A cool breeze swept across the desert sands and tousled Ishari’s hair, lifting fine tendrils around her face. She savoured the blessed relief the night brought from the day’s heat. The smaller of her world’s two moons sat high above, surrounded by stars twinkling like diamonds in the deep-purple sky. Dominating the horizon was the half-risen second moon, casting a fine magenta glow over the dark dunes.

Even though it’d been an hour since sunset, the marble floor of the palace terrace still remained warm beneath her feet. And yet the cool air chilled the gold cuffs at her wrists. The bracelets were more than just symbols of her station; they bound her to this sumptuous palace as little more than a prisoner in a gilded cage, with only a young servant and her guard, Hussein, to see to all her needs.

She’d become the Djinn a little over three hundred cycles ago, inflicted with the great powers that could only be used in the service of the one who possessed Ishari’s vessel.

Ishari moved to the ornate stone pedestal in the centre of the courtyard. She ran her hand over the surface of the dark liquid within the rounded bowl that rested on the pedestal. A heavenly image rippled into view. Caleb. The owner of her soul until his third and final wish was made. Would he call her tonight? The thought both thrilled her and filled her with dread. For once he made that final wish …

Ishari shuddered, trying to banish the thought from her mind as she gazed down at Caleb.

While it was night in her world, it was still day in his. He sat on a long lounging chair by a swimming pool in the late afternoon light with his guitar across his lap. The fingers of his left hand moved delicately along the long slim wooden neck as he plucked at the strings with his right hand. His cropped hair was little more than a dark shadow covering his head and the dying sunlight made his golden-brown skin glow with an almost radiant sheen. A white body-hugging sleeveless shirt highlighted the honed muscles of his torso and showed his well-defined, grey-tattooed arms to perfection. Black jeans hid long legs and his bare feet tapped in time to music she couldn’t hear. Although the pedestal offered a window into her master’s world, there was no sound. How she wished she could run her hands over that magnificent body, kiss those delectable lips. But he didn’t seem to want her in that way, much to her regret. In three hundred years she had never yearned for one of her masters the way she did him.

A woman with unnaturally scarlet hair suddenly appeared behind him and leaned over his shoulder to run her delicate hands down the contours of his chest and abdomen. The master ignored her. Almost. His fingers stumbled over the strings. She leaned in further, her long hair washing over his skin as she whispered something his ear.

A pang of fire lanced through Ishari’s stomach as she watched the woman intimately caress Caleb’s body. She wanted to turn away, but felt strangely compelled to watch each and every intimate touch.

The other woman took the musical instrument from his hands and almost threw it on the lounge beside them. The bulge in his pants said the woman’s advances were not as unwelcome as Ishari wished them to be. A searing wave of jealousy washed over her, catching her by surprise. Her cheeks heated and tears of frustration stung her eyes. She wanted to be the one touching his beautiful golden skin and running her hands over his short-cropped hair. Yet this woman, this human, touched her master in ways Ishari could only dream of.

Ishari gasped and gripped the sides of the pedestal as she watched the redhead pop the button on his pants then slid down the zipper, freeing his healthy erection. Her lips ached to surround his thick cock, her tongue dying to taste the salty bead of moisture on the swollen head. Instead it was the other woman’s hand encircling his length, squeezing and stroking his warm hard flesh.

One of her former masters had cursed her with these carnal desires several decades ago, inadvertently wasting a wish when she cowered from his touch. Now when the heat came upon her as it was wont to do at any time, it would consume her until she satisfied the hunger for release.

Ishari’s core flooded with the heavy ache of her need. She didn’t want to watch this, and yet she couldn’t turn away. Her nipples ached and she squeezed them through her silk robes, only heightening the throbbing between her legs. The redhead slid between his knees, obscuring the sight of his magnificent cock and Ishari groaned with both desire and frustration.

Her master—Caleb, as he had bid her call him—closed his eyes as he leaned back, burying his hands in the thick mane of hair as the woman’s head rose and lowered over his groin. His lips parted in a silent moan.

Ishari could stand it no more. She turned away from the seeing waters and slipped off her robes as she made her way to the pond on the other side of the courtyard. The water caressed her skin like a lover’s embrace as she descended the stairs into the dark depths.

She stroked out to the centre where the water was cooler. How she wanted him to call her, but then he would be lost to her forever. And that thought made her heart heavier than stone.

Ishari swam to the other side of the pool where a small waterfall splashed lazily from the rocks above. The memory of the pleasure on his face haunted her. She gripped the stone edge of the pool with one hand and treaded water as she slipped the other between her legs. A soft sigh escaped her lips. While the water around her was cool, the junction between her legs was hot, swollen and sensitive. Her finger brushed her clit, sending a shiver of almost painful ecstasy through her womb and tightened her already hard nipples.

There was nothing for it. The need became a low ache in her belly and would grow into incapacitating cramps if she didn’t take care of it soon. She pulled herself up and laid back on the stone ledge under the waterfall, sinking back on one elbow as her hand continued to work between her thighs. The pounding torrent plastered against her face and flowed over her hypersensitive breasts. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the intense sensation of pleasure as she slowly caressed the sensitive nub of her clit.

Ishari’s eyes snapped open as another hand touched the inside of her thigh. Mari’s beautiful features appeared between Ishari’s legs. The girl had been her servant for nearly five years now, one of a long line over the centuries that Ishari had served as the Djinn. They came from a far off place just as she had at sixteen and then left on the twenty-first anniversary of their birth. Mari was only a few weeks off that day.

Ishari had been a servant to the Djinn before her, just like Mari, and one day the gold bracelets of power had appeared on her wrists, binding her to servitude of a different kind. She had never seen her former mistress again, nor learned what had become of her.

A shiver ran up her spine. “Fetch Hussein,” Ishari groaned.

“Mistress, please …” Mari’s strange amber eyes filled with desire as they dropped to Ishari’s exposed sex. “He’s not here.”

Ishari’s clit throbbed and an almost painful spasm shot through her womb. The girl climbed up onto the stone ledge, the waterfall soaking her raven hair as she leaned over to brush Ishari’s nipple. A gasp escaped her before she could bite it back.

Mari looked into her eyes and purposely ran the tip of her finger across the taut flesh. “Mistress, your need is great. Allow me to help you.” Mari dropped her eyes as a blush swept her cheeks the colour of fine spice.

The girl’s demure innocence only enhanced her raw sensuality. Mari was a creature of natural sexuality and great desire with a body that would drive any man, or woman even, to distraction. Sometimes when Hussein wasn’t able to service her needs Ishari would allow the girl to lie with her instead. And sometimes, even when Hussein was available, she welcomed Mari to join them.

The girl was right. Her need was great. The memory of her master’s glowing golden skin drove Ishari’s desire up a notch and she pulled the girl’s chin toward her to place a tender kiss on her soft lips. Mari needed no further encouragement; her lips parted and she deepened the kiss. Ishari sighed, melting under the onslaught of the girl’s soft mouth and probing tongue.

Mari broke off as she rose over Ishari’s prone body, their eyes locked together, lips mere inches apart. The girl gently pushed apart Ishari’s thighs with one knee and squeezed the left breast with one hand as the other rested on the right thigh mere inches from her sex. The girl’s head lowered. Ishari bit back a cry as Mari’s lips encircled her nipple, sucking in the sensitive flesh and sending delicious waves of desire straight to her core.

Ishari’s head filled with images of her master, imagining it was his mouth on her breasts, his hand trailing up the inside of her thigh, his fingers entering her—

Oh my.

She closed her eyes, giving in to the pulsating pleasure of her clit being stroked while Mari’s fingers slid in and out with a lazy rhythm. A confident smile turned the corner of the girl’s full lips before she dropped between Ishari’s thighs and her hot mouth replaced the fingers. Her tongue circled the swollen nub of Ishari’s core, her teeth scraped the soft, sensitive flesh with delicious sensations.

Ishari arched her back with a moan. Mari’s tongue entered her opening, probing the inside, and Ishari slid her fingers down to manipulate her clit in time with the girl’s thrusts. The pressure began to build. A few more strokes and she would—