The jinni smiled and shook her head. “I do believe he was very ingenious, but I also think that a great play doesn’t have to be created by a language mastermind. Just because someone sticks to the boundaries of her or his own language doesn’t mean they can’t push the borders in other ways.”
Maya’s brows cinched together at the quote he chose. “Ah, ‘Corialus.’ Few people seem to have heard of it. I’m surprised someone can even quote it.” Her visage moved from wistfulness to concern. “Of all of the words Shakespeare is said to have invented, you chose that one. Are you a lonely soul?” Her hand touched his arm in a way she knew could be perceived as comforting. The touch enabled her to feel his bicep, and she thought he was likely quite ripped beneath his clothes. How interesting would it be to slip her arm beneath his shirt? No, she couldn’t do that. It would ensure she’d be getting nothing from him if she was suddenly so bold.
“In all of the history books I’ve read that mentioned Shakespeare, none ever said anything about him being a party boy though I have heard he was likely bisexual. Where did you study him?” Something nagged at the back of Maya’s mind. There was something about his choices of words that picked at the back of her mind, but though she reached and reached, she couldn’t quite grasp it.
“If one foot is in the past and the other is in the future, it seems that the present could be awfully neglected.” Her hand moved to his, lingering just a moment before withdrawing. “Without knowing one’s present audience, an artist can’t really succeed.”
A scowl passed over her face when Desmond tried to defend Maya’s mother. That was not the point of her bringing up the subject, and she didn’t like where he was steering it. He was wrong on so many counts, though. The jinni was responsible for her own beauty, something she had created over time and perfected. She didn’t say anything more until the subject was changed.
Then, they were leaning toward one another, talking about dangers in the shadows. She could detect his scent, clean and masculine, but djinn didn’t have expert noses like some other races such as lycans or vampires. She couldn’t know a person’s life story by their scent. Maya could only know whether she liked a scent or not, and she was very aware that she was thoroughly enjoying Desmond’s.
Then he smiled, baring his teeth. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself from all kinds of monsters.” Her fingers brushed along his jaw, her thumb skirting along the corner edge of his fuller lower lip. She was becoming a little more daring, but little touches here and there weren’t going to hurt anything. Maya pulled her hand back to her lap before edging just a hint closer to the dhampir.
Maya sighed dreamily. “Some of the best things are bittersweet.” That was true a lot of the time though most of the time, those bittersweet things were more like gifts she bestowed on others – loving them and leaving them – without really affecting herself.
She watched him sip from his cup, feeling a little warmer with the way he looked at her. She wasn’t a swooning school-girl, and she wasn’t consumed by that feeling. However, she found she liked it very much, and she was curious how it would be to have those eyes peer so intensely at her while she squeezed herself around his cock.
Maya laughed at his joke about hardly being able to work an iPod let alone a computer, not realizing that it wasn’t actually a joke or even an exaggeration. “I guess we’re all doomed to be terrible at something.” She couldn’t actually think of anything she wasn’t good at doing. She supposed that failing at failing was still failing, but philosophy definitely wasn’t her major.
“Yeah, well, sometimes the spotlight leaves a person vulnerable.” That didn’t mean she didn’t like having all eyes on her, but it meant that she didn’t have to have it that way. However, when she wanted all of the attention, no one was going to steal it from her without facing some serious consequences.