Gale Force by Rachel Caine Page B

‘‘How many is that?’’
    ‘‘Counting us? Six.’’ He studied me for a second, eyes going gentle again. ‘‘Seven with a minister. Do you want to invite your sister?’’
    ‘‘Oh hell no,’’ I said. ‘‘Psycho sister Sarah is not welcome. She’s caused me plenty of trouble without this. I’ll go with . . . Venna.’’
    David’s eyebrows twitched, either in surprise or amusement, or maybe some of both. Venna was a Djinn, but she was on Ashan’s side of the fence; she’d done both of us favors, but as with most Djinn, I couldn’t peg her as good or bad, really. Still, she was always . . . interesting. ‘‘She might attend,’’ he said. ‘‘It might interest her. But she wouldn’t come alone.’’
    ‘‘You are not inviting Ashan.’’
    That got an actual laugh. ‘‘It would be politically wise.’’
    ‘‘And personally stupid because if I see him again, I swear I’ll rip off whatever passes for his—’’
    He kissed me. It was meant to be a shut-me-up kiss, quick and sweet, but it turned warmer, richer, and I melted against him like chocolate on a hot plate. ‘‘I’m asking Ashan,’’ he said when he let me up for breath. ‘‘And you’re going to play nice if he shows up. Which he won’t. But it will be wise to ask him.’’
    I made a noise that brides-to-be probably shouldn’t make, according to Miss Manners. He kissed me again.
    We had so much to talk about—flowers, cakes, catering, dresses, tuxedos. . . . We didn’t talk about any of it. Instead, David pressed his lips to the pulse at my neck and murmured, ‘‘I’m bored with planning the wedding. Let’s plan the honeymoon. Better yet, let’s rehearse.’’
    I’d been recovering for weeks, and my libido had taken a serious beating along with my body, but when he said that, I felt a fast, hot flush of desire. Aside from some gentle play, he’d been careful with me, knowing I was fragile.
    Now he sent waves of energy flowing into me, curing the lingering aches and exhaustion, and I caught my breath in true, deep pleasure.
    ‘‘Right here?’’ I asked. ‘‘In the car?’’
    ‘‘I think I said before, the seats do recline.’’ Being a Djinn, he didn’t even have to crook a finger to make it happen. My seat slipped back, nearly level, and I made a sound low in my throat as his warm hands moved over me, sliding the strap of my top down my arm, folding back fabric. . . .
    ‘‘Wait,’’ I said, and sat up again. ‘‘There’s a motel half a mile back.’’
    He looked surprised, and a little disappointed. I kissed him again.
    ‘‘I’m not saying no,’’ I promised. ‘‘I’m saying . . . I want lots of time, and a bed. If it’s a rehearsal, let’s make it a full undress rehearsal.’’
    ‘‘Oh,’’ David murmured. ‘‘That’s all right, then.’’

Chapter Five
    The rain hit while we were lying twined together, sweaty and completely satisfied, on the motel bed. It was a nice motel, nothing sleazy, and the rooms were actually quite lovely. Big ocean views. We’d drawn the curtains, though, for privacy. No matter how much fun it is, some things really aren’t meant to be shared with strangers on the beach.
    I listened to the patter of drops on glass and rested my head against his bare chest. He had a heartbeat, and his lungs worked just like any man’s. In fact, he was all the way human in every way that I could sense, including his postcoital drowsiness. His fingers combed lazily through my hair, leaving it smooth and shining, the way it had been when he’d first seen me.
    ‘‘How’d we do?’’ I asked, and his hand left my hair to softly stroke my arm, skim my side, wrap possessively around me.
    ‘‘I think we need more practice,’’ he said. ‘‘I don’t think I quite had that last part right.’’
    ‘‘The Russian judge gave it a nine point five,’’ I said. ‘‘And you nailed the dismount.’’
    I loved it when he laughed. Djinn didn’t laugh enough, and