Jack and Djinn (The Houri Legends, #1)(15)

Again she felt her blood begin to boil, and this time it didn’t build up slowly. No, this time it was abrupt and full of force. She was alight all at once, feeling a pool of power grow within her, burgeoning into a well of magma that had to be released, but she didn’t know how, didn’t know what it was that she was feeling. It wasn’t sex; it was something else, something new. It was a fire in her blood, painful in its intensity, and it was growing hotter by the moment. She had to release it. She imagined an explosion in her mind, visualized a bomb going off, put all of the heat in her blood into the imagined detonation. Time stopped for a fraction of a second, and then she felt a rush of nova-hot heat run through her. She was no longer Miriam; she was fire, she was heat.

Suddenly, Ben rolled off her, cursing. “Shit, Miriam!” he shouted. “What the f*ck is wrong with you?”

She felt drained now. “What’s wrong, Ben? What happened?”

“You burned me!”

“What? What do you mean, I burned you?” She peered at him blearily and noticed the skin on his torso had reddened, as if he’d been sunburned, or scalded by boiling water.

“I don’t know! Your skin, it was…hot, like, burning hot. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but it hurts like a bitch. You sick or something?”

“I don’t know, Ben. Maybe. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Sorry isn’t gonna make it hurt less, you crazy bitch.” He was angry now. He hated showing pain.

“Well, I said I’m sorry. I don’t know what else you want from me. I don’t know what happened.” She slid off the bed, wary of his rage.

“You’re a goddamn freak is what happened.” He lashed out and slapped her, open-palm, across her face.

Something inside her snapped, and she hit him back with a closed fist, as hard as she could. Ben stumbled backward, clutching his jaw in surprise. Rage filled his face, flushing his tanned skin darker. He stood up, his fists clenching at his sides. Miriam wanted to run, but refused. She wanted to scramble away from him, jump through the window stark naked and flee, anything but let him hit her again. But she refused to show him fear. She glared back at him, fierce, defiant. He took a half-step toward her, and she tensed, waiting for the blow. But it never came. He turned away with a growled string of curses, put on a pair of gym shorts and a tank top, grabbed his keys, and left. He’d never left before. She felt relief, but she also knew that he would keep his rage pent up, releasing it later, twice as bad.

Miriam turned to the window above his bed and watched him leave. He was looking down at his phone, texting as he walked. Almost at his parking space, he looked up and stopped, almost dropping his phone. A red Maserati sat in his designated parking spot, his truck nowhere to be seen. He sorted through his keys and seemed stunned to find not the Chevy key, but a different one.

Ben turned to look at Miriam through the window, then back again at the car, a calculating expression on his face. He pressed a button on the key fob, and the headlights flashed, accompanied by a brief horn blast. Ben trailed his fingers across the hood, stroking the lines of the car, an affectionate gesture. He rested his hand on the door handle, hesitated, and , with one more glance at Miriam, he slid down into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. He rubbed his hands together with glee as the engine rumbled to life. The door closed, the engine roared, the tires shrieked, and Ben was gone.

Miriam scanned the parking lot, but all was still and silent. Ben’s beat-up S-10 was truly gone, without explanation. With no logical explanation, at least. Ben had just looked at her as if thinking she had something to do with it, and Miriam found herself wondering the same thing. Twice now something odd had happened, either during or after sex. Both times something Ben wanted appeared out of the blue, and both times she felt as if she were going to catch on fire, literally and physically.

Was she making these things happen?

Miriam shook her head, refusing to entertain the idea. Freak coincidences. Hot flashes, maybe. A prank by one of Ben’s Corps buddies? But none of his friends could afford a car like the one Ben had just driven off in, so that couldn’t be it. She didn’t know how it had gotten there since they’d come home from the restaurant. She honestly didn’t. Magic? Magic wasn’t real. There was no such thing as magic. And certainly not in any way connected to her. She didn’t even know why the word “magic” had come to mind.

There was no such thing as magic.

It was all nonsense. Coincidence.

But, yet again, Miriam was trying to convince herself of something she didn’t believe.





*





As she walked home, Miriam tried not to think about the strange business with the car and the cell phone. She tried not to think about Ben. Or Jack. Instead, she turned her thoughts inward, to herself.

Her memory wandered back in time, to the time before her dad had died. Her dad had been her hero, her rock, and when he was alive, it had been the only time she’d ever felt truly loved. Her mother was a difficult person, betrothed to Miriam’s father when she was barely more than a girl herself. Miriam suspected that her mother had never accepted the match, or even tried to like her husband, much less love him. Khadeeja al-Mansur was a cold and distant woman who had never wanted children. She had treated Miriam like a nuisance her entire life, and then when Miriam’s father died, things only got worse. Miriam had been relegated to servanthood, forced to cook and clean and stay silent, lest her mother’s short temper explode.