„How many of them have you visited those few weeks?” she asked calmly, playing with the oval medallion in her hand. It was nicely carved, without any visible mistake in the pattern, only scratches that might have become out of bad handling.
“Eight.” He said his voice tense and cruel. He held his hand out for the medallion, but she continued brushing it with her fingers. He didn’t get it.
He was loosing his mind over this petite woman, who held it. One of his lovers had sent it to her with a letter explaining all about its origin and how to use it. She hadn’t really summoned him, but he knew she had it the moment her warm fingers touched the black golden figure in the middle of it. He was furious at first, angry that one of the women would break the natural way the medallion moved around and instead sent it to someone themselves. He wasn’t a toy that would be passed on – he only appeared to those, who needed him and summoned him.
He let his hand fall on his side again. He had spent his time watching her from the shadow in the back corner of her badly lit apartment. It was a small, perhaps five meters wide kitchen she sat in and he could tell from his view through the side door that the bedroom wasn’t much bigger.
He kept his cool while waiting her to say the words, whisper the name of his entity like they all did – when they needed him, they knew how to call him- but she just sat there, her head empty, her lips closed and not once uttering anything. He was confused – she didn’t radiate from the heat that often marked his invitation nor seemed nervous in anticipation. After a while he had made his move, doubting the whole way as after careful observation he was quite convinced she was not waiting it.
“Don’t touch me!” she yelped a moment before he reached his hands out to place them on her shoulders and kiss her neck and he obeyed, shocked. He had pulled back and waited her reaction for having a stranger in the room, but she didn’t even look up.
“If you haven’t summoned me here for my purpose, I would like to have the medallion back.” He said with restrained calm and felt good for managing it, but it was the last words said in calm, too.
“I haven’t summoned you at all.” She replied coldly and that had led them to the given conversation, which took all his power not to be so damn straight forward with her.
“Eight…” she repeated his word. “And slept with every one of them?” she continued with a question.
“Yes.” He didn’t have to lie about that. He was, after all, spirit created for fantasies.
He watched the medallion disappear in her palm and for a moment he hated his ability to sense the warmth of the skin that touched it. It was his way of knowing if they were ready. She was smothering him with hers and he felt his pants grow tighter. If she wasn’t into mood to call his name, he’d take her without her permission. He didn’t really need their permission; it was only a game that helped women cope with the reality of spirits invading them, giving them the illusion of being the master. Truth was he didn’t need it and the medallion was not meant for that. He needed it to get inside the room.
“Doesn’t it become straining after a while?” she continued and looked up for the first time in the evening. She hadn’t expected him still to be so close and she jerked back in her chair, eyes fixed in his.
That was the first time he felt her body growing heat and he let a knowing grin appear on his lips. He knew she was observing his midnight green eyes, but he was sure that besides frustration there was little of anything else she might have picked up. Then his lips, his shoulders, chest…
The eyes raced back to his face, avoiding going anywhere lower than his chin after that. He had scanned her right after coming in and liked it, but her ash grey eyes took him speechless.
He sensed the medallion heat up as if it was suddenly placed in an oven. He swayed for a moment and gasped for air before hiding it back under his seductive mask. But he knew it was too late and she’d seen it and knew now exactly what made him tick and how precious it was to hold on to that piece of jewelry.
She released it from her grip, but didn’t put it on the table. Instead she let it cool by waving it a bit in the air. That helped and he leaned a bit over the table while letting out a loud breath which might as well have counted as a thank you as it was all she was getting.
“Give it back to me!” he ordered her and reached out for it again, but she tightened her hold on the chain it was on and he had no other choice but let his hand fall without it.
“No. It was sent to me for a reason and I would like to keep it.”
I would rather you didn’t, he thought bitterly. “It doesn’t work like that,” he tried with good at first, “if you don’t want my services, you give the medallion back, not keep it for a… a memory!”
He didn’t want to, but he showed exactly the rage he was trying to hide. He had never been a patient man and waiting was not his dish. Right now, he figured he’d waited enough and he grabbed after the medallion himself. That was a mistake as the next thing he felt was shuddering cold and he saw his dear item splashed into ice cold juice.
“Be nice.” She said calmly while he raised his hands up and backed away from the table. She drew it out, dug out her handkerchief and slowly cleaned it up.
He watched her fingers move and felt the warmth growling back in him; only the heat was gone as if she’d managed to restrain her sudden desire. He frowned. That was first! He leaned against the stove, studying her for good this time, without the outer glamour or how well he could fit in her.
Her blond hair shimmered in the yellow table lamp’s light. They were put up loosely, enough to keep them from her face, but nothing special for anyone else to see. Neither was her slightly grey green striped top or the weird skirt he could sworn he saw last in the end of the 80s. He moved his eyes back up to her face and her unpainted lips that wobbled a bit while she was biting them, all her concentration on the medallion. Her own small bone necklace gleamed nicely just like her hair. The only pigment that wasn’t part of her naturally, were painted on her eyelashes and that was all. Nothing more or anything less.
He calmed notably, realizing she really didn’t want anything from him. It offended him slightly, but he let it slip from his mind just as he let it slip that he was suppose to be on guard, keep his mouth shut and be a good lust spirit that he was. But he didn’t feel it right now, it was surprisingly calm and unemotional.
“It does get straining over time,” he said suddenly and earned her honestly surprised gaze. “You asked. Earlier.”
She thought back a bit. “Oh. Can you go without it for a while?”
“What do you mean?” He felt the growing heat around the medallion. “I don’t do singles, sweetheart.” He grinned openly, but the heat didn’t disappear like the first time.
She shook her head and let out a nice laugh before closing the medallion in her palm. “Don’t you ever wish to go on a vacation?”
His grin widened. “That IS my vacation.” He grew early silent and the grin disappeared a moment later. He couldn’t lie to her. He scolded himself to stop it, sensing the anger rise in her, provoking her wasn’t brining him the results and he became sure if he’ll continue, she’d surely do something permanently damaging for his beloved jewelry.
Something in her eyes gleamed for a moment, but before he turned to make sure what he saw was correct she had already turned back to the medallion and eyed it tensely.
His heartbeat hastened, but he didn’t try to prevent her this time.
“I think I will try your services,” she said suddenly and his shoulder slump. She wasn’t so different after all and perfect pair to her friend, who’ll pay dearly for double-crossing him.
He pushed himself up and closed the short distance between them, but her eyes nailed him in the middle of the room. No, it wasn’t lust she was talking about – there wasn’t even a trace of it there. But she did look annoyed.
“I prohibit you to touch me,” she started seriously. His eyes widened. Was she an idiot? “Starting from today, you are on a vacation. I know you don’t follow anybody’s rules, except of those, who hold the medallion, so here’s my proposition.” She specifically stressed the last word, “I don’t tell you to ignore, who you are, but instead of sleeping with those, who call for you, do it, because you wish it.”
I am not a jinnee, who follows his bottle, he wanted to stress out to her, too, but he kept his mouth shut. If she needed to think she was in control of the situation, good for her, but he was not letting it go so easily. He wanted to teach her a lesson about that prohibition she so cleverly thought out, but he’ll do it later, after he has got his medallion back. Oh yes, there was one girl he was starting to feel interest in and she was up for a good lesson in demonology.
He reached his hand out, explicitly demonstrating one thought. His calm was gone and he was angry that a woman, who had so neatly turned him into this sedated puppy had managed to enrage him again in less than a second it took her to express her attitude to this. He wanted his medallion back.
She looked up to his eyes, back to the medallion and suddenly flipped it over, hopped it neatly over her hay blond hair and placed it over her perfectly shaped collarbones.
She had never seen so many teeth in one mouth he encountered as he grid his teeth in such raw anger he had felt only few times in his life.
Suddenly it dawned on him what he might do – if she wasn’t giving her the medallion back, he could at least make her life a living hell. He flashed out of the apartment so fast it turned her cold.