes, as a matter of fact I did!” She rattled off half a dozen names he didn’t have on his list. “Even Mum has it. I told her to go to the doctor straight away.” Bloody hell. That was all he needed. A guilty conscience. Half the town probably thought they were suffering from some strange foreign disease when it was really him who had caused the problem. “Let me know how she gets on. No one else in the family has it?” “No, thank goodness,” Susan said. “My face is a suspicious red, although I haven’t come out in a rash yet. I’ll tell Mum you’re bringing a friend to her birthday celebration.” And she hung up before Dillon had a chance to protest. Dillon went back outside to join Zane, a scowl on his face. Susan was a pain in the butt. A determined one. There was no way around it. He’d have to take the genie with him to his mother’s birthday party next weekend, even though it wasn’t safe, otherwise he’d never hear the end of it from Susan. Once seated, he grabbed his pen and jotted down the additional names Susan had given him. “That was my sister. She wants me to take you to my mother’s birthday party next weekend.” “And you don’t want to take me.” Zane’s voice was flat but otherwise expressionless. “I would love to take you to the party. Hell, the next ten days are going to be full of fun if you think I’m ashamed of you,” Dillon snapped. “I like you. A lot. I want to fuck you again.” He gestured at his rapidly filling dick. “The reason I was cautious is that I don’t want to see you recaptured. That’s the last time I’m going to say that again. You’ll just have to trust me.” The expressionless blue eyes suddenly twinkled full of suppressed laughter. The full lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. “I love it when you get all angry and masterful.”

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Dillon stared and cursed low with feeling. “Bastard. You really had me going. I should feed you dry bread and water for the next ten days.” “But you’re not going to,” the genie countered. “I would grow weak and probably wouldn’t be able to get it up. You would suffer as well.” “Jeez, that’s all I need. A bloody smart-ass. For that, you can help me make dinner. If I don’t eat again soon, we’ll be in a right mess. Neither of us will get any if we’re both too weak to raise more than a finger.”

Dinner preparations and the actual eating of the meal were so much fun Dillon kept pinching himself, unable to believe this beautiful man was spending time with him, having toe-curling good sex with him. They’d cooked pasta with mushrooms, asparagus and fresh wild salmon. Dillon opened a bottle of wine and actually set the table in the separate dining room, going as far as putting a plain navy blue cloth over the wooden tabletop. The only thing they hadn’t prettied up were their bodies since they were both still naked. It sure made for good scenery. “I’ve never spent so much time naked before.” Laughter shaded the genie’s tone and judging by the wicked gleam in his eyes, he had mischief in mind. Seconds later the probing toes in his groin region let Dillon know he’d been right. With a slow grin of challenge, he spread his legs, giving Zane better access and slipped down on the chair. No way was he backing away from a sensual challenge. “Do your worst.” “A dare?” “Yep, you can do what you like with me. My body is yours.” His cock jerked, filling and lengthening when he made the offer. An afternoon of sex hadn’t been enough to knock away the edge of months of frustration. Ten days worth of hot, hard sex might make a dent but not an afternoon. Nope. No way. He craved much more of the genie’s sexy bod. Zane chuckled, a rich and tempting sound. Seductive. “I can see you’re revved and ready to go.” 63

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“That’s pretty obvious. You going to talk me into submission?” “Don’t worry. I have a plan.” Zane slipped from his chair and walked around the dinner table. Each step was slow and purposeful, and Dillon could have sworn his cock grew harder with each move Zane made. When he reached him, the genie sank to his knees. “I can think of better things to do with my mouth,” he whispered in a husky voice that drove Dillon’s need even higher. The genie disappeared under the table, covered entirely by the long tablecloth. Dillon’s imagination took flight and his heart hammered against his ribs at the various possibilities. His mouth. His hands. Or maybe something else. No, that wouldn’t work. Zane didn’t have a stitch on—no pockets to hide things like feathers or kinky little sex toys. The genie would have to make do with what he had on hand. Warm air whooshed across his inner thigh—a steady stream. Dillon attempted to relax but found it impossible since his imagination was still working overtime. A hot ball of heat curled through his groin, his body’s reaction to Zane’s presence. A soft kiss landed on the crease of skin where leg met groin then he felt the cool dampness of a tongue licking along his inner knee. He clamped his hands on the edge of the table, tamping down on the urgent need to take control. With this lover, he wanted to experiment and offer himself up totally. This time at any rate. There was plenty of time to bring out his favorite toys, to take control in his usual manner and bring them both to uninhibited pleasure. This was Zane’s time to control the pace. Dillon tried to relax, to let go of the table. The warm lap of a tongue over one aching ball made his attempts at relaxation a laughing matter. A groan escaped and tension grew. The stubble on the genie’s jaw created a delicious friction when it rubbed along his cock. Dillon looked down. To all appearances it seemed as if he were alone in the dining room, eating in solitary splendor. What would happen if someone walked into the room? Dillon clutched the table again, crushing the tablecloth with his tight grip when he felt Zane take his sac into his warm mouth. He laved the taut ball while he stroked the crease between the

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testicles with firm steps of his fingers. Careful ministrations brought drops of moisture to Dillon’s tip. His balls swelled, tightening and rising up beneath his penis. Man, the genie was good at this. He’d never had a man take such care with him. Zane continued with his careful laving and licking, never allowing his teeth to come into contact or cause pain. Meanwhile, he explored with busy fingers, pressing firmly on Dillon’s perineum and firing each nerve ending to life. “You’re killing me,” Dillon murmured, an intense shudder rocking his body and enforcing the words. The genie released the sac to speak. “Not true.” Hell, big-time mistake. He should have kept his mouth shut then Zane’s mouth would still be busy pleasuring him. “Don’t let me stop you.” “But I’m killing you.” Zane lifted the tablecloth to peer up at him. “No one likes a smart-ass.” For a long moment their gazes held and desperation hit Dillon. He wanted to come and he wanted to come now. “Back under the table.” The genie gave him a royal salute, his blue eyes twinkling naughtily before disappearing from sight beneath the tablecloth. Dillon chuckled hoarsely then inhaled slowly, tension tightening his shoulders while he waited for Zane to do his stuff. His cock was full and aching and he needed immediate attention. Instead of taking up where he’d left off, Zane started over. Talented fingers stroked over his inner thighs, the touch not too soft and not too firm. Like baby bear’s porridge, it was just right. Dillon bit back a rough laugh at the thought. Kids’ bedtime stories and sex didn’t really go together. Puffs of warm air hit his inner thighs next and gradually the stream of balmy breath moved closer to where he wanted the heat. Once again he gripped the table. It helped him focus, control his natural urges to take over. The desire to grip the genie’s head tightly between his palms and direct his hot, luscious mouth to exactly where he needed it most pummeled through him. He resisted fiercely, instinctively knowing Zane needed to feel control in some arenas. He’d give him this power over his body this time even if it killed him in the process. Slowly, 65

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slowly the torture continued but at least it progressed toward orgasm, driving him higher. Sweat beaded on his forehead, gathered on his top lip. Yeah, Zane was totally killing him. The hot, wet slide of his nimble tongue across his balls jerked a soft curse out into the open. “Fuck,” he hissed when the genie’s lips finally nudged the base of his straining dick. His shaft jerked in appreciation. A husky laugh sounded from beneath the table seconds before the damp rasp of a tongue licked the place where penis and scrotum met. Zane alternated tongue flicks on his testicles with long, tender licks along the length of his erection. His heart sped up and he battled long and hard with the urge to direct. The closer the genie’s tongue moved to the tip of his cock, the more difficult it became to fight his natural instincts to issue orders. Yet the pleasure… It roared through his head and the climax to beat all shimmered just out of reach. His hips jerked and moaning, almost begging, sounds squeezed past tight lips. His balls prickled with heat. His cock tingled as nimble lips licked salaciously across his tender skin. Finally, finally, the genie took him into his mouth, or at least he nuzzled Dillon’s shaft with the inside of his lips and applied pressure with the flat of his tongue. Again his hips jerked out of control. Zane played him like a master, their combined grunts and groans starting to sound like an orchestra tuning for the main event. Each move was energetic now instead of the prior languorous licks and sucks. Zane held his cock steady with his hands, lubricating it with plenty of saliva and spreading the steady flow of pre-cum, lavishly licking. Each move varied until he never knew what the genie would do next, how he’d touch him. A lick. A quick flick of tongue or steady pressure. Dillon panted, not remembering when he’d felt this tight, this turned on. Oh wait…that had been earlier in the afternoon. He gasped on hearing the eager and greedy sucking sounds Zane made. “Zane,” he moaned, thrusting uncontrollably into the genie’s mouth. He wanted to hold back, to prolong the exquisite pleasure that writhed through his veins. He couldn’t

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since he was completely and utterly undone. Out of control. Dillon tensed and spasmed, his cock jerking with explosive contractions. A raw and guttural sound emerged when Zane continued to work him but gently now with more care until the ejaculation ceased and he quieted. With one final lick, Zane released him and popped from beneath the table. “You still alive?” he asked with a cocky grin. Dillon barely had the energy to move but managed to stand on rubbery legs. He held out his hand with a half smile. “Just, but I need to lie down.”

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Chapter Five Dillon hadn’t enjoyed waking up so much for ages. The press of a warm body next to him plus a morning woody added up to lots of fun. Seductive fun. They’d started loving all over again with him entering Zane, working his way inside and moving with slow, easy strokes that gradually increased in pace. He thrust for a final time, letting out a loud groan of pleasure when he came. With a soft pop, he pulled free, a warm wash of semen trickling out with his exit. This time he hadn’t used a condom and it had felt incredible. He pulled his lover into a tight embrace and wondered if he’d be able to let him go. Zane-dependent. Was there a drug to cure men hooked on hot genies? The phone rang, loud and insistent. “I bet that’s Susan.” “Ignore the summons,” Zane mumbled. “If it’s Susan, she’ll only keep ringing until I answer or, worse, turn up at my front door. She’ll walk straight in because I forgot to lock the door and find us here.” He pressed a kiss to the genie’s neck and couldn’t resist taking a nibble of the tender skin. It tasted salty with a hint of spice. “Then she’ll get an eyeful,” Zane said with a raunchy growl. He moved enough so their lips aligned perfectly. A tight sensation bound Dillon’s chest and he found it difficult to breathe. He tore his mouth from the genie’s and dragged in a lungful of air before seizing Zane again and kissing him hard. The shrill of the telephone stopped and they both sighed. But almost immediately, the ringing started again. “I’d better get it.” Unwillingly Dillon pulled from Zane’s embrace. He could literally feel his sister’s determination seeping down the phone line. Rubbing his tired 68

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eyes, he crawled from bed and ambled toward the kitchen and the closest phone, cursing himself for not remembering to carry the mobile into the bedroom the previous evening. The phone stopped just when he reached for it. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, staring at the innocuous white object with loathing. After stretching and letting out a wide yawn, he decided to make a pot of tea and think about breakfast. All the lovin’ had made him hungry. Then another thought occurred. Maybe he should ring Susan before she decided to make an appearance. Duh! That would save problems all round since he wasn’t ready to admit anything more than friendship with Zane. Dillon picked up the phone and dialed while he went through the motions of making tea. “Susan?” “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for ages.” Her sharp tone brought a wave of foreboding. “Mum and Dad?” “They’re fine apart from the rash on Mum’s face, or they were last time I talked to them. No, I wanted to tell you about the epidemic that’s hit town. Are you sick? Have you come out with a rash over your face? Has your friend? Some people have it really bad.” “Neither of us have a rash.” Thanks to the excellent virus protection he’d installed on his computer last year. “I have,” Susan said in a gloomy voice. “I’m not leaving the house until it’s gone. Since Mum and I both have the rash, we’ve decided it might be best to postpone the birthday party.” Well, hell. At least he knew Susan wasn’t his culprit. “I guess that’s best,” he said, striving for sincere. Although he felt guilty about his mother and Susan getting the rash, it meant he’d have the genie to himself for longer. “Who else has the rash?” “Several of the teachers at the college have it.” Susan rattled off names and he grabbed a pen and paper to jot them down. “I was meant to speak at the computer club class today. Do you know if they’re all right? Should I still go?” Try keeping him away. He was looking forward to seeing 69

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which members of the club sported a rash and if any had pustules on their faces, they were going straight to the top of the list. “I’ve already said you should stay at home, but from what I hear, quite a few people are going about their normal business even though they have the rash. The local doctors don’t know what it is. They’ve sent swabs away to a lab for analysis.” “Can I do anything to help?” Susan sighed. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll mooch around home today. My rash doesn’t seem as bad as some of the victims.” “All right,” Dillon said. “Take care.” He hung up the phone with a frown. Oh boy, when he stuffed up, he did a good job. It sounded as if half the town had a genieinduced rash. At least he knew it wasn’t contagious. Zane wandered out to the kitchen, yawning widely. “Was that your sister?” Dillon took a moment to admire the smooth expanse of muscular chest and the well-honed bod before he replied. After all, it wasn’t every day he got to look at such delectable scenery, not in his own kitchen. “Yeah, it was Susan.” His fingers itched to touch, and with little willpower when it came to this man, Dillon went with his desires. He ran his fingers across the warm skin of Zane’s shoulder, smiling with delight when biceps flexed in reaction.

Zane wanted to purr. He moved closer to the other man, feeling protected and dare he think it, loved. The tight sensation in the region of his chest took him by surprise. Last night he’d let Dillon master him, direct their loving and become responsible for his pleasure—apart from the session where he’d slipped under the table. A slow grin curled across his lips in memory. Now that had been fun. “What are you going to do?” he asked, glancing at the other man. “Are you still intending on going to speak at the school?”

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“College,” Dillon corrected absently. “Yeah. I have quite a few names on my list, but I can’t see most of them as the culprit. My gut instinct tells me it’s someone in the computer club.” Zane nodded. “Good. I’m coming with you.” “No! I’ve been thinking about you going into town and don’t think it’s a good idea. From what you’ve said, it’s better to stay away from everyone for ten days. I mean what if your boss captures you?” “I think it is unlikely the merc-magicks will remain in the area. They will search elsewhere. After being tied to the teapot for so long, I refuse to remain hidden any longer. I will wear a disguise and take great care.” Besides, having to remain in the house reminded him of his teapot. He thought he might go mad if he didn’t move without restriction. Was it too much to want normal and ordinary? “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re taking a big chance.” Dillon’s scowl attempted intimidation and it pissed Zane off. “I might let you direct me in the bedroom but that’s as far as it goes. Once I am totally free, I will answer to no one but myself.” It felt good saying the words, exerting his opinion instead of acting the good little genie. Your wish is my command. “But you’re acting like a girl in a horror movie. You’re walking down the stairs into the cellar even though you know there’s a monster waiting for you.” Zane puffed up with indignation, his temper straining at the leash. “You calling me stupid?” What did the human know? Nothing! Dillon wouldn’t like having his freedom curtailed in the same manner as a genie. True, it had been a good life at the start, but he was tired of the easy life and wanted a true challenge. He wanted to live. “If the hat fits. Why don’t you stay here where it’s safe? You have what, nine days to wait? It’s not long in the scheme of things.” “Maybe not for you. I’ve been planning my freedom for the last one hundred and twelve years. Not many genies have gained their freedom in that time. I intend to be the next.” 71

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“But—” Dillon cut off and stared, shock rippling across his golden face. “One hundred and twelve years? Exactly how old are you?” “Older than you. Look, I know I’m taking a risk, but what happens if I stay here, hiding in your house, and end up captured anyway? I don’t expect you to understand, but I need to move about the town when the need strikes me. The walls close in and start to feel like the teapot. At least this way I’m living, I’m experiencing life while I wait for my freedom to become official. It’s not as if I’m going to go around introducing myself as a genie. I’m not stupid. We’re friends from university. Okay?” “Yeah.” Dillon hauled him into his arms and hugged him tightly before releasing him just as quickly. “I get it. I’d go crazy waiting around, so I can hardly expect you to stay hidden, but for the record, I think going out in public is asking for trouble.” “I’m going,” Zane stated. “Cut my hair for me. Help me with a disguise. Be my friend.” His voice almost cracked on saying the last thing. True friends were rare in the genie world. Too much intrigue and politics at court. Dillon’s friendship, even though they’d barely known each other for a day, was something special. And the way the man made love wasn’t bad either. A quiver of awareness shot straight to his groin. Oh yeah. He’d known there was a reason he hadn’t worn clothes since he’d arrived. His gaze shifted from his erection to Dillon. The other man shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching a fraction. “I thought you might be hungry.” “I am.” But not for food. His dry spell had ended in a spectacular manner yesterday and he intended to repeat the pleasure as many times as he could manage. Zane snagged his lover’s hand and led him back to the bedroom, a blatant hint of what he needed. Once he reached the ruffled bed, he released Dillon and rolled onto the middle of the mattress, heedless of the mess of covers. He relaxed on his back, his arms and legs loose and limber at his sides. “Come and get me.” Dillon cocked his head to one side, a lazy grin on his tanned face. “What would happen if I handcuffed you?” Although his words were teasing, Zane heard the silent 72

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underlying question and inwardly thanked the man for his empathy—because he also heard the real desire to actually carry out the action. Handcuffed. A tremor of apprehension froze him in place. Yes, he’d pretty much let the human direct what they’d done together sexually—mostly, anyhow, he thought with a smirk—but could he let Dillon bind him, leaving him helpless? Because he would be vulnerable since he couldn’t use his magic to free himself. Dillon shifted his weight. On seeing the hypnotic flex of the human’s pectorals, temptation whispered through his mind. His cock pulsed and thickened while energy coiled in a molten ball inside, telling Zane his body liked the idea of more sex. It was his mind that lagged in enthusiasm, for handcuffs at any rate. What would happen if Dillon restrained him and refused to let him go? What if Dillon forced him to use his magic? After a long silence Dillon finally moved closer. His muscles rippled when he crawled over the mattress, attracting Zane’s attention. Mesmerized by Dillon’s masculine beauty, he stared at his muscular torso, ridged abs and flat stomach. His gaze lowered to take in his rapidly filling dick. Zane licked his lips but didn’t move, instead waiting for the human to make the next move. His breath hissed out when Dillon stroked his belly. Pent-up desire flared and automatically his hips strained upward, silently begging for more. Dillon ignored his erection, instead petting and caressing his hips, his thighs, his chest. A quiver raced through him, seeming to terminate in his balls. His cock throbbed, desperately in need of his partner’s close attention. “Can I cuff you?” Silence throbbed between them. Zane didn’t know what to do. Oh he knew there would be pleasure. The flush of arousal in the human’s face made that clear. He bit his bottom lip, wondering what Dillon would do if he said no. The idea of foregoing sex or having to do the job himself didn’t hold much appeal.

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“I’m not going to force you.” Dillon leaned over to gently kiss him on the lips. When Zane would have tempted him to take the kiss deeper, the human pulled away. “I’m not going to arouse you so much that you can’t think clearly either,” he added. Zane swallowed, realizing that Dillon wanted him to verbally agree so later there could be no accusations. Hell, the word “yes” trembled on the tip of his tongue but fear was stronger. He’d made bad decisions in the past, allowing his then lover to entice him into using magic. That mistake had ended in his recapture and another contract. “I’ll go and make us something to eat,” Dillon said quietly. “No! I—” Zane broke off, unable to say the words. He wanted to so badly but couldn’t. “We’ll make love then,” Dillon said. Zane tried to read him but couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Dillon wasn’t showing anger, he wasn’t displaying disappointment or trying to taunt him into agreeing. He…he…damn, the man confused him. Before he could speak or attempt to explain his trepidation, Dillon moved over him, pressing his body deep into the mattress. With a hoarsely voiced curse, Zane strained upward, seeking a kiss. Their lips met in a rough exploration, noses bumping together before they managed the perfect fit. Dillon’s erection rubbed across his stomach, leaving a damp trail. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body and his heart jumped when Dillon thrust against him. Zane groaned, starting to breathe hard. Their bodies slid together with exquisite friction, cocks grinding into torsos while the scent of aroused males filled the air. “I need you,” Dillon muttered, drawing away without warning. He grabbed the lube and smeared some over his dick before squeezing another dollop into his hand. “Spread for me, genie.” Wordlessly, Zane spread his legs, hips lifting upward. His breath caught as he waited, watching the heat in the other man’s face. The icy-cool gel made him flinch when it hit his hole but the shock quickly passed, especially when Dillon slipped a finger inside. Another almost pained groan escaped at the feeling of pleasure and the 74

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quick rhythm that Dillon set up. In. Out. A quick foray across his gland. Zane winced a little when Dillon added another finger, feeling a bit sore after an afternoon and night of loving. “You okay?” Concern laced his voice. “Yeah. Thanks.” He meant it. Dillon had noticed his discomfort. For a human he noticed lots of things, and it warmed him, making him feel as if he were important. “Fuck me,” he said. “Please.” “My pleasure.” With one final stroke across his gland that had him sizzling, Dillon removed his fingers and lined up his cock. He glided inside easily, pausing to kiss Zane deeply before withdrawing and stroking inside again. “Harder,” Zane whispered. The sense of fullness created an edge of pain that hadn’t been present before. Probably because he wasn’t used to being so active. Not that he intended to ask Dillon to stop. Each stroke, each brush of their chests added to the electric pleasure simmering through his body. And whenever Dillon nailed the spongy mass of his prostrate, it set off a ripple effect. “Please. Harder. I won’t break.” “But it feels so damned good,” Dillon protested lightly, continuing his steady pace. “I don’t want it to end too soon.” He punctuated his words with a slow gliding stroke that buried him to the root and set off Zane. His entire body jerked. He didn’t come but his balls were so damned tight he couldn’t decide what hurt most. “It’s all right for you.” Desperate for relief, he forced his hands between their straining bodies, intending to grab his cock and gain relief. “No.” Dillon batted his hands away. “I’ll do it.” He wrapped his hands around Zane’s cock and pumped firmly. Two pumps were all it took before the electric feel of orgasm raced up his spine. He cried out, his body convulsing with the force of release. Hot spurts of cum splashed on both of them. Dillon thrust rapidly, pistoning his hips and groaning at the contractions that squeezed his cock. “Hell,” Dillon said with a trace of urgency. He thrust for a final time before freezing, a warm wash of semen flooding Zane’s ass. 75

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The pulsing had barely ended when Dillon withdrew and pulled him into a tight embrace. They were both breathing fast, their hearts still thudding from their intense releases. Zane nuzzled his lover’s neck, breathing in the clean scent of sweat and masculine musk. He licked Dillon’s neck, savoring the salty tang before nipping him. He pulled back, surveying the red mark of possession with satisfaction. His heart felt light and he realized the sensation was happiness. He hadn’t felt like that for a long time. Finally Dillon climbed off the bed and returned from the en suite a few minutes later with a damp cloth. He cleaned the stickiness from Zane’s body before tossing it aside and stretching out alongside him again. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard before,” he said, pressing a kiss to Zane’s jaw. His lips were soft and in stark contrast with his bristly cheek. “It was bloody good. Thank you.” “Yeah,” he said, fatigue hitting him suddenly. “It was great.” His eyelids flickered, wanting to close. Soon he gave up the fight and let them, exhausted by the spectacular sex. Dillon ran a hand down his back and over his butt, pulling him even closer, arranging his pliant body against his chest. “It doesn’t matter how we do it,” he whispered, brushing a kiss across his lips. “It’s always good with you. We can do it however you want.” “Okay.” Relief tinged with warmth filled him on hearing the words. No pressure. Most lovers would have insisted, but Dillon was proving different and starting to change his assumptions about humans. Special, Zane thought, and he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

***** Three hours later, after a leisurely start, they headed off to town. Zane had never ridden on a motorbike before. He clutched the human’s hips and leaned into a bend just as Dillon had instructed him. The rush of air and wind ripped away his holler of

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delight. The trip into the town took fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes of pure exhilaration. By the time they arrived, Zane knew he wanted one of these machines. Dillon grabbed a small backpack he’d fastened on the back of the bike behind where he had sat. They left their helmets with the bike and walked from the small car park at the edge of town. The square was practically deserted, the area in the middle once again restored to grass. A New Zealand flag fluttered from a pole at the far end of the square, snapping imperiously every now and then, as if it desired admiration. Zane heard the muted approach of a vehicle, but it didn’t appear in the square, the purr of the engine moving away instead. They walked around the edge, keeping to the cobblestone pavement instead of crossing the grass in the center. Large Christmas decorations—candles and bells—hung from lamp posts while many of the shop windows were festooned with trees and colored lights. Barrels of colorful flowers sat outside a florist’s shop, but not a single pedestrian lingered to sniff their fragrance. The few he saw hurried about their business with heads bowed. They reminded him of scuttling insects. “Is it usually this quiet?” “The locals are frightened. Fancy a drink at the café? We should be able to find some info there.” Dillon paused to gauge his reaction, winking when he caught Zane ogling him. Heck, one glimpse of the human’s powerful shoulders and dark eyes was enough to make him go all sappy inside. Disgusted with his reaction, he ripped his gaze away and stared in the window of a clothes shop instead. A stranger stared back. Zane did a double take. That was him—his reflection. His hair was gone, his scalp devoid of hair. Bald. Damn, it gleamed in the morning light. Dillon had applied a temporary tattoo of a dragon on his left shoulder. It curled down his upper arm and across his biceps. He wore a borrowed faded T-shirt. According to the human, it bore a picture of a New Zealand band. Not one he’d heard of, but Dillon assured him The Feelers were a hot band and very popular. The sleeves were ripped out, the jagged edges giving a rough edge to his normally smooth, urbane appearance. He’d actually

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dressed down for his last wish on purpose so he’d blend and today wore his own blue jeans and boots to complete his outfit. Zane tried out a scowl and fought the grin that tried to take over his expression. Not bad. No one would ever spot him in this outfit. Without his trademark hair, his appearance was radically different and the clothes set a great tone. He looked tough. He looked like a merc-magick. Damn, he looked hot. A smirk formed at the thought only to slide away. No time for cockiness. With his first night of freedom gone, he only had to avoid capture for another nine. He jogged a few steps to catch up to Dillon, his confidence surging. He could do this. They entered the same café they’d eaten in the previous day but walked in the front door this time. It was a classy-looking joint. Flower baskets decorated the exterior and there were several tables for diners who wished to eat in the open air. The umbrellas stood like soldiers on parade, tightly furled rather than spread to shade from the sun. Not a single customer lingered to enjoy the beautiful morning. Inside, it was just as quiet apart from a background Christmas carol spilling from concealed speakers. Dillon slid into one of the booths along the left-hand side of the café, and Zane started to move into the opposite side when he noticed the merc-magick seated in the far corner near the bar. His heart slammed hard, his first instinct to run. Instead he fought the urge and sat, picked up the menu and calmly perused the contents. There was a slight tremor to his hand before he managed to get himself under control, but that was the only visible sign of his inner panic. From what he’d noticed in his quick scan, the merc-magick hadn’t recognized him. That was good. The bad news was that if he did anything stupid, he’d end up captured in a heartbeat. “What are you having? We didn’t get around to having much in the way of breakfast.” 78

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The idea of food didn’t sit well at the moment but he had to act normal. “Scrambled eggs on wheat toast and black coffee.” Since there appeared no immediate danger, he decided not to let Dillon know of the problem seated across the other side of the café. After a glance toward the bar, Dillon stood. “Looks like they’re short-staffed. I’ll order up at the register.” Zane watched him walk away, taking a second or two to admire the man’s ass. He sure did great things for a pair of jeans. The merc-magick glanced up from his meal, scanning over both of them. His heart stopped dead but he kept the shit-eating grin on his face before slowly leaning back into the booth and out of the merc-magick’s range of sight. Anxiously, he waited for the court mercenary to come over and whisk him away before Dillon had a chance to blink. The legs of a stool screeched when they dragged across the wooden floor. Footsteps sounded, unhurried and heading toward him. Zane tensed, trying to decide the best thing to do. A tuneless whistle started. The footsteps were closer. Did he pop out magically and attract the entire team of mercenaries or did he stay and brazen it out— maybe overpower the merc-magick? Or perhaps he could confuse him? They weren’t known for their brains. The tension rose inside him and still he hesitated. Was it the merc-magick? Or someone else? A sort of sick fascination prompted him to lean forward and peer at destiny. It was Dillon. Bloody hell. Zane slumped against the wall of the booth, trying to gather his composure. “The waitress said they had two of the team off sick,” Dillon said when he slid into the booth opposite. Zane breathed in and exhaled before attempting to speak. “Are they suspects?” Heck, his voice sounded normal. How was that possible? “No, not really. You okay?” “Did you see the man over by the bar?” Damn, he hadn’t meant to say that. 79

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“I saw a couple of customers but didn’t pay close attention. Why?” “He’s a merc-magick, one of Hasim’s recovery team.” Dillon reached across the table and picked up his hand, squeezing it hard. “Fuck. Did he see you?” “He didn’t recognize me. He glanced at me and didn’t react.” “I don’t recognize you,” Dillon muttered, glancing at his bald head with a trace of disgust. “My hair will grow back.” He glanced at the bar and saw the mercenary was eating, seemingly relaxed and unaware of his presence. Zane turned back to frown at the human. “I don’t understand why he’s hanging around, why he’s not out hunting me.” “As soon as you can, magick it back. Bald doesn’t do it for me.” Dillon winked before removing his hand from Zane’s grasp and placing it out of sight beneath the table. The teasing left him. “Besides I told you it was a bad idea to come into town. Doesn’t it make sense for someone to remain here in case you either come back or haven’t left in the first place? It’s what I would have done.” “Maybe.” Zane shrugged, uneasy with the mercenary’s presence. Yeah, perhaps it did make perfect sense to Dillon, but he didn’t understand. Why would one of the team stay? Why not the whole team? “But Hasim and his recovery team don’t normally work that way. They usually keep together since they function better in a group. Some of them have lonely brains. They’re mainly muscle. Hasim is the brains of the outfit.” A waitress clomped over to them bearing a tray with cups and coffee. “Sorry about the wait.” “No problem.” Dillon waited until she was out of earshot. “What do you want to do?” “I guess we carry on with our plans for the day. As I said before, there’s no point hanging around home.” Home. The word had come out easily and without thought. He picked up his mug of steaming coffee and took a sip, silently surveying Dillon. It would

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be so easy to remain with him. His stay so far had been supremely comfortable. But he didn’t want comfort to bleed into reliance, had no intention of letting that happen. Zane intended to be his own man. He’d never answer to another man or woman again. Fifteen minutes later, the waitress arrived with their breakfasts. “Can I get you anything else?” “No, this is fine, thanks, Maureen.” With a final nod, she clomped back to the kitchen. Dillon picked up his knife and fork and cut off a portion of crispy bacon. “I thought I’d go over to Susan’s and see how bad she is. She’s a great source of local gossip. Hopefully she’ll have more names for me and I can decide if they’re serious suspects. He paused to check his watch. “I need to be at the college at two. That’s when the class starts.” “How will you learn who the culprit is? And what will I do while you’re teaching?” “I thought you could come with me—sit at the back of the class and observe. A second pair of eyes would be useful, and besides, I don’t think anyone will mind.” Zane attempted to push aside the rush of warmth he felt at the words. “It’s a good idea to watch, but if they’ve come out with the rash, will they attend their class?” “Yeah, I know, but Susan said some people are still going out even though they have the rash. I need you to help me determine if they’re guilty or not. I can’t teach and watch closely enough, which is where you come in.” Zane liked knowing he could help. The warmth inside increased and blood pooled low, filling and lengthening his cock. Damn, he was one needy genie, not much better than a puppy waggling his backside for praise. He forced himself to eat his breakfast and thought he managed to talk and act naturally throughout. Once they finished eating, Dillon paid the bill and they strolled from the café without a second glance at the merc-magick sitting near the bar.

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“Fuck,” Zane muttered, almost coming to a standstill. “There’s another mercmagick. What the hell is going on?” “Keep moving,” Dillon ordered in much the same voice he used in the bedroom. He blindly followed the demand while attempting to stuff his panic down. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea staying in this small rural town. Maybe he should have headed for the nearest city where there were more people to hide amongst. “See,” Dillon murmured. “He looked but he didn’t recognize you.” They headed back to the bike and rode to Susan’s house. “Susan.” Dillon thumped on the door before opening it and walking inside, gesturing for him to follow. They entered the kitchen and found her washing dishes. “Oh you’re here,” she said. “Yeah, I thought I’d check on you. Your face is covered with pimples,” Dillon said. She scowled. “Tell me something I don’t know. They came out late yesterday afternoon.” He peered closely. “They don’t look very attractive.” “Thank you very much!” “Just kidding. It’s not that bad.” He attempted to backtrack and speared a glance at Zane, his eyebrows lifting in a silent question. “I wonder how long the rash will last.” Zane frowned. Hell, he hadn’t factored that into the equation. “Ah…about ten days, I heard.” He couldn’t do any magic for ten days because that would help Hasim track him, but he could reverse the problem and cure everyone once he became free. His magic wouldn’t disappear immediately. According to what he’d heard, loss of magic was a gradual process, almost like aging. “Ten days!” Susan’s words were practically a wail. Dillon pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “Ten days, huh? Who else has the rash?”

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“Some of my friends.” Susan rattled off names, including several she hadn’t mentioned earlier. “It’s weird. Everyone seemed to come out with the rash at pretty much the same time. I’ve rung around and it seems that people who frequent the market have the rash. David doesn’t have one.” “Stands to reason. Must be some sort of a virus. David is Susan’s husband,” he added. Zane wondered how he could reassure Susan. “I don’t think it looks contagious.” “How would you know? Are you a doctor?” “That’s enough, Susan. Zane was just trying to help.” “Didn’t you have hair when I saw you before?” Susan had a caustic tongue. Zane was almost tempted to zap her mouth shut to halt her complaints. Almost. “I was wearing a hat.” “I think you’d look better with hair.” He barked a laugh of real amusement. “That must run in the family. Dillon prefers me with hair as well.” Susan’s gaze zapped to her brother. “I thought you were just friends.” “We are,” Zane said. “But being friends doesn’t stop your brother from having an opinion. Like I said, it runs in the family.” “We have to go now,” Dillon said hastily. “Oh here’s the teapot.” He dragged it out of his daypack and handed it to his sister. “I thought you might like to see it. Think Mum will like it?” Susan stroked the teapot with her fingers before studying it closely. “She’ll love it.” “You can look after it for me until her birthday. I presume we’re still handing over presents even though we’re not having the party?” he asked. At his sister’s nod, he turned away. “Catch you later.” “I hope you get better soon.” Zane had the desire to needle her for the crack about his hair. About to open his mouth, he jumped when Dillon pinched him sharply on the 83

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ass. It was out of sight of his sister so Zane figured he was pushing his luck a little by insulting Susan. But heck, Dillon’s sister was a bit of a shrew. She deserved a bit of stress in her life. “See ya later, sis.” Dillon ushered him out of the house. When they were out of his sister’s hearing, he said, “Ten days, huh? I figure that’s because you can’t do any magic until ten days are up?” “Yup.” “Damn. I should have thought about my wish for a bit longer before I made it. Wishes come with consequences.” He shook his head. “Who knew?” “I’m sorry.” Dillon grinned. “Hell, it’s not your fault. Besides, it has helped narrow down my search for the culprit. I can double-check my list of names with the customer names that my friends have promised to give me tomorrow and work out my main suspects. I’ll get them. And I’m gonna make them damned sorry by the time I’m finished with them.”

They arrived in the college class only minutes before the bell sounded. The students filed into the classroom, fewer than normal, but those who attended were full of their normal laughter and hijinks. That was part of the reason why Dillon had agreed to come along and speak on a casual basis. Writing his comics was a solitary pursuit where he could go days without talking to anyone else. Teaching a class forced him to actually dress in semi-respectable clothes and interact. It was good for him, even though he’d protested long and loud at first. “Quite a few students are away today with the strange rash going around,” Greg Maroney, the computer studies teacher said. “Yeah, I wondered about that. Greg, this is my friend Zane. He’s staying with me for a couple of weeks. Is it okay if he sits in at the back of the class?”

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Greg extended his hand. “Sure, no problem at all. Pleased to meet you. You a computer expert as well?” “I know a little, enough to be dangerous,” Zane said, winking at Dillon. Dillon felt the power of that wink skitter through his body and tensed, desiring the sensation and alternatively hating it. Why did life have to be so bloody complicated? He met a man he liked, a man he could love, and nothing was plain sailing. No guaranteed happy ever after. Instead, he gained a future of uncertainty, and a short one at that. Nine more days. A girlish giggle snapped him from his uneasy introspection. No point worrying about something he couldn’t change. He’d just have to stick with what he’d decided already and take pleasure in the ride. Enjoy Zane’s company and fuck him so good and hard that maybe he’d consider staying. “See you at rugby training tomorrow night.” Greg scooped up his briefcase and waved goodbye before disappearing. “Right,” he said, striding to the front of the classroom. After unpacking his books and notes from the small backpack he’d brought with him, he scanned the faces of the students. There were fewer than normal. “Who’s missing from class and who is just late?” One of the girls seated in the front row put up her hand. “Yes, Rachelle?” Dillon kept his gaze on her face instead of letting his eyes wander. The girl was a terrible flirt and he tried hard not to encourage her. She rattled off several names including Matthew’s. He nodded, having already noted Matthew’s absence. His main suspect. But, setting judgment aside, he jotted down the names of all the missing students. He’d decided to attend the monthly computer club meeting scheduled for later in the week as well. Once he compared his lists of names plus any other suspects he turned up, he’d rattle a few cages and see what dropped out.

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He moved into his planned lesson, taking the students through the basics of the program he used for designing his comic books. The time passed quickly, the hour and a half flashing by in no time at all. And best of all, he had his list of suspects. The bell rang and his students leapt to their feet, packed up books and left. Dillon turned to see if the genie was still at the back of the class. Zane stood and grinned at him. “You’re very sexy in professor-mode. Arousal glinted in his eyes, darkening them to a gleaming slate blue. Immediately, Dillon’s pulse rate jumped a few notches and parts south stirred with intense interest. “I don’t have anything else to do in town. Are you ready to head home or is there something else you’d like to do?” “Home.” The inflection in the genie’s voice made hot, sweaty sex come to mind and the smirk on his sexy lips underlined his intentions. “Home it is then.” Dillon picked up his teaching notes, fumbling his stack of books with uncharacteristic clumsiness. He felt color stain his cheeks by the time he’d managed to cram everything into his pack. Bloody hell, he had it bad. He was normally the one in total control when it came to relationships, and to a certain extent he still was, but damn, he didn’t have full control or Zane’s full trust and that burned. “Let’s go.” At least his voice sounded strong and sure even though his gut was a mass of writhing nerves.

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Chapter Six The days fell into a routine. They spent them together, mostly at home but with the odd journey into town to check on suspects. Zane had even attended rugby practice with him. His description of rugby as an odd game where they threw an egg-shaped ball around and fell on top of each other, making big piles of bodies, had made Dillon chuckle. Zane’s puzzled question about hands in the bottom of the scrum, or pile of bodies as he called it, had made him laugh even louder before he’d attempted to explain. As Dillon had suspected, they were able to delete a high proportion of names, but he included anyone with the rash on his master list for careful consideration. No one with the rash escaped scrutiny and anyone who suffered the severe version with pustules went straight to the top of the suspects. He wandered into the bedroom and through the open sliding doors leading outside, searching for Zane. The loud bubble of water and a gusty sigh of appreciation directed his footsteps toward the spa pool. “How’s the list coming?” Zane asked, pitching his voice so it was audible over the hiss and gurgle of the water. Dillon stripped off his shorts and tossed them carelessly aside before climbing into the spa pool beside his lover. Because he could, he moved closer, trapping Zane against the wall of the pool to ravage his sexy mouth. Teeth nipped. Lips suckled. Tongues stroked and soothed. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. “The list is coming along fine. I’m down to ten names. I think I should be able to weed out a few more after the computer club meeting tonight.”

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“I look forward to watching you in action.” Lazy amusement coated the genie’s voice and it pulled a grin from him. He loved having Zane around, sharing a living space and even better, a bed. “That merc-magick is still hanging around. Susan said he’s staying at Mrs. Marshall’s bed and breakfast on the other side of town. According to my sister, he’s charming and everyone likes him. They’ve started inviting him to local functions.” “Charming? A merc-magick?” Zane made a rude sound. “The merc must be using a spell so everyone sees him that way. It’s the only explanation.” “I don’t like the idea of him hanging around.” “My disguise has worked pretty well. I told you they’re not that bright.” His grin was mocking as he tapped his temple with a forefinger. “Don’t worry. Only three days, four if you count today, to go before I’m free.” Dillon forced a grin. He was pleased for the genie—he really was—but he didn’t have a good feeling about the merc-magick’s presence and the day was fast approaching when Zane would leave. Oh he understood why he craved freedom, but he could stay and still have the same freedom. Apart from inside the bedroom and from what he’d seen and experienced with Zane so far, he didn’t think he minded Dillon controlling the way they made love. Fear trickled down his spine like the slow drip of a leaking tap, just as it had all day. It was persistent. Annoying. And damned if it would go away. His life was running out of control and he didn’t like it. “What happens at the meeting?” Zane asked, directing Dillon’s mind back to his other problem. Although he’d managed to rid his computer of the virus he still hadn’t caught the culprit, and he was going to get revenge if it was the last thing he did. He’d had to work late most nights trying to recreate the work he’d lost at a time when he’d prefer to concentrate on other things—namely Zane. “They have guest speakers tonight from Weta Studios and from the college— something to do with the new operating system that’s due for release.”

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Zane stretched, his biceps flexing when he raised his hands above his head. “What is a weta?” Dillon took a moment to watch before he realized Zane was waiting for an answer. “It’s a black insect that looks a bit like a big cricket, but in this case the speaker is from the studio that does special effects for movies. Have you heard of the Lord of the Rings trilogy? Peter Jackson?” “Yeah, on cable. Cool movies,” he said, nodding with approval. “What time do we have to be at the meeting?” “Eight.” “Good.” He sidled closer until his chest brushed Dillon’s, and below the waterline, Zane’s erection dragged across his groin. “I thought some rest and recreation wouldn’t go astray. What do you think?” “Anytime,” Dillon said, swallowing to remove the lump of emotion that suddenly threatened to choke him. Zane grinned but didn’t make another move. His smile turned quizzical, dark brows rising when Dillon didn’t react. Belatedly, he realized Zane was waiting for him to make the first move, to take the reins and direct their lovemaking where he willed. The trust in his bright blue eyes blew him away, brought a sense of humbleness, especially since this was a fairly new occurrence. He stood and reached over to switch off the spa bubbles. The whinny of a horse in the neighboring paddock broke the sudden and intense hush. Dillon held out his hand. “Let’s go inside.” He held his breath, waiting for Zane. His lover didn’t disappoint him. He stood instantly and accepted his hand. Together they stepped from the spa pool and with water dripping from their bodies, they made their way inside. “Wait, I’ll grab a towel.” After stealing a quick kiss, Dillon strode rapidly to the en suite and dried himself swiftly before grabbing a dry towel for Zane. When he returned, his lover was surveying the scenery. “Let me dry you,” Dillon whispered. Taking great care, he patted the water from his broad shoulders and back, kneeling to dry the 89

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droplets of water from his tight ass and legs. When Zane was dry, he murmured, “Turn around so I can do your front.” Slowly Zane turned to face him. Dillon sucked in a hasty breath when confronted with the genie’s hard-on then smiled. He blotted the remaining water from Zane’s muscular thighs and bypassed his groin region, standing to dry his chest. “You forgot to dry part of me,” Zane said, his voice smoky with the stirring of desire. “No, I haven’t forgotten anything,” Dillon drawled, flicking a glance at the genie’s groin. He whistled a few bars of a Crowded House song. Things were heating up nicely. Dropping the towel, he tugged Zane into the bedroom and onto the bed. He pushed him so Zane lay on his back before leaning over him. “I intend to give you very special attention.” “Yeah?” “That’s right.” “Are you going to restrain me?” he asked, surprising Dillon with the question. Although he’d wanted to, he hadn’t brought up the subject again because it made his lover uncomfortable. Zane’s brows rose when Dillon watched him speechlessly, wondering how to act and wishing he could read his mind. “Are you?” “I—” Dillon broke off to clear his throat and tried again. “I could if you think you’d enjoy it.” Their gazes met and held for long seconds. Understanding leapt between them without the need for words. With heart thudding, he reached for the bedside drawer and pulled out a pair of supple leather handcuffs. Lined with soft fur to prevent rubbing, they were his preferred restraints, although he’d experimented with rope and that came a close second. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.” His lover didn’t answer, extending his wrists instead for him to put on the cuffs. Dillon decided he’d restrain Zane’s hands but leave his feet free. Trust needed to be earned—he understood that. Hell, he sympathized with Zane’s need for free will, but first things first. 90

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He smiled and squeezed Zane’s shoulder gently. “I’m not going to cuff you until you give me verbal confirmation.” “I want you to cuff me before we make love,” Zane said, both his voice and body language speaking of confidence, of trust. Dillon lifted one of Zane’s wrists to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the delicate inner skin, filling his senses with his lover’s patently male aroma. Zane watched him the entire time, eyes full of faith when he raised his arms above his head and clipped the first cuff into place. A tight sensation gripped his chest. The absolute faith on Zane’s face humbled him, tightening his throat. Dillon swallowed and fastened the cuff to the bedhead. He repeated the process with Zane’s other wrist. “The key for the cuffs is in the drawer,” he said. “But I would never leave you like this.” Dillon studied his lover’s face, searching for signs of distress but found none. He moved down the bed and started stroking Zane’s body, trailing his fingers over biceps and pectoral muscles. A drop of water he’d missed attracted his attention. He leaned over and licked it away with his tongue. He lapped up another droplet, laving across a flat masculine nipple once he’d gathered the liquid on the tip of his tongue. “You taste salty.” He licked away the fine sheen of sweat on Zane’s chest. The restraints clacked against the bedhead when Zane shifted a fraction. “I thought you might tease me, torture me a little,” he said gruffly. “And you’d be right. Just taking it easy at first.” Dillon lifted his head to wink. “Don’t want to scare you too much.” Zane grunted, his muscular body stiffening with renewed tension. Dillon noticed his erection had deflated as well and grinned inwardly. He’d see about that. Lots of water drops down there. He pinched one of his nipples and stroked his hipbone, gradually moving down toward his groin, gathering any small droplets of water on the way. The rigidity seeped slowly from Zane and he relaxed into the mattress. Dillon smiled against his abs, continuing his journey. To his great satisfaction, Zane’s cock lengthened, rubbing against his cheek when he kissed and nibbled across his abdomen.

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Zane flinched. “Aha, someone is ticklish.” “No!” “Shall I put it to the test?” “No.” Dillon snickered. “Oh yeah, genie.” He used his tongue to lick a return path across his abdomen, and once again his lover winced. Aha, Dillon thought. Time to move this seduction along. He moved up Zane’s body to pay attention to his lips. “You have a beautiful mouth. I love seeing it wrapped around my cock.” “Is that what you want me to do?” “No, not yet,” Dillon said with a trace of regret because the idea was an attractive one. No, today he wanted to pleasure Zane even though he was helpless. Dillon wanted to prove how good it could be giving over complete control to another, to him for example. He reached over to open the bedside drawer again and pulled out the brown glass bottle containing frankincense massage oil. It was no hardship touching his lover, and by the time he was finished, the male would be purring. He unscrewed the lid and poured some into his palm before setting the bottle aside where it wouldn’t spill. The spicy, woody scent rose as the oil warmed between his palms. Dillon started with Zane’s chest, kneading and massaging muscles, getting to know his body intimately. He glided his hands over Zane’s pectorals, his shoulders and gradually moved down his torso, interspacing touching with kissing. The genie relaxed beneath his careful ministrations and Dillon took great pleasure from touching the firm and fluid muscles, from nibbling and tasting. The slow massage worked its magic on him as well, blood crowding his cock as desire flared inside. Gradually, he took the massage into more personal territory. He dribbled more oil on his palm and spread Zane’s legs for easier access. He slid his hand over Zane’s inner thighs before stroking the perineum with firm fingers.

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A soft sound drew his attention and although he kept stroking, he saw Zane’s eyes close and with a few teasing strokes of his fingers, he’d managed to undo all the good he’d done. His lover was no longer relaxed. He ran his fingers over Zane’s testicles and scrotum and massaged the perineum again, smoothing fingers over his anus. Dillon moved closer and, giving in to temptation, he licked over and around the puckered entrance. “Oh hell,” his lover whispered, his hips jerking. Smiling, Dillon repeated the move and stroked the area below with confident steps of his fingers. Zane’s musky scent combined with the woody notes of the oil. Dillon’s heart pounded, his dick jerked and urgency started to beat at his mind. He smiled wryly, acknowledging the genie’s sensual torture was backfiring, catching him in the trap instead. Unable to wait any longer, he pushed a finger inside Zane, almost groaning out loud at the velvet heat and the sexy sight of his finger slowly disappearing. The thought of thrusting his cock inside brought an actual groan—low and guttural and full of need. “Dillon.” His head jerked upward, his eyes widening in panic. Surely Zane didn’t want to stop? He attempted to speak and had to clear his throat before a word emerged. “Yeah?” It was only slightly louder than a croak. “Fuck me now.” Zane’s eyes were so dark they appeared black rather than the normal blue. “But I haven’t stretched—” “Now,” the genie repeated. “Please.” He was so ready he ached but still… “I don’t want to hurt you.” “You won’t. Please. I’m begging you. Take me now, hard and fast.” Dillon removed his finger and after slicking up with plenty of lube, he pressed into Zane. His lover didn’t let him go slow, wouldn’t allow him to ease into lovemaking.

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Instead he jerked his hips, forcing Dillon’s cock deep inside. He writhed in the heat of his lover, heart pounding like a jackhammer. He gulped as Zane snapped his hips back and forth, watching the place where his cock disappeared into his body. Sparks of ardor sizzled the length of his spine, warning of his imminent climax. Dillon gripped Zane’s hips and thrust, taking up the genie’s rhythm. He angled his strokes and released one hip to grasp his lover’s straining erection. Zane hissed out a curse and Dillon knew exactly how he felt. One more pump and his orgasm thundered through him, so intense he felt it clear to his toes. He cried out, shivers racking his body as he continued to stroke his lover. Seconds later Zane came, splashing cum over his hand and torso, the contractions of his ass clamping down, sending another shiver through Dillon. When he finally relaxed, Dillon pulled free and collapsed at his side, still breathing hard. Zane turned his head and kissed his chin. When he moved, their lips met in a slow kiss that held a dreamy quality and wisps of promise. Dillon had already known he was in trouble, his feelings for the genie intense despite their short relationship. Sometimes, he thought, a person just knew. Zane drew away and smiled slowly. “Are you thinking about releasing me anytime soon? My arms are a bit sore from lying in the same position and I’d really like to pinch your butt.” “Yeah?” Dillon’s brows rose as he grinned back. “Not sure about the pinching. That’s a good reason to leave you where you are.” But he was already leaning over to grab the key to unlock the cuffs. “Well, hell,” Zane said. “I suppose I could always bite instead.” “You think?” He made a token protest but it was difficult not to let his grin widen into a toothy smirk. When would the genie realize he could do whatever the hell he wanted? As far as he was concerned, Zane had full rights to do whatever he pleased.

*****

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With the speaker from Weta Studios as an inducement, the computer club meeting was standing room only. Dillon held the door open for several newcomers before they stepped into the packed room at the college. “Even the people with the virus rash have come out,” Zane murmured. Dillon’s gaze drifted over his lover’s freshly shaven head to meet his intense blue eyes. He still preferred the genie with dark curly hair covering his head but he was starting to become used to the disguise he’d adopted. “I think everyone has worked out that it’s not infectious,” Zane said with a quick grin. “Have you noticed there are more people wandering around town now?” “Yeah, I noticed when I went to the post office. The queue of people posting Christmas parcels was out the door.” He’d also noticed the merc-magick was still hanging around. The merc’s presence worried him because it brought home the fact that his lover was still in very real danger. With only a few days left to evade capture, Hasim could still find Zane and force him into servitude again. Immediately Dillon felt the need to touch, to exert ownership and reassure himself that everything would work out as they planned. Hell, he wanted everyone to know Zane belonged to him. Funny, it wasn’t just possessiveness roaring through him but the need to show he belonged to Zane as well. Before he had a chance to second guess, he reached out to squeeze his shoulder in a show of affection, letting his hand slide down Zane’s back to rest briefly on his ass before moving away. The touch soothed his edginess. “You okay?” Zane murmured. “I am now.” The genie winked at him and they both grinned. Dillon noted, now that he knew Zane better, he could see a few nerves below the surface. Not enough for anyone else to notice but understandable, given the circumstances. Suddenly Dillon didn’t care about catching the person who had unleashed a virus. All he wanted was to return home with Zane and spend the rest of the night making love and reassuring him. For an instant he thought about dragging him back outside for a quickie. They’d had sex outside at home 95

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but there was something added with the risk of discovery. Dillon snorted under his breath. Hell, he was sick. Part of him acknowledged he wanted people to discover their relationship. He was turning needy in his old age. “Looks like there are some spare seats over there.” “Lead the way,” Dillon murmured. Somehow it seemed natural to allow his lover complete freedom outside the bedroom. He didn’t have a problem with it. In fact, he enjoyed watching the genie’s pleasure in doing everyday things without magic. Zane made everything seem new and precious. With emotion running high, Dillon squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a few milliseconds before opening them again and following Zane through the crowds of chattering people. He had no idea how he was going to let the genie go when the time came. “Dillon.” He stopped when he heard his name, knowing Zane would save him a seat. He turned. The smile of greeting faded when he saw who wanted to talk to him. Matthew, his chief suspect, had a bad case of the virus rash. It was one of the more severe cases he’d seen and his suspicions rose. “Hi, Matthew. That’s a bad case of rash you have there.” An understatement. Bad didn’t begin to describe the oozing pus-filled sores on the young man’s face. “Yeah. The doctor said it would heal up gradually.” But not without a little genie help in a few days time. Dillon kept his face impassive while he waited for Matthew to get to the point. Matthew drew him out of the way of foot traffic to a spot where they could talk relatively undisturbed. The nervousness in the younger man’s face made Dillon curious. “You’re really not interested in Jenny, are you?” Jenny? This was about his girlfriend Jenny? “I told you before I wasn’t interested in your girlfriend.” It was difficult to keep the impatience from his voice.

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“I heard rumors that you’re gay and then I saw you touch him tonight, that guy you’re with. You love him,” Matthew said, watching him intensely. Shock seared through him on hearing the words. God, the kid was right. He’d fallen for Zane, which was the reason he was so worried and on edge. It was the reason he couldn’t keep his hands off the genie. And why he was constantly reassuring himself Zane was real, that he wasn’t dreaming. Aware Matthew was waiting for an answer, although he didn’t see it was any of the kid’s business who he did or didn’t love, he said, “It’s true I’m gay.” His gaze zapped to Zane and he studied him for a few quick seconds. Yep, it was true. Shaking his head, he turned back to Matthew. “Shit,” Matthew said, his shoulders slumping. Suddenly the kid seemed really young and uncertain. “I’ve done something really bad. I lost my temper. Jenny just made me so jealous I couldn’t see straight. She said I wasn’t a man. If she wanted a real man, she’d go with someone like you. Oh fuck. Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes glinting with moisture that looked suspiciously like tears. “Nothing’s so bad it can’t be fixed.” Dillon’s eyes narrowed on Matthew as his suspicions suddenly grew, and he knew deep in his gut what the kid was trying to say. “We sent a virus to your computer,” Matthew said quickly, as if he feared running out of courage. “It was my idea. I wanted to punish you for taking Jenny away from me. Man, I’m so sorry. Jenny— Oh hell. She’s a bitch,” he said. “I didn’t realize until today.” The head of the computer club walked up to the front of the room and clapped his hands for silence. “We can talk about it later,” Dillon said. Matthew’s nod held pure misery. “Okay. I’m really sorry. I’ll help you fix it, if you haven’t already.” “I’ll admit I was angry but I’ve managed to get my computer running again and have redone all the work I lost.” “Oh man. You lost work?” The kid’s shoulders drooped even more.

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Despite the circumstances and his initial anger, Dillon felt sorry for him. Matthew wasn’t the first man led astray by a woman and he doubted he would be the last. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow.” “Okay.” Matthew slinked away, a picture of dejected misery. Dillon glanced over at Zane and saw he’d saved him a seat. He started to stride toward him but something, some instinct made him glance at the doorway before he went to join him. He froze for an instant, shocked to the core. That bloody merc-magick was here. Dillon threaded through the people standing, making his way to Zane while hoping the genie’s disguise stood up to scrutiny. He slipped into the empty seat with relief. Hopefully, his large frame would partially block him from sight should the mercmagick look in their direction. The speakers were both great, if the reactions of those sitting nearby were anything to judge by, but Dillon didn’t take in much. He was too busy worrying about the mercmagick’s presence, stressing about what it might mean. His gut jolted, underlining his unease. Not good. Not good at all. Question time started and several hands shot up, waiting for the club president to give them the go-ahead to address the guest speakers. Finally all the questions were answered and still the merc-magick stood at the back of the room, leaning against the wall in an attempt to look unobtrusive. People glanced at him anyway, their gazes skimming across his bulky shoulders, dressy jacket and tough-guy expression before hurriedly fixing their interest elsewhere. The president offered his effusive thanks before declaring the meeting over. With the audience applause still ringing in his ears, Dillon stood and stretched while unobtrusively tracking the movements of the merc-magick. He’d left his post by the door. Unease beat at him. “Let’s go.” He grabbed Zane’s forearm in an attempt to hurry the genie along. No time to sugarcoat the order.

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Zane’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his mouth tightening to a flat line. He jerked free before slowly standing. “We need to go.” He attempted reasonable but an order hovered inside the words. “You don’t own me. No one owns me.” Finally Zane’s nerves bubbled to the surface to conflict with his own. “I know that, dammit!” To Dillon’s consternation, most of the attendees had left the classroom while their little battle was taking place. The few people left were staring and he consciously lowered his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t phrase myself very well. The merc-magick is here. I can’t see him anymore but he spent the entire time at the back of the classroom.” “He was probably bored with hanging around the café,” Zane said. “Besides, he didn’t see me. If he had, he’d have taken me into custody or at least frozen my magic.” “They can do that? Freeze your magic?” “Yeah, that’s how they catch us. The merc-magicks wear special amulets that they freeze us with until they can clip our genie bracelets back in place.” “We can talk about this on the way. I don’t like it. Why can’t they use the amulets at any time—just point them in all directions and see what happens?” “It’s not that easy. They must be within arm’s length and must also utter the genie oath. By saying the oath they exert control and impel me to answer any questions they care to ask.” His lover’s expression held both fear and loathing. “When the capture is at that stage, it’s too late. I must obey.” He spat the word as if it were a filthy curse. Dillon had to admit the notion of having to follow orders and being at the disposal of the people who summoned the genie from his teapot didn’t hold much appeal. He was too strong and liked his freedom, the will to do what he wished and exert control over the way his life panned out. “That won’t happen,” he said, giving in to the need to touch his lover. He squeezed Zane’s shoulder briefly before letting his hand drop back to his side. “Let’s go home. I could do with a drink. By the way, I had a chat with

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Matthew. He confessed. He sent me the virus because he thought I was after his girlfriend.” “That’s good. Your wish worked.” “Yeah.” Dillon went first and hoped like hell Zane followed him. The need to toss his lover over his shoulder and run to a place of safety beat at him. His hands clenched and unclenched. Even though his instincts roared, he resisted touching and kept his tongue fiercely guarded. Now wasn’t the right time to exert dominance. The stress was getting to both of them and attempts to order Zane around weren’t welcome at present.

Zane followed Dillon from the classroom, indignant thoughts running through his head while his gut churned with anxiety because of the merc-magick’s presence and worries about his approaching freedom. He wasn’t Dillon’s damned slave. The only person he needed to please was himself. It seemed the human didn’t understand this concept and desired control over every facet of his life. Dillon wanted a genie without the magic. Someone to carry out his every order without demure. That wasn’t going to happen. Dillon held the outer door open for him, and he stepped outside into the night. Freedom. Damn, he could taste it in the swirl of the capricious breeze across his scalp. He could smell it in the warm scent of Dillon’s aftershave. Only three full days to go now and excitement and wonder pulsed through him. His indignation at his lover started to seep away. Stress was making him ultra-sensitive and very anxious. He had to keep a lid on his panic. He could do this. No other genie had retained their freedom for this long, not in recent years. That in itself was encouraging. Yearning and determination bolstered him, driving away the final traces of his irritation at the human. Dillon was anxious because he cared. Zane knew he could do this and savored his quiet confidence. Most genies gave up all thoughts of freedom because they couldn’t bear, couldn’t fathom the lack of magic that 100

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gradually came as a result of liberty and independence. They equated magical power with worth. Zane knew better. Magic didn’t make a man or genie. The measure of a real man was in the way he treated others. It was inside him, etched into his character. He intended to be a good man. “There’s that damned merc-magick,” Dillon muttered, coming to a sudden halt. “Keep moving,” he said, nudging Dillon sharply in the middle of his back when he didn’t move. What was wrong with him? He was acting strangely tonight. No doubt he was feeling the stress of the situation too, but the last thing they wanted was to draw attention. A little staring was good, since the locals stared at strangers. What wasn’t good were the traces of fear and worry the human showed each time they were near the merc-magick. Dillon finally picked up the pace, striding over to where they’d parked the bike. After fastening his helmet, he passed him the other one and straddled the bike, kicking it off its stand. Zane watched the entire time, his heart sprinting into a racy beat. Damn, the human was good to watch with his long legs, tight butt and easy strength. A pity he tended toward bossy at times. Although Zane had to admit, sometimes bossy was good. He certainly didn’t mind handing Dillon responsibility for their pleasure, but he had to realize that outside the bedroom he made his own decisions. Seconds later the bike roared to life and Dillon glanced impatiently over his shoulder to see what was keeping him. Zane scowled back before he realized he was doing it again. Overreacting to Dillon’s words and actions. He knew Dillon cared for him—he’d proved it over and over. Zane inhaled deeply, struggling to control his wayward emotions. Deep breaths. The sooner his ten days were up the better because then they could both relax. Slowly Zane straddled the bike and cozied up to him. His cock filled, pushing insistently against the fly of the black jeans he wore. At the jolt of sensual pleasure some of his angst faded. Three more days to go then the future stretched before him full of 101

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possibilities. He’d find a job, buy a house with some of the treasure he’d stashed in an offshore account—thanks to online banking—and act like a regular human. They left the well-lit inner town for the quiet country roads where the bike’s headlight pierced the darkness. He leaned into a corner, appreciating the play of Dillon’s muscles beneath his hands. His cock reared again as the thought of hard-riding sex and the resulting pleasure filled him. Since they were almost back at the house, he let his hands wander from the human’s hips. Well, lookee, lookee. He wasn’t the only one with sex on his mind. Dillon pulled up in his driveway with a shriek of brakes. Zane scrambled off the back and took off his helmet, a smile playing across his lips while hunger had his erection at almost full stretch. Despite his snappiness tonight, he desired Dillon, still wanted his body and the pleasure he knew would come. The throb of the bike cut off and Dillon kicked the stand into place before standing. After dragging off his helmet and placing it on the bike seat, he prowled toward him, his intentions evident in the slash of arousal glittering in his dark brown eyes. Zane stood his ground, heart pounding with a burst of adrenaline. He had an absurd desire to run but reined in the need, waiting for his lover to make the first move. Heat suffused his body while each breath came in a soft pant. “Tease,” Dillon muttered, seconds before his mouth slammed down on his. His arms went around Dillon and he accepted the harsh almost brutal kiss, glorying in the power that burst to life between them. Despite his resentment regarding the orders Dillon issued at times, he liked this man. Really liked this man. When the kiss gentled, they started to lazily rock against each other, groin brushing groin. Teasing. Driving them both higher. At the back of his pleasure-filled mind, Zane wondered how he’d manage to let go in three day’s time. He’d never felt this way about another man before.

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Chapter Seven

One Day to Freedom Zane woke with a feeling of acute exhilaration fizzing through his body. One day. One day left. For fleeting seconds he savored the warmth of Dillon’s arms and legs wrapped around him and wondered about waking the sleeping man. In the end he decided not to. They’d played long and late into the night and Dillon looked exhausted with faint bruises beneath his eyes. The red marks on his lover’s neck brought a grin. He liked the look of his mark on the golden skin. His man. Still grinning, he edged away before bounding to his feet. He’d make coffee and maybe sit outside to drink it, enjoying the morning sun on his bare chest and the bite of the fresh air. Zane tugged on a pair of faded jeans and ran his hand across the top of his head, still surprised by the bristly sensation of his hair. He quite liked the new look even though his lover mourned the loss of his long locks. The stubble on his jaw matched that on his head. One thing he didn’t like about the non-magical world was the need to shave. Perhaps he’d grow a beard then he’d really look like a pirate. In the kitchen, he set the electric coffee grinder whirring, enjoying the scent of rich beans filling the air. He took great pleasure in performing the everyday human tasks— filling the coffeemaker with water, measuring the ground beans into the filter and pressing the button to start the water dripping through the machine. Dillon said the novelty would wear off and he’d become tired of performing mundane tasks, but he didn’t think so. There was a soothing familiarity about the tasks that made him feel human and part of the community because he knew others carried out the same everyday chores. “Hey.” Dillon appeared in the kitchen wearing jeans for a change. They rode low on his hips, the fly zipped but the top button still loose. With the light shining through the windows behind him, his skin appeared glinted with gold. Zane’s breath caught and his 103

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body reacted in the typical way, his cock jerking to life. A slow grin tugged at his lips. Dillon looked good enough to eat. Maybe a few more strategic bites would ease the sudden hunger. “Hey yourself,” he replied, hearing the telltale huskiness in his voice and seeing the resulting glint in his lover’s eyes. A sudden longing for total freedom assailed him—the ability to spend every minute of every day doing whatever he felt like. It was a treasure, one that was difficult to imagine or to explain to a human who’d never been forced to do anything against his will. Dillon didn’t understand the depths of his craving for freedom. How could he? One more day. His breath eased out slowly as he attempted to control his excitement, the need to whoop and holler and dance about. Now wasn’t the time. Tomorrow…yeah, tomorrow he’d celebrate for sure. “The coffee is on.” “So I see.” Dillon prowled across the cream-tiled floor to him, his brown eyes glinting with determination. “Do I get a morning kiss?” “Sure thing, but just a kiss right now. I’m starving. I won’t be worth a bean until I refuel with food.” Dillon smirked. “I could change your mind.” “You could, but you’d have to do all the work this time.” While he liked ceding control to the human in the bedroom, it had felt good topping for once. What he appreciated more was Dillon’s willingness to give and take, to treat him as an equal. It meant a lot to him. He laughed inwardly—at least when he wasn’t stressing out and accusing his lover of things that weren’t true. “Fine with me. I’m pretty hungry myself.” Zane closed the remaining distance between them, wrapped his arms around Dillon and kissed him slowly. Tenderly. Their lips barely touched but that merest connection was enough. It made him feel treasured and important, as if he mattered on a personal level rather than for the material wealth he could bestow with his magic. And he appreciated the fact that not once during their time together had Dillon asked for more wishes. Not once. The back of his eyes burned suddenly, a wave of emotion clutching at 104

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his heart. He pulled away with a self-conscious laugh, realizing his eyes were full of moisture. Damn, he was going soft. All the sex had turned his brain to mush. “I think the coffee is ready.” The last-minute gurgles and splutters from the machine bore out the truth of his words. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, filled them both with steaming hot coffee and handed one to Dillon. He doctored his own with a dash of milk and two spoonfuls of clover honey. “It’s your last day,” Dillon said, his tone a little weird and thick with arousal. Zane froze, realizing the other man was watching him licking the remains of the honey from the spoon. The innocent act took on sexual overtones and he flung the spoon down and hurriedly picked up his coffee. “Yeah. I’m so excited I could burst.” A flash of heat in his face told him his cheeks had colored while his mind lingered in the gutter along with thoughts of Dillon’s cock and a pot of honey. Unusual. That had never happened before, but then nothing about this day was a rerun. Freedom. Damn. He’d hardly dared to hope. “Anything special you’d like to do today?” “I thought about going into town but I don’t want to risk running into the mercmagick. Don’t want to push my luck, not today.” “Probably a good idea,” Dillon agreed. “I need to do some research. Do you want to come along with me? We could take a picnic lunch.” “Where are you going?” “I’ve set some of my comic in the jungle. I want to go for a bushwalk to get some ideas. I was thinking about creating a rainforest and using New Zealand trees. I won’t use much detail in the final comic but actually seeing a place helps me. If you want to come along, we’ll take the bike and make a day of it. The place I have in mind has a swimming hole.” Zane nodded since the idea of being outside in the fresh air and sunshine was one that appealed. One of the things he’d enjoyed most of all was the ever-changing scenery and the freedom to wander as he willed. As a genie he was tied to his teapot with quick 105

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jaunts to the outside world. Being constantly on call meant he didn’t have the chance to wander at will and of course, he couldn’t venture too far from his teapot, not with his wristbands in place. “It’s a date then,” Dillon said. “I’d better make sure the batteries are charged on my camera.”

***** An hour later they were dressed, food and drink packed in the saddlebags and ready to leave. Dillon handed Zane a helmet and once he’d secured it, he straddled the bike behind his lover. The roar of the bike echoed in his pulse, a blend of banked energy and sharp anticipation of the day to come and the days after—of freedom. The wind tugged at their clothes as they raced along the narrow hedge-lined roads. Dillon took a sharp right onto a rutted dirt track. His teeth rattled and he tightened his grip on Dillon’s waist. Gradually they climbed the hill, speeding through thick bush and sending two foraging goats scattering in fright. Finally they burst from the cover of the trees onto the top of the hill. Dillon stopped the bike and switched off the ignition, leaving silence. A vast panorama spread before them—the open area on the hilltop, the thick bush, the farms and town below, and in the distance the glittering blue of the sea. Zane inhaled deeply then sighed with pleasure, positive he could smell the salty tang of the sea on the air. “This isn’t where we’re having our picnic but I thought you’d like it. I come up here when I’m having problems with my work. Something about the fresh air and the view helps me nut out story blocks.” A tiny burst of pleasure filled him and he leaned forward, plastering his chest against Dillon. “Thanks.” The human treated him as an equal and considered his wants and needs instead of demanding magical wishes. The constant caring…it made his throat tighten, trapping words inside. He pressed a kiss to Dillon’s neck and hugged him tightly. Part of him wanted to stay with Dillon forever, but Zane needed to know

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real freedom, the kind where he followed his own inclinations and made his own decisions even if they turned out to be mistakes. Yes, he intended to see his lover in the future but independence remained important to him. Dillon turned his head to steal a gentle kiss before saying, “You ready to go?” “Yeah.” They resumed their trip at a slower pace that allowed him to watch their surroundings. When they rode into the bush again, he spied a fantail flitting from branch to branch, chasing insects. He leaned into the turns and gripped Dillon tightly while pressing into his warm body. He’d never felt happier. One more day. One more day. The words were a crazy litany playing through his mind in a never-ending circle. In one more day he’d be free. Dillon pulled the bike up in a grassy clearing, on the banks of a small stream. A tree festooned with scarlet flowers grew near the water. It was the one called the pohutukawa, New Zealand’s native Christmas tree, according to Dillon. Fallen flower filaments painted the ground red and deadened footfalls. When Zane climbed off the bike, he saw the stream widened to a pool. He glanced back at Dillon and tugged off his helmet. Dillon removed his helmet as well and hung it over the handlebars of the bike. He took in the man’s muscular chest and wanted to touch. If anything, his hunger for Dillon had grown. And the pleasure—the pleasure grew more with each encounter. Thoughts of the previous night had his body instantly reacting. “What are you doing first?” “I’m going to take some photos then come back, lie in the sun and do some thinking about Maiuku, the tattooed man. I left him in a tight spot and need to get him out of trouble.” Zane grinned, knowing Dillon was good at multitasking. He whipped off his boots, socks and T-shirt then unbuttoned his jeans. “I might wait for you here.” After stepping out of his jeans, he tossed them aside and stood naked, letting his lover look his fill.

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“Damn,” Dillon muttered. After hesitating, he grabbed up his camera and marched to the edge of the clearing before stopping. “Don’t start without me.” “I might warm up,” he said, dropping his hand to lazily stroke his cock. “Don’t take too long.” Dillon snorted. “You need chastising. I let you get away with too much last night and now I’ve created a monster.” “When it comes to sex,” Zane agreed. He was stroking himself harder now, turned on by both the perfect stimulation and the knowledge Dillon was watching him. “Damn, I have to do this now.” He stepped into the bush. “Have a swim. That will cool you off. I’ll be back. Expect punishment.” With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving silence behind. “Punishment,” Zane whispered while grinning widely. He pulled on his cock while eyeing the spot where Dillon had disappeared. Arousal thrummed like thick syrup through his veins, but although tempted, he eased back on the self-pleasuring. Waiting might hurt a bit but it wouldn’t kill him. It would be better, bigger, with Dillon. Zane unloaded the items they’d brought for lunch, stashing them in a cool place. He spread the old blanket beneath the shade of a tree and sprawled out in comfort. His eyes drifted closed. Somewhere over to his right, a bird trilled, the high notes ending on a screech. The call repeated before the bird commenced a more lyrical tune. The gentle flow of the water added to the musical song and he drifted close to sleep. Without warning the bird stopped mid-bar, the flutter of wings and indignant squawk jerking Zane to full awareness. The sharp crack of a stick brought a grin. Dillon was returning earlier than he’d expected. He sat up and scanned the clearing. Nothing. His eyes narrowed, but slowly his expression cleared. His lover intended to sneak up on him, take him by surprise. He stood, carefully scrutinizing the darker shadows. Still nothing.

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“Come out. I know you’re there.” “You’ve caught us out,” a deep voice said from behind him. An icy chill zapped down Zane’s spine and his gut gave a sickening lurch. It couldn’t be. Slowly, he turned to face the speaker and the fear turned into a terrible reality. Hasim. Zane took an involuntary step back on seeing the triumphant glitter in Hasim’s dark eyes. For an instant he thought about blinking out but dismissed the idea as hopeless. Hasim would only follow and overpower him with the help of the mercmagicks. “How did you find me?” His legs trembled and he glanced left and right, checking for a means of escape. Perhaps he could run? When he spied the merc-magicks standing around the clearing, his shoulders slumped. And maybe not. No, flight wasn’t an option. Damn, he’d been so careful and hadn’t taken big risks. He’d planned his escape and attempt at freedom with as much detail as possible, given his limited resources, but still they’d found him. Shoulders slumped in despair, he swallowed his acute disappointment and looked to the genie boss for answers. “How?” “It is impossible to keep secrets from Hasim. I have a network of spies.” The male paused, his gloating smile doing nothing to calm Zane’s racing heart. “Not all information is free however. Some must be paid for.” “Paid for?” he repeated, his hands clenching at his sides. What the hell was he talking about? “I paid for information so we could find you,” Hasim answered. He flicked his wrist and Zane found himself dressed in tight black trews and knee-high boots, his chest bare. “Your nakedness offends me. That is much better.” Not from where he stood. Traditional genie garb. He kept his face impassive but inside his thoughts jumbled in turmoil. Next would come the silver genie shackles and once again he’d be tied to his teapot, nothing more than a slave until he had granted 109

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another hundred wishes. Paid-for information. Zane didn’t understand. The only person who knew of his true identity was… “Dillon?” The man’s name was barely a whisper but held a world of torment and pain. His lover had sold him out? Hasim’s smile widened. “Ah, Dillon,” he said. “A helpful man, I’m sure.” “I won’t go. Recruit someone else.” Although Zane hated the pleading echoing in his voice, maintaining control was difficult when his entire world was falling apart. Dillon. Surely Dillon hadn’t informed on him. It didn’t make sense. Why would he do that? Hasim seemed to read his mind. “All it took was a little money. I’ve known where you were hiding out for days. Such good entertainment watching your hope grow with each passing day. I could set you free.” The genie boss held up his right hand and inspected his fingernails. They were long and filed to sharp points. His deep purple robe fluttered in the gentle breeze while the tassel on his rounded hat swung from side to side. He was also wearing traditional clothing. “But that would mean I’d need to train another to take your place. So tiresome training new recruits.” Dillon had betrayed him. Pain clutched at his heart, stealing his breath. He blinked slowly, struggling to contain his fury and frustration. Anguish tinged with bitterness sliced through him. Dillon had taken his wish, his friendship—hell, his heart—and still betrayed him. Zane stared at Hasim. The gleam in his dark eyes told the story. He had no intention of releasing him. “Do you submit?” the genie boss demanded. Zane folded his arms across his chest and glared. “No.” Hasim produced two silver bracelets from his pocket and held them up for all to see. They sparkled in the sunshine—objects of great beauty. “Subdue him.” One of the beefy merc-magicks moved closer. A wave of magic poured through the clearing as the power emanated from his amulets. Another of the merc-magicks started

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to recite the genie oath. Zane found himself unable to move, frozen in place but still able to think and talk. “No! Leave him alone.” Dillon burst from the bush, his chest heaving as if he’d run long and hard. The merc-magick stopped the genie oath part way through and glanced at his boss. “This is nothing to do with you, human. Stay out of it and you won’t get hurt. Finish the oath.” The merc-magick continued and finished. “No!” Dillon cried. “You sold me out.” Zane didn’t try to hold back on the animosity. He’d trusted the human, but he’d learn from his mistake. It wouldn’t happen again. “Take me,” Dillon said urgently. “Take me instead of Zane.” “You? What a novel idea.” Glee sparkled in Hasim’s eyes and he rubbed his chin in a contemplative manner. “Yes, a novel idea, but you’d still need training.” “What are you doing?” Disbelief grabbed hold of Zane and he stared at Dillon, his mind reeling with confusion. He wanted to box his ears and knock sense into him but remained frozen in place. “I didn’t tell the merc-magick where you were hiding. This is the only way to prove it. Besides, you deserve your freedom.” Dillon moved closer, shoving past a mercmagick and reached out to touch his arm. After a brief reassuring squeeze, he let his hand drop back to his side. “Well, isn’t that sweet,” Hasim cooed. Zane’s heart swelled with the bloom of hope only to die when he glanced at the genie boss. The suggestion wasn’t acceptable to Hasim. Hell, it wasn’t acceptable to him either. Dillon didn’t understand what it was like, what he was offering to give up. But at least he was starting to believe in his innocence. Hasim must have discovered his location via a different means.

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“Watch him closely while I clip on the servitude bracelets,” Hasim ordered, obviously losing patience. The merc-magicks converged on him, one of them shoving Dillon aside with brutal disregard for human fragility. His camera smashed against the ground with a sickening crunch, coming loose with Dillon’s jarred landing. Zane’s eyes rolled in fury but he remained frozen, unable to shift position while the four beefy mercs surrounded him. He struggled to move, trying to see Dillon. Hell, he’d never forgive himself if harm came to him. “No, no, take me instead.” Dillon’s weak protest gave him heart. At least he was still alive. “I think not,” the genie boss said in a decisive manner. “Not when I have a more experienced candidate for the job.” He seized Zane’s right arm and slipped one of the silver bracelets onto his wrist, snapping it shut with a metallic clunk. He repeated the move with his left arm, clipping the servitude bracelet into place. All the fight went out of Zane and able to move again now that the bracelets were in place, he bowed his head in defeat. It was done. He was locked into another contract of one hundred wishes. “Come,” Hasim snapped. “Enough dallying in this land down under.” “My teapot. I’ll need my teapot.” Zane didn’t give a flying fuck about his teapot but he didn’t wish to leave. At least he could move now that the silver bracelets encircled his wrists. He whirled around, wanting reassurance that Dillon was all right. “Never mind. I will send one of the merc-magicks to retrieve your teapot. Ali!” The genie boss clapped his hands and a merc-magick blinked over to his side. He craned his neck so he could look past Hasim and was heartened to see Dillon back on his feet even though he swayed unsteadily. Blood trickled down his golden cheek from a gash on his forehead. Determination filled his face when he limped toward Hasim. Zane could have told him pleading with the genie boss was useless. 112

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Once his mind was made up, he would not be swayed. Once they had his teapot, they would leave. Wait…his teapot… “How do you know the location of my teapot?” Dillon had taken it over to Susan’s house and left it with her and then they had given it to their mother. “I placed a bugging spell on it when you visited me at court before issuing the last wish of your contract.” “You cheated!” “Yes,” Hasim said with total disregard for the abuse of power and the covenant of genie rules. “How did you know where to find me?” Zane demanded, forcing the words out despite his fury. “The food and drink you consumed during your visit to court contained a tracker spell. I really don’t care to exert myself, not when I have more important matters to attend. Did you know the magi’s widow is very beautiful?” His smile contained wicked pleasure. “And very, very sexy.” “But a tracker spell is cheating. It’s against the rules,” Zane snarled. “So sue me. You are formally contracted to issue another hundred wishes. It’s too late. Come. All this talk tires me. Time to leave.” “No, wait!” Dillon called. “Don’t leave me. Zane, please don’t leave me. I love you. I love you, dammit.” Agonized pain struck Zane, right in the heart. Dillon loved him? “It’s true,” Dillon continued. “I was going to tell you, but I knew you needed your freedom more. I…I just wanted you to know. You take my heart with you.” “Isn’t that sweet,” Hasim said with a sneer. “Out of my way, human. We leave for the royal court and you will not remember any of us or the events of the last days.”

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Zane couldn’t leave Dillon like this. He couldn’t leave him with nothing. He loved him too, had for a while if he were honest. At least he could leave him with the momentary knowledge he was loved in return. “I love you too. I love you.” A thunderous crash reverberated in the heavens above, despite the fine and sunny weather. Jagged blue lightning forks jumped, shooting into the ground around them. One struck the silver bracelet on his left wrist, sending shockwaves through Zane. He staggered and a second lightning fork struck his right wrist. He staggered again. The bracelets fell to the ground with a clatter. Smoke filled the air and his ears rang. Then as suddenly as the storm had occurred, it disappeared, leaving the skies clear and blue again. He scarcely looked at the bracelets when he made his way to Dillon’s side. They fell into each other’s arms, their embrace filled with urgency. “Well, fuck!” Hasim spat. A look of horror clouded his chubby face and he stooped to pick up one of the bracelets before tossing it away in disgust. “I knew a genie would work it out one day but I didn’t think it would be you.” The nearest merc-magick went to grab Zane. The genie boss waved him away with an imperious gesture. “He’s beyond us now. Damn and blast, I’ll have to go through the pile of application forms. I’m going to have to train a new genie. A raw recruit.” He spat again, a globule of saliva landing on the ground in front of him. “Damn you! Why did you have to fall in love?”

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Chapter Eight A Free Man

Zane watched the merc-magicks blink out one by one, leaving Hasim. “Bah!” the genie boss said, waving his right hand in a dismissive manner. “You’ll lose your magic. If you agree to come back willingly, your magic will remain.” He didn’t have to think about the offer. “No.” He didn’t care about the magic. “On your head,” the genie boss snarled, and he too blinked out. Only then did he relax fully into Dillon’s embrace, savoring the warmth and the rightness of the masculine body pressed tightly to his. He raised his head, searching for his lover’s mouth. Their lips met and clung together. Dillon’s T-shirt brushed against his bare chest. Hips slid against each other. Groins bumped and a groan of pleasure slipped free, echoing in the eerily quiet clearing. Zane pulled away to smile at Dillon. “You really love me.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. Dillon loved him enough to give up his own freedom. “Yeah, I’ve been dreading you leaving.” Dillon wasn’t smiling and gradually his smile faded too. “I’m free,” he said, his tone wondering and a little apprehensive. “I’ve thought about this day for so long. I’ve hoped, but now it’s here and I’m terrified.” Zane led Dillon over to the blanket before realizing he could use a little magic now. When they reached the blanket, he blinked the human’s clothes off, letting them land gently on the ground nearby, and leered at him. Dillon glanced down in shock at his naked body before looking back at him. Still he didn’t smile, appearing uncharacteristically somber. Zane’s heart changed gears, his stomach flipping in alarm. “What’s wrong?” “I love you.” 115

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“Is that all?” Zane laughed, a carefree sound that he hadn’t uttered for a long time. “I love you too, so what’s the problem?” His lover stepped out of reach. “You’re a free man now, with no ties. You’re going to leave.” The anguish on his face was clear. “I thought I’d get my own place—” “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Dillon reached for his jeans and started to scramble into them. “Where are you going?” “Home.” Dillon didn’t bother putting on his T-shirt, just shoved his bare feet into his boots and stuffed his socks into his pocket. He stomped over to pick up his camera, cursing at its battered appearance. He shoved it into his daypack and straddled his bike. “I want to stay near you,” Zane said hurriedly. “Can I stay with you for a while?” “What? Torture me for longer? Let’s just part now and leave it at that. I should have known better than to fall in love with a genie.” The bike started with a throaty roar and Dillon took off down the track, the wheels spinning for an instant until they gained traction. Zane stared after him, shock gripping him tightly. Dillon was leaving. The sound of the bike faded and a terrible sense of loneliness wrapped around him, pressing in on his chest in a way he’d never experienced before. Each breath was painful and an ache filled his heart. Dillon had left. Didn’t he mean anything to him? Dillon professed to love him and hadn’t even given Zane a chance to speak, an opportunity to tell him they could spend time together, that maybe he’d even change his mind about moving into his own place as long as Dillon gave him space. Anger started to build in his gut. Dammit, he deserved a chance to lay out his plans for the future and discuss the options. His eyes narrowed

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and his jaw firmed in determination. Too bad if Dillon didn’t want to listen. He was going to hear if he wanted to or not! Without a second thought, he blinked back to Dillon’s house. He hadn’t arrived back yet. Zane prowled through the kitchen to the bedroom and made the return trip with long, impatient strides. The dirty breakfast dishes caught his attention and he frowned at them. A casual blink and the dishes and cutlery disappeared into cupboards and drawers, clean and ready for use. The jar of marmalade vanished and toast remnants shot into the rubbish bin. Still Dillon didn’t come. Zane cleaned up in the bedroom, making the bed by hand to settle his nerves and still the unease that had replaced his anger. Finally the roar of the bike sounded. The engine shut off and he heard footsteps outside. The door opened. Slow footsteps sounded along with a heavy sigh and a low curse. Anger simmered again and he stormed toward the kitchen where his lover cursed fluidly and stomped around. “Do you have a problem?” “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you’d be off savoring your precious freedom. Aw, shit. Sorry.” Dillon rubbed his face, his expression apologetic when he let his hands fall away. “That wasn’t fair. After all these years, you deserve your freedom.” A scowl distorted his mouth. “But I don’t understand why I’m excluded totally.” “No way, man. You didn’t give me a chance to finish. I said I loved you and I meant it, but I don’t intend to lose my identity again. I want to spend time with you, find a job. Do all the things humans normally do. But with you,” he added firmly. “I don’t want to do it alone, but I don’t want someone to own me either.” Dillon’s face brightened. “An independent man?” “Yeah. Give me a little time to adjust. Some space to find myself.” Zane nodded emphatically. He wanted a life of his choosing, not one chosen for him where he had no

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control. Yeah, that’s what he wanted—full control to make his own way, to make his own mistakes, if that was what happened. “I want to take things slowly.” “I could live with that if you came home here each night.” His gut tightened. Although Dillon wasn’t smiling in his normal manner, the tense set had left his shoulders. It was going to be all right because he loved the man and he sensed—hell, he knew—Dillon returned that love. Zane took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, I guess I could stay here and see how things work out, but I want a partnership.” There. He’d said it. Anxiety held him still while he waited for his lover’s answer. Dillon liked to take the lead in the bedroom, and he didn’t have a problem with that because he had proven trustworthy. But outside the bedroom, he wanted a partnership. Sometimes he’d want to make decisions or help make them, and at other times, he’d like to listen and take advice or cede the responsibility. Suddenly Dillon’s eyes twinkled and he moved away from the door, prowling toward him. Zane stood his ground, tension thrumming through tight muscles. He backed him up until the bench at his back halted further retreat. “What?” he demanded when Dillon didn’t speak but started to grin instead. “A partnership, huh?” Dillon’s warm breath brushed over his cheek. He leaned closer until their lips were almost touching. Zane straightened as much as he could without touching Dillon. He wanted to touch so badly he ached, but first he wanted assurances. “That’s what I want.” “That’s what I want as well,” Dillon whispered, and he shifted a fraction, just enough that their lips touched. Zane wasn’t sure who groaned but one of them did. Their lips moved together and it was like coming home. He gripped Dillon’s shoulders, bringing their bodies into closer contact. Excitement pulsed through him, but it wasn’t all sexual. He had his entire future in front of him, and for the first time in his life, he was looking forward to it.

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When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily. “We should move this to the bedroom. Celebrate our partnership.” “Good idea.” Zane gripped his lover firmly and blinked them from the kitchen to the bedroom. They landed with a bounce in the middle of the bed. “Whoa!” Dillon said with a laugh. “Amazing. How long is it before your magic fades?” Zane stilled, finding it hard to let go of lingering suspicions. “I’ve no idea. When it’s gone, it’s gone. Does it matter?” “Hell, no. Merely curious. I don’t want you to try that another time and have you drop me on my ass in the passage.” The amused slant of Dillon’s eyebrows and the quirk of his mouth went a long way to reassuring Zane. He let his breath ease out in a sigh of relief. “I could arrange that for you now, if you want.” “No thanks.” Dillon jumped off the bed and sat again to unlace his boots. He yanked off the rest of his clothes before turning to him. “Oh you could do one thing for me. Would you be able to make the rash disappear from those who have it? They’re all innocent and are suffering because I didn’t word my wish well.” Zane closed his eyes and nodded abruptly. “It is done,” he said. He watched Dillon’s bare chest and smiled. “Removing clothes is a good idea.” He started to blink his clothes away but Dillon stayed him with a hand. “No, let me. I’d like to unwrap my partner.” He cocked his head and frowned at Zane. “Maybe some hair?” An amused snort escaped Zane, but he performed the small task gladly. With a nod of his head, long hair fell to his shoulders and replaced the previous bald look. “Much better,” Dillon said with clear approval. Slowly Zane stood. Happiness bloomed inside while he waited for Dillon to remove his clothes. Oh he knew it wouldn’t be easy. It would take time for them both to adjust

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to living together and losing his magic. Dillon pulled off his boots and the tight black trews down his legs. He stroked his shoulders and gently kissed him. With a sigh of pure happiness, Zane blinked them back onto the bed. Dillon smiled at him. “I love you.” “I know,” Zane said, and he did. When he gazed at Dillon, his chest hurt and the lump in his throat rendered him speechless. Dillon had offered to give up everything, his own independence, just so he could go free. He needed to remember that during the times his trust started to falter. A priceless gift. Ah yes. The human knew the real worth of freedom. Zane would never find a better partner than the man with him now. Dillon was his last wish and the last one was the best of all.

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About the Author Shelley lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband and a small, bossy dog named Scotty. Typical New Zealanders, Shelley and her husband left home for their big OE soon after they married (translation of New Zealand-speak: big overseas experience). A yearlong adventure lengthened to six years of roaming the world. Enduring memories include being almost sat on by a mountain gorilla in Rwanda, lazing on white sandy beaches in India, whale watching in Alaska, searching for leprechauns in Ireland, and dealing with ghosts in an English pub. While travel is still a big attraction, these days Shelley is most likely found in front of her computer following another love—that of writing stories of romance and adventure. Other interests include watching rugby and rugby league (strictly for research purposes *grin*), being walked by the dog, and curling up with a good book.

Shelley welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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Also by Shelley Munro Best Man Curse of Brandon Lupinus Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis III anthology Fallen Idol Issy’s Infatuation Men To Die For anthology Peeping Tom Scarlet Woman Sex Idol Sex, Spies and Sapphires Stray Cat Strut Summer in the City of Sails Talking Dog: Never Send a Dog To Do a Woman’s Job Talking Dog: Romantic Interlude Talking Dog: Talking Dogs, Aliens, and Purple People Eaters Unforgettable

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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