Jake's Djinn Read online

  Jake’s Djinn

  A Cardinal Witches story

  Alyssa Day

  Holliday Publishing, LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Books by Alyssa

  About the Author

  1

  Second chances you never knew you wanted…

  * * *

  Jake Cardinal woke up with a massive hangover, an empty whiskey bottle, and a genie sitting on his windowsill. He groped for the glass of water that wasn’t on his bedside table, shoved the whiskey bottle out of his bed, and closed his eyes against the blinding glare of the gorgeous genie in all her purple-haired, pink-sequined glory.

  And then he groaned. “Not again.”

  “You’re not my fantasy man, either, Cupcake,” she told him. “So get your ass out of bed and make your damn wishes, and then I can get on with my life.”

  “Coffee. I need coffee to deal with this,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Also? Never going on a family vacation again.”

  “The coffee. Is that your first wish?”

  He heard the glee in her voice and decided to thwart her, just because he could. And it had been kind of fun, the last time. Not “hot, naked woman in Tahiti” fun, but…intriguing.

  Intriguing was enough to propel him to roll over and shoot her a look. “No, that’s not a wish, Princess. It’s a need. Like, for example, your need to periodically pop in and ruin my life.”

  She glanced out the window. “Feels like you’re doing a fine job of that all by yourself. Is this…a log cabin? What happened to the penthouse suite?”

  She’d said “log cabin” in the same tone of voice that most people would use to say “rotting corpse.” Or, in his case, today, “morning breath.”

  “Hold that thought. I’ve got to brush my teeth.” He sat up and groaned again when something inside his skull started playing the bongos. “I’m going to kill my cousin-in-law.”

  He rolled off the bed, stood, and headed for the bathroom. Behind him, he heard her start laughing.

  “Nice ass, wizard. But maybe next time you can put your pants on first.”

  “So don’t look.”

  “Is that a wish?”

  “Ha. Not a chance.”

  “Barbarian,” she grumbled.

  Jake filled a cup of water, tossed back a couple of Tylenol, and brushed his teeth until Death Breath was only a distant memory. Sadly, the bloodshot eyes looked like they might hang around a while.

  He pulled on his shorts and opened the door, half hoping that she’d be gone.

  Half hoping that she’d still be sitting on his windowsill.

  She was in the kitchen, instead. “Coffee?”

  “Is it magic?”

  “No, it’s Folger’s,” she drawled. “That’s all you had in this nasty little kitchen.”

  She was holding the fridge door open, bending down, which gave him a really terrific view of her really terrific ass. Damn, but she was beautiful.

  “Look, Ruby--"

  In one smooth move, she straightened and tossed a carton of milk at him. “It’s not Ruby this time. Smell that and see if it’s fresh.”

  He sniffed, recoiled, and recapped the carton before tossing it in the trash can. “Two points. We could go out to breakfast…Amethyst?”

  “Not Amethyst. But--" She went completely still for a second, not blinking, not even breathing. She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Dreaming, drowning, summer-sky-just-after-a-rain blue. He almost forgot to breathe.

  “Are you asking me to go to breakfast with you?”

  “Yep. And no, it’s not a wish, before you ask.” Jake took the deep breath his lungs were begging for and blew it out. “We need to get this wish thing out of the way. Tell me your real name, already.”

  “Why?” Suspicion curled her sensual lips and soured her tone. “I know all about wizards and witches and the power of a name.”

  “Then you know about the power of domicile. I could command you to give me your name.”

  Her laughter was like a peal of silvery bells, with the crash of thundering surf underneath. Delicate beauty and imperious power, combined. It suited her.

  It was her.

  The short, spiky, purple hair? Not so much.

  She sneered at him. “You could command me to do nothing.”

  He flicked a tiny spell at her, and she disappeared. Just vanished before his spell was even halfway across the room. The target gone, the magic fizzled and swirled its way out of the window, into the rosy light of sunrise over the lake.

  And then she materialized in front of him and punched him in the face.

  Beware wizards in log cabins…

  * * *

  Donya Falling Star Sherazelle wasn’t so much angry as she was confused, and maybe a little bit worried, but she wasn’t going to let the human see it. She shook out her hand and made a mental note: No More Punching—at least not when the man had a jaw like iron, to match the hard-muscled body that fascinated her so much.

  Not that she’d admit that, even to herself. But washboard abs and bite-able asses aside, she was worried because this had never happened before: In three thousand years, she’d never been compelled to grant wishes to the same person twice. Sure, the guy who’d rubbed the lamp didn’t qualify, but why hadn’t the wishes bounced to somebody who hadn’t already had their chance?

  Nothing about this made sense.

  “You hit me!” He rubbed his jaw, but he was grinning. Damn, but he had a sexy-as-sin wicked smile. She just bet that women lined up to jump in his bed, and they were probably pretty happy once they got there. Jake Cardinal, of the famous—some said infamous—Cardinal Witches, was a little over six feet of hard-bodied man. He had muscles like a gladiator—and she’d known a few. Luckily, Jake smelled better.

  She flashed to the other side of the counter, just in case he tried for retaliation. Also, she needed ice for her knuckles. Because, ouch.

  “You deserved it, Cupcake. Okay, wishes. What have you got? Let’s get this over with.” She tapped her fingernails on the counter and tried not to look into his fascinating amber eyes. “You only get three, no wishing for more wishes, no love spells, wishing for anything pervy loses you everything, blah blah blah. You know the drill from last time.”

  He shoved his tawny golden hair out of his face. He really was unfairly beautiful. Unfair to mortal women, gay men, and horny Djinn.

  “Yeah. Speaking of that, I’m a scholar of all things magic. Maybe the best damn magic scholar on the planet, not to be immodest. I’ve got books and scrolls and even a few computer programs written by the best programmer nerds in their mothers’ basements across the country. All of them tell me that you can never receive wishes from the same genie twice. What’s up? Did you miss me?”

  He was smiling, but Donya could see the flash of sincere interest in his eyes.

  “Yes,” she drawled, examining her fingernails before yawning. “I missed you. Desperately.”

  He put his hands on the counter and leaned over it toward her, which gave her a close-up view of the corded muscles in his tanned forearms.

  And the trail of silky hair that led into the shorts hanging perilously low on his hips.

  She shivered, in spite of herself, and of course, he noticed.

  “Like what you see, Princess?”

  “Actually, I’m cold. But, hey, seeing a drunk loser in a smelly wooden cabin totally does it for me, too,” she said with a straight face and flat voice.

  “Ouch. Would you believe me if I told you that you’ve managed to find me on the only two times I’ve been drunk in years?” He started to prowl around the corner toward her—a golden-eyed jungle cat stalking his prey.

  Except she’d never been prey. Not even when they’d caught her and cu
rsed her to eternity as a slave. Captured, yes. Prey, never. And those who’d trapped her were long dead, which was its own form of revenge.

  She held her hand up, palm out, and he stopped where he was. “You asked me about the wishes finding you twice.”

  “Coffee…Jade?” He poured another cup of coffee and held up the pot.

  She shook her head, but had to fight to keep from smiling at his attempts to guess her name. “Not Jade.”

  “So, Not-Jade. The wishes? And what is your name this time, Genie?”

  “I’m not a genie; I’m a Djinn. No music, no Major Nelson, no Disney. Stupid American popular culture,” she grumbled, flinging open cupboard doors to look for food. “Really? Fruit Loops and Captain Crunch? Aren’t you a little old for this?”

  He winced. “Great. First, a hangover, then the beautiful woman in my house punches me and calls me old. I think I’m going back to bed.”

  “And no milk, only beer. That’s just nasty. What about--" She blinked when his words caught up to her thoughts. “Beautiful?”

  Great. Now he was sucking up to her to get more wishes. Humans.

  Except, last time…

  He drank his coffee, put the mug on the table, and raised an eyebrow. “Like you don’t know it. Although, honestly, the sequins are a bit much. I like the purple hair, but the combination makes you look like an ice skater crossed with a drag queen.”

  She bared her teeth at him and then took her coffee out to the deck. A single thought and her coffee was flavored with sugar, cream, and cinnamon, just how she liked it. Another twinkle of thought, and the rough wooden deck chairs transformed into cushioned chaises.

  “Ahhhh.” She sank into her chair and looked out at the beauty of the sunrise over the lake. The birds were waking up, too, and one of them landed lightly on the arm of her chair and twittered at her. It might even be worth staying in a log cabin for a few days to wake up to this.

  “Good morning, Sir Robin.” A twirling movement of her finger, and bread crumbs appeared in mid-air, scattering on the deck railing for the bird and his friends. But her mind was only half on her magic.

  “Drag queen. Jerk,” she grumbled.

  “I heard that.” He was suddenly right behind her, though she hadn’t heard him approach. Jake Cardinal made her nervous; not that she’d let him see it. There was a frisson of awareness--a sharp edge in the air between them--that had only intensified since the first time they’d met. They’d spent the entire night dueling with quips and jests, and she’d fallen asleep on the couch, only to wake at sunrise in his arms.

  She’d disappeared before he’d woken and regretted it ever since.

  “Vegas, right?” He sat on the other chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes against the light.

  The idea that he might not even remember exactly where they’d met—when she’d carried the memory with her for more than two years--stung her pride and might even have hurt her feelings, if she admitted to any feelings. She shrugged, putting on a mask of indifference. “Who can remember?”

  Jake opened one eye and grinned at her. “I can remember, and I was drunker than I’ve ever been in my life. You’re not exactly forgettable, sweet thing.”

  She refused to tell him she felt the same way about him. Stupid human. His ego was already big enough, no doubt. Instead, she drank more coffee and looked out over the water.

  “Three wishes, huh? What did I wish for last time?”

  “A giant tattoo of a pinup girl that covered your entire back,” she told him, rolling her eyes.

  He laughed. “Well, I know I don’t have that, so what happened?”

  “Your second wish.”

  This time he laughed out loud, and his laugh was deep and rich and delicious, just as she’d remembered it so many times, alone in her solitude. She suddenly wanted to curl up in his lap and bite his neck.

  Oops. No biting the humans. It was one of her cardinal (ha! See how she did that?) rules.

  He stretched and, truly, his body was a work of art. She suddenly wished she were a sculptor instead of a Djinn.

  “What about the third?”

  Donya shook off her wistful, lustful thoughts, drained her mug, and flicked the cup into the air to send it floating to the kitchen sink. “A bottle of whiskey. How can you not remember any of this, when you remember me, and that I called myself Ruby?”

  His smile faded, and his eyes darkened to a gleam of emerald fire. “Because all I remember is you,” he said roughly. “I’ve been remembering you and nothing but you for two years, five months, and three weeks. I remember your laugh, and how beautiful you are, and that you smell like jasmine. I remember your intelligence, and your stories about ancient cities. I remember that you fell asleep next to me and didn’t wake up when I wrapped my arms around you. I remember that I woke up wishing you were there with me in my bed.”

  She caught her breath. “I--"

  He put his mug down and stood. “Remembering anything as insignificant as wishes didn’t matter to me one damn bit.”

  She stood, captivated by the power of his words, the emotion in his voice, and the truth in his gaze. “But--"

  “Your name,” he insisted, with a touch of Power in his voice.

  “Donya Falling Star Sherazelle,” she whispered, before she could strengthen her defenses against his magic. Now he’d have power over her.

  Now she was in serious danger.

  A slow, dangerous smile crossed his face, and fear pounded a rhythm in her heartbeat. She raised her chin and glared at him. “I warn you--"

  “Donya Falling Star Sherazelle, my first and only wish is that you will now and forever be free of the curse of the Djinn.”

  Lightning sizzled a blinding strike on the surface of the lake in front of them, thunder crashed and destroyed the dawn’s silence, and suddenly she was—for the first time in three thousand years--free.

  Free.

  And then she fainted.

  Not even Irish…

  * * *

  Jake dropped to his knees on the wooden deck and managed to catch his Djinn before she hit the ground. The last thing she needed was to start off her new life with a concussion. At least he’d known that she’d retain her magic, so she wouldn’t be helpless--

  Wait.

  His Djinn?

  When did that brain fart happen, that he’d even think about claiming her?

  She was a Djinn, and she’d been one for a really long time, so the last thing she’d want is to be caught up in a relationship with a human, let alone a human who also happened to be a wizard. He’d wanted her and missed her and dreamed about her for too damn long.

  Sure, his head told him to forget her, but his arms tightened around her, and he caught himself inhaling a deep jasmine-scented breath. She was warm and soft and curvy in his arms, turning his memories into his present reality, and he didn’t want to let her go. Dumb-ass realization to have after he surrendered his wishes.

  He could have wished for an evening of holding her again—just holding her couldn’t violate the “no perviness” rule, right?

  He sighed. He was losing his freaking mind. Right there on the porch of a rented cabin, during the Cardinal family vacation that he’d been blackmailed into attending.

  At least he’d put his foot down when Astrid, his borderline nutcase sixteen-year-old cousin, had tried to move into his spare room with her four suitcases, two computers, and a little pug dog named Ninja. She would be staying in the cabin three doors down with her sister and their crazy grandmother when they all arrived tomorrow afternoon.

  Granny. Now there was a story.

  Donya stirred in his arms and then opened her enormous blue eyes.

  “Hey, there. You left me for a minute.” He smiled at her because he couldn’t help it. She was just so damn beautiful and felt so good in his arms.

  She started to speak, but then swallowed, hard. “Free? Just like that? You didn’t even use your other two wishes first?”

  “I didn’t want
anything as much as I wanted you to be free of that lamp. Did a bit of research on that, too.”

  She sat up and then quickly stood and backed away from him. He tried not to feel the sting of that, and instead of reacting he headed indoors.

  “How about we go get that breakfast?”

  “Is that a…” Her voice trailed off, and he realized that it would probably take a long time for her to stop expecting wishes. To stop seeing every person she encountered as a greedy jerk who wanted more and more and more.

  Hell, he wanted more and more, himself. More time with her. More of a chance to get to know her.

  Less of the sequins, though, if he had to be honest.

  Speaking of which… “Do you want to borrow a flannel shirt? As much as the pink sequins and lace fit in when we were in Vegas, you’re going to catch a lot of attention at a diner next to a fishing lake in Ohio.”

  He glanced at her and froze. She stood completely still; her face lifted to the golden early morning sunlight, her arms held out to her sides—palms up—as if she were welcoming the dawn. She was a goddess, inviting all to worship her, and his magic yearned toward her like a hound called to heel by his mistress.

  And suddenly he was a freaking poet.

  Damn hangover.

  He was going to kill his cousin Rose’s husband.

  As if called by the thought, Alejandro pushed open the front door and ambled in. “Hey, Rose wants to know if you want to go to breakfast with…oh, I’m sorry, my friend, I did not realize you had company. Hello, beautiful lady.”

  “Forget how to knock?” Jake bit off the words as he took a step toward Alejandro. The man might be a married FBI Paranormal Ops agent, but Jake knew at least ten ways to choke the life out of him.

  For the hangover and for the way he was looking at Donya.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Alejandro asked.

  “No. Get out. I blame you for this hangover.” He stalked over to the door and held it open. “Out. Now.”