‘I released him from the curse of the lamp a long time ago. Elijah has been his own master for years. I merely put him back in the lamp to stop him from searching for our siblings.’

  ‘But…’ Keira stopped herself. What about the promise he had kept, helping August? What about the wish he had obeyed when she asked him to free them from the library? And—Wait. Had he been searching for their siblings? Not for her like the emperor had said? Keira’s head swam. If she got Elijah back, she would never touch another drink her whole life… ‘I made a wish.’

  ‘Whatever Elijah did under the pretence of fulfilling a wish, I’m sure he did it for you.’

  Because he…loved her, she realised. Because she had made a wish in the ordinary sense of the word. A magical wish might have gotten them out, just as Elijah had said, but he had found the strength to heed her wishes and do it despite the emperor’s magic.

  Knowing as much did not help though. In fact, it made her heart ache harder.

  ‘He…he is truly gone then?’ Keira hiccupped, her gaze travelling aimlessly out the open door. Today, as it had consistently for the last several days, rain fell in a heavy pitter-patter outside, cloaking the leaves and grass in glistening wetness. She supposed it was fitting, really, that the rain had come to wash out the last heat of summer. It was well and truly fall now. And all around, life was dying. Had died.

  ‘Not…necessarily,’ Isolde said, and Keira thought she had misheard her at first.

  ‘What?’

  Isolde exchanged glances with Makenna and Echo.

  Then Makenna stepped into the room and sat down next to Keira. ‘Remember what I told you at the palace?’

  Keira thought hard, struggling to connect her chaotic – and slightly inebriated – thoughts to one another. Then she recalled Makenna’s words, about… ‘The ritual,’ she breathed, looking at the witch. ‘The one that can be used to call upon demons and gods alike.’

  Makenna nodded. ‘It will require all of us to make a spirit materialise in flesh and bone.’

  ‘Can we do it?’ Keira asked Isolde, her spine straightening.

  ‘Possibly. But…’ The witches exchanged glances once again. ‘But it’ll require something more. Elnatan isn’t just any djinn. And so bringing him back will not only require a demonstration of his vice, but also a treat, an offer, that his spirit can’t possibly reject – an anchor stronger than the pull of the Underworld.’

  Keira blinked. ‘Another sacrifice? A body? My body?’ She would do anything to get him back, and yet…the two of them sharing a body for the rest of their lives wasn’t exactly how she had pictured their future together.

  ‘In a way, yes. But also more than that,’ Isolde said. ‘It will require your souls, bound in Unholy Matrimony.’

  28

  RELEASE

  Witches flurried ahead of her as their group made their way into the depths of the Woodland Woods. Their dresses were transparent and white, their cloaks and draped sleeves floating against the burnished trunks of trees and green leaves as they passed.

  Ahead, Keira saw the flaming red top of Isolde’s head, leading the witches forward. Behind her was Echo, her jaw set in hard determination, white lines of ritual paint painted between her eyes reflecting the fire of multiple torches dancing through the woods with them. The fire of her soul.

  When Keira faced ahead again, she’d siphoned some of that fire, cradling it within her chest like a candle of courage. She inhaled deeply, and her breasts swelled against her laced bodice. It was the only solid piece of clothing she wore; the rest was a white tulle skirt fastened around her waist with a purity ribbon and bishop sleeves in the same material, billowing around her arms like puffs of smoke and cutting off before the shoulder. Her hair was braided at the crown and spilled down her back in a waterfall of her natural waves. Like the rest of the witches, white star flowers had been entwined between the spilling locks of her hair.

  ‘Are we nearly there?’

  ‘Very soon,’ came Echo’s voice from behind. ‘Are you ready?’

  Keira let out a long exhale. ‘I believe so… it’s just…’

  ‘The witches will not judge,’ said Echo, answering her unspoken trepidations. ‘For us, this is not sin; for us, there is nothing purer than a witch letting herself go.’

  ‘But I am not a witch.’

  ‘You’re one of us, and that makes you as good as one. We would not have aided you against the emperor if not.’

  ‘My nan always said witches were married to the devil.’

  ‘After tonight, you will be too.’

  After tonight, Keira thought, as the clearing opened wide and the sturdy construction came into sight. A pergola. With legs wrapped in deep green climbing plants and faint pink roses, the construction carried a mattress nestled within a nest of branches and vines. Her marital bed.

  The witches fanned out around it, encircling the object with their eyes upon her expectantly. Isolde gestured for the stairs. ‘When you’re ready, Kiki.’

  Keira turned back to Echo once more, who dipped her head affirmingly. We will not judge.

  She did not care, Keira realised, if they did. There was something else, entirely, that jostled her nerves awake. The fear that this would not work, or the trepidation at the prospect that it might.

  Once again, Keira drew a breath before she scooped up the hem of her skirt and began climbing the ladder, the flames of the torches set around the construction warming her skin as she passed them by.

  Chanting rose from the gathered witches, and Isolde took to the floor.

  ‘I, Isolde, Djinn of Gluttony, Lady of Indulgence, Leader of the Woodland Clan, call upon thee, Lord Elnatan, great Djinn of Lust, Lord of Pleasure. We are gathered here today, as your humble servants, with a gift, a sacrifice, devoted to you.’

  Isolde gestured for Keira to take her position, and she lay down upon the mattress, the witches and torches blending into a blur in her peripheral vision, her skirt fanning out beneath her. ‘Come, Lord Elnatan, and claim your bride in the name of the One True Divinity. Bless us with your presence.’ The witches’ chanting grew louder, their faces shrouded in the darkness. All but Isolde’s, who turned to Keira, nodding. ‘Keira, it’s up to you now.’

  Keira closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, focusing on the wild thumping of her heart rather than the sound of the witches. Soon their chanting melded with the quiet of the night, becoming just another song of nature. ‘Come, Elijah,’ she whispered, and exhaled. ‘Come back to me.’

  Her hand travelled down to the inside of her leg, stroking the soft skin there the way he’d once told her to. She knew immediately that it was going to be a struggle, her fingers wrong and clumsy against drowsy nerves. The more the seconds ticked by, the more she tried to force it, until her eyelids shot open in frustration, staring at the tree crowns above. If she failed, Elijah wouldn’t return. If she failed, they’d all have gathered for nothing.

  Silver speckles shone down upon her from the sky, as if someone had taken a million star flowers and spread them across the vaulted midnight-blue ceiling of their world. Her fingers kept moving in circles, kept massaging and rubbing the soft, warm flesh between her thighs. Still, the only sensation she felt was the prickling of her skin, the wariness of all the witches’ eyes upon her.

  What would the villagers think if they came and saw her now? Would they think her gripped with insanity? Were they right? Had she truly gone mad? Was her brain befuddled by the devil? His demons? Panic struck her chest. A demon’s wife. That’s who she would be. The wife of a djinn.

  A breeze swept across the torches, and she caught one of the flickering bulbs in her view. Within it, she saw Elijah. The fireplace of the cottage. Their cottage. Their world. And once again, she was there, before the hearth, with him resting beside her, his lean, sculpted body close to hers, the hush of his voice lulling her pulse into a deep sensual rhythm throbbing down through her body and pushing against the tips of her fingers.

  Their movements increased more determinedly, more confidently, more intuitively towards her spot of pleasure, working it, letting the new craze that tore through her body build up.

  Closing her eyes again, she could see him more clearly, and a jolt of excitement shot through her, causing her to gasp. Automatically, her hand began to rub harder, eliciting trickling moans and heavy breaths as she worked. With her mind’s eye, she could picture him like she had done a thousand times in her dreams, leaning over her with his naked body, placing himself between her legs. She could imagine the heat in his gaze as he took her in and lowered his lips to her nipples, claiming them one by one with his tongue, his hands raking up and down her body like her own hand kneaded her sensitive spot.

  Her hips were thrusting against her hand now, rolling and coiling against the limb she now pictured as his, trying to steer the building wave inside her towards release.

  But something was lacking.

  She needed him.

  Needed the physical touch of his body entangled with hers. His heart beating with the frantic beats of drums like hers. Pleas evaporated like desperate prayers from her lips into the night as she grasped for a twig, for something to hold onto, and⁠—

  Suddenly, her hand caught around fingers.

  Her palm clasped against another’s palm. Her knees nudged against muscled thighs. And her hand, which now left the spot it had been working, moved to feel the steady beat of his heart through his chest.

  ‘You came,’ she breathed, looking into his eyes – beautiful sea-green eyes speckled with gold – hidden behind a fringe of darkened caramel.

  ‘You marvellous creature,’ he breathed, eyes devouring the curves of her body as if she were a full meal buffet, lingering at her breasts peaked towards the sky. ‘As if I could be content with simply watching any longer.’

  She groaned and spoke through bated breath. ‘Won’t you join me?’

  His lips pulled at the corner, one brow arching. ‘Oh, no. I’m not falling for this again. You will have to say it this time. Beg for it, actually.’ His fingers started to circle her inner thigh, and she shivered, feeling jolts of electricity as he moved closer, toying with the tips of his fingers along her mound, brushing them against her opening.

  ‘Elijah,’ she whimpered, sliding her fingers where his would not go and arching her back. ‘Please.’

  ‘Say it,’ he growled, settling in between her legs. The witches around them were forgotten; their presence blended with the trees. There was but her and Elijah in the world now. Them and fire. ‘Do you wish me to break my promise?’ he asked, his breath caressing her earlobe, a bite scratching at her neck.

  She exhaled a shivering breath and nodded.

  ‘Say it.’ Two fingers slid into her, his thumb stroking her button.

  She cried out. ‘Yes! Take my body. Take it now!’

  He entered, covering her gasp with his mouth, catching her in his embrace. Then he rolled his hips and pulled out again, slowly, before sliding back in, stoking at that fire she had cradled, teasing it into a blazing inferno. Their bodies moved against one another, her hands clasped in his grip, his tongue – his tongue claiming all of her upper body like his hardness claimed her below. Masterfully, deliciously.

  It rose now, the wave, belting against the roof of her centre of pleasure. She clenched her teeth and locked eyes with him, watching the same pleasure consume him like it consumed her, driving him over the edge, the last stroke of his hardness bringing her with him. Toppling their souls over the universe and beyond.

  They were left with their mortal bodies, panting and pressed up against one another. His eyes never let go of hers while his lips left small kisses upon the bridge of her nose.

  It was done. Their marriage consummated; their spirits bonded. Entwined with her body – his head resting upon her chest – lay her husband. The Djinn of Lust, Lord of Pleasure.

  ‘Devoted, huh?’ Elijah murmured after they’d managed to catch their breath, alluding to Isolde’s speech. His thumb caressed the bottom pillow of her lip, eyes rapt upon it when she let her tongue taste the salt of it. ‘In what way, Peaches?’

  Her hand reached down to cup his base, brushing a finger over the smooth patch of skin behind it, eliciting a shiver and a gasp from him. ‘In every way you desire, my lord.’ Her purr drowned in the guttural growl arising from the back of his throat, making her toes curl. And before they could be claimed by his, her lips coiled with sweet, wicked delight.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘Isolde! You’re here already,’ Keira said, coming down the winding library staircase to the pool area below and adjusting her skirt, making sure it appeared somewhat less rumpled. Isolde raised a brow and gave her a look as if to say don’t even bother.

  ‘Where were you?’ She set a book back in its place and stepped back to take in the room, its walls lined with bookshelves and potted plants, its floors covered in chequered tiles framing the pool filled with lush, clear water. Between Elijah and Isolde, the two djinns had restored the palace to its former glory using their magic.

  ‘Oh, we were simply’—Keira cleared her throat—‘enjoying some of the rooms. You know, testing the beds, getting lost in the hallways⁠—’

  ‘Feasting by the dinner table,’ Elijah said, appearing in the doorway, peach in hand, before taking a bite. Keira’s cheeks heated as he licked the juice off his lips and gave them a half-grin, eyes twinkling.

  ‘And that,’ Keira murmured under her breath, the flesh between her legs still tender and warm from Elijah’s so-called meal.

  ‘Bookshelves are quite sturdy too, sister. You should try them out.’

  ‘Been there, done that,’ Isolde said, and the two djinns winked at one another. The Lady of Indulgence and Lord of Pleasure; two sides of the same coin. Then Isolde turned back to Keira, taking her hands in hers. ‘You sure you want to leave all this behind?’ She lowered her voice. ‘We could make them forget, you know. The people of E’Frion wouldn’t bother you here. They’d readily believe you’re their King and Queen even, if you want them to.’

  Keira smiled. ‘Thank you, but there are too many places to see in the world, too many cottages to—’ She cleared her throat, suppressing a giggle at Isolde’s raised brow. ‘Sleep in.’

  Isolde made a sound at the back of her throat that assured her she caught what she meant.

  ‘Besides, this has always been your home more than mine. I think it is time you tried your hand at reigning, clan leader.

  ‘We’ll see. I’ll have my work cut out for me hunting down our siblings again.’ Isolde glanced at Elijah. ‘Speaking of which, where will you go?’

  ‘Out to see new worlds, then perhaps one day back to Faerie,’ Elijah said, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around Keira’s shoulder. ‘Can’t avoid it forever.’ A flash of a shadow passed over his eyes.

  ‘Perhaps we’ll ask the Spring Queen about my real parents as well,’ Keira chimed in. ‘Maybe we’ll find out more about them on our travels.’ Eventually. She wasn’t in a hurry. Things were finally good, and she was ready to leave the past in the past to enjoy her future and honeymoon with a certain Lord of Pleasure.

  Elijah smiled at her as if reading her mind, the need of her body, but then exchanged a glance with Isolde, both of their expressions speaking words Keira couldn’t read. She was about to ask why when Isolde broke eye contact first and forced a smile of her own. ‘Splendid. Will you excuse me for a moment? I need to go grab something from my chambers.’

  Keira waited until she had left before she pulled Elijah around. ‘What was that about?’

  ‘Hm? What?’

  ‘That look, between you and Isolde?’

  ‘I assure you’—Elijah chuckled and leaned down; his kiss almost toe-curling enough to distract her. Almost—‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  He smiled as innocently as the devil. Scowling at him at first, Keira then cracked a sly smile of her own, trailing her fingers under his shirt, over the muscles of his back until heat pooled in his gaze. So, he was hiding something from her again. She did not worry. She knew now how to make him talk…and she could already think of a few ways she would like to try.

  Curious about questions left unanswered? Find clues and answers in past and future books!

  Not ready to leave Elijah and Keira just yet? You might want to check out the rest of the back matter for an extra treat *winks*

  DEAR READER

  Why did I write this book? Well, the easy answer is because I was inspired to. But, as you dived into the story of Elijah and Keira, you might have found that there’s a sub element or a running theme of liberating yourself as a woman, reclaiming what you want sexually without shame.

  And I think a lot of that was bound up in my own experience with sexuality as well. I became curious about sex quite early, even before my nan accidentally bought me my very first book with smut (I think I was ten at the time, possibly) – which happened to be titled “The Dream Prince” or something like that (so we’ll have to forgive her the misunderstanding). She probably thought it was a fairy tale of sorts, and I learned pretty quickly that it was not. That said – side-note – it’s still, probably, one of the best spicy books I’ve read as far as my memory is concerned. Anyway, I digress.

  I actually wrote stories with sex early on. Many of my first pieces of writing were lust-filled, containing descriptions of yearning and want (let’s hope these never see the light of day, hah!). Yet somewhere along the line – just like with writing romance in general – I felt ashamed about it. I don’t remember if someone made me feel like this or if it just happened, but I know that simultaneously, I grew up learning, thinking – or being conditioned to think – that sex was something for the boys. It was something for them to want and do, and for us girls to be done to. If they had sex, they were heroes. If we had sex, we were—well, I think you know the word.