Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races #3)(76)

What had he called himself? A stupid, crazy, illogical, senseless, rampantly jealous ass. Damn right, he was a stupid ass. . . .

Wait, that wasn’t the relevant part she should remember.

Rampantly jealous. That was the relevant part.

If she had decided to stay in love with him, she might have felt a little pleased about that. She folded her lips tight and drop-kicked the ridiculous pleasure out of her head.

She said, “Khalil?”

“Yes, my dear Carling,” purred the Djinn in a velvet voice that positively oozed sex and sin. “You know I’ll do anything I can for you. Anywhere. Anytime.”

Rune erupted into growling again.

She threw her arms around Rune’s lean waist and locked on to him by gripping her wrists with both hands. He tried to pry her away, but short of hurting her, he couldn’t break her hold. They engaged in a careful, wholly undignified struggle. Carling hissed in the Djinn’s head, Have you gone insane too?

Wyr are so fun to tease when they get like this, said Khalil.

If you tease him any more, I will hurt you. She said aloud, “I’m done with this nonsense. Khalil, tell him what he wants to know or I will.”

Khalil’s bright, malicious smile faded into a scowl. Then something darker came into the Djinn’s crystalline gaze, a raw haunt of memory. Khalil said, “Many years ago, my daughter Phaedra was kidnapped and tortured. Carling agreed to help me rescue her. It was not easy. Carling earned those three favors.”

Rune stilled as the Djinn’s words sank in, and Carling’s tight-locked grip cautiously loosened. “Your daughter,” he said. Children were rare in the Elder Races, and both prized and protected. The crazed, bucking stallion in Rune’s head calmed enough to let in a sliver of rationality. “Did she survive?”

“She’s alive.” Now the Djinn’s expression was like stone. It was clear he would not be speaking further on the subject.

Rune listened, both to what was said and what was not said. It had been a difficult rescue, and if such a Powerful Djinn required help, it had also been a dangerous one. And even though the kidnapping had occurred many years ago, from Khalil’s terse reply it was clear that his daughter had sustained lasting damage of some sort.

Carling patted Rune’s back impatiently. She asked, “All right now?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “Yeah.”

She let him go and stepped back, and Khalil focused his attention on her. The Djinn asked, “Why have you summoned me?”

“I have a task for you to complete as quickly as you can,” she told him. Khalil inclined his head. “We need for you to retrieve an object, if it exists.”

If the Djinn thought a go-fetch task was a waste of a valuable favor, he didn’t show it. “What do you wish for me to retrieve?”

“It’s a Swiss Army knife,” Rune said. “Specifically it’s a Wenger New Ranger 70 Handyman knife, black handle, about this long.” He demonstrated by holding his forefingers at the appropriate distance apart. “We need to find out if it is buried under the entrance stones of Djoser’s funeral temple in Saqqara.”

Khalil’s strange diamond eyes dropped to Rune’s hands. He said slowly, “That funerary complex has stood for thousands of years.”

Carling’s smile twisted. “I did not say the task would be easy or would make sense to you. And the knife may not be there. We need to know if it is, and we need to know as quickly as possible. The answer is important, Khalil. Do not make a mistake.”

The Djinn’s regal aloof expression had given way to open speculation. He said to Carling, “This will complete the second of the three favors I have owed you for so many years.”

“Yes,” she said.

Khalil inclined his head, all mockery gone. Rune thought he caught a hint of relief in the Djinn’s face before Khalil became the cyclone and disappeared.

Carling looked at Rune, and her mouth pursed. Tap, tap went her foot.

No doubt he should apologize. He knew he wasn’t acting rationally, or normally. His struggle to contain his mating urges was taking its toll, not only on him but on everyone around him. That fine line he was trying not to cross was beginning to cut him, but he could not leave her. Not yet. Even if she had all the help she needed, he wouldn’t be able to leave. He needed however much time they could have together before their separate lives pulled them apart. And he could not confess to his struggle either. He would not place the burden of that on her, not while she had so much else to cope with. He was not Rhoswen, some self-involved unbalanced child.

He cast about for something sane to say. He came up empty.

So he said instead, “That went well, don’t you think?”

She stared then smacked him in the chest, hard, with the back of her hand.

Now that the other male was gone, Rune was able to relax enough to indulge his catlike sense of play. He said, his voice rough and throaty, “I like your penchant for violence.”

A slightly crazed expression came into her eyes. She hit him again, harder.

He knew he deserved it. But it was so much fun, he couldn’t make himself stop. Goddamn, he loved it. He might as well admit it: he loved her. He gave her a sleepy, innocent smile.

“What’d I do?”

She pivoted away and appeared to be searching for something. She looked at all the doors. Then she came to some kind of decision, marched to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. He could hear the distinct snick of the lock being turned.