by Autumn Dawn
"It's mine,” Jayems said with a scowl as a particularly forceful word drifted out, followed by a rapid spate of invectives and denials. “That's one of her favorite words when she's either angry at me or for me.” A slight grin tugged at his mouth. “But stormed if I know half the phrases that your wife is answering her with."
Keilor just glowered. He would have a talk with his wife later about her foul tongue.
Silence descended. Keilor caught himself straining to catch a hint of conversation and shook his head in disgust. “Come on,” he said, clapping Jayems on the shoulder. “We would be better off otherwise occupied. Let's look over the Ronin trade proposal. I understand that they have prismatic silver...."
Jasmine crossed her arms and waited with grim forbearance, her back to Rihlia. She needed a moment to rein in her temper, and to steel herself against her friend's temper. From experience she knew that Rihlia would be a real witch until she'd exhausted her emotion ... only then would the real issues surface.
As they did now.
"I never did love her."
Jasmine turned around and stared at her remorseful friend. That was what was bothering her? Guilt over a lack of affection for her mother?
"I wanted to blame you for taking her away before I could find some feelings for her. It was childish, I know, but what kind of a monster doesn't love her own mother? I didn't want it to be my fault."
Shaking her head, Jasmine approached the bed. “I don't love my mother,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I even hate her. Then I hate myself for caring at all."
"That's different. Your mother—"
"Oh, stop with the guilt trip!” Jasmine snapped, dumping herself down into a chair. “You barely knew the woman. Then when you did finally get to know her, she came on too strong, making you want to retreat, not open up. I'd have done the same thing. Besides,” she looked away. “Look how she turned out."
A shaky sigh came from the bed. “Jayems thinks that there's this drug—"
"Drug, smrug. No chemical would put the hate that I saw in her eyes,” she retorted, chopping her hand through the air, unable to hide the strain she felt. “I gave her every chance I could to stop, Rih, I swear to you. I did not want to hurt your mother, and I really didn't want to hurt you."
"I know,” Rihlia whispered.
Jasmine closed her eyes. “It's still so vivid. All that red against all that white. Warm, sticky blood on my hands, drying on my face.” She shuddered. “God.” It was a prayer and a plea for forgiveness all in one. “I didn't want to do it. I really didn't want to do it."
"It's ok, Jas.” Rihlia touched her hand, gripped it. “It's all right."
Jasmine wasn't sure of that. This was a big thing for even their friendship to overcome. Even if Rihlia hadn't been able to care for her mother the way she'd wanted to, she must have felt something.
"I didn't,” she answered, reading Jasmine's mind in the way of long-standing friends. “I'm not sorry that you defended yourself, and I'm not sorry that it's you who lived and not her.” Her voice gained strength and she gripped Jasmine's hand harder. “Don't beat yourself up over this, kid. You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy."
A slight smile tugged at Jasmine's mouth. “Who are you calling kid, old lady? Surely you're not ready for the old folk's home just yet."
Rihlia frowned with mock severity. “I will be if you don't stop scaring the crap out of me."
"Ah, you're just feeling feeble from lying around in bed all the time. Why don't you get up and take a walk with me? It'll do you good."
Rihlia's smile faded to seriousness, and she let go of Jasmine's hand. “Can't. I, uh ... I'm paralyzed from the waist down."
"What!” Jasmine stared at Rihlia's lower half in shock. It was covered with blankets. “I ... how—"
"Now don't panic, it's only temporary, the medics said. Just until after I have the baby and my body can start working on repairing me. It'll be a piece of cake."
"But—"
Rihlia threw up her hands in a warding gesture. “Hey, I'm an alien, remember? We can do all kinds of freaky stuff.” She smiled in assurance. “Even heal a broken back."
Biting her lip, Jasmine eyed her. “Hey, don't be getting all cocky on me, now. I'm pretty impressive myself these days, thanks to this little guy.” She waved one hand, drawing attention to her symbiont.
"You still can't see in the dark,” Rihlia said with a smug smile.
"Maybe, but I don't sprout hair when the moon is full, either,” Jasmine laughed as her friend scowled. “It's good to have you back, Rih,” she said with heartfelt joy. Rihlia raised her hand, and Jasmine clasped it, palm to palm, as tears sparkled in their eyes.
"This is a very good thing,” Rihlia whispered, her voice hoarse. “A very good thing."
Keilor and Jayems both shot to their feet as Jasmine closed the door behind her. Her amused smile told them all they needed to know. “What is this? Two big bad wolves anxious over a minor womanly dispute? What will your friends think?"
"Bite them. Are things well between you two again?” Keilor asked, coming towards her.
"Never better,” she said with a smile that faded to a warning look. “But why didn't you tell me that she was paralyzed? All this time I've wondered why she stayed holed up in her room, and you never said a word."
"She will be fine,” Keilor assured her, looping one arm around her waist and giving her a little squeeze. “There was, and is, nothing for you to worry about."
"We're talking paralysis here, not a broken leg. How do you know—"
"I've been paralyzed a time or two myself, Dragonfly. It's a little inconvenient, but no big deal. She'll heal."
Jasmine stared hard at him. “When was this?” When he said nothing, merely looked amused, she demanded, “Just when are you going to tell me how old you are, anyway?"
Steering her towards the door, he answered, “Never."
"That's not fair!"
"Life isn't fair."
"I'll make you tell me...."
It started out innocently enough.
Jasmine was watching one of the big symbionts that had just finished feeding off of a sick stag turn back into a cycle when the idea came to her. “I wonder if one of these big guys could turn into a hang glider?” she mused out loud, watching the snorting stag prance with restored good health. It narrowed its eyes at them and stamped a cloven hoof in warning, swinging its spiked tail. She and Leo moved away from the pen.
"A hang glider?” Leo inquired, blond brows raised in inquiry behind her dark glasses.
"Sure. I've always wanted to try it.” Jasmine patted the silver cycle as it glided to a stop beside them. “I'll bet that you could, couldn't you, big guy?” she crooned, stroking the cycle's ‘tank'. The symbiont rippled in approval of the caress.
Leo stroked her jaw with the backs of her fingers. It was a mark of her adventurous spirit that she didn't even bat an eye at the suggestion. “Hmm ... We could try it.” She glanced around at their escort, but men and Haunt were standing back far enough that their speech was private. “We'll need a high point to launch from, though. The symbiont will also have to take a run at it solo first, to test the waters."
"How about the top of the citadel? I've been up there once. It's pretty high, and we could go up in the lift,” Jasmine suggested, tilting her head back to study the cliff face that made up the citadel.
Within minutes they were on top of the citadel, looking out over the forest and the sea. For a moment they were silent as fingers of wind teased their hair. It slid over feminine skin, sighing at the pleasure. It was a smooth steady wind off the ocean, and carried the wild scent of salt tang and green forest.
Leo called her symbiont over and explained via touch what she wanted to do. The symbiont responded, but instead of the hang glider, it took on the form of a giant silver bat-bird. Spreading its enormous wings, it leapt fearlessly from the precipice, fearing no danger. Awestruck, its audience watched as it banked into the wind and
soared.
Ribbons of light reflected off of its smooth silver surface as it flew in front of the sun, becoming a black shadow limned by fire. It banked again, returned to the citadel, and slowed just enough to catch Leo and Jasmine in ribbons of silver that retracted, lacing them to its body as it glided past. Then they were out over the ocean, the terrified cries of their bodyguards quickly lost in the rushing of the wind.
It was scary, but also exhilarating as they swooped and soared, at one with the sky. The symbiont dived with dizzying speed, spreading its wings to arch upward again ten feet from the ocean waves. “Are you controlling this thing?” Jasmine called over the wind, her stomach somewhere in her throat.
"How could I? I don't know how to fly!"
Jasmine's eyes got big at that pronouncement. “In that case—"
"Done!” Leo answered, and indeed they were swooping back to the roof of the citadel and a pale bunch of men and Haunt.
Keilor was one of them.
For long seconds he said nothing, simply looked her over, seeking injuries. Finding none, he took her arm in a firm grasp, saying nothing as he ushered her to the lift. His trembling hand said it all.
Jasmine cringed and drug her heels. Opening her mouth seemed like a supremely foolish thing to do at that moment.
She did it anyway. “Would it help if I said I was sorry?"
"It's a start.” That was the extent of their conversation until they entered their rooms.
"Where do I even start with you?” Keilor demanded wearily, crossing his arms and half-sitting on the back of an overstuffed chair.
Jasmine cringed with guilt. She had this coming, and she deserved every word. Instead of words, though, he stood up and turned his back on her, going over to stare out the window.
He stood there for a long time.
He didn't come to bed that night or the next.
Jayems told her that he was working with the volti, but nothing else. He wouldn't discuss her problems with her, either. “Some things should stay between a Haunt and wife. I can do nothing for you.” He refused to leave the room when she went to visit Rihlia, effectively blocking that outlet.
Raziel wouldn't discuss it. “It's not my place. Speak with your husband."
Isfael remained in Haunt, and she didn't know enough sign language to bother him. Fallon was typically absent, Mathin was gone, and Leo was unavailable.
About the only ones who wouldn't run from her were Casanova and Keilor's family.
"I don't understand him,” Jasmine confessed miserably to the obelisk from the overturned bucket that she was using for a stool. It said nothing, but it made her feel better to talk, even to the long dead and unknowing. “I mean, I wasn't doing anything really dangerous.” The column stared back. “Ok, so maybe it was, a little, but why would he be so upset about it now? I've done stuff like this before.” Yeah, but nobody cared then, and you weren't pregnant. She winced at that bit of inner wisdom and rubbed her face. This exploring the inner mind stuff was not fun.
In truth, she didn't want to think about being pregnant. She wasn't ready, and it was scary. A part of her thought that if she put if from her mind and went on like always, there would be no change, and she could forget, but it wasn't working. That morning she'd gotten up and found herself unable to button her pants and the illusions had shattered. She was pregnant and getting more so every day. There would be a child, a tiny responsibility. An infant who would be helpless to stop her from hurting it, or from letting others harm it.
It was one thing to want a baby in the nebulous future and another to have one tomorrow. In the future she had time to become worthy of the task, to become a better person. Today the poor kid would be stuck with her as she was, and dang it, she wasn't ready!
She got up and began to pace, enumerating her failings. She'd never changed a diaper, and she knew nothing about nursing. Babies got sick a lot, didn't they? Needed shots? Clothes? A college fund? What was she doing out here, moping? There were a thousand details to see to, things to get ready for the kid's arrival, and here she was sitting around, talking to a rock!
With a new sense of purpose, she collected the bucket she'd brought the jasmine flowers in, caressed the stone in farewell and hurried from the garden.
She had a lot to do.
Luck was with her. The first person she asked, her maid, had grandchildren, and yes, she was willing to let Jasmine visit them with her.
Her maid lived in a nice little cottage carved into the arm of the mountain, and her grandsons, aged seven and nine, adored Raziel and her Haunt escort. It was the four-day-old baby girl, though, that interested Jasmine the most.
"Her mother stepped out to do some shopping,” the maid explained when Jasmine arrived. She picked the blanket-wrapped bundle up out of its crib and pulled back a corner of the tiny quilt, exposing the sleeping face of the baby girl.
"She's so small,” Jasmine said in consternation as she stared at the little one.
Her maid laughed. “She'll grow. Would you like to hold her?"
Jasmine's eyes widened. “Oh, no! I'd probably break her."
The woman snorted and handed the baby to her anyway. “Nonsense. Simply support her head and her little bottom and you'll get on just fine. Yes, there. Now have a seat in the rocker and make yourself comfortable while I go and make certain that the boys aren't pestering your Haunt."
A stab of panic flashed through Jasmine at being left sole caretaker of the child, but in seconds she was alone with the babe. The little one slept on, unconcerned. Taking courage from that, Jasmine nudged back the blanket and examined the infant's hands, marveling at their small size. Her fingers were perfect, the nails exact replicas of an adult's, but so very tiny!
At that moment, it finally hit her. That was what her own baby was like, growing inside of her. Wonder blossomed in her heart, and a fierce protectiveness. Was that what had scared Keilor so, the thought that she was risking his baby so heedlessly? Shaken, Jasmine closed her eyes, feeling lower than low. It wasn't just her body anymore, was it? She was sharing it with a little one like this, whether she was ready or not. Everything she did from here on out was going to affect it.
Near tears, she carefully laid the little one back in her crib and found her hostess, thanked her for letting her hold the child and quickly took her leave.
She had a lot of thinking to do.
Keilor came home that night, smelling of sultry forest and wild air. He showed up just as she was getting ready for a solitary dinner, striding in with his hair loose and a volti at his heels.
Jasmine's eyes got wide and she scrambled up on her chair, kneeling on the cushion and peering over the chair back. Casanova ran under the table, hiding behind her.
A half smile turned up the corner of her husband's mouth. “She won't eat either of you. Terza is here to protect you."
Not a bit reassured, Jasmine peered at the huge creature who watched her with smirking and far too-intelligent amusement. “Uh, what happened to Raziel and Isfael, and the rest of the bodyguard?” she croaked through a dry throat. “They were doing a pretty good job, I thought."
His eyes cooled. “Terza has offered to take their place. They will no longer be needed."
Terza yawned, exposing a mouthful of fangs, and licked her chops. She snapped her jaws shut with a snap and a small snarl. Her far too-human eyes mocked her new charge's fear.
Jasmine swallowed. They understood each other.
Like some enormous house pet, Terza stretched out by the fireplace, roasting herself at its heat. A spicy wild smell wafted from her coat to permeate the room, scenting the air with exotic danger. The same scent clung to Keilor as he moved closer with an innately sensual grace.
Jasmine's eyes dilated, and her body grew languid and weak, hungry for him. “What did you do?” she whispered as passion fogged her brain. Was this what he felt around her?
Lightning zinged from his touch, scorching her. “You're not the only one who can inspire passion, wife."
>
Far into the night, he proved his claim, and Jasmine reveled in his possession.
Morning came too quickly, and with it, responsibilities.
"I'm sorry, Keilor.” Jasmine rolled up on one elbow and regarded her doubtful bed mate. “I have been too reckless lately, and...” She gritted her teeth, made herself say it. “...selfish. You don't need to sic the volti on me. I've already decided to mend my ways."
"She stays,” he said, flinging the mussed covers off and getting up. Sun-lit dust motes danced around his lean body with distracting glee. “Are you hungry? I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon."
Expelling a breath of frustration, Jasmine got up and threw on her clothes. “You're determined not to trust me, aren't you? All right, fine. I'll just have to prove it to you."
"I'll welcome your efforts,” he said in the grim tone of a man who was hearing an empty promise. “What would you like for breakfast?"
The rest of the morning did not go any better. Jasmine asked for his opinions regarding the baby crib and gear, and he politely offered her his thoughts, giving her his full attention before returning to his paperwork. Until she mentioned going to see if Leo would like to go shopping.
"She would not,” he answered, not looking up from the document he was examining.
"I beg your pardon?"
He laid aside his pen. “You are restricted from seeing her without Jackson or myself present until after your pregnancy. Then you may do as you wish."
Jasmine put her hands on her hips. “Are you telling me I'm grounded?” she asked, almost more amused than annoyed. “Aren't I a little old for that?"
"I could lock you in your room."
Tilting her head, she mocked, “Ah, well, glad to see you're not completely lost to reason. I would stay away from her big symbiont, you know."
"I know you will,” he answered, implacable. He stroked the end of his pen against his fingers, waiting for her to lose her temper.
It was a very close thing, but she mastered it, stuffing it away until she could deal with it in private. “All right. I'll see you later."
