He belonged on the front page of Hunky Barbarians.
“Wow.” And not a good, this-feels-so-wonderful, give-me-more wow, but a bad, what-the-hell-is-happening wow. Julia gulped. “I’m having another nightmare. That’s all it is.”
She rubbed a palm down her face, blinked her eyes and shook her head, thinking the gorgeous creature would vanish by the time she refocused.
His extraordinary image never even wavered.
He isn’t real, he isn’t real, he isn’t real, she mentally chanted, slowly rising to her feet. Step by agonizing step, she approached the savage apparition. He wore a let’s-get-this-over-with expression and not much else. Those pants. That sword. Slowly, shakily, she reached out and poked his chest once, twice. Both times, the heat of his skin singed her. Finally, she jerked back, her jaw slack.
This wasn’t her imagination or a dream.
“Knew you’d summon me back,” he said with a stiff bow. “Just as before, your desire is my command.”
What kind of man could appear and vanish in less than a blink? Man. The word echoed in her mind. Was he even human? Could he be…a genie, perhaps? Yesterday he’d vowed to fulfill her every wish and desire, too.
No. Just no way. That wasn’t possible. Genies were a myth.
Are they? What if genies do, in fact, exist? The thought continued to tease her mind, battering against her beliefs. Didn’t her sister often say there was a bit of truth to every tale?
There was only one way to find out.
“Leave,” she whispered to him. “Don’t say another word. Just leave. Right now.”
He scowled—then disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Three minutes passed, then four. The only sound was the ticking of a clock, and each tap pounded in her ears like a war drum. When she felt enough time had elapsed, she sucked in a deep breath as if she were gathering courage rather than oxygen, reached out and jabbed the button again. Just like before, the lights flickered and purple mist erupted. Mr. Body’s clean, unique fragrance invaded her nostrils.
Then, suddenly, he was frowning down at her, his swirling violet eyes alight with irritation. “What is it you wish now, little mouse? This coming-and-going nonsense must cease.”
He was a real-life genie, she thought, awed. She couldn’t deny his existence and wasn’t even sure why she’d wanted to. He was an exquisite specimen of manhood. So exquisite, in fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he had “grade A one-hundred-percent pure beef” stamped on his butt.
After gathering more courage, she waved her arm and told him, “Welcome to my home, genie.”
His brows knit together in confusion and for the moment, he didn’t appear quite so menacing. “I am a man. A warrior, not a genie. Genies grant wishes. I do not, nor do I have the power to do so.”
She paused. “But you have magic powers of some kind, right?”
“Only in the art of seduction. Whatever pleases you—that is within my realm of capabilities—I will do. I supply the female mind and body—your mind and body—with untold bliss.”
He could have been filing his fingernails for all the excitement that simmered in his voice. Still, the man flat-out admitted he wanted to…wanted to… Her tongue began to feel heavy, preventing speech, the same thing that happened at the shop. Why, why, why? This man—this nongenie—wasn’t hitting on her. He wasn’t thinking about asking her out on a date. More than likely, such a dangerously handsome male found her unattractive. Repulsive, even. On her best days, people considered her plain.
“I love you, honey, so I’m going to be honest with you. When it comes to men, plain women like us must lower our expectations. We’re the best friend, not the love interest.”
“But, but…you and Daddy…”
Momma offered an unamused smile. “I had to make him choose me. But we’ll talk about that when you’re older, all right?”
The memory rose from a secret compartment in the back of her mind, where she stored the most painful recollections. She felt normal again, at least, but now she had a hollow ache in her chest.
She studied her guest. He looked capable of anything, anything at all, and she found herself wondering what his limitations were. “So you’re saying that if I want you to clean my toilets, you will?”
“Toilets?”
“Lavatory. Chamber pot. Powder room.”
“Aye, I have cleaned many of those.”
She wanted to laugh at his disgruntled expression, but the sword strapped to his waist kept her quiet. Surely he didn’t have to obey her every whim. “What if I want you to crawl on your hands and knees to polish my floor? Or dust every single one of my antiques with your tongue? Or…I don’t know…eat a mud pie because I spent an hour pretending to bake it?”
“Would those things bring you enjoyment,” he said, a feral glint entering his mystical eyes, “they would be mine to do, aye.”
His words surprised her and should have made her happy, but suddenly Julia was overwhelmed with pity for him. “How many times have you had to do this?”
“Too many to count.”
To always be reliant on someone else’s pleasure… Other men probably dreamed of being caught in just such a circumstance. A sexual object enjoyed by countless women. But not this man. He was tense and edgy, self-loathing radiating from his every pore.
For a long while, silence permeated the room. Julia didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to tell him to make the situation more bearable. She felt a bombardment of guilt for even suggesting he do any those awful things for her.
Well, no more. Really, why did she need a slave? She didn’t. She enjoyed cleaning her home, cooking her own meals—not mud pies—and she didn’t like others handling her antiques, unless they planned to buy them.
She would not treat this
