When Alessandra awoke the next morning, sunshine was pouring through the window, brightening her room. Birds sang cheerfully in the garden outside. She yawned mightily and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. She didn’t remember much of last night after the popcorn and Raisinettes. She vaguely remembered Julian carrying her to bed, and she’d slept all night in his embrace.
She padded into the living room. Gleaming pine floor met her gaze; Jacinth was gone, as were the opulent cushions and carpets that had embellished the floor the night before. Alessandra smiled in fond remembrance. Really, Jacinth was a joy to be around.
In the kitchen a pot of coffee was already made, drawing her by its rich aroma. She poured herself a cup and made her way out to the back yard. Julian was at work in the herb beds, on his hands and knees, dressed only in a pair of ragged jeans. He looked scrumptious, all masculine and sexily tousled, kneeling in the dirt, his hands buried in the rich soil and his burnished skin gleaming in the sun. 
“Good morning,” Alessandra said. “Did our guest return to Qaf?”
Julian looked up, smiling. 
“She disappeared at the end... crying so hard you’d think the world had ended. Why do women cry at happy endings?”
Alessandra giggled, remembering the onslaught of mixed emotions and the mingled happy and bitter tears she’d shed herself at the ending.
“It’s a girl thing,” she said, rather than try to explain the unexplainable. “I’m sorry to have fallen asleep on you.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be. I rather liked having you curled up at my side, and Jacinth was so caught up in the movie she’d have hardly noticed if you’d been doing jumping jacks.”
Alessandra widened her eyes at him. “You know what jumping jacks are!” she exclaimed. He tossed a handful of dirt at her, and she laughed, going down the steps to join him in the garden. 
“So what are we doing today?” She stretched. “The morning has already got a good start, I hadn’t thought I’d sleep so late. It's a good thing it's Saturday and I have the day off.”
“I thought I would work on your herbs,” he said. “I’ve had six hundred years to study, learning how to infuse magic into the herbs to increase their powers to heal, to soothe and comfort. I’ll teach you these things, Alessandra. You’re a born healer. You have the talent within you. The plants know it, they can feel your affinity for them, which is why they grow so well for you.”
“I do some distilling.” She nodded at the small shed at the back of the one-car garage. “I’ve made some essences and some ointments, and scented candles. But they’re only herbs, Julian. They can’t really do much.”
“Don’t knock herbal remedies,” he said. “They’ve kept man surviving all these millennia. It’s not Djinn magic, but there is something to it, Alessandra. They do good. And you do good, when you work with them, use them for healing, for comfort.”
She felt warmed by his approval. She wasn’t sure she quite believed that she had the touch with herbs that he claimed, but she loved her garden, and was more than willing to join him working with the soil. It was a nice way to spend a quiet Saturday morning. They worked with the small plants and talked. She found that his knowledge of herbs was far greater than hers, even as much time as she had spent studying them. 
Julian paused when he came to the small patch of rosemary.
“They thought this would help with the plague. And garlic, and other remedies. But there were many recipes that had rosemary. Perhaps because it was said the Virgin Mary dried her cloak on it, on her way to Egypt,” he said sadly, touching the leaves of the plant. “It didn’t, of course. Nothing helped. People were dying everywhere, in droves. Cities and villages had no place to put the corpses and resorted to dumps where they were buried, mass graves. The bodies were piling up in the streets. People not yet dead were being carried out to the carts of carcasses. It was horrible, and I was desperate... desperate to help."
His fingers brushed over the young plants he was tending, but his gaze was far distant. "I knew I had an aptitude for healing, it was my talent, my calling. I’d been apprenticed out at a young age to a Master Alchemist for over 10 years already. In those days, we chose our studies very early and apprenticed. I’d gone to live in the castle on the hill above the town. When I saw all the people dying, I went down to help. I couldn’t bear to see everyone dying, the cries of the ill, of those who survived, the grief of those left behind, who became ill in their turn. People died swiftly, but hideously.”
“I poured over the books we had, but the knowledge back then, in the 1350's, was not enough. The herbs didn’t help. The spells, potions, chants, the prayers... nothing worked. And so I cast my circle and I called upon supernatural beings, as I was taught to do by my master, to give me great power, the strength of magic to combat this plague. To be able to heal anyone, no matter how close to death. To be able to help. That is what I asked for. The power to help others.”
He fell silent, still looking at the delicate plant between his cupped hands. 
“And they gave you the power to do magic to heal?” Alessandra guessed.
“Yes. Djinn magic is the most powerful in the universe. There is nothing like Djinn magic.” He paused. “Of course, I knew nothing of the Djinn, back then. We’d heard of them, of course, in the same stories that are told today, but I never dreamed they were real. Then suddenly, I was a Djinn myself. I could heal anyone, but only under the right conditions. When I first was made Djinn, I was sucked into the bottle. The bottle was found almost immediately, and my first Sahib made his wishes quickly. It was a simpler time back then, of course. People just trying to survive. Protection from the plague. Food, jewels, luxuries, money. And then I found myself free, and I made my way home. It was hundreds of miles, and I had no money, no food, nothing but the clothes on my back. It was dangerous, too. Travelers were viewed with suspicion. Anyone could be carrying the plague. Populated areas had set up quarantines, and small blame to them."
He stabbed the trowel he held into the dirt, his gaze not meeting hers. "When I finally got home... and everyone was gone. My family, the entire village. No one had been spared. There weren't even individual graves. Pits had been dug, huge holes, and the bodies pitched in. That was all they could do. The bodies of my father and mother, brothers and sisters were buried somewhere in one of those pits, with no chance of finding them. Of course, we hadn't the wide knowledge that is available now, but I have read that over two-thirds of the population was estimated to have died in that general area of Italy.”
Alessandra was horrified. Everyone had heard of the Black Death, the horrible plague that had swept through Europe periodically in the middle ages and Renaissance times, but she’d never thought what it would have been like if one had lived during those times. 
“There was no one left? No one at all?”
He shook his head, his eyes bleak.
"Only our family's dog. He was half-wild and starving when I found him, but he remembered me. I didn’t know yet about the Djinn magic, how it worked. I didn't know I would be pulled back into the vessel. I traveled through Italy with that dog, doing what I could to help those who were left. And then one day, perhaps a year later, maybe more, I don’t know for sure... one day, I was pulled back into the bottle. That was when Kieran came to me. The Djinn had felt the use of their magic, I was never sure quite how. After all this time, I still understand little of the Djinn's magic and their powers. I told him of the spell I had cast, and showed him the bottle. He told me that I was tied to the Djinn, bound to the bottle and the Djinn magic. But, as he said the other evening, the magic binding me is a hybrid of mage and Djinn, and they themselves don't know the extent of it. What rules and boundaries haven't been learned by guessing, have been learned by hard experience.”
Alessandra worked beside him in silence. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? There was so much desolation in his voice, grief still fresh for the family he had lost so long ago, to not even be able to bury their bodies, visit their graves. It was heart-rending. And then to be forced to live for centuries like this, with no friends, no family, no hope for a future.
Julian paused, the trowel held just above the soil he’d been turning over.
“What was that?”
Alessandra looked over her shoulder at him. “What was what?”
A faint chime sounded from the house, and Alessandra stuck her trowel upright in the dirt with a firm push.
“That’s the doorbell. I’ll go see who it is.”
She brushed the loose dirt from her arms, then wiped her hands on her thighs, grimacing at the moist patches of dirt on the knees of her jeans. Oh, well. 
“I’ll be right back.”
Julian nodded, his fingers already busy with the plants he was tending.
Alessandra strode through the garden and around the corner of the house, only to stop in mingled astonishment and dismay. There on the front steps was her father, at his side a young man whom Alessandra had no hesitation in identifying as one of her father’s employees, or the employee of a close business associate. She recognized the type from a vast experience; another smooth young man, well-groomed, with the lean, hungry look that her father always succeeded in attracting to his automobile showrooms, the ultimate successful salesman, destined to become a shining light in the dealership. The kind of man that he had chosen for all of her sisters... and never ceased to attempt to push off on her as well, as desirable husbands. 
She bit back a groan of exacerbation. Didn’t he get it? What was his problem, anyway? Laura had only just gotten out of the marriage he’d arranged for her with one of his young, up and coming young salesmen, and look how that had ended. Hadn’t he learned anything? He’d successfully married off all her other sisters. Why did he have to always be trying to push a husband onto her as well?
There was anger stirring inside her as well. For her father to show up here, at her home, with another hot prospect in tow when he’d never been to her house before, had never come to visit her, although she’d lived here over two years. But now here he was, with the current prospect to be embraced into the family fold. Well, she wasn’t interested, and she had no problem with saying so.
“Pop!” She stepped forward, and tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice.
Walter turned, and came down the steps onto the lawn. His expression of benign paternalism took on a disapproving aspect as he viewed the soil clinging to her jeans and bare feet. Alessandra wiped her hands on her jeans again, throwing the young man in her father’s shadow the merest glance. 
“Have you come to see my home at last?” she asked brightly, already knowing full well he hadn’t come for any such thing. “Where’s Mom?”
“Um...” her father seemed to be thrown slightly. “She’s at home. I just...”
He cleared his throat, starting over in an obvious attempt to regain control of the conversation. 
“We were in the neighborhood. My friend here was trying out his new BMW, and I thought we’d stop by. Alex, this is John, by the way. John Standish. John, my daughter, Alex.”
The young man sprang forward with hand outstretched, his expression one of earnest interest, and eagerness to please. He was so transparent, Alessandra wanted to puke.
“I’m very glad to meet you,” John poured on the enthusiasm. “I’ve heard so much about you from your father, I feel like I know you already.”
Walt beamed proudly, obviously already anticipating having John as already his new son-in-law. He probably already had the church reserved, she thought cynically.
Alessandra avoided the offered handshake, holding up her hands, palms out, with a grimace.
“Better not,” she said, feigning regret. “I’ve been in back, gardening.”
“A garden!” her father enthused heartily, as if it were something special for his daughter to have. “How nice. Are you growing vegetables?”
The condescension in his voice was unbearable; he might as well have patted her on the head. Alessandra choked down her gathering wrath. 
“No,” she answered, gritting her teeth. “Herbs.”
The young salesman, John, didn’t appear to find it odd that her father, the springboard to his career success, wasn’t enough acquainted with his own daughter to know that she had a garden. Instead, he stood beaming at her with a kind of calculating possessiveness... as if he thought her already his own... that made her want to order him summarily off her property.
“Who is it, sweetheart?”
Her father and his minion turned, as did Alessandra, to see Julian strolling around the corner of the house. He looked dangerously handsome, and her eyes widened in total appreciation, although she fought against the urge to laugh at the indignation so clearly to be seen in her father's face. Tight, hip-hugging black pants molded to Julian’s lean form, topped by a loose silk shirt, also black, that draped open showing a generous expanse of muscled, bronzed skin. His thick black hair hung heavy and shaggy, spilling damply over his neck and shoulders in the humidity. As he drew closer, Alessandra stifled an audible gasp as she saw a long, thick gold chain about his neck, with heavy gold letters announcing STUD. 
He came to her side without hesitation, his arm encircling her waist in a seemingly casual intimacy. The wicked sparkle in his eyes dispelled her anger, and her sense of mischief, never dormant for long, rose to his challenge.
“Julian, this is my father, Walt. Dad, this is Julian DiConti. You probably saw him at Bobby’s funeral.”
At which Pop hadn’t come within a dozen feet of them, or of Laura.
“And this is John,” she introduced her father’s satellite. “A business associate of my father’s.”
John was glowering now, not liking the competition he was faced with, doubtless seeing his dream of an easy conquest and the consequent smoothing of his career path slipping from his grasp.
Julian nodded to them politely.
“How do you do, Mr. Taylor?” he said politely. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to be introduced at the funeral. It didn’t seem to be the moment.”
Alessandra cast a quick glance up at him; his voice was too smooth, too innocent. The sparkle in his eyes gave him away; he was about to say something outrageous, and she braced herself.
Walt frowned. “The moment for what?”
Julian raised his eyebrows, casting an inquiring glance at Alessandra. 
“You haven’t told him, darling?”
She gazed back limpidly, waiting to see where he was leading with this. His right eye fluttered infinitesimally in the merest hint of a wink. He took her hand, caressing it with his fingers as he lifted it to his lips.
"Cara mia," he breathed reverently, in the best Gomez-to-Morticia style. When he lifted his head, he pulled her closer before looking at Walt.
“I have asked Alessandra to be my wife.”
It was all Alessandra could do not to gasp aloud in shock, then immediately had to stifle the giggles that welled up. This would send her father into shock! A marvelously handsome, insanely sexy man coming from her back yard, announcing himself to be her fiancé. Oh, this was wonderful.
The outraged expression on her father’s face was priceless, but she felt anger stirring once more. It was as if she did not have the right to choose a husband for herself, or that she should choose someone so far from what he considered acceptable.
Wife?” Walter exclaimed. He looked Julian over in clear disapproval. He exchanged dismayed glances with his protégé, then turned to the attack. “And what is you do, Mr...?”
“DiConti,” Julian supplied. “I buy and sell old furniture.”
Alessandra choked back a snicker. From the look on her father’s face he was thinking of thrift stores, while Julian owned a million-dollar penthouse in the midst of Manhattan. This was just too good. She couldn’t wait to share this scene with Laura. Her sister would fall apart.
Walt looked as if he were going to burst a blood vessel.
“Used furniture?” He made it sound like Julian rummaged in junk yards.
Alessandra interjected in a bright, cheery tone, “Julian, my father is in sales too. You have something in common.”
To her complete admiration, Julian lifted one brow, managing to give an impression of politely bored incredulity. “Is that so?”
“Yes, he sells cars. New, of course,” she added.
“Yes, well...” Walt was backing down the walk, clearly wishing to retreat and regroup his position. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Conti.”
“DiConti,” Julian corrected mildly.
“Alex, I’ll be in touch later.” His look promised that he would be seizing the earliest opportunity to take his erring daughter to task. “We’ll have to... er... to have a conversation very soon.”
Alessandra was looking forward to it. She and Julian watched as the two men hurried off, climbing into a shiny black (of course it was black) BMW.
Alessandra dissolved into laughter right there in the front yard as the car disappeared down the street. But as she walked back toward her house, the laughter dissipated, turning into anger.
“How dare he come here!” she demanded. “I’ve lived here over two years, and he hasn’t been here until this morning. He never came to visit, never brought Mom for dinner. No one from my family has shown an interest in me, visited me, asked about my home or my work. And he shows up now, without a by your leave, with some salesman he wants to marry into the family, and expects me to fall in line as the sacrificial goat. Well, I won’t do it!”
“Come on,” Julian soothed, drawing her against his side. “Come back to the garden.”
Steaming, she allowed herself to be led around the house. He took her beneath the arbor, into the heart of her garden, seating himself on the wrought iron bench and pulling her down beside him. 
“I think a cool drink would be in order.”
A tall, frosty glass appeared in his hand, and he passed it to her. It contained a thick yellow-greenish liquid that smelled fruity, and she sipped cautiously. Her brows rose in surprise at the flavor, which was a bit familiar, almost like pear, yet oddly different.
“What is it?”
“Guava. The Djinn are fond of it, and in the hot weather, chilled, it is refreshing."
“It tastes rather like pear,” she commented. 
His eyes sparkled wickedly, and he cocked an eyebrow. “You prefer pear? I can change it.”
Alessandra laughed, her ill humor falling away.
“No, this is delicious.” 
He sat at his ease, sprawled on the bench watching her, looking unbearably handsome, the very picture of masculine beauty. She handed him the glass, leaning against his shoulder. She looked up at him, admiring the firm line of his jaw. Her attention caught by the gold chain, she grinned.
"You deliberately tried to look like a... like a..."
"Gigolo," Julian supplied, looking smug. "How did I do?"
She giggled, calling up a pleasing vision of her father's face. "You did great. He looked like he'd been stuffed!"
They both laughed.
“You know,” she said, trailing one finger along his bare arm, “if you’re my fiancé, you should be doing... you know... fiancé like things.”
An amused glint came into his blue eyes, making them sparkle like a lake on a sunny day. “Is that so?” he asked in a voice of polite inquiry.
“Mmhmm.”
She leaned in toward him, letting her breath feather against his neck, and watched the pulse beating there suddenly jump. She blew gently on the skin, and heard his quick indrawn breath. 
“Alessandra...” His voice sounded suddenly hoarse.
“Yes?”
Delicately she licked the skin below the angle of his jaw, a tiny flick of her tongue, tasting the saltiness, and he shuddered. His breath left him in an explosion of air.
“Okay, that’s it,” he growled. He rose to his feet in a quick movement. Leaning down, he scooped Alessandra in his arms easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. Pleased, she wound her arms about his neck, smiling up at him.
“Are you going to have your wicked way with me?” she asked.
The azure eyes sparkled down at her.
“You bet I am.”
He made no sound that she could discern, but the next instant they were in her bedroom, standing beside her bed. He reached over flick the switch on the wall, and above them the ceiling fan began to move, whirring lazily overhead, stirring the warm air about them. 
Almost reluctantly, Julian set her down, allowing her body to slide down slowly, his gaze holding hers. She was aware of him with every nerve tingling. With only a glance from those azure eyes, her clothing disappeared, melting away as if they had never been, and she stood before him naked.
“No, don’t.” He caught her hands as she instinctively tried to cover herself. “Let me see you, Alessandra.”
He held her hands in his, stepping back. She felt a flush mount to her cheeks, a flush that spread to encompass her whole body. She had never thought she would feel shy, but like this, in the daylight, standing before Julian, she felt open and vulnerable in a way she’d never felt before. His intense gaze swept over her.
“Alessandra. You are so beautiful.”
She made a slight movement forward, closing the distance between them, and he caught her in his arms, his mouth coming down hard and insistent on hers. She met him fully, giving back kiss for kiss, her tongue tasting the spiciness of his lips, his mouth. 
“Take away your clothes.” She drew back slightly, her fingers caressing his lean cheek and jaw. “Take them away, like you did mine.”
Then he was there against her, skin to skin, his erection hard and full, thrusting. He bore her back onto the bed, following her down. She reached for him eagerly, but he shifted his weight to the side, shaking his head slightly, the ebony hair spilling down his shoulders. 
“No hurry, my Alessandra. Let us take as if we had all eternity.”
He leaned forward, covering her lips with his. One hand slid along her ribs, creeping up to caress the softness of her breast, and she moaned against his mouth. 
“Easy,” he whispered. “No hurry.”
He deepened the kiss slowly, and she melted under his touch. She began her own exploration, her hands going to the bulges of his biceps, the strong ridges of his shoulders, down the long expanse of smooth back, to the narrow waist and lean hips. 
He groaned as under the light, stroking fingers, shifted restlessly. She felt him, hard and full against her thigh.
“Julian,” she whispered. “Julian, love me.”
There was an infinitesimal pause.
“I do love you, Alessandra.” His voice was rough, catching as he said the words. “I have loved you since the moment I saw you. I love you more than life itself, more than words could express.”
With that, he eased himself into her, slowly. She was ready, opening for him. There was none of the urgency of before, just slow exploration and long low murmurs as they learned each other. He loved her leisurely, with long, slow strokes that left her quivering, stoking the flames higher and higher until the world burst about her in an explosion of sensation.
“Julian!” she gasped. “Julian!”
He thrust more quickly, his breath coming faster.
“I’m with you,” he told her, lifting her hips to meet him. “I’m always with you.”
Then in a few hard thrusts he sent her over the edge again, this time joining her in ecstasy. They clung together, damp bodies shuddering a little from the aftermath. He withdrew from her and rolled to the side, taking her with him so that she lay facing him, still wrapped in his embrace.
The sounds of heavy breathing in the room began to quiet, and their heartbeats slowed. The gentle whir of the ceiling fan overhead was relaxing, and they lay enjoying the soft breeze that cooled their heated bodies.
Julian stroked her long hair with gentle fingers. 
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Alessandra.”
She sighed, her hand sliding up to cup his beloved face.
“I love the way you say my name,” she confessed. “You make it sound special.”
Julian caught her hand in his, raising her fingers to his lips.
“It is special. You are special.”
Her lips curved in a smile. "No. We are special."
 

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Copyright 2019, Allie McCormack