Aliya Baban and the Cave of Pleasure Read online

  Instead, she looked up into his eyes. They were gray, mixed with a slight tinge of blue. The look he gave her made her nipples tighten. He was appraising her now, studying her face, but his eyes did not drop below her neck.

  She wanted him to look lower. After all, her breasts were two of her best features, and she’d made sure the dress she wore was tasteful, yet low cut low enough to show off the tantalizing swell of her… assets. She adjusted her shoulders back, pushing her 36Cs forward just a bit. Still, his gaze didn’t travel downward.

  She licked her lips slowly, rubbing them together. The simple movement always made a man imagine his cock sliding between her lips—or so she’d been told.

  His expression changed, but it wasn’t the look of desire she was used to receiving in this situation. He still appraised her, only this time with a very dangerous look that seemed to penetrate straight through to her soul.

  Apparently, he didn’t like what he saw.

  Chapter Two

  This was bad. Aliya wasn’t used to men who made her nervous. She needed to get the upper hand, and get it now.

  “My bag,” she whispered, hating the tremor she heard in her voice. “I need my information.”

  “Let’s go somewhere private,” he replied.

  A feeling of triumph ran through her. She’d misread him. He may not show it on his face, but he did want her. She was back in control again. She would soon be leading him around by his cock.

  “Show me the way.” She dropped the timbre of her voice a notch, thrilled that the nerves were gone.

  He turned and walked toward the far wall and she fell into step behind him, scanning the crowd as she went. She saw no faces that she recognized, even as she searched to see if Anya was there tonight with her two lovers. Aliya hadn’t seen her, but if Anya was handling the advertising for the club, she was sure to have been invited to the grand opening. And if she had been, surely she would be up here, in a private party room overlooking the main club.

  When Aliya didn’t see her rival, she focused her attention on the man in front of her. Watching him walk was truly invigorating. His nice, firm behind looked perfect under the low-slung pants he wore.

  He was at a doorway now, opening it up and indicating that she should go in first. She stepped through, her mind racing to take in every detail. She’d thought they would be in his office, but this was no office. It looked more like a bedroom. She wondered if there were little rooms like this scattered throughout the club. These rooms would certainly help The Cave of Pleasure live up to its name.

  More braziers hung from the ceiling and once again, Aliya searched for their power source. Deep purple drapes covered three the walls, and a huge gathering of overstuffed pillows in purple and gold rested against one of them. The fourth wall was glass, and offered a full view of the club below. She wondered if it was one-way glass, or if the people downstairs could see her as she watched them.

  “No, they can’t.”

  She turned at the sound of Matuse’s deep voice. She wanted to say something about mind reading, but figured he’d just dismiss it as Paran had, so she allowed the opportunity to pass. “I thought we were going to your office.”

  “This is my office.”

  She looked around in confusion. “Where’s your desk?”

  A look of amusement spread over his face and she wet her lips again. Her victory about being in control might have been celebrated a bit too soon.

  “Are you a good girl, or a bad girl, Aliya?”

  She struck a seductive pose, her hands on her hips, her breasts thrust forward. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

  “Really? Because my sources tell me you’re bad. Very bad.”

  She dropped her hands and narrowed her eyes at him. “What sources? That cow, Anya? She’s an idiot, and you shouldn’t listen to her. If you let her handle your advertising, your business will fail. Trust me on that.”

  “She’s quite successful,” Matuse said, his own eyes turning dark.

  Aliya made a rude noise. “She’s been lucky. I can give you skill and years of experience. If you want to advertise the club’s sex appeal, you’d do well to use someone who has it and can help you promote it. Anya doesn’t fit the bill.”

  He’d moved to the wall and sunk down into the pillows, stretching lazily before locking his hands behind his head. “Really? I think she’s lovely, and quite sexy.”

  She walked toward him, gently rubbing her hands over her hips. She examined him, stopping at his groin. She could see his rigid cock straining against the material of his pants.

  “Did you bring her in here? Did she make you hard?”

  “No, I didn’t. And yes, she did. I think she’s quite lovely.”

  Aliya ignored his comment and dropped to her knees beside him, the cushions soft under her. She stroked his thigh, stopping just below his groin, her fingers gently teasing him. His gaze moved to her hand, then lifted back to her face, a seductive smile locking into place.

  Aliya’s lips lifted in return. “I would wager she didn’t make you as hard as I can, or that she could make you as happy as I can,” she cooed.

  “Truly? Would you make me as happy as you made Rebecca Stevens the night of your senior prom?”

  “What?”

  She jerked back, looking around her nervously as her own voice filled the room.

  “Really, Rebecca, who made that dress, Bargains Are Us? You would have done better to wear your gym clothes. It’s pathetic. Everyone’s laughing at you.”

  She stood so quickly that her heel caught on one of the cushions and she went tumbling backward. She scrambled up, her head darting from side to side as her voice again filled the air.

  “Oh my, look who it is, Jacquee Freeman, owner of the ugliest pair of glasses in the city. Of course they match her face, so I guess nobody really cares, do they?”

  Aliya stared at Matuse as his face grew darker. She took a few steps back, her heart beating wildly. She’d said those very words to Jacquee Freeman in the tenth grade, after they’d been assigned as lab partners in biology. It was the easiest way she knew to get the girl to beg for a new partner. And it had worked.

  “Nobody gives a crap about you, Moreen, and nobody’s going to vote for you, so just give it up.”

  That was one was from the eleventh grade student council election. Aliya had been worried that Moreen McGee would beat her, so she’d badgered the girl to get her to drop out of the race. When that hadn’t worked, she’d spread a rumor that Moreen had slept with the baseball team. That had worked, and the girl had transferred to another school.

  “I’ve died and gone to hell,” she said. “And you’re the devil.”

  “No, you’re the devil, Aliya. A she-devil. I’m only here to tame you and show you the error of your ways.”

  “What’s the matter, Jessica, couldn’t find a date? You should try the 1-800-We-Date-Losers line. Of course they’d probably charge you extra.”

  Jessica Simmons. A woman from Aliya’s first job at Fredrick’s Advertising. She’d been smart, and serious competition, so Aliya had done everything to drive her away from the firm. It had only taken six months.

  Aliya ran for the door, pulling on the handle.

  It wouldn’t budge.

  She fumbled for a lock, realizing after a few seconds that there wasn’t one. She pounded on the door, striking it so hard that pain from the contact shot up her arms.

  “Help! Help! Someone let me out of here.”

  “Geeze, Anya, you gain any more weight and you’ll have to visit the tent factory to find a new dress.”

  “Stop it! Stop it!” She turned toward him. “You’re a demon. A freak!”

  He still reclined on the pillows, his body relaxed. “No. I’m only half demon.” He sounded amused.

  She looked for something to throw at him. “Why are you doing this? How are you doing this?”

  “What’s wrong, Aliya? Don’t like to have your words thrown back at you? You’re certai
nly good at dishing them out.”

  “You let me out of here or I swear I’ll call the cops.” She reached for her bag, realizing it was gone. Her hands were shaking and she waited for the next installment of her disembodied voice, bringing up snippets from her not-so-savory past. When it didn’t come, she sniffed loudly.

  “Who are you?”

  “I told you my name. Now, I want you to come, sit down, and listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Anya put you up to this, didn’t she? Are you recording it? You plan on showing it to everyone? Computers work wonders with voices, so don’t think for a minute that I believe it’s my voice I’m hearing. And I hope she’s paid you enough to cover your bail, and your fine.”

  His laughter was low and made her burn with anger.

  “Kidnapping. Wrongful imprisonment. I’ll even tell them that you raped me.” When he didn’t jump up to open the door, or protest against her threats, she stomped her foot. “Let me out!”

  “Come and sit. Now.”

  She turned back to the door, pounding on it again. “Someone help me! Open the door!” When no one came, she leaned against it, tears streaking down her face. She’d get Anya for this. She’d have her arrested, too. She would make sure the cow suffered for this.

  “Aliya.” His voice was almost gentle. “Come and sit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you know as well as I do that it was your voice. Those were your exact words. How would Anya know them? How would she reconstruct them so perfectly?”

  “You are a demon.” She tried to get her breathing under control as she continued to lean against the door.

  “My father was a demon, yes. My mother was a Djinni who fell for his seduction. I’ve chosen to follow her path, which angers him greatly, and makes me happy. But I do have some of his traits that come in handy now and then. You’ll see that in the next month.”

  “Please. Let me go.”

  “Shush.” His voice sounded stern, yet gentle. “Come and sit. Don’t make me say it again.”

  His words made her shiver and she clasped her shaking hands together. She supposed that if he were going to hurt her, he would have done so already.

  She walked back to him, furious that she still found him sexy in his reclining pose. He indicated the space next to him, chuckling when she sat at the edge of the pillows.

  “Say what you want, then, so you can let me go.”

  “Did you understand what I said earlier?”

  “Oh, you mean about your father being a demon and your mother being a Djinni? Yes, I did. I’m sure there’s a bed at the local psych ward with your name on it. Would you like me to call them for you?”

  He held out his hand and a tray appeared. He took the bottle of champagne from it and filled one of the glasses that also sat on the tray. It took several seconds for Aliya to realize that he was floating above the pillows. The glass moved toward her, gliding through the air and stopping at her side. She batted at it, sending it shattering against the wall. She ran for the door again, pounding harder than she had before.

  “Stop acting like a child!”

  She leaned her forehead against the door. “Wake up. It’s just a nightmare.” She repeated the mantra until she cried out at one of the harder pinches she gave herself, then she turned her gaze to Matuse, who still floated above the pillows, his head resting on his hand as he lay on his side.

  “Djinn spread pleasure, Aliya. But because of my special abilities as a half-breed, I’m called in to take on some of the harsher cases Such as yours. I’ve searched your past, and I’ve found the five women you hurt the most with your words and actions. You will live with me for the next month. Together, we will find these women, and you will make amends.”

  “You are so full of it, buddy. I’m not doing anything with you. Plus, I have a job, and it doesn’t include making amends with women who are too stupid to defend themselves.”

  “You don’t have a job anymore.”

  “What?”

  “I was in the lamp this morning, listening to your conversation with your boss. He gave you until Monday. I called him when you came into the club and told him I’m not switching. Therefore, you’re unemployed, as of this moment.”

  “No.” She sank to the floor, staring at him as he hovered in place. Then she started to cry, burying her face in her hands and drawing her knees up close.

  “Aliya.” He approached and caressed her arm. “It won’t all be bad. There will be pleasure involved.”

  She lashed out at him, pushing against his hands. “Don’t touch me! Get away. You have no right!”

  He stood, towering above her. “You stroked the lamp, Aliya. It’s a binding contract. You’re mine for thirty days, and trust me, you should be happy that I am the one to take your case. I had to fight Paran for you, and while he spreads great pleasure, he’s all demon.”

  He disappeared and Aliya screamed, standing and pulling on the door again. When it didn’t budge she searched for another exit. Finding nothing, she threw herself on the pillows, tears streaming down her face as cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Aliya sat up straight and looked around. Finding herself alone, and in her own bed, she lay back down and laughed loudly.

  Just a dream. A nightmare, actually.

  “Thank the heavens above,” she said softy. “No Djinn. No demons. Just me wondering where the hell that dream came from.”

  “Do you not have food in this house?”

  She sat up and stared at the doorway.

  Matuse stood there, holding a grapefruit up for her to see. “This wouldn’t satisfy a third of my hunger right now. Is this how you feed yourself? No wonder you have no meat on your bones.”

  “No! Get out. Get out!” She pointed toward the front of the house, recoiling when he took a few steps toward her.

  “That’s no way to speak to me, now is it? Remember, you’re mine for thirty days.”

  “Screw your thirty days. Get the hell out of my house. Now. Before I call the cops.” Aliya kept her voice as calm as she possibly could, fighting back memories of last night, of not being able to get the door open at the club. Of feeling trapped. At least now she was in her own home. She was in control.

  Or was she?

  “I’m so hungry,” Matuse replied. “I have to have fuel for my body, and unfortunately, you have none. Not that it would matter because I’m not much of a cook. It’s really very sad.”

  “Did you hear me? Get out.”

  “Paran! I’m hungry.”

  Aliya scooted to the other side of the bed as the dark-headed man appeared, wearing nothing more than a pair of low-slung pants.

  He grinned at her wickedly, then looked around. “Goodness. Not what I expected at all. It’s very feminine. And very… pink. I expected something darker, to match your nature.”

  Aliya held a pillow to her face, muttering into it, hoping her chant of “it’s not real” would make them disappear.

  “You must learn to cook, Matuse,” Paran said. “And if you’re going to use me for this, you know that I get to play later, too.”

  “Shut up,” Matuse replied. “I only called for you because I know everyone else is on assignment. I’m hungry. Very hungry. Pancakes and bacon, with eggs, too. And some sausage.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Paran replied. “This time.”

  Aliya lowered the pillow in time to see Paran wave his hand. A stove appeared, as did a refrigerator. She buried her face again as the sounds of pots and pans moving around filled the air.

  Her mattress dipped with added weight. She withdrew the pillow to focus on Matuse, who now sat on the bed, propped against the footboard with his legs stretched out in front of him.

  He studied her as if she were the appetizer to the meal he’d just ordered. “Are you read to talk, and to accept your situation?”

  She thought about arguing, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Then, an image of Nicholas popped into
her mind. “Work! I’m late.”

  “You’re fired, remember?”

  She glanced between the two men in her room, then snatched her phone off the nightstand, hitting the speed dial for the office. The receptionist put her through to Nicholas, who answered her greeting with a curt, “What do you want?”

  “Nicholas, listen. Last night was a…”

  “I’ve already boxed up your things. A messenger will bring them to your house this morning. You will give him your key when he comes. End of story.”

  The phone went dead. She stared at it, and then at Paran, who stood next to her, offering her a plate of food.

  “I’m not eating that.” She scowled at the plate full of pancakes dripping in butter and soaked in syrup. Three slices of bacon and two large links of sausage sat to the side. “I’ve gained five pounds just looking at it.”

  “But I slaved over it. You have to eat.”

  “Oh really? If you’re both these powerful Djinn, or demons, or whatever, why do you have to cook like normal people?”

  “Do normal people wave their hand and make a stove appear?” Paran extended the plate again. When she didn’t take it, he placed it next to her, held out his hand, and a second plate floated toward him He took it and sat down next to Matuse, who was already eating as if there were no tomorrow.

  “Delicious,” Matuse said around a mouthful of pancakes. “My compliments to the chef.”

  “You’re welcome,” Paran replied. “And you are, too, little she-devil. Now eat.” He took a bite.

  Aliya watched them as they calmly chewed and swallowed, neither of them looking directly at her. When she reached for her own plate, Matuse gave her a wink. She held it over the edge of the bed, turned it over and let the food fall to the floor before dropping the plate.

  He sighed. “How old are you again? Twenty-eight, or eight?”

  “All my hard work,” Paran complained. “Such a waste.”

  “You never did answer my question,” Aliya said. “If you’re all powerful genies, how come you have to cook?”