Rachel Caine - Thin Air

“What do the Djinn have against me?” Was there anybody who didn’t hate my guts?

“You, personally? Nothing, really. But many of them hate Wardens, and most of the rest have a kind of benign contempt for humankind in general. Our two species are not friends,” he said. “We’re barely neighbors.”

“What about you and me?” My eyebrows rose. “I thought we were neighborly.”

“We’re different.”

“But Lewis is still worried about you. Because you’re Djinn.”

“Exactly,” David said. His eyes met mine, and in the shadows they were dark, human, and very gentle. “And as I said, he’s right to be worried. I won’t hurt you, Jo. I swear that. But I can’t make that vow for other Djinn, not yet. There’s too much anger. And-long-term, the future for us may not be bright.”

I sucked down a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about relationships. Look, Lewis said the only way to stop a Demon was to throw a Djinn at it. Which I guess used to be an easier answer-”

“Try convenient,” David said. “At least when the Wardens had plenty of Djinn as slaves. Now, they’ll have to rely on our goodwill if they face a true crisis. Which, as I’ve said, isn’t extensive.” He glanced sideways at me, then became very interested in the deep, still waters of the black pond. “I wish I could tell you that I would sacrifice myself for you, if I had to. I would give anything to tell you that, and a few months ago I would have, without hesitation. But now-now I have to think of my people. I can’t confront a Demon, not directly. Not even to save your life. I also can’t order one of my people to do it. Lewis knows that.”

I could tell what saying that cost him, and I didn’t quite know how to answer. It took me a few seconds to work it out, and when I spoke, my voice sounded soft and very tentative. “You’re ashamed of that, but you shouldn’t be. It’s okay, I’d never ask you to risk your life-or any Djinn’s life-for me. I don’t want Lewis to do it, either. If it comes down to it”-I swallowed, hard-“I want you to promise me you won’t throw yourself on any Demons for me. Because…I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He didn’t speak, and he didn’t move. I couldn’t tell if that had helped or not, so I blundered on. “I should have stayed back there earlier, to help Cherise and Kevin. They needed help, but I just-I just ran away. So I’m the last person to demand heroic sacrifices, here. I should have-”

“You should have done exactly as you did,” he interrupted. “You should have run. You have to save yourself, Jo. Neither of your appointed guardians are all that capable of helping you now, no matter how much we-” His voice failed him for a second, and then he finished. “No matter how much we want to.”

We sank into silence-not quite comfortable, but it mellowed out, and I felt tensed muscles easing. I don’t know quite how it happened, but soon enough I was leaning against him, and his warmth felt so safe, so reassuring. After a while, he put an arm around my shoulders, and I let my head rest in the hollow of his neck.

“That girl, Cherise,” I said. “Is she still alive? Did I leave her to die?”

His warm fingers stroked across my forehead, the same gentle gesture I’d seen him give Lewis.

“Sleep,” he murmured, and I felt the warm brush of his lips against my temple. “Dream well.”

“I will,” I said faintly.

He kissed my hand, an old-world kind of gesture, full of tenderness, then got up with a grace that looked scarily sexy, and walked toward the opening of the cave. I didn’t see him leave; it looked like he just misted away between one blink and the next.

I slept with that.

Yeah, and you know what? I had the distinct feeling that I’d probably enjoyed the holy hell out of it, too.

I fell asleep, lulled by the gradual warming of my body and general exhaustion, and woke to find some trail bars and water sitting next to me. No sign of David. Lewis had draped his own thermal blanket over me, and clearly he’d gone out. Scouting, maybe. Foraging. Peeing. I had no idea.

I yawned, stretched, and got up to work out the wincing stiffness in my back and neck. Once I felt more or less human again, I folded up the foil blankets, replaced them in their little packets, and added them to the backpack leaning against the wall. I cautiously sniffed myself, to bad results, and wondered what the odds were of a nice, hot bath appearing if I wished really hard.

I squeezed through the opening and emerged in predawn darkness-well, it could have been midday; it was hard to tell. The sky was a uniform gray, the color of melted lead, and the clouds had a heavy, solid consistency that threatened real trouble. Somewhere way above, lightning flashed and was visible as a distant blue-white strobe. Thunder drummed, and it sounded just miles away.

It was freezing. I hadn’t realized how accustomed I’d gotten to the relatively balmy temperatures inside the cave, but the first icy slice of wind reminded me. Convulsive shivering made me move faster, and in seconds I made the tree line, found an appropriately screened area, and took care of bladder issues. Once the immediate biological crisis was averted, I started back toward the cave…and then hesitated, because I could hear something.

Something like splashing.

I followed the sound over a low rise, down another steeper drop, and through a thick clumping of scrub trees.

I peeked through the branches and saw Lewis, naked, up to his waist in a small pond. And it was steaming with heat, like a natural thermal spring. Wisps of white curled up from the surface, drifting in a low layer of fog that obscured my view only a little.

Did I mention Lewis was naked?

I stayed where I was for a few seconds, getting quite a view of the lean strength of his body, water glistening as it ran in slow trickles down his abs. I felt guilty about it, but that didn’t stop me. I wondered if there’d ever been anything between the two of us. If there had been, I clearly had some severe neural damage not to remember it. Vividly.

I had enough of a conscience-twinged epiphany to look away when he swam for the shore. Gawking I could justify. Actual peeping was something else.

When I looked back, Lewis was zipping up his blue jeans, water dripping from his brown hair to patter on his strong, tanned shoulders. Without looking up he said, in the most studiously normal tone I could imagine, “The water’s going to stay warm for the next half hour or so. Might as well use it. You need it.”

I hadn’t made a sound; I was certain of that. But he wasn’t shooting in the dark; after he’d toweled his hair dry with his T-shirt, Lewis lifted his head and focused his stare right on the scrubby trees that screened me from immediate view.

Busted.

I cleared my throat and pushed through, earning a few scrapes in the process. Apart from another distant mutter of thunder, the lead-colored day was very quiet. Water lapped the shore. Lewis shook out his T-shirt and pulled it on, then a thermal top, then added one of those well-used flannel shirts on top, which he buttoned almost to the neck.

I took the plunge. “Lewis, did we ever-you know…?

He concentrated on his shirt buttons, even though it wasn’t like they took a lot of effort. I could see he was thinking about lying to me, and then he gave up and said, “Once.”

“Wow.” I tried to smile. “Was it that bad?”

“No, it was that good.” He kept his eyes fixed somewhere else, not on me, but I still felt a flash of heat and nerves. “Look, I’m not in love with you,” he said. “Maybe I used to be, but I’m not anymore. So you don’t have to worry about any complications from me.”