Dusting the dirt off his hands, Robin, studied her thoughtfully. “It pains me to say it, but I think I need to use my first wish.”
By the startled look in her dark eyes, he knew he’d surprised her. “Wow. That wasn’t at all where I thought this conversation would be leading. What’s your wish?” She wiped her red-stained fingers off on her pants, gazing at him intently.
Robin’s skin felt warm under the pressure of her sharp gaze. A gentle breeze kissed her temples, drawing a length of her unpinned hair across the swells of her breast.
“They must forget.”
“What?” Her dark brows dipped. “Who must forget?”
“All three of them.” He scratched the side of his neck. “They must forget you. I thought I could trust them. I know now I can’t. And if I have to take you back into that camp, which, unfortunately, I do, I cannot do it while wondering if my men will attack again. You’re far too precious for me to lose.”
He hadn’t meant to say those last words, and he wasn’t exactly certain that he meant them the way they sounded, but he wasn’t sure he hadn’t either. They didn’t know each other, and yet, from the moment they’d been lifted into the air together, he’d felt a bond and kinship with her he’d never felt with another soul in his life.
He wanted to protect Nixie. At all costs.
She didn’t speak again for a minute; instead she chewed on the last few berries, her gaze never moving from his face, before finally saying, “It is probably wise.”
“Genie, I must know, has this ever happened to you before?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Up until now I’ve been a genie. Just a plain, simple genie. Not this dark genie that you told me about.” She sighed.
She was on the verge of tears. But he didn’t know that because of the way she said it, or because there was a shimmer of wetness in her eyes. Her eyes were dry and her voice steady. He knew it, because he could feel her anguish as if it were his own.
Her fear that her new legacy might haunt her with each new master she acquired. And though it should be impossible for him to be as certain of that as he was of his own thoughts, he didn’t question that it was so.
But there was nothing he could do to calm those fears. Much as he might want to. So he popped his remaining handful of berries into his mouth and chewed slowly.
Frowning at his sticky hands, he rubbed them down on his pants before saying, “Well then, genie, it’s time…”
Chapter 8
The fiery rush of magic filled her limbs, pulsed through her body in prickling waves of heat. Nixie recalled his words. How she’d always grant a wish to the letter, how she wasn’t as devious as the rest of her kind.
It would be so simple for her to twist his words, to make them forget everything. Not just this trip, but all of it. To turn Robin’s most trusted man into one who no longer recognized him.
She swelled with the power of his wish, feeling omnipotent, so full of energy that if she didn’t release it soon she’d combust from it.
“Robin,” she said in a voice grown thick with power, “I am a good person,” and so saying, she released the command into the universe.
Like a violent gust of wind, the rush exploded from her, traveling miles to find the men, to sink like crystalized volts under their flesh, making them gasp as the memories of the past three days were violently ripped from them, replaced with calm and peace. Replaced with the thrill of the hunt. Of finding food for the men back in Sherwood. A nice, fat buck.
Nixie felt spent, exhausted from the release of that energy, but gladdened that if she did have to meet the men again, maybe next time they wouldn’t look at her with suspicion, but maybe, just maybe…a touch of kindness.
She hated feeling so needy for that, especially from people she didn’t know and wouldn’t be around for much longer, but need it she did. She’d been alone for so long that even the thought of kindness from strangers made her want to weep.
As if he felt what she’d done, Robin stepped into her space.
She could see the words trembling on his tongue; see the way his throat worked, like he wished to say something. She knew he knew what she’d done. That she’d given him more than he’d asked for, but still the words would not come.
Closing the distance between them, until their chests pressed together, Robin’s jaw worked from side to side. Rather than speak, he lifted his palm and cupped her cheek? sliding his thumb softly against her flesh.
It was a thank you. Maybe it was even more. Nixie couldn’t tell.
She should tell him to move back. To stop touching her.
She was a genie. A fact he constantly reminded her of. Not once since she’d known him had he called her by her God-given name. Instead it’d been pet, genie, dark genie…anything to keep her at a psychological distance, to keep him from thinking of her as having a heart, having a soul.