Find of a Lifetime: Djinn

By Lizzy Gayle

What can make a powerful and immortal Djinni nervous? Trusting her heart to a human-like Randal Sinclair. 

 

When Randal calls Kami into the museum on Christmas Eve, she's hoping for a tryst. What she finds is unthinkable—he's discovered the key to enslaving her kind. After all these years of melting into hiding after her life as Cleopatra. She's killed men for less, yet she hesitates. Kami knows the price all too well, so what makes this time—this man—different?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lizzy Gayle
• Release date: Nov 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215072783

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Find of a Lifetime

Lizzy Gayle

Copyright

All rights reserved

Copyright 2021– Lisa Green

This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without prior written permission from the copyright owner.

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Cover design by GothicMoms Graphics

My footsteps echo off the floor, which should, by all rights, increase the eeriness of the empty museum after dark. But to me, this place is home and nothing can change that feeling. In fact, I prefer it empty because some things are easier when there’s no temptation to share them. However, despite the Christmas holiday and the near certainty of others staying home with family, I’m not alone. This both irks and excites me. 

My feelings for Randal Sinclair are complicated to say the least. 

He had called earlier and enticed me back to the office with a husky, I have a secret I want to share with you. Considering the matter was work related, his tone surprised and intrigued me. I decided to play along even though I have secrets that I’m certain would make whatever this is about seem like child’s play. 

A band of light escapes the crack beneath the door of the back offices as I pass through my favorite room in the sprawling building. The artifacts of Ancient Egypt always remind me of my first lifetime in this realm of existence where I had been free. I am luckier than most of my kind. They were fabulous times I enjoyed in the Temple of Isis. 

I allow my fingertips to brush the glass enclosure of the Jewels of Cleopatra–my jewels–and with a touch of magic, they slip through the barrier to brush along the bronze rim of the headdress. I smile with the memory of Julius’s lips on mine, our limbs entwined on the myriad of cushions. I haven’t had a lover since that’s affected me the way he did. 

Randal sneezes in the other room and I withdraw my hand from the case. I cannot allow nostalgia to give me away, no matter how unlikely. 

Allergies? I ask, peering through the door to the back room. 

Must be the dust. Randal’s lopsided grin causes my heart to flutter, and I fear I blush almost as much as he does. Luckily, it’s far more apparent on his pale skin. 

I stride inside with the confidence of one who owns the place. Technically, I’m a lead anthropologist, not an owner, and no one else knows that I’ve seen, if not possessed, at least half of the bottom floor alone. Randal’s put his own touch on the back rooms, probably wanting some of his less lengthy existence reflected in his surroundings. I’ve noticed people do that, particularly at this time of year. A miniature Christmas tree adorns the corner, weighted down with makeshift baubles made from tidbits of discarded pottery. The figure of an ancient carved angel sits at the top, half-leaning on the wall to prop it up. Random religious artifacts from throughout the world are set up along the outside counters. They always make me smile. It’s not many humans that will display others’ beliefs as prominently as their own. 

I’m counting on there being a lot more than dust for you to call me here at this hour. He doesn’t