Chapter Three

 

 

“You can’t fire me! I need this job.” Moreen tried not to pound her hands on the desk as her boss stared at her coolly.

“You were rude to a customer yesterday, and you know the rules.”

“I wasn’t, I swear it! Let me talk to this woman, she’ll admit she’s never met me. I wasn’t even working yesterday evening. She had to be talking about someone else. Please Mr. Jamison, please.”

She hated to beg, but she had no other choice. She needed this job. It was the better paying of her two, and it kept a roof over her head. Plus, if her probation officer found out she’d lost it, there would be hell to pay.

“I’m sorry, Moreen, but the lady identified you from staff photos. She threatened to sue unless you were terminated. She said you spilled coffee all over her and then told her to deal with it. The company can’t afford that type of publicity.”

“Please, it wasn’t me!”

“I have no other baristas with, and I quote, ‘red hair and huge breasts.’ I’m sorry, really I am.”

Paran.

Moreen held back tears as she looked around the room, expecting the black-haired genie to come forth. This was his doing, she was sure of it. He said he wasn’t going to make her life miserable, and then the first thing he’d done was get her fired from one of her jobs. She was sure when she left the overpriced coffee shop and went down to the little deli on the corner where she also worked, that she would find herself gone from there, too.

Well, he’d told her she’d have time for him. And now she would, since she didn’t have to work. Fear about how she was going to pay her rent, her bills, raced through her.

“I really am sorry, Moreen.” Mr. Jamison pushed an envelop across the table. “Your last paycheck.”

Sighing heavily, she untied her apron and threw it at him, then picked up her check. “Screw you.”

After storming out of Mr. Jamison’s office, Moreen made quick work of cleaning out her locker. There wasn’t much there, just her purse and a book she’d been reading.

She felt the gaze of her former co-workers on her as she walked through the crowded coffee bar to leave. The need to make a scene built inside her, but she fought it down. She wouldn’t give Paran the satisfaction.

Moreen slammed through the front door and ran straight into a chest. Paran’s strong arms wrapped around her waist.

“Hello, my little felon.”

“Get off me.” She pushed at him, but he held her tight. “You’re not here to make my life miserable, huh? Are you going to pay my bills for me, my rent?”

“I have another job lined up for you, don’t worry. One job where you will make more money than both of these… menial ones put together. Plus, you’ll have a little more time off, time for me.”

“Where?”

“The Cave of Pleasure.”

She snorted and shook her head. “I’m a convicted felon who’s still on probation. I can’t work at a bar. What am I suppose to tell my probation officer the next time I see him?”

“Well, technically you’ll be working in the office, helping with the books. You won’t be working in the nightclub.”

“One of the terms of my probation is that I have to keep a job. What you just did could get me thrown in prison.”

“And you have one, so don’t worry.”

He stroked her cheek and she jerked away from him. “Is there any use of me going into the deli? Or did you screw that up, too?”

An envelope appeared before her face, her name written across it. “Your final check.”

Tears burned her eyes. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a job when you have to say yes to the felon question?”

“That’s why I found one for you.” He pulled her closer. “Are you hungry? I know I am.”

Cold shivers raced through her body as the air shimmered around them and the sidewalk, and the people walking on it, disappeared.

Paran released her and she gasped. They were on a hillside now, nestled inside a copse of green trees. Wildflowers dotted the landscape.

Moreen whirled around, staring at the beautiful countryside. “Where are we?”

“In the Rocky Mountains outside Colorado Springs. A nice cool afternoon for a picnic, don’t you think? There’s a small lake nearby where we can take a dip later. After we’ve eaten and had a talk.”

“Right. We’re in Colorado.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Why should I? Maybe you’re a magician and this is all a grand illusion.”

He waved his hand and a thick blanket appeared on the ground. A basket sat at the edge. “I made sandwiches. Nothing too fancy, I’m afraid. Just some subs with turkey, your favorite if I’m not mistaken.”

She wrinkled her nose in disbelief. “Yes, it is.”

“Then, there’s potato salad, which I adore, and some fruit. Get comfortable and we’ll eat.” He sat and started to unpack the basket, fixing a plate for both of them as she stood and watched him.

“I have things to do today, including an appointment with my probation officer at five. I can’t miss that.”

“And you won’t. Sit and eat.”

His hair was tied back today, flowing down his back. His tight black T-shirt and jeans outlined his perfect body. From the bulge between his legs, she knew he had a healthy sized cock. She trained her gaze on the sandwich, trying to erase the thought that had just passed through her mind. It was hard, though. It had been a long time since she’d had sex.

A very long time.

“Food first, sex later.”

The smoldering look in his eyes made her tremble. “So you can read my mind?”

“It doesn’t take a mind reader to follow your gaze, which was trained on my dick” He sat her plate on the blanket and took a bite of his own sandwich. “But, to answer your question, I read people. Their expressions, their movements.”

Moreen’s stomach growled as she watched him eat and she shrugged, resigned. She might as well take advantage of a free meal. She sat down and took a bite of her own, rolling her eyes in pleasure.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and it amazed her how quickly he ate his food. When he’d swallowed his last bite, he waved his hand and a second sandwich appeared on his place.

“I didn’t think I’d need one, but it turns out I’m starved.” He took a bite and frowned. “Not near as good as the one I made by hand, but it will do, I suppose.”

She almost choked on her food when he spoke next. “Tell me about the first time you were arrested.”

“What is it that we’re doing here? This is your life Moreen McGee?”

“I know the answers, of course, but I want to hear them from you. Aliya told me a little, about your high school years.”

She dropped her sandwich and let it splatter on the plate. “Oh did she? How nice for you. I should have known this was all her fault. Shit, it’s not enough that the bitch ruined my life, but she has to come back and gloat, is that it? She’s a big shot advertising agent with a nice apartment and a gorgeous man to fuck and I’m sitting here with a man who thinks he’s a demon.”

The bar of soap floated in front of her face. “Careful, felon. I’m tired of your nasty words. This is my final warning.”

She nodded and the soap disappeared.

“Now, answer my question.”

“What? The first time I got arrested? Oh, let’s see... um, it was a week after Aliya the witch told everyone I’d slept with the entire baseball team. It wasn’t true, of course, but everyone believed her. They laughed at me in the hallways at school, called me a slut. She egged them on by telling them the positions we had supposedly used.”

Moreen swallowed hard. “My parents grounded me and took away my allowance money, my freedom, everything. So, to get back at them, I went into a store and stole a six-pack of beer. I hate beer, but that didn’t matter. The clerk saw me and called the cops. I got hauled off to juvie court, and fined five hundred bucks.”

“And then?”

“Well let’s see, I stole Mrs. Watkins’s purse from home-ec class. I dumped it outside her doorway and took the wallet. Steve Jenkins saw me and told the principal. So I was expelled from school for a month.”

“Everyone was talking about how bad you were, and you just wanted to prove them right, yes?”

She pushed her food away. “Is there a point here?”

“What happened after that?”

The words, ‘none of your f’ing business’ almost tumbled from her mouth. Instead, she took a deep breath. “When I went back to school, I kept getting into trouble. I got to be an expert at stealing and vandalizing things. My parents would barely speak to me because they felt like I reflected badly on them. So, they decided to move to Brooklyn. But someone from my old school knew someone at the new school, and it started all over again. And then I met Randy.”

“Your partner in crime?”

“Yes. He took my virginity, and he taught me how to snort coke, and then he taught me how to steal for the money to get more coke. Six months after we moved to Brooklyn, my parents kicked me out. I hated them at the time, but I don’t blame them now. I was out of control. I moved in with Randy and his parents, who were criminals themselves.”

He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. The food, except for what she hadn’t eaten on her plate, disappeared. “Let’s skip to the part where you get arrested and get ten years probation.”

“One more year to go,” she said softly. “One more lousy year, and you make me lose my job.”

“We’ve been over that. Tell me what happened with your last arrest.”

His stern voice reminded her of the judge who had sentenced her, who had told her that he’d gone easy on her, despite the fact that she flouted all the rules and would probably never amount to anything.

“When I was twenty-one, Randy’s parents kicked us out. Or I should say his mother did. His father was back in prison, and she wanted to shack up with some other guy. Randy and I started breaking into houses to get our money. One night, we were cleaning out a house when the owner came home early. Randy beat the crap out of him. The only thing that saved me from going to prison was the victim’s testimony at my trial. He told the judge how I’d tried to pull Randy off, how I’d kept my boyfriend from killing him with a kitchen knife.”

She held up her arm to show a scar on her forearm. “He got me instead.”

“So Randy went to prison?”

“Fifteen years for B&E and assault with a deadly weapon. I got ten years probation and a ten thousand dollar fine, which I’m still paying off. I also got a stint in rehab. I’ve been clean ever since.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Part of her expected him to gather her in his arms, to say things were fine and always would be. But he didn’t. He just stared at her, and she looked off toward the trees again.

“Do you visit him?” he asked.

“No. Randy blamed me for his going to prison. Said when he got out, he’d look me up and make sure I regretted my freedom. He sends me a letter about every six weeks, smuggled out by someone who visits him, I’m sure. I moved, but they always found me.” She toyed with her half eaten sandwich. “Now when I get them, I just burn them.”

“Typical of someone like him to blame everyone else for what they’ve done, sort of like the way you blame Aliya for the start of your downhill slide.”

“Don’t go there.” She glared at him, her anger rising. “If she hadn’t spread that lie about me, none of this would have happened.”

“Maybe not. But maybe it would have happened anyway. You can’t second guess life. What you can do is put the past behind you and make a better life for yourself now.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” She tried to keep her voice from breaking. “I have nothing to offer. No skills. No friends. No family. Nothing.”

“Poor pitiful Moreen. So put upon.” He sounded bored. “What’s the childhood saying? ‘Nobody loves me, everyone hates me. Guess I’ll go eat some worms’?”

“Screw you!” She threw her plate at him, sending meat and bread flying. The plate landed on his chest, then fell away, leaving chunks of potato salad on the black material.

She scrambled to her feet and took off running.

Moments later, he tackled her from behind. They went down together, tumbling to the ground and rolling in a dizzying blur of fabric and green pasture. When they finally came to a stop, his body covered hers, his weight pushing her back into the dew-damp grass.

“You must learn to control your temper. Be glad the f-word didn’t slip out, or you’d have a mouthful of soap right now.”

She tried to fight her way out from under him, but he held her firm. He didn’t talk until she’d stopped struggling. “Since you’ve told me your story,” he began quietly, “let me tell you mine. I’m a demon, born of two demons. When I was five, my parents began to teach me how to drive people crazy, to slip into their dreams and plant visions that would frighten them into heart attacks. They laughed as I became stronger, encouraging me to use my evil to spread hate and discontent.”

He held her close as she tried to wiggle away from him. “They taught you to kill?”

“Oh no, that would be too easy. Better to make a person crazy, to make them live the rest of their life in pain, frightened of what would happen next.”

She clawed at the grass, more anxious than ever to get out from under him. “So you’re evil?”

“Deep down, yes. But I’ve learned to overcome it. When I was in my late teens I watched a woman I’d invaded go mad while her children sat nearby, crying and helpless. Their cries tore into my soul, something I never even realized I had. It hurt me. I couldn’t let it happen. I soothed her, helped her come back to reality. Then my father appeared and attacked me, told me what a failure I was. We fought, and I wounded him badly enough that he almost died.”

She turned her head so she could see his face. The pain written there made her breath catch in her throat. “What happened then?”

“I walked away from him, from my family. I reinvented myself, so to speak. I tried to do good, to undo everything I’d done. It was hard, and I didn’t get to undo everything, of course, because I’d done a lot of evil. Then I found the Djinn. I had to prove myself to them, and it took a while, but it worked. Now I spread pleasure and help people learn how to help themselves.”

“How old are you?”

The cocky grin he gave her made her toes curl. “More than nine hundred years now.”

She had no doubt he was telling the truth. “And your family?”

“My mother is dead. My father is a weak shell of what he used to be, but I have half a dozen brothers and almost as many sisters who would kill me on sight. Or try to, anyway.” He rolled off her, stood, and held out his hand.

She took it tentatively and he helped her to stand. “At least your family didn’t abandon you like mine did.”

“Your parents still love you.”

Moreen snorted out a laugh. “Right. They wouldn’t even bail me out when I got arrested that last time.”

“Who do you think paid for your rehab?”

“The state.”

“Wrong.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I searched the records. Paid for by Mr. and Mrs. Patrick McGee. More than five thousand dollars.”

Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “If that were true, they would have tried to contact me. It’s been almost ten years. Not once have they called me. Not on my birthday, not on Christmas. Nothing.”

“How do you know they’re not thinking the same thing? That if you wanted to be in touch with them, you would call or write? Didn’t you tell them you hated them, and that you never wanted to see them again?”

When she didn’t say anything he took a step closer to her. “Your problem, Moreen, is that you hate yourself. You hate what you’ve done, and you hate what your life has become. No one knows more about hating what they’ve done than I do. But I’m going to teach you how to overcome it, to love yourself again.”

“Like I said, it’ll never happen. You should just give up now, and let me go back to the way I was.”

His grin seemed wickeder than before, if that were possible. “I give up on nothing. You’ll learn that very quickly.” He pulled her into his chest, his hands cupping her buttocks, grinding her pelvis into his erection.

Her guess had been right on the mark. He was very well formed.

“We’ll have great fun together. Every time you learn something, I’m going to fulfill a fantasy for you.”

Moreen groaned. It felt wonderful to be in his arms, to have him hold her close. She started to melt into him, and then reality set in. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to learn anything. She tried to push away, but he held her close, snaking his hand between their bodies and into khaki pants she wore for her job—her former job—at the coffee bar.

His hands found her clit, circling it lightly until she thrust her hips in response.

“That’s it. Just a little taste of the pleasures ahead.” He pinched her clit and she came, the pain turning to sweet pleasure as she writhed under his touch. “You’ll learn that not all pain is bad. For the next thirty days you’ll learn to obey me, and you’ll learn to honor and love yourself for who you are.”

She was clasping his shirt now, her breath coming in heavy pants as her orgasm slowly faded away. “And if I don’t?”

His laugh was wicked. She lifted her gaze to him as if some unseen force had hold of her chin and lifted it. “You will. And if you don’t, well let’s just say punishments aren’t merely for errant children.”