Chapter 13

It had been a very long night.

Dave didn't know why he'd even bothered to try to sleep. He'd gone over and over everything Anissa had said and everything he thought he knew about the Djinn. Only four facts were clear in his brain. She was real. She was here in his house. She wasn't here by choice. And he didn't get to fuck her.

She'd called herself a captive of the box. She'd even said straight out that she was a slave. Whenever somebody solved the puzzle box, Anissa was released, forced to grant three wishes to the lucky winner and then she vanished back into the box until somebody else solved the puzzle. Sounded like a hell of a deal for the wisher, not so great for the Djinni.

So what was he supposed to do? Hold off on his wishes, so she could stay here indefinitely? She'd said there was no time limit. Or did she prefer it to go quickly? Would it be kinder to make his wishes and then let her go? She'd been too cryptic for him to be sure.

One thing he knew was she liked to eat. David wasn't much of a chef but he could handle breakfast. French toast had been one way to stretch a few eggs and a loaf of stale bread when he and Jenna were growing up and protein had been a luxury. There were no sounds from upstairs yet, so he washed up in the tiny half bath off the kitchen and got to work.

Anissa woke to the sound of a gentle tapping on the bedroom door. It took her a few moments to remember where she was. All she noticed at first was that she was in a firm, comfortable bed, buried under the biggest, fluffiest quilt she'd ever felt.

"Anissa?" The deep voice of her current master called. "You all right in there?"

"I am fine." She dragged her head out from under the mound of bedding to find him leaning in the open doorway. "Is it morning?" Had he come to make use of her body? She could only hope so.

"It is." There was a warm chuckle. "I made breakfast, if you're hungry."

More food. Maybe she could get him to delay his wishes just so he could keep feeding her. Well, that and the sex she was sure he would get to eventually. What did she care if her next master found her as big as a house? Then she remembered her vision. Her champion was waiting, the one who would have the power to break the spell. So she could not afford to dally over roast beef sandwiches or a magical bathtub.

But he had said they would talk over breakfast. Since she was here, she might as well enjoy it. She swung her legs out from under the covers and wiggled her toes inside the heavy wooly socks. His warm tunic left her legs bare and she tugged the sheet back over them as his eyes widened and an approving smile ghosted across his craggy face. She saw his eyes flicker over to the dresser where she'd left her thin silk skirt and bandeau top. "I should find you some pants."

He rummaged through another drawer and came up with a pair of the same sort of baggy trews that he still wore but which had been haphazardly hacked off partway down the leg. He tossed them to the foot of the bed. "They're big enough to go around you twice but there's a drawstring at the waist, so they won't fall off. I'll go get breakfast on the table while you get dressed. Okay?"

She did not know the word but she understood the gist of it. "Okay," she repeated with a nod. He closed the door behind him and she heard the thumps of his stockinged feet as he galloped down the steps.

She followed soon after, clad in the soft cotton knit tunic and trousers, which hung just past her knees. Gods, she hoped this was not the current fashion, because she did not believe she would be able to stand it. Though she had to admit, anything was better than the petticoats and corsets of the Victorian era. Just remembering those made her ribs ache.

Fabulous smells wafted from the kitchen, so Anissa followed her nose to find the wobbly table once again laden with food. Crispy rashers of bacon were piled on a platter alongside a towering stack of French toast and a glass bottle of maple syrup was still giving off heat.

"Orange juice, coffee, or both?" David asked over his shoulder from the stove, where he was flipping even more pieces of French toast.

The coffee smelled marvelous. She had grown accustomed to the American beverage during the times with her last few masters but fresh orange juice was a rare treat. "Both, please."

He poured a mug of coffee from a glass carafe that had been set in another of the ubiquitous machines. The orange juice came from the icebox in a paper carton but it was fresh and crisp and cold. Oh yes, she could very definitely get used to this century.

When the professor-who-looked-like-a-warrior sat down with the rest of the food, he piled several slices of toast onto her plate before filling his own. "Did you sleep all right?"

She nodded, even though she had spent much of the night awake, longing for him and a wee bit frightened by her unfamiliar yearnings. "Yes, thank you. Have you chosen your wishes yet?"

He poured syrup onto his food, then took a bite, chewing slowly. "Are there rules about the wishes? Limits, or any other caveats I should know about?"

"There are limits." She cut a tiny bit of the toast and dipped it into a puddle of syrup before tasting it. Then she closed her eyes to savor the rich sweetness.

"Are you going to tell me about them, or do I have to guess?"

He was smart. "No, you just have to ask."

"I see." He nodded and grinned. "Don't ask, don't tell. You can only give out information if I directly request it."

"Very clever." She nodded and smiled. "Could you please pass the bacon?"

He did, smiling back as she helped herself to several crispy rashers. Perhaps he liked his women chubby. She believed she could adapt to that.