Homecoming [Darklands Prequel]

by Autumn Dawn

  Jasmine was first surprised, then amused that Wiley had accepted Jayems as her lover. “Didn't think you'd go there, Wi.” She was sitting in an armchair when she made the comment, propped up more by force of will than anything else.

  Wiley could see she was getting tired. “Well, I'm glad you're amused. Shouldn't you go back to bed?"

  Jasmine glowered tiredly at her and moved her chess piece. “All I do is lay in bed. I can rest after I finish this game, and stop trying to lose on purpose so I'll go there quicker. At least Keilor doesn't do that."

  Wiley smiled and deliberately moved her queen into jeopardy.

  Jasmine ignored the queen to take a pawn instead. “Stop grinning. He feels guilty. That's all it is."

  "Hmm. Okay, I'll humor you. Is this better?” She put Jasmine's king into checkmate.

  Jas grunted. “I hope your mother makes you shop for hours. Here, give me a hand up, will you?"

  Wiley settled Jasmine in bed and then went home to find Jayems. It was after dinner, and he was reading in his library. Not one of his racier books, she was relieved to see. Taking the opposite chair, she frowned at him. “Who do you think tried to poison Jasmine?"

  He marked his page and set the book aside. “I don't know. I'm sorry, but we could not trace the poison. Is she very weak tonight?"

  She shook her head. “No, she's getting better every day, but slowly. It's just that my mother is constantly telling me she's in so much danger..."

  He sighed and motioned for her to come to him. Hesitantly, she let him pull her down on his lap and leaned into his arm.

  "Your mother is manipulative, my love. She's going to beat that drum as long as it makes you jump."

  "So you don't think it's true?"

  "I think that your being forced to attend your mother's social carnival is unlikely to result in my removing the bodyguards from her door."

  She digested that. “My mother also claims it makes you look better in ‘the people's’ eyes."

  He shrugged. “I think my making responsible choices will make a bigger impact. You're welcome to try, though."

  She twisted around to frown at him. “You're not making me feel very important, here."

  He smiled. “I didn't make you mine in order to please the political harpies, sweetheart. I made you mine to please me. Fortunately for both of us, you seem to enjoy it.” He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, a glint in his eye.

  She moved her head away, but was firmly caught. “You sound sure of yourself."

  "You've done nothing but boost my confidence. In honor of that, I'd like to boost yours.” He released the hair and began stoking her neck, the long muscle under her left ear.

  "How?” She was drowning in sensation, her body humming. The night had grown quiet, intimate.

  He smiled. “Stand up. Strip for me."

  She blinked at him, thinking about that.

  He winked. “Something new, sweetheart. Be bold."

  Trembling a little, she drew a breath for courage and stood up. His direct stare made her blush as she worked the fastenings on her gown, clumsy with anticipation.

  "Slowly, love,” he purred.

  Daring herself to meet his eyes, she slowly peeled the bodice of her gown apart, let it slide to her elbows and wiggled free. The gown clung to her hips.

  She desperately wanted to cover her breasts.

  His eyes darkened. “Lick the tips of your fingers."

  Her eyes widened.

  His narrowed. “Do it."

  She obeyed, shivering at the feel of her tongue on her fingers.

  "Pinch your nipples.” His look compelled obedience.

  Unable to meet his eyes, she pinched her nipples, hissing at the shock that zipped through her. They were stiff, standing at attention. She'd never realized how pebbled they were.

  "Cup them, raise them, squeeze them together."

  With each order, she blushed harder, but he wouldn't release her. Her breasts were heavy, silky, and she squeezed them really hard to try and soothe the ache. He was watching her!

  "Raise your hands over your head and slide them through your hair."

  Biting back a moan, she let the silky strands tumble through her fingers.

  "Slide your hands down over your breasts and grip your butt. Wiggle out of your gown."

  Her hands were more eager this time, her body more desperate. The feel of her hands gripping her butt made her moan aloud. Naked, she fell to her knees between his spread legs. “Please."

  He smiled and stood, leisurely stripping out of his clothes. He sat back down and canted his head at her. “I'm all yours."

  She made a hungry sound and crawled astride, kissing him to forget her embarrassment, aching for him to fill the damp hollow his watching had primed. She fumbled with him.

  He laughed and set her back, slid her down until her knees settled on the rug and her breasts cradled him. His finger rubbed her lips, slid inside. He withdrew the finger, touched it to the tip of himself and hissed at the contact. When she looked at him questioningly, he repeated the gesture, and then caressed her breasts with a growl.

  She'd never liked the idea of taking a man inside her mouth, had never done it. It had always seemed dirty, gross. There was nothing bad about the way he was making her feel, though. There was no force, only seduction.

  Tentatively, she licked the tip.

  His entire body hardened. He said a muffled curse. When she hesitated, he caressed her hair, her face, her breasts, encouraging her.

  She kissed him with little, careful kisses. When she finally grew bold enough to close her mouth on him, his head fell back with a moan.

  It was a new power, the ability to make him weak, but that first time was about exploration, of discovering him with hands and mouth and tongue. Oddly enough, the experience only intensified the ache between her legs, causing her to cry out with sudden climax.

  Jayems’ head came up with a snap. In seconds he had surged to his feet and tossed her over his shoulder.

  He took off for the bedroom at a dead run.

  * * * *

  The next few weeks passed in a happy blur. Jasmine and Keilor's romance progressed, Wiley became better at fending off her mother and Jayems found endless ways to make love to her. Wiley was even starting to make some friends among her peers, though she gravitated to the ladies her mother found less than suitable. Oh, they were ladies all right, but they were very into sports and highly physical, or else had a wicked sense of humor. Worse, they had little rank. Two of her favorites were Shanra, daughter of a preeminent musician, and Kayless, whose mother designed many of the dresses for women of status. In their middle twenties, the women still lived with their parents as was the custom. When they weren't hanging out at Wiley's suite, they visited at each other's houses or went shopping. Three days before the public celebration of Wiley's wedding, the girls were lounging around Shanra's house.

  "I'm in love,” Kayless said, admiring her newest sketch. “Such a pity Fallon will never notice me.” She was seated on a floor cushion, her red hair French braided into pig tails. There was amused resignation in her blue eyes.

  Shanra laughed as she tried another combination on her lap harp. “Last week you were in love with Lord Keilor.” Of medium height and a brunette, she seemed to think she was nothing special. Wiley often thought she'd be surprised to know men noticed her laughing green eyes and long lashes.

  Kayless shrugged and played in the smoke from the tripod incense burner. “I'm afraid I'll have to leave him to Jasmine's tender mercies. It's obvious they're in love, even if they don't know it."

  Wiley chuckled. She lay belly down on a earth toned, brocade cushion, just listening to Shanra's magic fingers tease music from the harp. Her new friends had met and liked Jasmine, who returned the affection. “Oh, Jasmine's figured it out. I think Keilor's just working up the nerve to do something about it."

  "Regardless, that leaves Fallon. It's so hard to find a man like him still unattached,” Ka
yless complained.

  Wiley shifted onto her side, the better to smirk. “Oh, yes, tall redheads with blue eyes should complain. That waiter yesterday couldn't pull his tongue off the floor."

  Kayless colored. “He's a waiter! I notice you didn't marry one."

  It was Wiley's turn to flush. “I didn't exactly pick him."

  "Granted, but given a choice between the two? There's just no comparison to a man like that. I mean, he's handsome, commanding, he loves you ... doesn't hurt that he's rich, though I wouldn't need that if I were in love."

  Her friends exchanged looks. Kayless was a woman in love with love, and desperate to have it happen to her. Unfortunately, the right man hadn't happened along yet. It didn't help that her mother squelched most men who tried. All she had to do was give them one of her infamous icy looks and they fell back.

  Kayless was right—she needed someone with more backbone than a waiter.

  Wiley studied her nails. “You know, what we need to do is get out. One of my favorite things to do is go watch Keilor and his men train. Talk about entertainment! Sweaty men, flexing muscles..."

  Kayless wrinkled her nose. “There's nothing sexy about sweat, my dear. Besides, half the time they're in Haunt. There's nothing sexy about that."

  Wiley shrugged and stood up. “Just come along. Too bad Jas still needs her afternoon naps, or we could have her come."

  "How is that coming?” Shanra asked as she put aside the harp. “I thought she was mostly recovered."

  "Oh, she is, but it was near fatal, you know. She's lucky all she has to do is take naps."

  Shanra grimaced in sympathy. “Poor thing."

  The ladies headed for the practice field via the gardens, taking their time, Wiley's bodyguards trailing behind. They were joking, laughing, when all of a sudden a huge gray body jumped over the stone wall and flattened Kayless.

  Wiley's bodyguards jumped forward, but it was too late. The runaway stag had knocked Kayless flat, and she was lying on the ground, gasping for breath.

  Just then a man vaulted over the wall, looked frantically around. “Oh, no! How bad is she hurt?” He dropped to his knees beside the girl, elbowing aside the concerned guards.

  Kayless drew in a shuddering gasp, then groaned.

  "I'm sorry! Lie still.” The stranger started looking for broken bones.

  "Who are you?” Shanra demanded. “What do you think you're doing, letting that animal run loose? You could have killed somebody!"

  His jaw tightened. “My cousin lost control of the beast and it jumped the fence. I was trying to stop it before something like this happened. The other riders should catch it shortly.” Satisfied that nothing was broken, he offered Kayless a hand up. “I can take you to a medic, if you like. My name's Hytal, by the way."

  Wiley looked at him with interest. She'd heard of the red sash Hytal. A loner famed for his skill with a blade, he was every maiden's dream.

  Kayless staggered back and pulled her hand away. “Don't touch me!” She hunched over and wrapped her arms around her ribs.

  His expression hardened as he looked at the guards. “I'm going to take her to the medics. Radio for a chair.” He looked at Shanra, who had an arm around her. “Let's find her a seat. They'll be here in a minute."

  Unable to help without getting in the way, Wiley had the luxury of watching the warrior fuss over her friend. It was obvious he felt badly, though technically the accident wasn't his fault. More interesting was watching her normally flirtatious friend hissing and spitting at one of the most eligible bachelors in the Citadel.

  By time they'd whisked Kayless off to the medics and sent word to her mother, Wiley was feeling tired herself. She joined the others in the waiting room until word came that Kayless was resting, her worst injury a couple of broken ribs. In a few weeks she'd be fine, they said. As only her mother was allowed to stay with her, the rest of them went home.

  Chapter 15

  "I'm tired of my friends getting hurt,” Wiley grumped to Jayems that night.

  "With luck, you've met your quota,” Jayems soothed her. “That sort of thing doesn't happen every day."

  "Thank God.” She sighed. “So, are you ready for this wedding thing?"

  He laughed and snuggled her close. “I've already had my “wedding thing.” The celebration is just in honor of it."

  He smelled so good. She snuggled her nose into his chest. “I'll be glad when it's over. I don't like being the center of attention."

  "Oh, you won't be. Didn't I tell you? Keilor and Jasmine are celebrating their vows at the same ceremony."

  "What!” she sat up in bed. “What are you talking about?"

  Even in the moonlight, Jayems looked smug. “I got word earlier. They're celebrating their wedding night right now."

  Her mouth dropped open. “She didn't tell me!"

  He chuckled. “It sounded as if they just couldn't help themselves any longer. I doubt she meditated on it before she gave herself to him."

  Wiley just stared at him. Jasmine, married! “Well, she should have found a way to tell me. I'm her best friend, after all."

  He pulled her down for a kiss. “Some things are better celebrated in private,” he murmured suggestively, then rolled her on her back.

  * * * *

  She found her wedding celebration anticlimactic.

  Yes, there was food, music and a few people she knew there, but she would have been much happier if the crowd had been smaller. As she thought about it, she began to plan a more intimate gathering of friends for a later time. It helped to get her through her mother's posturing and the endless line of people waiting to greet her.

  She, Jasmine and their new husbands had stood on a pavilion and been married by a priest in a slick brown robe. Flowers were twined around the pavilion posts and strewn about the floor, raising a heavenly fragrance when stepped on. Masses of flowers were dotted around the garden wedding, providing the primary decoration.

  She lost track of Jasmine in the crowd. She'd given Jas a good scolding for not letting her best friend in on the good news first, then laughed when Jasmine admitted she hadn't known herself until Keilor let her come up for air. By then, of course, it had been too late.

  She hadn't seemed unhappy about it.

  Kayless had been able to attend, but she spent a great deal of time in a chair, poor girl. The last time Wiley had seen her, Hytal had been speaking to her. Kayless had been frowning, but her mother, oddly enough, had not been.

  Shanra was lost amid the dancers.

  "It's getting late. Do you think anyone would mind if we slipped away?” Wiley asked Jayems.

  He looked at her and smiled her favorite smile. “We can do anything you like."

  So they slipped away and held a very special, very private celebration of their own.

  * * * *

  "Jasmine's been kidnapped."

  Wiley froze with her eyes locked on Jayems'. Reflected in the mirror, they were grave and worried. Slowly she turned around and looked at him.

  "She was taken last night. Keilor is in the hospital in critical condition. They caught him by surprise."

  Wiley quickly shed her robe and ran to the closet for her clothes, throwing on a shirt and pants. “This is why they got you out of bed last night? Why didn't you tell me?” She vaguely remembered rolling over and going back to sleep at Jayems’ soothing whisper.

  "I was busy coordinating a search. It was better that you rest. Someone should be with Keilor when he wakes up—he's going to be beside himself. I can't be two places at once, and he'd only yell at me to get out and do something if I were. He needs family now."

  She nodded, choking on emotion. “Jasmine?"

  "We're doing all we can. Go and do what you can for him,” Jayems said. The strain was evident in his face. This was family.

  She kissed him quickly. “I'll go."

  Rabid with worry, she nearly ran to the medics, her Haunt guard tense beside her. Keilor was heavily sedated to keep him in bed. Not that
it should have been a problem—his attackers had disemboweled him. He should have been dead.

  He recognized her. “Rihlia. My wife ... I'm sorry.” His voice was a whisper, thick with grief and rage.

  She shook her head. “Stop. Rest and heal. Jayems is doing everything he can. He's sent out Jasmine's bodyguards and your friend Mathin. They'll bring her home.” She prayed that was true. She couldn't lose Jasmine.

  "Mathin.” He tossed his head restlessly. “I should be there.” The words were faint. He was already going back down. He was so pale.

  She kissed his brow. “Rest, Keilor. Jasmine is one tough nut. She'll come out of this okay.” Words of hope, but she wished someone would say them to her.

  Her mother came to sit with him after a while, with a promise that his aunt and cousin would also take their turns. Meanwhile, those of the family not on watch stayed in Jayems’ suite and tried to comfort Wiley, with marginal success. She couldn't help pacing.

  Jayems finally had word to share. “We know who took her—a woman named Yesande. She's an old enemy of Keilor's. We think we know where she's headed. The only trouble is, there's no way to get ahead of them, not with the lead they have, at the pace they're going. The good news is that Mathin is right on their tail. He'll find a way to get to Jasmine."

  "Why? Why did they take her?” Wiley asked. “It doesn't make sense."

  Jayems put his arm around her. “I don't know yet. The important thing is that we get her back. Don't worry—we'll bring her home."

  But she did worry. The days became weeks, and there was still no word. Thanks to his Haunt blood, Keilor was rapidly recovering, but he was still in no shape to go after Jas.

  Her worry was bad enough, but Wiley's mother made it worse with her ‘comforting.'

  "You know,” she suggested one afternoon at tea, “all things happen for a reason. Perhaps this will work out for the best, after all."

  Wiley's eyes narrowed. It was just the two of them, and she felt less and less inclined to be civil. Her mother had been wearing ever thinner, but this was the first time she'd openly suggested that Jasmine's disappearance was a good thing. “I fail to see how."