Sultan's Choice: Tales of the Djinn, #5 Page 8

  Georgie’s insecurity about measuring up to harem standards returned to him. Safiye was indeed feminine—cultured, polished, and mostly likely intelligent. He discovered he could admire those qualities without desiring her as an intimate companion. Many men would, possibly most in his position. Real heart meant more to him, real spirit and honesty. Truthfully, it was a waste that Safiye belonged to him, that any of the harem did. The energy they must spend scheming for a goal they had no hope of achieving! Iksander knew his feelings would have been the same even without his current romantic ties. He disliked none of these djinniya, but neither did they stir his affections. They were diplomatic pawns: symbols of How Things Were Done. Didn’t they deserve more than that? Not simply for Georgie’s sake but for theirs, he wished he could do away with the whole system.

  His pulse quickened as that idea surfaced. If the sultan couldn’t do away with the system, pray tell who could?

  His mother must have sensed the dangerous turning of his thoughts.

  “Iksander,” she warned. “Don’t do something rash because you’re annoyed with me.”

  His lips pulled upward at the corners. He wanted to laugh but restrained himself.

  “Safiye,” he said, drawing the beautiful djinniya’s gaze to him. “Please call the other women into the main living space. I’d like to speak to all of you concerning your future.”

  Whatever her thoughts about this, Safiye bowed and retreated obediently.

  “Iksander,” his mother repeated more sharply.

  “It’s time I did this,” he said. “Probably long past it.”

  IT WAS JUST AS WELL he didn’t give himself time to think. Breaking the news wasn’t pleasant. Far from thanking him, the concubines were aghast.

  Well, aghast and incredulous.

  “You can’t disband the harem,” one exclaimed. “I’m certain it’s illegal.”

  “If it isn’t, it should be,” huffed another. “You made promises to us. With the kadin gone, we thought you’d finally act like a sultan should. Give us a chance to win your heart.”

  “Or lower parts,” someone muttered sardonically.

  “My family will disown me,” a plump blonde moaned. “They were so proud their gift of me was accepted.”

  “What will happen to us? You can’t just toss us into the street!”

  The chorus of protests rose alarmingly. Seated toward the back of the large circular room, Yasmin’s voice cut through the clamor.

  “I’m sure the sultan doesn’t mean to hurt us,” she said. “He must have a plan for equitable settlement.”

  Her eyebrows were up in question, her eyes rounded with surprise. Other than that, she didn’t seem upset. On the other hand, perhaps she was too composed. He reminded himself she’d been sneaking out of here as a cat for who knew how long. She was capable of hiding her true thoughts. Nonetheless, he welcomed her injection of calm reason.

  “Yasmin is right. I know I have obligations. I’d never just cut you loose. I’ll send the royal lawyers to you tomorrow. Any issues about saving face with your families or financial security or anything that troubles you, you can raise with them. As long as your requests are reasonable, I’ll agree. I realize the change might seem frightening, but this isn’t a bad development. You’ll have new futures, lives you choose for yourselves. It’s my hope you’ll enjoy your freedom, that you’ll be happier than you’d have been staying here.”

  “Some of us thought you’d be our happiness,” Safiye said resentfully, the first she’d spoken since hearing his announcement.

  Iksander met her gaze dead on. “That was a dream,” he said. “One that was never destined to become reality.”

  Chapter 5

  Because he’d made his choice impetuously, Iksander had to stop in with his lawyers and catch them up. They too were shocked by his actions, their objections peppered with considerably longer words than the djinniyas.

  “Resign yourselves, gentlemen,” he advised when he grew weary of arguing. “This is happening. It’s your job to make it work.”

  Their faces told him they’d find a way, however reluctantly. That was satisfying, though it did leave him to his thoughts.

  I’m not doubting myself, he realized. This is the right decision, no matter what happens with Connor and Georgie.

  Without really planning where he was going, he returned to the royal suite. His absentmindedness ended when he reached the door to his dining room. The chamber was a lengthy oval, its curving walls ribboned by a mural of the Glorious City’s bay. The impression that the waves dipped and sparkled wasn’t an illusion. The painting was enchanted to portray current conditions—his personal weather app, he supposed. More interestingly at the moment, his lovers sat on opposite ends of the long table. From the looks of it, they were practicing sending pictures onto each other’s scrolls.

  Georgie squinted at the image that had appeared on hers. “I can’t tell. Is this supposed to be a puppy or an armadillo?”

  “An armadillo!” Connor objected. “It doesn’t look anything like that.”

  “Well, what’s that thing around the puppy’s middle?”

  “A sweater. It’s a puppy from somewhere cold.”

  “Oh.” She tilted her head for a second look and then jumped. “Oh! You’re making it wag its tail. I want to learn to do that.”

  Connor grinned naughtily.

  “Hello,” Iksander said to both of them.

  “Iksander!” Georgie cried, her unstudied pleasure a joy to him. “You’re back.”

  “I am,” he agreed, pushing off from the doorframe he’d been leaning on. He took a seat equidistant between the pair. Then—as a good portion of his stress dropped away—he slouched down and stretched his legs. His neck found the perfect spot to rest on the chair’s padded leather back. Though tired, he was inordinately glad to be here with them.

  “Something happened,” Connor guessed. “More than facing off against your mother.”

  Without moving the rest of him, Iksander turned his head. Nervousness welled inside him at the news he had to share. “I’ve disbanded the harem.”

  Connor’s blue eyes widened.

  “I didn’t know you could do that,” Georgie said.

  “I can, though my lawyers warn pensioning them off will be expensive.”

  “Did you . . .” Georgie hesitated. “Did you do it for us? Because you’re afraid we’ll be jealous?”

  He smiled as he turned to her. She got up and sat on the table’s edge next to him. Because she seemed concerned, he took her hand.

  “I did it partly for you. Maybe a great deal for you. The last thing I wish is to hurt either of your feelings. However, I also did it because it was time. People shouldn’t be possessions, even if they think of it as an honor.”

  “The concubines weren’t pleased,” Connor concluded.

  “With the exception of Georgie’s friend, Yasmin, they were appalled. I’m hoping they’ll warm to the concept eventually. They deserve to shape their own destinies—as you deserved when I tricked you into punishing Luna so horribly.”

  Georgie looked at him. Though calm, she didn’t deny the admission. “You were afraid I’d be too tenderhearted, that I’d let a dangerous monster off the hook.”

  He hadn’t been certain she understood this. “I cannot swear,” he said, “that if I had to do it again, I would choose differently. Nonetheless, I know what I did was wrong.”

  She surprised him by smiling faintly. “You are choosing differently. You don’t have to free the harem. If you want to spare my and Connor’s feelings, you could behave as you did with Najat and simply stop visiting them.”

  “I— They deserve to be free. And the stakes are not as high as they were with Luna.”

  Georgie’s smile curved deeper. “I suspect your mother would say they’re high enough. You’re being politically brave. You make me proud to call you a friend.”

  Her praise embarrassed him, which wound his nerves tighter. Knowing the hardest part was
coming, he blew out a calming breath.

  “I want to be clear you don’t owe me anything in return for making these changes. That understood—” Still tense, he sat straighter. “I would like to officially request that you and Connor—” he turned his gaze to the angel and back to her “—become my consort and kadin.”

  This knocked Georgie’s mouth open.

  “Is that like asking us to marry you?” Her voice was higher, her cheeks gone pink.

  “Yes. I should clarify the arrangement is a commitment but not a set of chains. Though traditions differ here, if there comes a time when you wish to part from me, our union can be dissolved. Think it over. I believe we have a window during which my people are more likely to accept our . . . non-standard union, but for you this is an extra big decision. My world is different from yours, and my position as sultan would certainly complicate your lives. As you may have noticed, it’s difficult for those close to me to go about their business like ordinary folks.”

  He was aware of how stiff he sounded. His palms had broken out in a sweat, but only one was free was wipe on his trouser leg. He wondered if he ought to add something romantic.

  “Wow,” Georgie murmured before he could. Her eyes cut to Connor.

  “If you wish to discuss this privately with each other . . .”

  “The choice is Georgie’s,” Connor said. “She already knows my answer.”

  Understanding burst within him—a punch of exultant joy that spread out from his sternum. Connor wanted to make the promise. He was ready to marry him.

  “Connor . . .” Georgie said.

  “Search your heart,” the angel advised. “Are you ready to do this? Do you believe it will make you happy? Do you think you can be a good partner?”

  Iksander saw from Georgie’s expression that she wanted Connor’s help in deciding.

  “If it is too soon,” Iksander interjected, “I would ask again later.”

  Maybe she read his uncertainty. She touched his face, her own visibly relaxing. “I know you love us.”

  “I do,” he agreed. “So much I feel I might burst with it.”

  Her eyes gleamed with affection. “I don’t have doubts about you, only about learning to fit in here.”

  “You seem a quick study,” he pointed out.

  “Probably I ought to embrace the adventure.”

  “That decision would be in line with what I estimate to be your spirit.”

  “All right,” she said, breaking into a grin. “Let’s do it.”

  BLOOD RUSHED INTO IKSANDER’S face as her words registered. The play of his expressions was extraordinary—unsureness and wonder and finally a love so intense she realized she was watching desire forming.

  “You’re agreeing to marry me,” he said as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

  Georgie scooted farther back on the dining table and swung her feet happily. “We both are.”

  Iksander covered her knees, his hold contracting in an arousing squeeze. She shivered as he breathed faster. Because he seemed temporarily incapable of moving, she undid the sash to her outer robe. A shrug caused it to slip down her arms and pool behind her. She wore the thinnest possible white tunic underneath, the shape and shades of her breasts clearly visible. She knew her nipples were sharp from the way the silk caught on them.

  Tiny, glittering beads of sweat broke out on Iksander’s brow. He glanced at Connor, who was now rising from his chair. “Shall we . . . seal the deal with a kiss?”

  “More than a kiss, I hope.”

  Iksander pushed up so quickly he caused her pulse to skip. It didn’t slow as he exerted pressure on her knees, gently pushing her thighs apart. He stood between them, his hips narrow but solid. She felt herself grow wet as he slid his hands up and down her loose trousers.

  “I can magick these away any time I want,” he warned.

  Georgie bit her lip and smiled. Connor had moved to Iksander and was quietly shifting his chair aside. When the seat was out of the way, he hugged the other man from behind. His arms were beautiful to Georgie, his hold on Iksander’s ribs relaxed but enveloping. He nuzzled Iksander’s neck, and the sultan flushed again.

  Connor chuckled. “This is all the magic you need.” To demonstrate what he meant, he pushed one hand to Iksander’s groin, wrapping and squeezing the slanted heft of his erection. “Georgie would strip every stitch herself for another ride on this.”

  “God,” Iksander breathed, squirming at the extremely firm caress.

  Connor wasn’t mistaken in his claim. Georgie’s sex went molten as Iksander’s head fell back and rolled sensually. His cock hardened beneath the other man’s massage, stretching longer and thicker until it really was irresistible to her. Grabbing the handiest hold in reach, she tugged him toward her by his sword belt.

  Because the finish on the table was slick as glass, she tugged herself closer too.

  Iksander cursed as his scimitar bumped the table’s edge. Hurriedly and with a flattering bit of fumbling, he detached the decorative scabbard and slid the whole thing aside.

  He came forward then, obliging her to lie back. His palms propped him first followed by one forearm. With his heat pressed to her, he kissed her deeply, a ravaging, breath-stealing plunder of lips and tongue. All the while, his fingertips skimmed the shell of her ear, the pad of his thumb stroking lower to tease her skittering pulse. Every light touch tingled, every inch of her skin defenseless against him.

  By the time he released her, nipping her lip on the way, she barely knew her name. Her head took more than one heartbeat to de-fog.

  “You could magick me naked now,” she offered.

  He smiled, his quickened breath fanning her. “Not yet. I like the feel of this silk on you.”

  He ran his hand up her side to cup and squeeze her breast. His hold verged on rough but felt delicious. The grip was possessive—never mind the things he’d done to prove he wouldn’t be. Right then, he wanted to control her, to claim her as his partner. The knowledge made nerves that didn’t care about correctness go wild inside of her. She squirmed, and his green eyes lit knowingly. He bent his head with ominous intent, his mouth surrounding her taut nipple. He pulled at the peak through the silk—lips, tongue, cheeks all entering the game. She couldn’t stay silent under his onslaught. The erotic power of his tugging drew a low cry from her.

  He drew back on hearing it. His eyes glowed with hot djinn fire, unmistakable for anything human. That excited her too. She chafed his waist with the inside of her knees.

  Smiling, he pushed his hard length up the seam of her labia.

  Her fists curled into his outer robe, her reaction to the tantalizing friction impossible to contain. A second later, her tensing hands hit nothing but hot bare skin. Iksander’s garments had disappeared, just as he’d threatened to do to hers.

  Not coincidentally, Connor’s had vanished too.

  “What the—” Iksander looked around, seeming as shocked as her.

  “Whoops.” Connor laughed from behind his muscular shoulder, revealing he was the culprit. “Guess I’m more impatient than you are.” He stretched sideways to collect a small jar from the table. The container bore the same flowery pattern as Iksander’s teeth-cleaning disks. “Oh look! Where did this pretty pot come from? The label says it’s Royal Lubricating Butter. You must be throwing strange dinner parties here.”

  Eyes twinkling, he clucked his tongue in pretend censure.

  “Haha,” Iksander retorted breathlessly. “You magicked that from the bathing room.”

  “Did I? Perhaps you’re right. Sometimes I’m not as well behaved as an angel ought to be. For instance, if I were really wicked, I’d open this and smooth what’s inside all over my long, hard cock.”

  Iksander sucked in a breath as Connor unscrewed the lid. He’d craned his neck around to see Connor’s face, but his view of the rest of him was blocked. Even so, he and Georgie knew the moment Connor made good on his threat. The sound of his slicked-up palm squeezing up his shaft couldn�
�t be mistaken—no more than the pleasure that briefly closed his eyes.

  When his lashes lifted, his irises glowed like Iksander’s.

  “I’m going to take you in the ass,” he said. “I’m going to drive so deep you’ll think I’m fucking you in the heart. I’m going to do it because it’s what you crave. As much as you like pretending you’re overpowering Georgie, you want to be overpowered by me.”

  “You always . . . give people what they want?”

  Connor seemed to enjoy the way Iksander’s question broke. “When I can. Especially, when it’s what I want as well.”

  “When you’re in me, then I’ll take Georgie.”

  This came out too harsh to be a question, though it conveyed the hint of one.

  “Then you’ll make love to Georgie, and I’ll make love to you.”

  The men’s gazes held. Georgie was too fascinated to feel excluded. They wanted things from each other. Hard things. Male things. Fight-to-the-top-of-the-heap striving things. She couldn’t deny she found this exciting. The rebel in her felt a wisp of the same urges.

  “You swamp me,” Iksander confessed in a rough whisper. “Both of you. I could explode from wanting the pair of you.”

  Connor’s eyes hooded with a sly smile. “Hopefully, you’ll hold off exploding a bit longer.”

  Gently, his hands bracketing Iksander’s ears, he turned the sultan’s face back toward her. Iksander braced on his arms again.

  “Stay like that,” Connor said. “She’ll want to watch your reactions.”

  The order drove a shudder up the sultan’s ripped torso. Goosebumps pebbled around his nipples, his hips shifting restlessly over hers.

  “Her clothes . . .” he said unsurely.

  “Leave them for now. Silk is nice to rub against. You could, however, shove one hand down her pants.”

  Iksander was agreeable to that. His green eyes flared as he slid his hand in and cupped her mons. Once again, Georgie had the sense that his hold claimed her. His two longest fingers slid between her pussy lips, the heel of his palm compressing her clitoris. Heat welled from her as he rocked a bit of weight into it. The pang he stirred was incredible. Her lashes fluttered, a reaction she couldn’t help. The corners of Iksander’s mouth twitched. He was enjoying his victory.