Gale Force

though, for privacy. No matter how much fun it is, some things really aren’t meant to be shared with strangers on the beach.

I listened to the patter of drops on glass and rested my head against his bare chest. He had a heartbeat, and his lungs worked just like any man’s. In fact, he was all the way human in every way that I could sense, including his postcoital drowsiness. His fingers combed lazily through my hair, leaving it smooth and shining, the way it had been when he’d first seen me.

“How’d we do?” I asked, and his hand left my hair to softly stroke my arm, skim my side, wrap possessively around me.

“I think we need more practice,” he said. “I don’t think I quite had that last part right.”

“The Russian judge gave it a nine point five,” I said. “And you nailed the dismount.”

I loved it when he laughed. Djinn didn’t laugh enough, and they had little enough to laugh about, in general. His happiness was contagious, like fever, and I basked in its warmth. We kissed, long and slow, and I heard the low vibration in the back of his throat. Still hungry. Still wanting.

I knew how he felt. The passion between us wasn’t fading; if anything, it was strengthening as time went on, as we learned each other and found new ways to please. I loved surprising him, loved the mixture of shock and wicked delight in his eyes.

When my cell phone rang, I flailed for it and switched off the ringer, but I couldn’t resist taking a quick glance at the lit-up display. Lewis, of course. And I had to answer. Otherwise, he’d do something stupid, such as send the cavalry to bust down the door and catch me doing something morally questionable.

David groaned, deep in his throat, and buried his face against my neck. “You have to get it,” he said. “Right?”

“Afraid so,” I said. “Put the porno movie on pause for a second.” I caught my breath, tried to pretend I was fully clothed and businesslike, and answered the phone. “Lewis?”

“Took you long enough,” he said. He sounded tense, which wasn’t good. Lewis was one of the most relaxed people I’d ever known, in general. “Okay, we’ve got the package in containment. Jo—there was also a card.”

“A card? Like, a greeting card?”

“You’re not going to like it,” he said. “It’s a congratulations card. On your wedding. It had a message inside.”

I went short of breath, and it wasn’t for any of the reasons that it would have been a minute before. “What kind of message?”

He ignored that question, which didn’t bode well. “Who knows you’re getting married?”

“I—not that many people. We haven’t officially—I don’t know. I didn’t think it was a state secret! My God, I was about to order invitations!”

“I think we’d better talk,” Lewis said. “All of us. Warden HQ in New York. There are some things you need to see.”

“Now?”

“Tomorrow. Let David drive if you’re taking the car.”

I bit my lip. Not that I didn’t love being in the car with David, but even at the speeds he was likely to travel it would be at least a fifteen-hour trip. Then again, it kept us mobile, and Weather Wardens generally didn’t do too well in airplanes. We draw storms the way a bug zapper draws moths.

“See you there,” I said, and hung up. I dropped the cell phone back on the nightstand and rolled back toward David. “Where were we?”

His fingers slowly stroked the column of my throat, down the valley between my breasts, and across to circle the hard cap of my nipple. “That depends,” he said, low in his throat. “How much time do we have?”

“How fast can you drive?”

He laughed. “You wouldn’t believe how fast I can drive if I’m properly motivated.”

“Any particular thing you find motivational?”

He put his lips close to my ear. “Your mouth.” His tongue traced the folds of my ear, drawing shivers. “I love the way you use it.”

“I’m guessing you aren’t talking about pleasant travel conversation.”

I couldn’t see his smile, but I felt its dark power. “Don’t want to give it a try?”

“Dude, there are laws, you know.”

“Laws against driving above the speed limit, too, but I don’t notice you objecting to breaking them.”

“You are a very bad”—I caught my breath convulsively and pressed against his fingers, which had wandered lower—“man. And we should get dressed and on the road.”

“In a while,” he said, watching me, and his hand began to move. My mind went white and smooth with pleasure. His eyes were lazy and still somehow fiercely intent. “Let me see if I can ease your mind first.”

I decided not to protest, unless don’t stop counted.

Driving with a Djinn isn’t really like normal driving. For one thing, nobody really sees your car; they have an awareness of it, for traffic safety, but even the most vigilant of peace officers can look right at you breaking the speed limit (and nearly the sound barrier) and not feel moved to react.

The downside? No bathroom breaks. Djinn just don’t think of things like that. I know they eat, so they must have the other human-type functions at least when maintaining human form . . . but you’d never know it. They’re better masters of their bodies than we are.

After six hours on the road, I was squirming in the seat and ready to die for a bush by the side of the road, never mind a bathroom.

“Comfort break,” I said to David. “Sorry. Nature calls.”

He sent me a lazy, amused glance, entirely relaxed and at ease behind the wheel of my car. I’d learned not to look out the windows; the constant smear of color reminded me of science fiction movie concepts of travel past light speed. Instead, I’d asked for a laptop, which David had obligingly provided, and an Internet connection. Bingo, I was back to research.

Only this time, I was tracking down suspects instead of china patterns.

“What are you doing?” David asked, leaning over. I nudged him back with one shoulder.

“Drive.”

“I am.” He stayed where he was, eyes off the road.

“You know that makes me crazy, right?”

His lips threatened to smile. “Not the right kind of crazy. So?”

I sighed. “I’m searching all my correspondence, trying to figure out how many people I’ve told about the wedding.”

“And?”

“Dozens.” I stared gloomily at the screen. “Not only that, I didn’t exactly think to make it eyes-only clearance. Those dozens told more dozens, who told their friends, who posted it in the Wardens chat room. . . .”

“So it’s a dead end.”

Yeah, and we might be the ones dead at the end of it. Wasn’t sure I liked that symbolism.

I was on the verge of logging off the computer, but a word caught my eye on the Warden chat board. I frowned and scrolled back up, looking for it, and finally saw, in the message thread of people offering congratulations on the upcoming wedding, a single entry. You had to be registered for the Warden chat board, of course, and authenticated, but somehow, this particular entry had no name or IP address associated with it. What it said was, simply, It’ll never happen.

I shivered. The Sentinels were at work.

“Bathroom,” David announced, and I closed up the laptop and was unhooked before he’d screeched the Mustang to a stop in front of the gas pump of the BP station. I barely noticed the convenience store, except that as I frantically scanned the interior walls, the bored clerk took pity on me and pointed toward the rear of the store. Clearly, he knew the look.

I found the bathroom; it was unlocked and relatively clean, and all that mattered was the sweet, sweet relief. When I finished, I went to the sink and washed, studying my face in the mirror. I looked okay—a little thinner than usual, more angular, but not as haggard as I’d feared. Stress looked good on me; it always had. Lucky me. As a beauty treatment, though, it sucked.