Iksander bent to lift her in his smoke form, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. “Put your arms around my neck and hold on. I want you to feel secure.”
Their eyes met as she obeyed—hers the same melting lavender as always, his flaming with so much magic the glow reflected off her face. When her soft lips parted in wonder, he couldn’t help but remember kissing them.
He took off without warning.
She let out a muffled shriek, clutching him as they soared upward.
“I have you,” he assured her, though he liked the way her heart thumped.
“You’ve got me. Who’s got you? —Superman,” she added with a laugh. “Someday you genies will have to steal the Christopher Reeve version.”