Inspiration for Hire

Evernight Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

ISBN: 978-1-77233-200-1

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Melissa Hosack

WARNING:  The  unauthorized  reproduction  or  distribution  of  this
copyrighted  work  is  illegal.    No  part  of  this  book  may  be  used  or
reproduced  electronically  or  in  print  without  written  permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This  is  a  work  of  fiction.  All  names,  characters,  and  places  are
fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

INSPIRATION FOR HIRE

Purgatory, Inc.

Coral Moore

When my savior showed up, he sported jeans nearly worn

through at the knees and a beat-up leather jacket a few seasons past its
prime. He was the very image of a rock ‘n’ roll cliché, and somehow,
that was perfect. The calling card in my back pocket had grown
steadily warmer since I’d dialed the number embossed on its surface
in glossy black beneath his name, Zuhal, and the tagline, Inspiration
for Hire. I shifted on the uncomfortable chair my manager had parked
me in to sign some autographs after my latest gig, wishing I’d never
agreed to the farce.

The room was disappointingly empty, with only a few dozen

people standing in line to wait for my attention. A couple of years
before there would have been hundreds of fans crammed into the tiny
backstage area. Strike that—I never would have done a show at a
venue this small when my songs had actually been on the charts.

I distracted myself from the depressing reality that had

become my downward-spiraling career by searching out Zuhal again.
My pulse raced when our gazes met. Eyes the color of a fine, aged
bourbon appraised every inch of me and made goose bumps rise along
my arms. I had to convince him to help me with my next album. Since
the last time I’d seen him I hadn’t written a song worth a damn.

A redhead that might have been appealing on a different night

stepped between us and murmured, “Your music changed my life Mr.
Santos.” A flush painted her cheeks bright pink.

“Call me Ramón, please.” I smiled, signed the t-shirt she put

in front of me, and tried my best to make a passable attempt at
conversation.

When the adorable redhead moved aside, I looked toward him

again. He stood closer now, a sly not-quite-smile teasing his lips. Had

he made the people in front of him think of something more important
to do, or was his trickery more harmful? I really couldn’t afford to
lose any more fans.

I signed another t-shirt, another album liner, another random

body part. All the while I could feel his stare warming my skin as he
drew closer. When he finally stood across the table from me, I
hesitated before looking up.

Zuhal was lean in a way I generally didn’t find attractive, too

much sinew and bone showing through his sun-kissed skin. Still,
something about him drew me in a way no one else could since I’d
met him. I had no idea how old he really was, but he’d seemed to be
in his early twenties for the decade I’d known him, with the beauty of
unspoiled youth clinging to him and refusing to let go. I told myself
he was too pretty, but that was a lie; he was exactly pretty enough,
devastating even. His face balanced hard angles with soft curves to
perfection. Now that he was so close, I could hardly catch my breath.

“Why have you summoned me?” The words were part of the

ceremony and he always spoke them when he appeared to me, his
voice low and full of dark promises.

The backstage room around us was deserted. Was that another

of his tricks? I swallowed to get some saliva back in my mouth before
speaking. “I need an album.” I left off the part where if I didn’t
produce new music soon, I was most likely out of the business for
good.

His perfect lips twitched into a frown that didn’t make him the

slightest bit less attractive. “And what makes you think I would help
you with such an endeavor?”

“It’s your job.”
He turned away in a whirl of heated air and stalked toward the

door without a word, his dark hair streaming out behind him. Every
step tightened my throat. The fear of never being able to write another
song bore down on me.

“Please!” I shouted after him. “I need you.” My voice echoed

in the empty room, amplifying my plea.

Zuhal stopped so quickly that if he had been merely a man he

would have tripped. For a few heart-pounding seconds, he faced away
from me without moving, and then he lifted his left hand to make a
beckoning gesture without looking back.

* * * *

My hotel room was depressing in the way only on-the-cheap

traveling can be. Empty bottles of liquor, dirty clothes, and last
night’s takeout combined into an unappealing stench. I probably
shouldn’t have left the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign out, but I hadn’t been
expecting company when I left.

Zuhal came in behind me. In a room this small, he heated the

air a few degrees just by entering. He took in the mess with a
sweeping gaze that lighted on me after a few seconds. A thrill
tightened my stomach.

He slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto my unmade bed.

“Why haven’t you called me? I’ve missed you.”

I ignored his question and stepped closer. I had missed him

too, but I wouldn’t admit it. He already had enough hold on me.
Bracing for the heat, I tilted my chin upwards.

He lowered his head until our mouths met. His hand clasped

the back of my neck and kept me on my feet as the molten tide of his
kiss scoured me clean. My pulse raced, spreading fire through my
body with every heartbeat. As my cock swelled, I craved more
contact. I slid my hands around to his ass and squeezed, bringing his
hips hard against mine.

Zuhal broke from the kiss with a feral growl. He pulled his t-

shirt over his head and threw it somewhere behind me. Dark red
markings were etched into his torso and shimmered when he moved. I
traced one curved line and heat radiated into my finger. They were
some sort of script, elegant and otherworldly, but I couldn’t read
them.

“Turn around.” My voice was rough and low.
His eyes blazed with defiance, but he complied. He stared into

the mirror on the wall in front of him, locking his gaze with mine. I
moved closer, until my chest was flush against his back and I felt his
heat baking through my shirt. I reached around him, running my
hands over the markings on his stomach. The muscles of his torso
flexed as he writhed under my touch.

I followed the depression in the middle of his stomach

downward and around his bellybutton. He wasn’t human, but
whatever magic had formed him had remained faithful to the tiniest
detail. His eyes dropped shut as my fingers entered the coarse hair just
above the low-slung waist of his jeans.

His hips rocked back so his ass brushed against my aching

groin. My hand skated downward over the bulge in his jeans and
pulled him back against me. He shivered at the rougher treatment and
a groan escaped his slightly parted lips.

“Take me,” he said in a whisper so dry it might have caught

the linens on fire given time.

I ground against his ass and tilted my head until my lips

nudged his ear. “I’m going to fuck you until the music pours out of
you.”

He slipped out of my grip before my brain registered the

motion, moving faster than any creature of flesh and bone could. My
head swam with vertigo as he spun me around and slammed my back
into the cheap hotel wall. If he had used much more force he might
have brought the ceiling down on top of us.

Zuhal lifted me by the throat one-handed. “Why must you

always insult me?”

I gasped and spluttered, trying to get air past his firm grip.

Talking about the music when we were about to get it on always
pissed him off, but he was quicker to anger than usual. Frustration
made me bolder than I had any right to be, given the situation.
“Because you made every good song that has ever come out of me,
and I hate you for it.”

My feet hit the floor hard when he dropped me. I could still

feel the heat from his fingers burned into my skin even after he’d
backed away. He stared at me for a handful of seconds that felt like an
hour, his gaze weighing and calculating, then shook his head and
stooped to pick up his clothes. On his way out the door, Zuhal paused.
“You’re an idiot,” he said without turning just before he left me alone
in the hotel room.

Once I stopped shaking, I poured myself into a bottle of

bourbon. Every time I lifted the glass I was reminded of the liquid fire
of his eyes when they’d met mine in the mirror.

* * * *
After making it all the way through my next gig with no hint

of Zuhal’s brooding presence, I loitered around the club for an extra
half hour to be sure he wouldn’t show, signing autographs and
pretending to have fun despite my hangover. By the time I left, anger
had replaced desperation. I didn’t need him. I had written songs
without his help, and I could do it again.

I retired to my lonesome hotel room with a bottle of liquor,

vodka this time so as not to remind me of him. Sipping the foul-
tasting stuff from a plastic cup, I tried to find the quiet place inside
where the music flowed, but every chord I strummed sounded wrong.
I tuned and retuned until the notes lost all meaning and I couldn’t
have found a melody with a map. I drank until the world spun around
me, and then I drank some more.

When the shrill ring of the hotel room phone woke me some

time later, I was face down on the bathroom floor in the most
revolting puddle of puke I had ever had the bad luck to meet up close
and personal. I barely managed to make it to the toilet in time to
empty the rest of the vodka from my stomach. Slumped over the
basin, I wished an urgent and painful death on whoever kept ringing
my phone.

Eventually, someone shaking my shoulder woke me from a

dreamless sleep. I decided to pretend I was still asleep.

“I know you’re awake, Ramón.” The annoyed voice of my

manager, Mandy, echoed in the pounding cave of my skull.

I should have known she was the source of the ringing phone.

She probably paid extra for the phone company to add extra annoying
on to each ring. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving, so you might as well get up.”
Grumbling, I pulled myself into a sitting position and

immediately regretted moving. I leaned over the toilet and heaved
twice.

She reached over me to flush the toilet. “Extra cleanup charge

is coming out of your end.”

I tilted my head up while still leaning over the bowl, just in

case. “Doesn’t it always?”

Mandy’s dark hair was artfully curled and pinned up, and the

mile and a half of caramel cleavage she showed off in her not-quite-
see-through lace shirt would have been distracting if I hadn’t been
almost dead. She pursed her ruby red lips. “Jesus, you look like shit
and smell worse.”

“Thanks, babe. Just what I needed to hear today.”
She went to the shower and fiddled with the knobs until the

water came on. “You’ve got a meeting with the producer of your next
album in an hour. I need you to clean up.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t have any reason to. “I can’t make an

album with no material. Just cancel it.”

“Your contract terminates at the end of the year. If you don’t

make another album you’re going to have to pay the penalty. I know
you well enough to know you don’t have anything put aside to cover
that.”

I didn’t help her peel me out of my disgusting shirt, but she

managed anyway. Her entire career was probably a direct result of
that talent. “There’s no music left in me, Mandy.”

“Sure there is.” She dragged me unsteadily to my feet. “You

think everything is hopeless when you’re hungover.”

“This time it’s different. Nothing sounds right anymore.”
She shoved me toward the shower. “You probably just need to

get laid, and that will be much easier once you’re not covered in
vomit.” Once I was situated, she twirled the knob so cold water
blasted out of the showerhead, and then shut the curtain with an
authoritative swish.

I called her an uncharitable name that I didn’t regret until I

had warmed up much later.

* * * *
The meeting was a disaster, as predicted. The guy wanted

answers I didn’t have and I ended up storming out of the building not
too long after we’d begun. Mandy was lighting up my phone soon
after, but I sent her to voicemail.

I dug in my back pocket and pulled out Zuhal’s calling card.

On the back was the same script that marked his body, some sort of
incantation in an archaic language. I dialed the number printed on the
front. There was a long delay with a strange scratching noise in the
background that made me wonder where exactly I was calling, and
then a beep.

“It’s Ramón Santos. I need to see you.”
Mandy would be looking for me, so I couldn’t go back to my

hotel room to wait. I found a bar dark enough to suit my mood and
ordered a double bourbon, neat.

I knew when he came in even though I wasn’t watching the

door, because a hush fell over the room. People took notice when
Zuhal entered. I certainly did. I held my breath as he came closer,
trying not to look up until the last possible second. I gestured to the
seat across from me and finally met his eyes.

His face was set in a hard expression that didn’t suit him, but

it didn’t make him any less beautiful. “Why have you summoned
me?”

I sighed. Just once I wish he wouldn’t say it, that he had come

for a reason other than the summoning. “I just want to talk.”

A furrow formed between his dark eyebrows. He slid into the

opposite side of the booth. The waitress was there in a heartbeat. He
copied my order and slid the drink over to me when she came back
with it.

“Let’s start with the basics. What are you?”
He hesitated for a long beat, and then seemed to come to a

decision. “I’m a jinni.”

“Like Aladdin and all that?”
Zuhal leveled a withering look my way. “I don’t live in a lamp

and I don’t grant wishes. I provide the fire of inspiration.”

“That’s all I want. Why can’t you do that for me?”
He considered quietly for a few moments before answering. “I

want to, but I can’t. I don’t do music. My art is all visual, painting
mostly, sometimes sculpture.”

That couldn’t be true. He’d been there for the writing of every

song of mine that had gained any traction on the charts. “I don’t
understand.”

“It’s always been you, Ramón. I didn’t do anything but admire

you and desire you.”

A knot of anger formed in my chest. “So all these years

you’ve been lying to me? You’ve been taking credit for my music
when you did nothing?”

He had the audacity to look offended. “I have told you on

many occasions I couldn’t help you the way you wanted.”

“But you let me believe you were responsible for all my best

music.”

“I did it so I could be near you.”
His pained expression nearly broke my resolve to be angry

with him, but he’d lied for years. I couldn’t forgive the depth of his
betrayal. “You’ve been pretending to be the inspiration behind my
music for a decade so you could follow me around like some kind of
groupie?” If I had slapped him, he couldn’t have been more shocked.
I hoped the insult hurt, a lot.

He looked down at his hands where they rested on the table.

“When I first saw you, you were playing your guitar on a street corner
as I walked by with a client of mine. Your music was lovely, but your
passion was what drew me to you.”

When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “I’ve watched your

talent mature and encouraged you where I could, but that’s all. There
is no magic.” He met my eyes. “I’m sorry for the pain this deception
has caused you. I realize now how wrong and selfish it was.”

I wanted to tell him it was all right, but the stubborn bastard

that lived in my skull wouldn’t let me. He had betrayed me, after all. I
hit the table hard enough that my glass jumped. “Get out.”

Zuhal stood up but didn’t leave. His heated gaze made the

hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. After a long hesitation, he
moved away. I didn’t look up until he was long gone, because I didn’t
want him to see how close to forgiving him I was. I didn’t want him
to go. I ordered another drink and told the waitress to keep bringing
them.

An uncounted number of bourbons later, I looked up blearily

and tried to find someone who would let me forget about Zuhal, if
only for a little while. At the bar, a woman in a tight black dress that
emphasized her ample curves danced alone to music no one else could
hear. Her hips and arms undulated in faultless rhythm; her blond curls
swayed. The men around her whistled and called out rude
suggestions, but none of them took up her invitation.

I managed to work my way across the bar to her without

falling, though there were a couple of near misses. She favored me
with a cryptic smile when I approached and held out her hands.

* * * *
In the alley outside after last call, I pressed the dancer up

against the brick wall with sloppy kisses. I made a clumsy move for
my belt, and she swooped in to help. Her hand dove into my jeans and
gave me a squeeze. I looked into eyes of dazzling blue under a fringe
of golden bangs. She was lovely, but the deep passion that had stared
back at me from the mirror wasn’t there, just a yawning emptiness.

“What’s wrong?” She tried to revive my flagging interest with

slow strokes. It almost worked.

Pulling away from her, I tried to do up my fly, but I was too

drunk to manage it. “I need to go home.”

She grabbed my arm before I could stumble very far down the

alley. “Zuhal can’t help you, but I can.”

I stopped but didn’t turn back. I was sure I’d heard her wrong.

“What do you know about Zuhal?”

“He’s a cheap knock-off, but I’m the real thing.” Her voice

floated around me, rich and melodious.

Of course she was some kind of monster; it just fucking

figured. “How the hell do you guys keep finding me?”

She leaned against my back and wrapped one arm around my

waist. “We’re drawn to those who have your gifts.” She slid her hands
into my pants again and gave me another squeeze.

Despite my better judgment, my cock responded to her touch.

I tried and failed to untangle myself from her hold. She was a lot
stronger than she looked. “I thought you wanted me for my music?”

“I do.” She rubbed her palm over my hardening length.
I rocked my hips into her caress. “How do I know you’ll

follow through?”

She manhandled me until my back was against the same brick

wall I’d pressed her into a few minutes before. One corner of her
mouth lifted into a sultry smile. “Would you like a sample?”

The sane part of me wanted to say no, tried to say no. The

self-destructive part just wanted to screw something, anything. “Fuck
yes.”

“When people hear the music we’ll make together, they will

fall at your feet.”

She knew exactly what every musician craved. My cock

swelled until it ached.

Her grin sharpened when she felt my response. “That’s more

like it.” She dropped to her knees fluidly and tugged my jeans until
my cock bobbed free.

When she engulfed me in one long pull, I groaned and leaned

into the wall. My fingers scraped the rough bricks for purchase.
Pressure built swiftly, tightening the muscles of my stomach when I
thrust deeper into the moistness of her mouth.

In that breathless moment where I tried to hold on to make the

sensation last, the music began. The melody unwound from
somewhere inside me that I couldn’t have pointed to or named. I
struggled to hold onto it, to commit the song to memory, but my body
had other ideas. I arched my back and drove my cock deep one last

time. My balls tightened as I exploded into her mouth. Blood roared
through my ears. I held onto the wall until the dizziness passed.

By the time my breathing had returned to normal, she was

standing in front of me with a hand on one hip. She had already done
up my fly without me noticing, somehow. Though the alley was far
from clean, there wasn’t a smudge on her.

“What the fuck was that?”
She smirked. “Do I get the job?”
I tried to recall the music, but it seemed to be hovering just out

of reach. “Yeah, let’s get a cab.”

* * * *
Several days passed in a dull haze of sex, alcohol, and music.

Mandy eventually hunted me down in a different cheap hotel I didn’t
remember checking into. She banged on the door until I let her in. I
had no idea where the dancer had run off to, and I didn’t really care as
long as she came back when I needed more of the song. I’d been
sitting alone in the hotel room for a while, strumming the melody to
my new tune and grinning like an idiot.

I went back to the chair and my guitar. “How’d you find me?”
“Tracked your cell phone.” She watched me play for a few

seconds in silence, her lips pursed. “You okay?”

I laughed and played a few more bars. “Yeah, don’t I sound

okay?”

She shrugged. “More worried about how you look. Are you

doing drugs?”

“You’re not really going to after-school-special me are you?”
“You’re sitting alone in a hotel room that smells like old sweat

and piss, and have lost about ten pounds since I saw you last. I think
I’m entitled to ask.”

“No drugs, just music.” I smiled up at her between chords, but

she didn’t look amused. “Nothing to worry about, Boss.”

“I try to give you space because I know you’ve got a weird

process, but you’re not playing anything but noise, Ramón.”

Anger bubbled up and I stopped strumming. “Are you kidding

me? This is the best thing I’ve written in years, maybe ever.”

Mandy bit her lip and somehow managed to look even more

miserable. “The guitar isn’t even in tune.”

“Get the fuck out. You’re fired.”

At her sides, her perfectly manicured fingers clenched into

fists. “You can’t fire me for no reason. We have a contract. But I
don’t care about that right now. What I care about is that you’re
falling apart.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I pointed for emphasis, because she

didn’t seem to have heard me the last time.

She headed for the door, but paused before reaching for the

knob. “Call someone who cares about you. Please, Ramón. You need
help.”

I played as loudly as I could until she left so I wouldn’t have

to tell her I’d chased off the only person who cared about me. I caught
myself strumming the melody of one of the songs I’d written for my
last album—a melancholy tune about lovers going separate ways.

Now that I knew Zuhal wasn’t the source of the song, it was

easier to see myself in the lyrics. I sang for a while, but lost the heart
for it halfway through. I needed to finish the new song. That was the
only way to get him out of my head. I went in search of a bottle that
wasn’t empty.

* * * *
One raunchy invitation by text message later, my inspiration

arrived. She wore a filmy skirt that bounced when she walked and a
tube top that could barely restrain her breasts.

“Where’d you run off to?” I stepped back to let her in the

room.

“You’re not my only client.” She grabbed me by the belt and

pulled me inside as she walked backwards. “But you are the most
prolific.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“As well you should.” She rubbed the growing bulge in my

pants.

“Bend over and we’ll make this fast.”
She laughed and shoved me backwards onto the bed with no

effort at all. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Whatever you want, as long as it’ll get me my song.”
“That is music to my ears.” She leapt on top of me, grabbed

my throat with one hand, and tore open my jeans with the other.

The abruptness of her assault rattled me a little, and I let out a

nervous laugh that she cut off by tightening her fingers around my

windpipe. She mounted me with a groan of satisfaction. I couldn’t
draw breath, though I strained for one as her hips ground against me.

My attempts to push her away ended when the music started.

The song flowed through me, the driving beat matching the rhythm of
her hips. I was sure she was killing me, but as long as the tune kept
playing, I didn’t much care. She loosened her hold and I sucked in a
wheezing breath. She slid her hand down my sternum as she picked
up the pace, pinning me down with her unnatural strength. Gold
markings on her skin glowed and faded, surging in time with the
music in my head. Her fingers curled into a fist at the center of my
chest, setting off a tugging sensation deep in my gut.

I groaned as the pain intensified when she lifted her hand.

Realizing this latest bout of self-destructiveness was probably going
to get me killed, I tried to reach up to disrupt her, but I had no
strength. I could only lie there and watch her as she tore whatever the
hell it was out of me. A transparent golden thread rose from my chest,
swaying to the same beat that pounded in my ears. Leaning forward,
she sucked the thread into her mouth.

She devoured the strange fiber in large gulps. Each swallow

tore at me. Darkness loomed at the edges of my vision. I cried out for
her to stop, but she sat forward to cover my mouth without missing a
beat. The pain became a constant, burning agony. I closed my eyes
and wished the torture would end, but she kept on ripping me apart
from the inside out. I sobbed into her hand until the darkness
consumed me.

* * * *
I woke sometime later, with my entire body sore and the

damned song thrumming in my head. When I finally managed to
crack my eyes open, I realized I was alone in the motel room.
Numbness drew my attention to the area of my chest where she’d
pressed her hand. Her golden handprint glowed in time with my
heartbeats. I had no idea what she’d done to me, but I knew it wasn’t
good.

I stumbled around looking for my cell phone. Considering the

closet-like proportions of the room, the process took entirely too long.
Then I had to search for Zuhal’s card. I’d almost thrown it away a
handful of times, but a part of me had wanted to hold on to that tiny
piece of him a little while longer. With no idea how long I had before
she came back, I was in a panic by the time I found it. I dialed the

number with shaking fingers and held my breath through the distant
scratching until the beep.

“I’ve gotten myself in some trouble and I need your help.” I

was about to hang up when I thought of something I wanted to say in
case I never got the chance to speak to him. “I’m sorry I pushed you
away.”

After I hung up I tried to get dressed, but I’d already used up

what little energy I had. I collapsed onto the lumpy mattress and
closed my eyes. Zuhal sometimes took a while to find me, and I
worried that the dancer would return before he did. I wasn’t sure I
could survive another encounter with her. I kept the card pressed
against my chest, hoping the contact would help him locate me.

I’d never asked him how he found me, or why sometimes it

took an entire day and other times just minutes. He always came when
I called and I’d taken it for granted. How could I have been so
thoughtless? He’d proved how much he cared about me at every turn
and all I did was bitch about the music.

The truth was, I missed him. I should never have let him go.

After a bit of fidgeting, I fell into an uneasy doze. My dreams were
filled with lean muscles and skin like fire.

A slap woke me all too soon afterwards. The dancer had

shown up first. I’d never had very good luck.

I was way too groggy to deal with her. “What the fuck was

that for?”

“I thought you liked it rough.”
“I’m generally the aggressor.”
“Not anymore, cupcake.” She had my pants undone before I

could even protest, but her maniacal grin wilted when she found me
flaccid.

“Really not in the mood.”
“I can fix that.” The music blasted from nowhere.
Despite my exhaustion and my complete lack of interest, my

body responded. My pulse quickened and the blood rushed to my
groin so fast it made me light-headed. The resulting erection felt
unnatural, almost alien. I wasn’t turned on. I didn’t feel excited. I felt
nothing but the throbbing.

She didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t into it. When she moved

to straddle me, I put up my hands, trying to push her away, but she
was too strong.

“Get away from him, Teri,” Zuhal growled from the doorway.

The music cut off abruptly. I’d never been so glad to hear silence in
my life.

Her delicate nose wrinkled, and she glanced over her shoulder.

“And why would I ever obey a command from the likes of you?”

“Because if you don’t unhand him, muse, I’m going to burn

you to cinders, and fuck the tribunal afterwards.”

She made a clicking noise with her tongue. “You aim too high

above your station, jinni.” She emphasized the final word as if it was
distasteful.

His eyes burned like molten metal. “I was made for battle and

you were made for reclining on a divan. Try me.”

She backed away a few inches and shrugged. “You missed

your chance. He’s already mine.”

Zuhal’s gaze raked over me and stopped where her handprint

glowed golden on my chest. “You marked him without his consent?”

“Oh, he consented.”
They were talking about me like I was a side of beef, and I

was tired of it. “I did well fucking not.”

She grinned down at me, showing a disturbing quantity of

teeth. “You said, and I quote, ‘Whatever you want, as long as it’ll get
me my song.’”

The blood drained from my face.
Zuhal barked something in a language I didn’t understand as

he stepped closer. They now stood on opposite sides of the bed with
me in the middle. “He didn’t know what he was agreeing to.”

“Informed consent is for doctors, not supernatural law.”
He looked down at me. His jaw worked as he hesitated. “What

do you want for him?”

I glared at him. “I’m not for sale.”
Neither one of them acknowledged me.
“I want you,” she said in a silky tone.
Zuhal chuckled. “Is that what all of this has been about, you

wanting back in my pants?”

“This has nothing to do with your pants.” She smirked when

she eyeballed his groin. “I want your talent. I have a client whose
deepest desire is to be a painter.”

I shut my mouth with a snap. “You and her?”
He met my eyes. “It was a long time ago.”

“I just thought you had better taste.”
His lips twitched despite his best effort to keep a stony face.

“Let’s not discuss that now.”

The muse interrupted our banter. “What’s your answer?”
“Hold your breath.”
At first I thought he’d been speaking to her, but his eyes never

wavered from mine. He made an exasperated expression, and I took
as large a breath as I could. Zuhal leapt on top of me.

The world erupted into fire.
My skin heated until it prickled. I closed my eyes reflexively

and concentrated on not taking a breath I was pretty sure would fry
my lungs. Zuhal cradled my head against his chest. His strong arms
surrounded me. I had no idea what he was doing, but I trusted him.
Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold my breath any longer, a
loud whoosh pulled the heat away from us.

Zuhal lifted my chin. “Are you all right?”
I blinked my eyes open and saw his concerned face hovering

over me. My back was cushioned against something soft. “Yeah.
Where are we?”

He scanned my face and traced the outline of my cheek. “Your

skin is a bit red.”

That explained why his caress made my skin itch. “Feels like a

sunburn.”

He tapped the handprint on my chest. “She’s going to be able

to find you with this, but we have a while before she figures out I
brought you here.”

The cozy room around us felt safe. “You never did say where

here is.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek before answering. “I

didn’t want to worry you.”

“The mysterious and vague thing really isn’t working for me

right now. Where are we?”

“It’s not easy to articulate. We’re in another plane of existence

that occupies the same time and space as yours, sort of layered over
the top of it.”

“That really didn’t clarify anything.”
“Your people call it purgatory, but it’s not the mystical land of

the dead. It’s just another place that happens to be in the same place
as Earth.” He sighed. “This is my home.”

I looked around again, taking in the details: soft fabrics and

warm tones. “This is your bedroom.”

“It is. You are the first human ever to have seen it.”
I met his eyes and let myself drift in them for a moment. “You

should have told me sooner.”

“I know. I was afraid you would send me away.”
And of course, I had done exactly that. “You caught me off

guard and I was angry.”

“Understandable—”
He looked like he was going to continue on, asking for my

forgiveness again, but I interrupted him by lifting my head to kiss him
briefly. His lips were warm almost to the point of discomfort on my
singed skin. “I forgive you.” I pulled back before I was tempted to
continue down that path. “Now tell me what we’re up against.”

“Terpsichore is a muse.”
“Is that how she made me hear music?”
“She gave you a tiny taste of your own music back so you

would think she was creating it rather than stealing it from you.” He
smoothed a crease that had formed in my forehead with his thumb. “I
told you before, you have talent. You don’t need inspiration; you’re
the source of it.”

The reverence in his voice made me want to do things to him

we didn’t have time for. “What else?”

His fingers brushed over the handprint on my chest. “This is a

marking of ownership.”

“Like branding a steer?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “I don’t want you to think we’re all

barbarians. Most of us don’t acknowledge this kind of ownership over
other sentient beings any longer, but there are factions that still follow
the tradition.”

“So how do I get out of this?”
“First we talk to my regent. She may be able to help us

through official channels.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t completely dismissed the idea of

burning her to ash.”

“What was that about you not being a barbarian?”
He grimaced. “I’m not sure rescuing you from slavery should

be considered barbarism.”

“While the idea of you defending my honor is deeply amusing,

I don’t want you to murder anyone because of me.”

“Fine.” He glanced away moodily.
I could tell he was chewing on something he didn’t want to be

the first to bring up. “Should we talk about why I was with her?”

“That seems obvious. She’s very attractive.” He tried to sound

matter-of-fact, but his expression tightened.

“Yeah, and she’s sucking my soul away a piece at a time.”
“She is rather adept at sucking, if memory serves.”
“Fuck, yes.” I turned his head so our gazes met and touched

my thumb to his lower lip. “You’re better though.”

He stared into my eyes for a long moment, then broke into a

shy smile. “I am?”

“I never lie about blow jobs.” I kissed him again, letting my

mouth linger on his afterwards. It had always been so easy to lose
myself in him. “When this gets sorted out I want to try this thing
between you and me again, for real this time.”

“Even though I can’t make music for you?”
“Being with you is all the magic I need. I’ll make music the

old fashioned way.”

For a response he kissed me, pressing me into the bed. The

moist warmth of his tongue nudged between my lips. Even after my
recent bad experiences, his attention was enough to get me going in
record time. I tilted my hips to prod his thigh with my erection.

He came away from the kiss breathless. “We don’t have much

time.”

I leaned to rub my face in the crook of his neck. The heat of

his body irritated my burned skin, but I reveled in the discomfort for
the opportunity to be closer to him. “Okay, let’s go talk to the lady in
charge. I want to get this over with so I can enjoy making up with you
properly later.”

He leaned down to capture my mouth with his, and I lost

myself again in the heat of his kiss. When he finally pulled away, he
nipped my lower lip. “It’s a date.”

* * * *
Zuhal loaned me a shirt so I would be a bit more presentable,

but he was narrower across the chest than me so I ended up looking
like runway model who was trying too hard. I couldn’t decide if I
wanted to slap or kiss the grin off his face when he ogled me.

From where he was slouched against the wall, he beckoned me

over. I stepped closer, aware of his eyes taking in every inch of the
fabric stretched across my torso. He slid an arm around my back and
held me against him. The right corner of his mouth rose. “Don’t
breathe.”

I closed my eyes and nodded, then took a deep breath. The

rush of hot air surrounded us again, and my skin ached in protest, but
this time the heat faded as quickly as he’d summoned it. He had
transported us to a large room with a mosaic tiled floor and a vaulted
ceiling. The pattern of the tiles evoked flames in a dozen shades of
red and gold that curled toward an arched doorway opposite where we
stood. Zuhal took my hand and we crossed the room together.

He knocked on the heavy metal door blocking our way. The

sound echoed in the large room. A moment later the door swung
open, and Zuhal shot me a reassuring smile before going in first.

I’d expected the regent to be an older woman of regal bearing,

perhaps wearing a pantsuit, seated behind a huge wooden desk with
various official-looking decorations. I should really have known
better.

The regent was taller than Zuhal, and just as lithe, with a

golden silk robe draped around her that didn’t leave much to the
imagination. Her ebony hair was piled atop her head in intricate
braids, and her skin was the color of burnished copper. She sat in a
raised chair etched with flames, her fingers tapping the arm idly as we
approached.

“This had better be good.” Her voice resonated in the small

anteroom, the timbre of it leaving me vaguely uncomfortable.

Zuhal cleared his throat once we’d stopped in front of her.

“Highest, this is an acquaintance of mine, Ramón Santos.”

“I assume there is a reason you’ve brought a human into my

presence?”

He lifted my shirt to expose my chest. “Terpsichore marked

him without his consent.”

Her eyes scanned the handprint, and then rose to take in my

face. “Is this true?”

“Yeah. I told her I’d do anything to get a song, but I didn’t

mean she could have my soul or whatever.”

“When dealing with supernatural beings you should probably

learn to be more explicit in your requests.”

“I understand that now.”
The regent leaned back in her chair and looked us both over

carefully. I had to stifle the sudden urge to squirm.

“I’m not sure what you expect me to do, Zuhal. She’s not one

of my subjects. Her actions are not my concern.”

“Could you speak to her regent on his behalf?”
She chuckled, deep and throaty. “As if Zeus would care. He

stopped worrying about what happened to humans when they stopped
making sacrifices in his name. He’s terribly vain.”

My prospects weren’t looking so good. I just hoped he

wouldn’t start considering murder as a viable backup plan again.

He tightened his hand around mine as if he’d sensed my

unease. “So there’s nothing you can do?”

“Not directly. Neither of them are subject to my reign.”
I couldn’t tell if we’d bored her, or if she was trying to make a

point, but she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Zuhal stood a little straighter. “She offered to take me in his

place.”

The regent’s hand came down hard on the arm of her chair.

“That’s ridiculous. I won’t allow it.”

He bowed low, tugging my hand so that I would do the same.

“I understand, Highest.”

“Good. Now get out of here. I have more important matters to

attend to.”

After a murmured farewell, he led me out of the room by the

hand. Once we were outside the metal door, I pulled him to a stop.
“So that didn’t go very well. What’s next?”

“Next we find Teri and trade me for you.”
“Didn’t the boss lady just say she wouldn’t allow that?”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
* * * *
“Can I just reiterate how much I hate this plan?” I watched

Zuhal pacing from where I sat on his bed. He’d been growing
increasingly agitated since we returned. I expected him to start
punching the walls at any moment.

“What don’t you like?”
“The part where you trade yourself for me, which the very

large lady in charge specifically said she didn’t want.” I didn’t know

much about the ruler of the jinn, but the impression I had was that she
didn’t like being disobeyed.

“She’s going to intervene and resolve the situation once I’m in

peril.”

“Do we know that for sure? It sounded to me like she didn’t

want you offering the trade.”

He stepped toward the bed, some of his bluster falling away as

he registered my concern. “You don’t know her as well as I do.”

“I’m not disputing that. I just think we should try something

else first.”

“Do you have an idea what that should be?”
“Not yet.”
“Then we should go with the plan we have.”
“I just don’t want to have to solve this with violence.”
“She assaulted you first.”
“Yes, but I don’t want the situation to escalate even further.” I

pulled him closer, resting my head against his chest.

He combed his fingers through my hair. “For a self-absorbed

musician, you’re very considerate of others.”

“Don’t let it get around. You’ll ruin my bad boy image.”
Zuhal tilted my face so that I looked up at him. “I won’t tell. I

like the idea that only I know the softer side of you.”

He leaned down as if to kiss me, but paused right over my

mouth. A breeze from nowhere ruffled my hair. Zuhal whirled around
quicker than I’d ever seen him move and growled deep in his chest.

“Hand him over, Zooy,” Terpsichore said in an annoyed tone.
I leaned around Zuhal to get a look at her. She was dressed

head to toe in red leather that hugged every luscious curve. She stood
with one hand on her hip and the other arm wrapped around a stringed
instrument I didn’t recognize.

“I’m not letting him go without a fight and you aren’t going to

win a fight, so let’s discuss other options.” I wanted to hug Zuhal for
backing my plan, but taunting Terpsichore probably wasn’t a good
idea, so I stood next to him instead. He slanted a warning look my
way.

Her eyes raked over him, the possessiveness in her gaze

making me want to get between them. “I told you I was willing to
take you in trade.”

There was no way I was letting that happen, no matter what.

“Not an option.”

“It’s cute that you think you have any input at all on this

situation.”

I let her insult slide because her desire to be the center of

attention had given me an idea. “What if I could promise you a nearly
endless supply of musicians and fans to adore you?”

She focused her predatory stare on me. “How do you plan on

delivering on that offer?”

“You come with me on my tour.” I gestured toward her

instrument. “You play on stage and all the kids go wild. More music
juju than you’ve probably ever felt in one place. It’s a huge adrenaline
rush.”

Her lips compressed in thought. “Can I dance?”
I’d seen how much she loved to dance—I had her. “I would be

honored.”

“I want to be part of the songwriting process too.”
“No sex, non-negotiable.”
“Agreed. Only mundane musical collaboration, no magic.”

She glanced between us and then grinned. “And I want some of his
talent for my client.” She pointed at Zuhal.

My hopes to find a non-violent solution to my problem

dwindled. I wasn’t going to let her have any hold over him. “This is
between you and me. Nothing to do with him.”

Zuhal touched my arm. “It’s fine.”
I wanted to fight this point, but when I met his eyes I could tell

he wasn’t going to back down. “Fine, but he gets to dictate the terms
of that.” One side of his mouth lifted into a small smile.

“Agreed. I get to decide when the partnership is over.”
I wasn’t crazy about that stipulation, but if it got her mark off

my chest I could work with it. “Deal.”

Zuhal moved to step between us when she started across the

room. “If you harm him, you’re done.”

“I’m content with the bargain we’ve made, but don’t test my

patience.” Beaming an angelic smile his way, she shoved her
instrument into his arms. She placed her right hand in the center of
my chest, and raised her other hand to the side of my neck.

Music rose around us. I shied away, both from the contact and

her magic, but she held my neck to prevent me from backing up.

“Stand still,” she snapped. “I need to undo the connection.”
Zuhal narrowed his eyes, but nodded. His reassurance gave me

a little more confidence, and I relaxed in her grip. She bowed her head
and the music grew steadily louder. The beat pulsed through her
hands and surged into my body. If I hadn’t been concentrating on
staying still, I would have swayed to the rhythm.

The mark on my chest burned as the music reached a

crescendo. There was a sensation of tugging, and then a few seconds
later a sharp snap. I reeled away from her, breathless, almost falling to
the ground.

Zuhal was next to me, holding me up before I could recover

on my own. “Are you okay?”

I pulled my shirt up and was relieved not to see the mark of

her hand. “I will be.” I leaned against him, reveling in his warmth.

Terpsichore cleared her throat. “My lyre? Before you clumsy

oafs break it.”

Zuhal handed her the lyre without looking, and then wrapped

his arms around me. “Take it easy for a few minutes.”

From behind us, Terpsichore scoffed. “You two are really

quite adorable. It’s making me a bit nauseous.”

Zuhal’s chin came to rest on my head. “Feel free to leave.”
“Let me know when work will start on the album.” She raised

her arm with a flourish. A cascade of golden sparks burst from her
hand and dazzled me.

When my vision cleared, she was gone. “Wow. That went way

better than I thought it would.”

“Me too.” He lifted me and walked us to the bed, placing me

lightly on my back. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, sore, and a little burned.”
He caressed my face with his knuckles. His dark eyes

smoldered as he stared down at me. “That was very impressive.”

His soft-spoken praise made my stomach flip. “Thanks. I

really just didn’t want to fight. I’ve finally figured out what I wanted
all along. I’m glad I found something she wanted more than my
music. Sorry you got roped into it.”

“I would give up much more for you.” Low and rumbling, his

voice cascaded over me and raised goose bumps on my skin.

He leaned into me, kissing and nuzzling my jaw. I sighed out a

long breath as his hands smoothed over my chest and down to my

stomach. His lips moved down to my neck, leaving a trail of warmth
behind. He removed my shirt slowly by sliding his hands beneath the
hem and pushing upwards. When my head came out, he covered my
mouth with his. His kiss scoured me clean, driving away the worry of
last few days and replacing it with an entirely different kind of
tension.

Needing to feel his body against mine, I reached around him

and drew him down on top of me more forcefully. He straddled my
hips and ground himself against me, the rough fabric of our jeans the
only barrier between us. I moaned into his mouth when I felt the hard
length of him against my cock. His heated breath feathered over my
face as he broke from the kiss.

I helped him out of his shirt. “I’m not sure I’m up for our

usual level of intensity.”

His molten gaze raked over me as his lips curved into a slow

smile. “Let me do all the work.” He tilted his hips to increase the
friction. When I gasped he leaned down to kiss me again, filling my
mouth with his tongue. He matched the pace of his kiss to the rocking
of his hips, stroking me in two intimate places at once. He pulled
away from the kiss. Unbidden, a sound of frustration escaped me.

I watched as he slid down my body. He placed kisses at

random, his dark hair tickling my neck, chest, and stomach as he
descended. He met my eyes when he reached my waistband and
worked my fly with one hand. The teasing of his fingers over the
fabric only made me want him more. I lifted my hips to help when he
tugged my jeans down just enough to free my cock.

He took hold of me gently and licked slowly up the ridge

along the underside from base to tip. I was panting by the time he
reached the top. He sucked the head of my cock between his lips and
laved the tip with his tongue. I gripped the covers to fight the urge to
shove all the way inside his heated mouth. He kept at it until my hips
trembled with tension, and then pulled back until my cock popped
free.

I gulped for air. “Oh, fuck.”
He grinned mischievously. “Not quite yet. I’m having fun.”
Without giving me more time to recover, he gripped the base

of my cock and took me into his mouth halfway. His tongue stroked
the underside as he slid his lips up and down a few times to work up

some saliva. His mouth was hot almost to the point of discomfort and
intensified every sensation.

I writhed under him and tried to push my way deeper, but he

held my hips down easily. He continued to tease me with short glides
until I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached for his head and tangled my
fingers in his hair at the base of his neck. His eyes rolled up to meet
mine. He groaned when I tugged his hair, and opened his jaw further.
I pushed his head down, expecting resistance, but he swallowed me
deep.

I arched my back as his heat engulfed me fully, exhaling a

harsh moan. I held him there as I struggled for control. Once I
regained some composure, I eased the pressure of my grip to let his
head come up. He let me dictate the rhythm. I slid him up and down
along my cock, fucking his mouth as hard as I knew he liked.

The heat, the friction, and his muffled noises of pleasure

ratcheted the tension building inside me. I buried my cock to the hilt
in his hot mouth and tilted his head back until our gazes met. The
naked desire on his face almost undid me. “I need to fuck you, right
now.”

He moaned around my cock. I pulled his head back until he

released me before untangling my fingers from his hair. He slid off
the bed, walked to a desk a few feet away, and then rummaged in a
drawer for a moment. He slipped out of his jeans on the way back. I
watched him walk, admiring his grace with each step. He offered me
the lube.

I shook my head. “You do it.”
Zuhal emptied some of the lube into his palm and set the tube

aside. He warmed it between his hands briefly. The slick heat spread
down my cock as he used both hands to apply the lube. His breathing
quickened when I lifted my hips a few times, forcing my cock through
his slippery fingers.

I reached to caress his ass cheek, smiling when he shivered

under my touch. “A little more.” I slid my hand over his hip to stroke
his cock as he fumbled with the lube.

He bit his lip in concentration while I teased him, his hips

rocking slightly. When he finally managed to deal with the slippery
tube, he returned his attention to my cock. His eyelids drooped as he
fell into the rhythm of my hand.

I increased the pressure of my grip to get his attention. “Get

on.”

He crawled onto the bed facing my feet. I had a great view of

his ass as he swung one leg over me. Looking over his shoulder, he
backed up until my cock nudged his ass crack. I grabbed his ass in
both hands, sliding my cock between his cheeks and pulling him back
further. I rubbed the head of my cock up and down a few times,
spreading the lube and teasing him into a frenzy.

“Please, Ramón.”
For an answer I let my hand trail down his spine, stopping just

above his tailbone. He straightened a bit, and I used the other hand to
guide myself inside him, gritting my teeth when I felt him around me.

His head fell back, sending his dark hair cascading over his

shoulders. The markings on his skin glowed and dimmed along with
the frantic beating of his heart. He stayed there for a few seconds,
drawing deep breaths that made his ribs expand.

I grabbed his hip and pulled him back and down, slipping in

another inch. The heat of his body under my hands and around my
cock was intoxicating. He bore down and slid back, taking almost all
of me.

A bone-deep groan shook him. I gave him a moment to adjust,

and then pulled him the rest of the way home with a sharp tug. He
gasped my name. I ran my hand up his side, feeling the tension of his
muscles.

“There is nothing like being inside you.” I pushed up onto one

elbow and wrapped my other hand around his hair. He leaned back
into my hold, arching his back.

I let up on the pressure so he could rise a few inches off my

cock and then pulled him down in a gradual slide. At the bottom, I
tilted my pelvis to get a deeper angle. The muscles of his back flexed
as his ass ground against me. I pushed up higher, changing my grip to
the back of his neck. He exhaled a harsh moan.

Though he could have pulled away from me with ease, he let

me direct his body. My cock disappeared inside him as his hips rose
and fell in a slow, hypnotic rhythm with the slightest nudge. I finally
took pity on us both and increased our pace. I dug my fingers into his
neck when his hips began to buck. He cried out hoarsely at the bottom
of each thrust. I didn’t slow when his muscles clenched around me as
he climaxed, but the increased friction and heat quickly overcame me.

I buried myself to the hilt one last time and shouted as my release
swept through me. He shuddered as my cock throbbed inside him.

After I regained my breath, I wrapped my arms around him

and maneuvered us onto our sides. I pulled his shivering body against
my chest and kissed the back of his neck. We were both sticky, but I
didn’t care. I planned on dragging him into the shower with me for
round two just as soon as I could stand up.

He was the first to break the silence a few minutes later.

“Wow.”

Laughing into his hair, I hugged him tight. “After that

performance I’m never letting you out of my sight.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He lifted my hand to his mouth

and kissed the side of my wrist just below the thumb. The gesture felt
strangely intimate.

My throat tightened with emotion. “Please don’t. My heart

couldn’t take it.”

He squeezed my hand. “Never.”

The End

www.coralmoore.com

Evernight Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com