Free A Genie's Love (The Djinn Series) by Lyn Brittan

night did a number to the landscaping. She wished, more than once, for the holes to refill themselves, but the often malleable Faruq had taken a hard line on this. Either they fixed the holes with sweat and a shovel, or she had to manage enough of her own magic to do it herself.
    She massaged her shoulders at the memory.
    He tried anything he could to make her practice, some methods more effective than others. Once, he’d had her bent over the kitchen table with her butt up and his penis inside her. He only moved if she managed to flicker the lights on and off. She mastered that trick real fast.
    A couple days later, he had her clit in his mouth and threatened to stop sucking if she didn’t levitate the bed with them both still on it. She’d been a little over eager and after all the loving was done, she had to wish the massive four-poster off the roof. He’d never let her live that down.
    “Baby?”
    That was newish too. He’d started calling her that in the last three days and it still sent a thrill through her. She looked up from her notes in time to catch a couple of lottery tickets floating in the air. She concentrated, slowing down their descent and directing them to the table. “High five.”
    “That’s my girl. Those are quarter million dollar winning tickets in Florida and Mississippi. I’ve learned that smaller amounts, spread out over a few states, help avoid drawing too much attention.”
    None of this surprised her. It was how her sister and brother-in-law sustained themselves. People always wished for winning lottery numbers. Apparently, djinn the world over plucked those wishes from the multitude and used them for their own bank accounts.
    Oh, Dinah.
    She hadn’t gone back to Dinah and Tig’s house since their falling out and maybe that was a good thing. They had their life now and she didn’t need to always be in it. Plus, even though her sister was right, Cassia still nursed some bruised feelings. She’d get through it at her own pace.
    Faruq hadn’t spoken of it. He visited his brother often enough, but never once mentioned what they talked about. He had to have known she was a persona no gratia in the household. No way was she bringing it up.
    She tried to concentrate on studying her spells, but gave up and followed her nose to the kitchen. Faruq cooked something in a wide, double handled metal pan thing. She closed her eyes and tried to pick out the strange scents pickling the air. “Cumin? Cinnamon?”
    “Good.  What else? Sit.” Faruq threw a towel over his shoulder and bought the pan to the table. He grinned at her shrug and put a piece of warm flatbread on her plate. “The key spice is ras el hanout . It’s hard to find here.”
    “Which plant?”
    “All of them, really. Turmeric, berries, cardamom, cloves, peppers, paprika, I could go on, but you get the idea. It’s different from every single place, but the closer to the Aurès mountains you get, the better. You throw all that and your meat into the pot and you get marqa . Then you...”
    She held up her hand to stop him and dug into the plate. Her tongue appreciated it more than her nose did. The man was an excellent chef.
    Correction. The man was excellent.
    And it scared her less and less each day.
    “My food makes you smile.”
    “Umm, yeah. This is ridiculously good. I want to stay home today and enjoy more of it.”
    “Stay. I’ll cook all day if it keeps you here.”
    “You really mean that, don’t you?”
    Her phone rang before he could answer. Faruq slid it over the table without a glance at the screen, but frowed as he got up to toss a dropped fork in the sink.
    The message made her eyes glaze over. One of her newer clients texted next month’s workout dates. It ought to have thrilled her – not just the job and accompanying payment, but the neat and orderly schedule in and of itself. Instead, the thought of carving out more time away from this left her a little empty.
    That was Faruq’s doing. The tidy life