Tam stared at the woman as she walked away, her movements slow,
graceful, a tiny smile on her pretty mouth. She was dressed much
as she had been two days before, when she had summoned him to
her with the softly whispered words, I wish. A short, midnight
blue, silky chemise skimmed her thighs just below the rounded
curve of her butt. A delightfully round butt, at that. Not some
skinny coatrack there, but a real woman.
Thick, straight, fiery red hair fell past her shoulders, nearly
down to the butt that kept drawing his eye. Her eyes were dark,
he hadn’t gotten close enough to see the color. That pretty
cupid’s bow mouth had seemed so sad—everything about her was
sad. His jaw clenched, eyes on her retreating back.
Those eyes, whatever the color, were odd. Almost fey-like.
Hell, she was fey, walking on feet that barely seemed to touch
the ground and eyes that looked at everything and nothing. He
recalled how she had stroked the mirror, the odd look of peace
that had come over her face for a moment. She’d sensed the
mirror’s importance. You didn’t see that kind of joy and peace
in somebody who thought it was just a pretty trinket.
With a tight scowl, he started to pace, wondering why in the
hell she hadn’t tried to use her wish. “What are you waiting
for?” he muttered, not concerned with her hearing him. Mortals
couldn’t, unless he wanted them to.
A
movement caught his attention. She had stopped in the hallway,
turned around, and was staring toward where he stood with her
head cocked, as though she had heard him. But that wasn’t
possible.
So
why was she standing there, with that odd, almost frightened
look in her eyes?
He thrust up his arms and in a burst of light only the Djinn
could see, he was gone.
