Tales of the Djinn: The Double (13 page)

She didn’t think it would anyway. At the moment, her burning body was begging to differ.

~

Arcadius had gotten up once already to hobble the bloody mile from the bed to the bathing room. Completing the journey without waking Elyse and Cade had felt like the equivalent of two-day march. He’d collapsed on the divan afterwards and dropped back to sleep, fully expecting not to wake again until morning.

He should have been so lucky.

Apparently, the pair hadn’t taken advantage of his comatose state to get their rocks off—as the bath boy put it. The other him was dreaming about Elyse, the intensity of his lust most definitely
not
recently satisfied.

The images Arcadius received seemed like memories. In them, his copy lay in a tent in the Great Desert. Elyse was above him, naked, riding his rigid prick with a fervor that caused her delectable breasts to bounce. Arcadius could feel her wetness on his own cock; could taste the sweat running down her skin. Most interestingly, Elyse seemed to have attached his wrist to a pole. Being bound was exciting him as much as the slick friction of her sheath. He’d never been taken captive in battle. To submit voluntarily, at the hands of a female he’d come to love, did strange things to his libido. He wanted to fight her control and revel in it at the same time.

My
double
wanted to revel in it
, Arcadius corrected in his mind. His double’s reaction was what had stiffened his cock to the point of pain. Arcadius preferred control to submission.

His double moaned in his sleep, shifting restlessly behind Elyse.

Damn it,
Arcadius thought. He could feel Elyse’s firm round butt against his groin. Even if he refrained from taking himself in hand, Cade’s current dream seemed likely to drive him to explosion. Arcadius would rather not advertise this susceptibility to Elyse. He wasn’t some pubescent youth. He ought to be able to last the night without shooting into his bed sheets.

He didn’t have the luxury of cursing. As silently as he could, he retrieved his fancy golden crutches and levered his weight off the divan. The persistence of his erection added a layer of difficulty to crossing the endless room. He was tired and in pain. He shouldn’t be capable of getting this damned hard.

His body was unaffected by his logic. He sensed Cade approaching orgasm in the dream. He hobbled faster, determined to reach the relative privacy of the dressing room. There was a small couch in there. Maybe a bit more distance between him and his double would break the link. He’d be able to sleep unmolested by Cade’s salacious imaginings.

As if to mock him, his cock throbbed harder, bouncing with each swing of the crutches. Too late, he recalled his double’s lusts had no trouble reaching him in his residence. As to that, they’d swapped consciousness across the same divide.

He’d reached the arch to Iksander’s closet. Struck by a new idea, he stopped. Desire and exertion had deepened his breathing. Distracted from that by his thoughts, he leaned his shoulder against the door.

Their connection worked both ways. If Arcadius could reach Cade’s sleeping awareness, he might be able to influence what happened within it.

He closed his eyes, willfully ignoring the jolt and hum of his aroused blood.
Turn away,
he thought to his double.
You need to help your city. You can finish taking Elyse another night.

He felt Cade’s resistance as if it were his own. He was so close to pouring that hot need inside of her.

Think of your people,
Arcadius insisted ruthlessly.
They need you to be unselfish.

His cock jerked once and then the sensation of imminent orgasm receded.

When the words “damn it” went through his head, he wasn’t certain whether he or Cade had thought them.

~

Elyse woke to the sensation that something wasn’t right. Cade had turned behind her to face the other way, but she didn’t think that had disturbed her. He was near enough for his warmth to reach her, his breathing soothing and even. She took a moment to marvel at how quickly she’d grown accustomed to his presence, how soon he’d come to spell comfort and safety.

Then she realized Cade’s was the only breathing she heard.

The divan where Arcadius had lain was empty. Her throat clenched, but then she saw the crutches were gone. Arcadius hadn’t magically winked out of existence. Wherever he was, he’d gotten there on his own steam.

She rolled onto her back. She was sure he was fine. People got up at night. Arcadius was a grown man. She’d insult him if she went to check.

Except . . . what if he hadn’t simply gotten up? She remembered what he’d said earlier:
You think I want to spy on you two snuggling up?

Something more than irascibility had colored the question.

Maybe the odd man out longed to feel the kind of closeness she and Cade were sharing. Maybe rather than have it shoved in his face, he’d decided to sleep in the dressing room. The choice would be natural—just not the best idea right then.

She sat up, suddenly certain that’s where he was. So he’d be angry if she chivvied him to come back. That didn’t matter as long his strength returned. She’d tell him she felt guilty because he’d gotten injured protecting her. Until he got better, she’d continue to feel bad. He was a chivalrous chauvinist. That would totally get him.

She slipped across the room as silently as she could, not wanting to wake her bed partner.

Because the large dressing room had no windows, it was too dark inside to see. She did, however, think she heard breathing. Unlike Cade’s, it wasn’t even.

“Arcadius?” she asked.

“Damn it,” was his answer.

“Are you okay? I can’t see a thing in here.”

“I’d rather . . . you didn’t see.”

“You don’t sound right. Did you injure yourself?”

He cursed again, then said a spell for light. The room was lined with fitted shelves and wardrobes, between which elegant sconces glowed. Arcadius’s magic had turned them on.

She didn’t find him on the couch. He knelt on his heels on a rug in front of the dressing mirror. One arm braced on a nearby tower of shelves for support. The decorated gold crutches leaned nearby. His back was to her. If it hadn’t been for his reflection in the mirror, she wouldn’t have seen his right hand clutching his massively hard boner. He’d shoved his trousers down to expose it. His shaft was thick, the flushed skin of the head stretched tight. The waistband of his pants lifted his swollen balls, putting them pornographically on offer.

“Jesus,” she said without thinking.

Her voice betrayed how much the sight affected her. Arcadius’s fingers tightened around the veiny rod. His thumb rubbed a patch along the side as if even with her looking he couldn’t stop.

“It’s ironic,” he said on a breathy laugh. “I’ve never been this aroused in my life and I’m too tired to get off.”

“But we didn’t do anything!” Elyse burst out. “Cade and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Arcadius’s gaze met hers in the mirror. The extraordinary eyes he shared with his double looked like the sea burning. “Cade and I have been trading thoughts on and off. He was dreaming about you and woke me up. Something about you riding him in a tent with his wrist tied up. If the dream didn’t actually happen, you might want to try light bondage. I believe the other me would react favorably.”

His tone was wry. Elyse’s cheeks blazed. She remembered the night in Sheik Zayd’s encampment well.

“It . . . actually happened,” she said haltingly. “I didn’t know that. About you and he sharing thoughts. I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Arcadius’s head tilted to the side. He hadn’t released his erection. The thing throbbed hard as she looked at it. She forced her attention back to his face. His expression hid more than Cade’s, but she noticed a ghost of a smile.

“Sorry,” she said. “I . . . you . . . you’re . . . constructed just like him. It’s disconcerting.”

“Disconcerting.” His arm moved and her gaze fell inexorably. He stroked his prick upward once, gracefully, firmly, squeezing the swollen flare of the head before dragging down again. Elyse’s nails dug into her palms. His fist made a shorter journey than hers would have. Her tongue curled out to wet her lip.

“Perhaps you could help me,” he suggested.

“
What?
”

He laughed at her reaction. “So you
would
consider it cheating.”

“Cade would. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“But he’s me.” Her attention or perhaps her attraction seemed to have endowed him with more vigor. He used the handhold of a shelf to pull himself to his feet.

The effort dragged a small grunt from him. He must have known he was anything but pathetic when he stood up to full height. His shoulders were squared, his solid legs braced wide on the plush carpet. He hadn’t turned away from the mirror, and his right hand still gripped his cock. Somehow, him not facing her made it easier to ogle him. He had thin white knife scars on his fingers that Cade lacked—from magical blades, she guessed. The sight of the marks wrapped tight around his cock was disturbingly exciting. Elyse cursed her lack of panties. She just knew she was about to overflow.

When she pressed her trembling thighs together, Arcadius’s faint smile deepened. “Do you think Cade would be too principled to seduce you if he were in my shoes?”

Elyse swallowed audibly “You only want me because he does. You think I’m plain and obnoxious.”

“I could paint you from a single glimpse of you naked at the bathhouse. Your little ass dripping lather was truly a sight for joy.”

Elyse gasped, one hot trickle squeezing between her labia. Alarmed, she took a step back from him. “It’s a competition thing then. Like squabbling over who Joseph should answer to.”

“Oh, I’d like you to answer to me,” Arcadius purred.

He did turn then. He stepped toward her, swayed slightly, but kept his footing.

“You’re not strong enough to be playing at this.”

He outright grinned at her. “If I fall, will you catch me?”

He swayed again and—stupidly—she assumed the weakness was for real. She put her hands out to steady him and found herself wrapped in his arms instead.

“Elyse.” He said her name differently than Cade. There was more arrogance in his voice, more sureness that she’d find him irresistible. She wished she could prove him wrong. Seeming to know she couldn’t, he gazed down into her face with a combination of mischief and male triumph.

She pushed at his chest but to her amazement he wouldn’t budge. “I’m not agreeing to this. You need to let me go.”

“You’re wet for me,” he said smokily. “Or didn’t the other me warn you about our people’s sharp sense of smell?”

“That doesn’t matter. If I say ‘no,’ you have to stop.”

He considered her, his smile fading. “I suppose I do, but I think you ought to kiss me before you decide for sure.”

She had decided. And she’d told him. Or she thought she had. Had she somehow failed to be clear?

She was trying to get her mouth to form lucid words when he molded his gently over it. Elyse jerked. Sensation seemed to spangle from her lips through her whole body. As she recalled, the same thing happened when Cade first kissed her.

“One kiss,” he murmured, his lips pressing hers again. “I saved your life. Don’t I deserve a taste of you?”

He was using the guilt she’d planned to use on him. Unfortunately, it worked. She couldn’t deny he’d earned her gratitude, and—really—what could one kiss hurt?

She knew this reasoning was idiotic even as she succumbed to it. He slanted his head and assumed full control of her.

His mouth was Cade’s but his manner was different. The components were similar: the way his tongue stroked and sucked, his taste, the exciting sound of his hastened breath. What differed were the amounts of assertiveness versus coaxing versus attentiveness to her reactions. Arcadius asked less and took more than Cade. His hands roved her as if he needed to explore every curve before she took it away from him. He liked her butt the same as Cade did, and her waist, and the oddly vulnerable plane between her shoulder blades. He stroked them all with fingertips and palms. Within moments he found the same shivery spot on her neck Cade so often exploited. When he nipped it, he put more teeth into it.

Everything Arcadius did was just a bit rougher.

She knew she shouldn’t like that so much. She pushed his chest harder and managed to get away. “You don’t think he’s you,” she half huffed and half panted. “You think you’re better.”

His thumb stroked the underside of her lower lip. Elyse fought another shiver. “You think he wouldn’t stretch the truth to get what he wanted from a woman?”

“Actually, no.”

“But I’m him, Elyse. How can I do what he wouldn’t? Besides which, aren’t I in a position to know his sins?”

“Maybe he left them behind with you when your shared spirit split.”

Arcadius flinched. A second later, his face tightened. “If I’m that awful, why do you want me too?”

She’d spoken without thinking. Immediately remorseful, she stroked his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’re not awful.”

“You said it.”

“Because I didn’t think. You’re confusing me.”

His stare was hard. It should have warned her. So should the contraction of his fingers around her upper arms. Before she could move, he yanked her up and kissed her twice as aggressively as before. She resisted for about two seconds, then melted and kissed him back.

He knew what her clinging meant. His soft groan reverberated from deep within his chest. His hips shoved closer to rub his cock against her. That was a shock—for one, because it felt amazing through the thin silk she wore and, for two, because she realized he hadn’t done it already.

He
had
thought some things were off limits unless she encouraged them.

“God,” he said. “
God.”
He caught her hand and dragged it down and around him. He forced it against his cock, thrusting up her palm even as her fingers curled irresistibly around him.

It must have felt good. He staggered slightly but didn’t fall. She guessed the momentary weakening was worth it. The next time she pulled upward, he locked his knees, bent her thumb over the crown of his prick, and moaned.