Hope's Wish Read online

  Or ever again.

  “Okay.” He lowered his hand and met her stare.

  “Good.” Sucking in another breath, she crossed her arms over her breasts and narrowed her eyes. “Did I just see what I think I did? Did you just… do what I think you did?”

  It wasn’t possible. Now that fear wasn’t turning her into a shrieking idiot, she realized it wasn’t possible. She had to be seeing things.

  “Or did you drug me on the way here?” She’d researched mind-altering drugs and hallucinogenics for an article a year ago. What some of the shit out there could do to a person’s brain…

  “What answer do you want, Hope?” He studied her, expression steady. Calm, of all things, given the ridiculous situation. “The truth? Or the one that’ll make you feel better?”

  A cold finger slid up her spine at his question. It wasn’t the response she was expecting.

  What is?

  Another Schrodinger’s Conversation. She was in another flipping Schrodinger’s Conversation. Right now. But this one felt more… monumental.

  He’d either drugged her, or she was insane.

  She fought the urge to hug herself, studying the man she’d once loved. The only man she’d ever loved. If he told her he’d drugged her, she could hate him all over again. It would tear her apart, but she’d survive it.

  It made sense. It was the only logical explanation.

  If he told her she hadn’t seen through him back in the cinema room, hadn’t heard him talking about spells to erase his existence and someone called Rose being killed, she’d have to question her own sanity—and there was no way she was insane.

  If he gave her another reason for his transparency…

  No. There can’t be another reason. This is ridiculous. Get out of here. Now. Just get away. Before he says something you can never unhear.

  “I want the truth, James,” she said, tilting her chin. She wasn’t running away. Screw that. “As I always do. I want the truth. You of all people should know that.”

  His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat and his eyes fluttered closed.

  Christ, why did he have to be so flipping gorgeous? Why did her stupid heart have to remember so clearly how incredible it was to be in love with him?

  You still are in love with him. You never stopped. No matter how much you hate him, you still love him.

  “Just tell me the truth, James,” she whispered. “Please?”

  Opening his eyes, he nodded. “The truth. Okay.” He pressed his palms together, gaze holding hers. “Here we go. I’m an ancient, ageless djinn who was summoned to medieval Britain by a sorcerer during the seventh century, and have been trapped here in mankind’s realm ever since.”

  She blinked.

  And then burst out laughing.

  “Okay, I did not see that coming.” She staggered back a step, laughter making her wobbly. “A djinn? I’m assuming you mean like a genie, not the drink? As in D-J-I-N-N? Where’s your lamp? You’d think after living with you for over a year, I would have noticed the lamp. Can you grant me a wish? Or do I have to rub something first?” She rolled her eyes, the laughter in her lungs turning sharp. “Oh wait, let me guess. You’re not that kind of genie. Do I have to rub something else? No wonder you were such a fan of hand jobs when we were—”

  “Tahlee,” he said. “I’m not lying. I’ve never lied to you.”

  Her eyebrows shot up so fast her forehead hurt. “Never lied to… Oh my God, are you kidding? You just told me you’re an ancient genie, but you spent all those years we were living together telling me you were a dog groomer. So which is true, James? Huh? Which one’s the lie?”

  Was he being serious? Surely not? Did he think she was a gullible moron?

  “Neither.” He let out a choppy breath and raked a hand through his hair. “I made all the money I earned back then grooming dogs. I enjoyed the work. Dogs are awesome.”

  “Dogs are…” She shook her head, a dry laugh tearing at her throat. “I thought I was maybe going out of my mind, but clearly you’ve lost it, James.”

  He studied her. “Maybe.”

  He was transparent! You saw that! You saw through him. Are you just going to pretend you didn’t?

  Had she? Had she really?

  Yes. She had. And when she’d run from what she’d seen, he’d followed her.

  No, he’d repeatedly materialized in front of her. She’d seen that. One second he hadn’t been in front of her, and then he had. Over and over.

  … cast a spell to erase my existence…

  His earlier words, spoken to an empty room, whispered through her head again.

  She’d gone looking for him, to suggest she make them both a cup of tea before she gave him a good piece of her mind for deserting her three years ago. She’d followed his voice to the back of the large house. He’d been talking to someone, although she’d only heard him. She’d reached the barely opened door to a room, her heart pumping faster at the worry, the agitation she’d detected in his voice coming through the crack. James never worried. James was unflappable. Maybe she really was in danger, if he sounded like that?

  She’d pressed her hand to the door and gently swung it open, enough for her to walk into the room.

  … cast a spell to erase my existence, he’d said, as if involved in a conversation with someone right in front of him, but it backfired, and killed Rose instead.

  She remembered wondering what he was doing, who he thought he was talking to. Wondering who Rose was.

  And that’s when she’d noticed he was transparent. That’s when she’d noticed, truly realized, she could see right through him.

  Staring at him now, she swallowed.

  Was it real? Had she really seen through him? Had he really been transparent?

  Yes.

  Yes, he had.

  Her knees gave out.

  And before she could blink, he was at her side, like impossibly fast smoke, his hands gently catching her as she crumpled toward the floor.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured, halting her fall.

  Head swimming, stomach lurching, she frowned up at him. “I… I…”

  Words wouldn’t come. Refused to. What words would make any sense?

  “I…”

  “I know,” he said, releasing one of her hands to smooth his arms around her back. “It’s not what you were expecting.”

  She blinked. “You…”

  Where were her words? She was normally so good at them. Why weren’t they forming on her tongue now?

  “G-geen…” She licked lips suddenly drier than dirt. “Genie. Like… like Aladdin…”

  “Djinn,” he murmured, walking them both back toward the living room. “Not quite what Hollywood would have you believe.”

  She stopped, pulling away from him a little even as she grabbed tight at his hand. “Can you read my mind?”

  He chuckled, the sound so like the wry laughs from their past together that, for a moment, she wondered if she really was dreaming. It would make so much more sense. “No. You actually said that aloud.”

  “Did I?” Her head swam again. Her stomach did the same. “I don’t… I don’t feel—”

  The living room vanished, replaced by a large, spacious bathroom.

  She gasped, gaping at the toilet directly in front of her.

  “Why… ? What… ?” She turned to gape at James. “Did you bring us here?”

  “Yes.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  Confusion etched his face. “You looked like you were about to throw up.”

  “I was about to throw up! I just found out the man I love—loved—is a flipping genie!”

  “Djinn.”

  “But now I’m just pissed! You… you… zapped me through space without asking for permission!” She detangled herself from his gentle hold and smacked the back of her hand into his chest. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

  “Hey.” He took a step back, rubbing his chest. “Don’t hurt the bodyguard
.”

  She threw up her hands. “God, I wish you could just be serious for—Shit!” She slapped her hands over her mouth, staring at him.

  “What?”

  Removing her hand—a little—she frowned again. “I just said wish. Does that… ?”

  He arched an eyebrow, expression stoic. “Yes. You’ve doomed me to being serious for all time, Tahlee Hope.”

  Her heart slammed into her throat.

  His lips twitched.

  She whacked the back of her hand into his chest again. “That is not funny, James Hastin. Not funny!”

  A grin played with his lips some more. “It’s a little funny.”

  “No. It isn’t.”

  Screw him. Djinn or not, she didn’t have to put up with this.

  Spinning on her heel, she stomped out of the bathroom and through the safe house.

  It truly was gorgeous. And massive. And decorated with a sense of timeless style she’d never be able to create herself. Her flat back in Wimbledon was an eclectic mix of cluttered chaos and thrift-store bargains, and would have fit entirely in the living room and kitchen of this place.

  She loved her flat, though. Every part of it was a story, a diary of her life.

  Including all the parts that tell the story of you and James. The parts you couldn’t bring yourself to give away.

  Stopping at the luxurious leather lounge in the living room, she pressed her palms to her face.

  James. James was a genie. A djinn. A mythical being. A magical creature. A supernatural…

  “Oh boy,” she mumbled, knees wobbling again.

  She dropped onto the lounge just as James appeared beside her, in that same freaky blur of purple smoke he’d become when she’d collapsed near the front door.

  “Hope?”

  “I’m okay.” She waved her hand above her head as she stared at the floor between her feet. “I mean, I’m not okay, but I’ll be okay. I think.”

  The lounge dipped beside her, James’s warmth radiating into her side. A hand smoothed over her back, and she closed her eyes. How many nights had he rubbed her back in the same way, after she’d had a shit day at work and had ranted and raved about the corrupt bastards of the world?

  So many. Every stroke and caress of his hand had made her feel better back then, melting away her stress and agitation until she’d let out a grateful, appreciative hum and settled into his side, content and comforted.

  Sitting upright, she twisted on the cushion and fixed him with a fierce glare. “Did you use your magic genie powers on me when we were together? To make me fall in love with you?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Hastin.”

  Pain crossed his face, and he let out a slow breath. “Tahlee, please, if nothing else, believe me when I say I would never lie to you about that.”

  “About that?” She narrowed her eyes. “So what have you lied about? To me?”

  He didn’t move. His gaze didn’t leave hers.

  “Your name isn’t really James, is it?”

  He shook his head.

  A heavy lump rolled over in her stomach. “It doesn’t sound like the name of a thousands-year-old genie. Sorry, djinn. What’s your real name, then?”

  “I was known as Barqan.”

  “Interesting name. Far more exciting than James. Did you pick James for yourself?”

  “I did. In the 1960s.” He chuckled, the sound tired. “I had a thing for James Bond.”

  She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, even as a smile threatened to overwhelm her. “Of course you did.”

  He grinned.

  Her heart tripped over itself. How was he still affecting her this way, given what she now knew about him? He wasn’t even human, and yet with one grin, she was ready to climb into his lap, fist her hands in his hair, and kiss him stupid.

  “Tell me about Barqan,” she ordered. Damn it, could her voice sound any huskier?

  James lifted an eyebrow at her, let out another sigh, and slumped back beside her. Threading his fingers behind his head, he dumped his heels on the coffee table and stared at his toes. “Barqan was insanely powerful. One of the most revered and feared djinn. The pagans worshipped me as a deity.”

  “Ah, that accounts for your ego.”

  He threw her a look.

  “S’true.” She smiled, a familiar warmth blooming in her stomach. Being in love with James. God, she thought she was done with that. And yet, here she was. Again. “So, Barqan, tell me more. When were you born? Do djinn have parents? I need details, please.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve always been inquisitive. Every time.”

  “Every time?” What did he mean by that?

  An unreadable shadow flickered over his face, and then he smiled at his toes. “I was born from the universe.”

  “Okay, well, if that’s not the most enigmatic explanation I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is.”

  He laughed. “It’s the only explanation I can give you. I wasn’t, and then I was.”

  “So you were born from the universe thousands and thousands of years ago, and what? Spent most of that time granting wishes?”

  He grinned at his feet again. “Most of the time, I chillaxed in my own realm.”

  “Your own what?” Her journalist’s brain didn’t quite know what to do with that

  “My own realm. Djinn don’t exist in this realm.”

  She frowned. Shook her head. Frowned again. “Go on.”

  Better to hear what he was telling her, digest it, than to think about the implications of it all.

  She was having a conversation with a being that wasn’t human. About stuff she’d only ever believed was fiction. If she wasn’t careful, she’d flip out. Again.

  He continued, “We are summoned here. Most of the time, the summoner doesn’t realize the situation they’ve got themselves into. A lot of people have died, trying to navigate the whims of a djinn. Most who summon a djinn don’t truly understand the covenant they are entering by doing so. Djinn, by nature, are not that… user-friendly.”

  A chill rippled up her spine.

  He threw her a quick look. “Some of us, however… well, we’re not all malevolent beings determined to punish those who dare summon us.”

  She swallowed. “That’s good to hear.”

  A low chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Of course, if we’re provoked, djinn know how to protect ourselves.”

  “Also good to hear… I think.”

  He glanced at her. “You’re safe with me.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him.

  He laughed again, returning his attention to his feet. “So I was summoned by a sorcerer called Syrin. It doesn’t happen much nowadays. Disney has a lot to answer for when it comes to what humans expect of us, and how to contact us. Too many lamps being rubbed, not enough ritual goat sacrifices. But fourteen-hundred years ago, it was very much the thing.

  “Syrin was a narcissistic bastard. Gave the term self-absorbed new meaning. But he was powerful. The most powerful sorcerer I’d ever encountered. A spell he’d been casting had gone wrong and was slowly killing the people of his village. He couldn’t cure them. So, he summoned me and wished for me to cure them. He didn’t care about them, mind you, but he had a daughter, and he didn’t want her to die. Even if he took his daughter away from the village, the curse would still take her life in the most horrific, painful way.”

  “Rose?”

  A calm stillness fell over him. “How do you know that name?”

  She blinked. She’d never heard him sound so constrained. Like something was coiled inside him. “I heard you talking to… I don’t know, another djinn? Someone I couldn’t see in the cinema room, when I discovered you were all see-throughy. You said ‘But it backfired, and killed Rose instead.’”

  His eyes closed as a ragged breath fell from him. “I forgot what a steel trap that mind of your is.”

  Frowning, she studied his still profile. What had just happened? Something. Tension radiated fr
om him. Thick and tangible.

  Had Rose been special to him?

  Something dark and cold licked through her.

  Jealousy.

  She pressed her hand to her mouth and looked away. What the flipping hell was she doing feeling jealous? Over a woman from more than a thousand years ago?

  What was wrong with her?

  “Yes, you’re right. Rose was Syrin’s daughter,” he said, voice low, modulated. As if he were deliberating every word he uttered. “When I’d performed the task Syrin asked of me, when our covenant was complete, Syrin was… agitated with me. He decided to cast a spell to erase my existence—his hubris assumed he could—but it went wrong, and it cursed him and Rose instead. She died. As did he.”

  The sentence left him on steady words. Emotionless words. And yet a lifetime of grief hung in the consonants and vowels. She’d spent enough time interviewing those caught up in corruption to hear it.

  “Can’t you just… go back?” She frowned at him. “To your realm?”

  “A djinn can only be returned to his realm by the one who summoned him. Until that happens…” He stared at his feet. “There have been some who’ve thought that was a good way to control a djinn, but they learned the painful way that isn’t the case.” A sly smile—slightly menacing, slightly regretful—pulled at the edges of his mouth. “Remember when I said threatening a djinn isn’t wise?”

  She nodded.

  “But in my case, Syrin was already dead. I couldn’t, um… how shall I put this… encourage him to return me to my realm, because there was nothing left of him. He’d unmade himself, and in doing so, trapped me here. In mankind’s realm.”

  “And you’ve been here ever since?”

  “Ever since.”

  Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. “That’s horrific.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not been all bad. I’m still a djinn, which means there’s been little hardship in my existence here. I grant wishes—unbeknownst to the wishers—when the mood takes me. And I keep track of the coming and goings of… things.”

  Again, there was more in that sentence than the simple words. But what? If she asked, would he tell her?

  “And I met you,” he said, with a gentle nudge of her shoulder with his. “And that’s something I would never change, no matter how many lifetimes…”