Jinni's Wish (Kingdom, #4)

“Look at me,” he said, and oh man, so embarrassing that as they were crashing and getting ready to become nothing but a memory, all she could focus on was the flutter of her stomach at the sound of his whiskey deep voice.

Adrenaline spiked her veins, kids and women screamed. Oxygen masks dropped from the rough turbulence that shook her around like a rag doll.

“You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” he said and she nodded.

His eyes were so beautiful. Not black like she’d first thought, but a deep inky well full of stardust. His thumb caressed her knuckles, and she knew fire seeped through her skin, deep into bone.

A strange whistling rang loud in her ears. Paz lifted up on her toes, wishing she could run away. “It’s just like the movies,” she whispered.

He licked his lips and man they were nice. “What?” he said.

Tears crept into the corners of her eyes as her stomach bottomed out. A baby was crying. “The sound of death.”

His touch was so nice. So real and warm.

“My Todd,” she whispered as her vision blurred. He was looking at her, with an ache, a soul deep connection.

She’d finally gotten it.

Paz screamed when the plane pitched on its side. His grip tightened.

“Close your eyes, Paz,” he whispered.

How did he know her name?

Glancing over her shoulder, he licked his lips, and she didn’t miss the dilation of his pupils.

“We’re close aren’t we?” She knew they were, gravity was pinning her against the seat. The ground had to be only seconds away. Her body shuddered, tightened with goose bumps. Death breathed down her neck.

“Close your eyes, head on your knees. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

She dug her nails into his fist, but he didn’t flinch.

“What’s your name?” she breathed, back of her neck tightening.

They were close, within a second of crashing. The plane unnaturally quiet as people prayed, cried softly, or closed their eyes and waited for the inevitable.

His smile was so achingly real, alive. She sniffled, throat working back a hot tide of tears.

“Tristan Black.”

Nodding, she dropped her head to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers still threaded through the hard strength of his.

She’d finally found him. Prince Charming.

So not fair.

There was a deafening whistle and then nothing else.





Chapter 2





He was floating, bits of debris sailing through a body that was once solid and firm. That’d once known pleasure, desire.

Jinni gnashed his teeth. Or at least, attempted to. There was very little substance left to him anymore. Trees towered in every side of him. The mundane world echoed with the faint buzz of animals at rest, sleeping insects, and stalking predators. But inside he felt nothing.

Nothing but an empty void. No joy, no sadness. He just was.

And he was tired of it.

Banished from his Eastern realms, tried for treason. And all for what? For something as insubstantial as the body he now called his.

Why was he here? Staring up at a liquid blue moon, gazing at an endless expanse of stars stretching far as his eye could see. He remembered the stars. Remembered dancing through galaxies, bending time and matter to his will.

He’d been powerful then. A being to be worshipped, feared.

But always, always with a weakness.

He stared at his wrists. A faint bluish white glow surrounded them, if he looked hard, he could see landscape through them. Once his arms had been burnished bronze, with sleek muscles that moved and rolled like a panther’s graceful glide when it struck prey.

At least that’s what she’d said. Nala, with her rose red lips and charcoal lined eyes. She’d been small, perfect… and he hadn’t been able to resist. Theirs had been a passion to rival that of Scheherazade for her King.

Magnetic. Powerful. And illicit.

Jinni dropped his hands.

Why was he here? He should have stayed with Ewan. He was not a slave to be commanded, ordered by a mere wisp of a fae to go and wait beneath the star.

And he’d known which star she’d meant. They all did. A bright jewel of a star that glowed like flame in the sky, mortals called it the North Star, but he knew it as home-- Kingdom.

So why had he come? Antipathy clung to him like a leech. He did not care what was soon to happen. Maybe he should? Maybe if he fought it more, he wouldn’t be a pale wisp of himself. But he was old. Ancient.

Older even than the fairy who called herself his godmother.

That thought elicited a whisper of a sound from him. He thought maybe it was a laugh, but he couldn’t be sure. There’d been a time when his services had commanded the eye of Kings and Queens, when to have a genie in your court proclaimed you to be a man of stature and power.

Now… he was nothing but a sad lyric in an old Eastern ballad: Beware, oh beware, ye of great power… the lips of woman beguile like ambrosia, but cannot hide the evil scheming of her heart.

Wind shoved through his body, a loud pop of indrawn air sucked at his back. He did not turn. He knew who was behind him. Her power rolled through him like a tingling tide.

“What?” he drawled.