The Savage and the Genie Read online

  The Savage and The Genie

  To Love A Savage Series, Book 1

  By Siren Allen

  About the book

  She’s just a genie, cursed to grant the wishes of others.

  He’s just a savage, a ruthless killer, whom she despises.

  Yet, he’s also the Keeper of her Lamp. Which means she’s his to command. And though she tries to fight the attraction she feels for him, she can’t fight the curse that binds her to him. Because of that curse, she must grant all of his wishes. And there’s only one thing Saxon O’Rourke wishes for.

  And it’s the one thing Calypso Rivers refuses to give to anyone.

  The Past

  The Curse of Adalon

  Greta knew death was close.

  As an Elder of her clan, and the first seer born to their clan in three generations, she was supposed to be the one encouraging her people, giving them hope. Instead, she was wallowing in pain as she watched those she loved suffer day after day.

  Her ancestors hadn’t prepared her for this. Her visions hadn’t revealed this to her. All her life, she’d been able to depend on her powers when things got hard. This was the first time she couldn’t magic something away.

  This was the first time she couldn’t use her powers to barter for the things she needed. Nothing could help her now. No one could help her now. Boils covered her dark brown skin. Most of her long, curly black hair had fallen out.

  Her body was weak and frail from lack of nutrition. Every inch of her ached. She was sick. She was dying. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. Usually, outside diseases and viruses didn’t affect her people.

  However, the mysterious plague ravishing her village was different from anything they’d ever encountered. It was so devasting, even magic couldn’t stop it from spreading and slaughtering everyone in its wake.

  At least, everyone who wasn’t immune. There were a few who had come in contact with the virus and not gotten it. Then there were those who’d gotten it, but didn’t show any of the symptoms she and others were experiencing.

  Yet, those asymptomatic individuals were still able to unknowingly spread the virus to their families, leading to more death. Though they showed no symptoms, they too suffered. They suffered the loss of those they loved.

  They also suffered from the guilt of knowing they were the ones who’d brought the mysterious virus into their home. Then there was the other situation everyone in their village was dealing with, the infected, the asymptomatic, and the immune. Starvation.

  Their people were starving to death, thanks to the creatures who lived to the south of them, the creatures her clan had a pact with. For years, it had been those creatures’ job to provide fruits, vegetables, and clean water to them in exchange for their protection spells.

  Greta’s people, the Mystic Clan, was a cursed clan who’d been banished to the Isle of the Damned centuries ago for a crime their ancestors had committed. Here, the water was toxic. Here, no foliage grew.

  Here, the only living creatures present was her clan, who was banished there. If it weren’t for their deal with the Elven Folk, they would’ve perished a long time ago. Though they were long-living, her people weren’t immortal.

  Even with their magic, they wouldn’t have made it this far without their allies to the south. The elven folk on the Isle of Adalon had abundant water. That was just one of the many differences between the Isle of the Damned and the Isle of Adalon.

  Here, the land was barren. But the elven folk from the other island had fertile soil, which produced a great deal of fruits and vegetables. However, Isle of Adalon was always getting attacked by pirates, and hurricane season always hit them the hardest.

  To survive on the Isle of the Dead, her ancestors had made a deal with the Elven. In exchange for food and drinkable water, they used their magic to put up a magical barrier that would protect Adalon.

  For centuries, this deal profited both clans. But once the Mystic Clan became infected, the Elven clan shut their borders to them. They refused to come near them because they didn’t want the disease to spread to their people.

  On the one hand, Greta could understand their desire to protect their clan. But how could they watch other creatures suffer without offering any aid? It was horrifying how easily the Elven clan turned their backs on them.

  That was why Greta refused to die without first making sure she punished the Elven Folk. She was holding on so that she could finish her last goals. So that she could make sure her last visions came to pass.

  One of those goals was to punish those who’d refused to come to their aid. So many of her kind who didn’t have to die had died, simply because the Elven wouldn’t deliver their shipments of food.

  So many witches and warlocks who were supposed to be born and grow up to do great things, wouldn’t be born because their parents died unnecessarily. Their parents died because their allies turned their backs on them when they needed them the most.

  For that, the Elven of Adalon had to suffer. Death would be a blessing compared to what she had in store for them. For too long, they’d lived a comfortable life, thanks to the Mystic Clan.

  After her third request to them was denied, Greta had removed their protective barriers. The elven was no longer protected by her clan’s mystic magic. And now they were facing hardships they hadn’t faced in years.

  Last night’s vision had shown her that the elven folk would soon come to her for help. They’d soon turn to her dying clan for protection. Greta smiled weakly. If only the elven had helped her people when they’d needed it.

  Then things would’ve turned out differently for both clans. However, they didn’t. Now they would suffer the consequences. It was now time for them to feel what it was like to be at the mercy of someone else.

  It was now time for them to feel what it was like to have their life and well-being in the hands of another. Greta covered her mouth with a towel as a round of coughs wracked her body. When she lowered her towel, it was streaked with blood. Blood.

  She was at the final stage of the disease, which meant she didn’t have much time left. Closing her eyes, she channeled her energy into her spell. Before she died, the elven would pay for their sins. All of them. Those alive today. And those who came after them.

  Her curse wouldn’t be broken until they learned what it was like to sacrifice for others.

  Chapter One

  The Present

  Her moans filled the air.

  A sweet symphony of highs and lows that were keeping pace with her body movements. Her hips were rising high, then sinking low as she gyrated against the fingers massaging her clit.

  Those fingers moved to the perfect tempo. Those fingers were applying just the right amount of pressure as they brought her closer to her orgasm. Those fingers knew her body well. Why?

  Because those fingers belonged to her. Calypso Rivers rubbed her fingers lower. Sliding two fingers between her wet folds, she closed her eyes and sighed. This felt good. More than good. It felt grand.

  She slid one finger into her body. Her back arched as she slipped her finger in and out of her heat. Her toes dug into her blue sheets as she slipped a second finger inside. She was already close.

  This was pushing her over the edge. Her moans grew louder. Her body trembled. Almost there. She was so close. Her orgasm was just over the horizon. She could feel it approaching.

  Tendrils of pleasure spread all over her, causing her hips to jerk. She moved her fingers faster, chasing down her orgasm. She was ready to feel it. She was ready to cry out in pleasure. Her stomach muscles tightened as the pleasure skyrocketed.

  And then it happened. Her orgasm crashed into her body like waves crashing against the shores of Adalon
, the island she’d grown up on. The island she’d spent the first twenty-four years of her life living on.

  Until pirates decimated her village and a witch cursed her kind into a life of servitude. Don’t think about that right now, Caly told herself. Right now, was not a time to dwell on the past. Right now, was the time to focus on pleasure.

  Much needed pleasure. Calypso rested her head against her blue pillows and cried out as her orgasm thundered through her body. Trembling, she rode the wave of ecstasy, allowing it to carry her to lands far, far away.

  “Calypso Rivers, come to me.”

  The command sounded muffled, far away. But she heard it. And if she didn’t obey it, a terrible pain would seize her body. But she wasn’t done yet. Caly moved her fingers faster, still caught up in the throes of passion.

  It was because she was caught up, that she hadn’t felt the chill that usually crept over her flesh when he rubbed her lamp. When she hadn’t appeared after he rubbed her lamp, he’d resorted to calling her name in that deep voice of his.

  “Calypso Rivers, come to me. Now!”

  Your wish is my command…

  Just not yet. All she needed was a little more time. However, she could already feel the pain that came with resisting his call replacing the pleasure she wanted to feel. It was a dull ache now, but it would increase if she didn’t answer.

  He was ruining her orgasm, causing the pleasure to fade. If he called her one more time, her body would automatically be yanked from the comfort of her lamp and forced out into the real world.

  She didn’t like the real world. That was where people were. That was where savages were. That was where a savage king, who was the star of her wildest fantasies, lived. She didn’t want to venture out into the real world.

  Yet, it seemed she had no choice. Calypso removed her fingers from her center as her orgasm fizzled out. One last tremble wracked her body. It was an unsatisfying end to what started out as a good night.

  Stupid future king of the savages. He sure knew how to ruin a wet dream or, rather, a wet daydream. Caly rose from her bed. Frustrated, she grabbed her pillow, placed it over her face, and let out a muffled scream.

  There was no need for the pillow. It wasn’t like anyone would hear her anyway. She tossed the pillow aside. Parting the light blue curtains that surrounded her bed, she stepped into her bedroom and stretched before heading to her bathroom.

  After washing up, she adjusted her light blue dress on her slender frame. A dull ache was creeping over her. Punishment for not instantly answering the commands of her Keeper. She’d just started to smooth out her ‘bed hair’ when she heard Lord Saxon call her name again.

  “Calypso, get your ass…”

  Before he could finish his command and cause her to feel more pain, she closed her eyes and pictured him in her mind. A second later, she was standing next to his tub. She stared down at the six-foot-nine male who was stuffed into the tin tub.

  His knees were raised because there wasn’t enough room for him to lower his legs. He gazed up at her with his weird eyes, one gold and one blue. A sign that he was an alpha, the future king of his pack.

  The glare his strange eyes cast her way would’ve caused another genie to shiver in fear. Hell, it would’ve caused most creatures to shiver in fear. Not her. A long time ago, she’d learned that being afraid never solved any of her problems.

  Fear was a thing of the past. Lately, all she felt was boredom, irritation, and an insatiable need for sex. Sixty years of celibacy was starting to catch up with her. And being near this hunk of male flesh only increased her desires.

  Luckily, she’d just cum. Seeing him didn’t have the same effect on her as it usually did. Right now, she’d be able to be in his presence without fighting the urge to pin him down and ride him until he couldn’t walk for days, weeks maybe.

  “How may I help you, Lord Saxon?” If he heard the attitude in her voice, he didn’t comment on it.

  With his signature scowl in place, he asked, “Why do I always have to call you repeatedly for you to show up?”

  As a sign of respect, she lowered her head to Lord Saxon. “I apologize, my Lord. I was busy.”

  “Busy doing what?”

  Touching myself. She couldn’t say that, so she said, “Busy in my garden.”

  Gardening. That was her secret term for masturbating. Hours of masturbation were referred to as Garden time. She’d used that excuse so much she was surprised he still accepted it.

  “Your garden gets more of your attention than I do.”

  Because my garden is important to me. You’re just the current owner of my lamp. Bastard.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  She raised her head to stare into his eyes. She almost resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Almost. Unfortunately, she slipped up, and they rolled. His growl prompted her to quickly say, “How may I help you, Lord Saxon?”

  “What have I told you about rolling your eyes at me?” He snarled.

  “You told me if I did it again, my head would roll.” You’ve told me that a dozen times and yet, here I stand, head intact.

  “You don’t believe I’ll do it, do you?”

  “Of course, you will. You’re the mighty Saxon,” she cooed, stroking his ego.

  He huffed but didn’t say anything. For a long time, he simply stared at her. She met his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to cower in his presence. Because he was the Keeper of her Lamp, she had to respect him.

  That didn’t mean she had to be intimidated by him. He was nothing like the other Keepers she’d encountered over the years. He was definitely nothing like the males from back home. The males of Adalon were refined creatures. Gentle and soft-spoken.

  Unlike the women of Adalon, who were warriors. Life had been peaceful in Adalon. It had been a utopia. For centuries, their island had never seen war, poverty, famine, or any natural disasters.

  They’d had rain, but she’d never known what a thunderstorm was until the Dark Days of Adalon descended upon them. Before those dark days came, she’d spent her days on the training field with her aunts, cousins, friends, and other females from her island.

  Her nights were spent swimming and dancing underneath the stars. It had been a perfect life for the elven folk of Adalon. That perfect life was made possible by their neighbors to the north. The Mystic Clan.

  But that perfect life came with a price tag. The males of Adalon were great farmers, and as long as they provided vegetables and fruits to their northern neighbors, they were protected from all things negative.

  The elven and the magic users became allies. However, when their neighbors were stricken with a mysterious plague, Adalon closed their borders to them, refusing to trade with them. Caly hadn’t agreed with that order.

  She’d felt there was a way to continue trading without putting their people in danger. However, no one could go against the queen’s orders. Not even the king. It was this order issued by the queen that led to the curse.

  That order was what led to the Dark Days of Adalon. Without the magical protection from the creatures of the north, their island endured great natural disasters. Starting with a hurricane that wiped out half of their population.

  Caly had read of such hurricanes in their history books but had never experienced one in her lifetime, thanks to the creatures of the north. And without the magic that protected them, the glamour over their island faded away.

  The glamour had shielded their villages from the eyes of pirates and other sailors who neared their coasts. No magic meant no glamour, which made them visible to pirates and others who sailed the North Alaish ocean.

  It wasn’t long before those pirates stormed onto their island to loot and ravish their land and its people. Though the Adalon army was strong and fierce, they hadn’t been able to push back at those who dared fight against them.

  One battle led to the next. The death toll rose significantly. Their farmland was destroyed. Due to the loss of food and the growing d
eath toll, their people lost hope. Her mother, the general, had no choice but to order the survivors of Adalon to retreat.

  And they had. The problem was, they only had one place to go. North. That had been their biggest mistake. Those were dark times for the Adalonians. Many died on the journey north. Others were captured by pirates who attacked them as they traveled.

  Their males weren’t fighters. They were providers. They were farmers. They raised the children. They kept the home. But to save their people, they’d tried to fight. They weren’t warriors, but they were brave. And their bravery led to their deaths.

  Not one grown male made it to the land of magic users. Not one. Their people had thought it was kind that even after all of their issues with one another, the creatures of magic still came to their aid when they arrived in the north.

  They should’ve known they wouldn’t be forgiven that easily. They should’ve known the creatures of magic wouldn’t easily forget how they’d turned their backs on them. Yes, they provided them sanctuary, but only because they had other plans for them.

  Plans that led to Caly being trapped in a lamp and forced to obey the commands of others. Going north had been their biggest mistake. And Caly was still suffering from that mistake, decades later.

  “Do you hear me talking to you, Calypso?”

  Blinking, she focused her midnight blue eyes on Saxon. Shit. She’d taken a trip down memory lane again. Sometimes she got so caught up in the past that she lost track of the present. Such were the ways of the elven folk.

  They could spend hours reminiscing, usually through songs and stories told in front of a fire. That was how they passed the time. That was what they did for fun. Here, she was learning that the savages preferred more crude ways to pass the time.

  Caly really missed her island. She missed training with the mighty warriors of her clan. She missed being around beings who were like her. Adalonians came in all colors, shapes, and sizes.