Teasing Danger

by Autumn Dawn

  The look Keilor shot him was pure murder. Then his eyes narrowed back on the moving blur that was his wife and the Ronin girl.

  What fun!

  Jasmine shouted with delight as the cycle took the curve of the practice field with dizzying speed. “This thing rocks!” she yelled, relishing the wind tugging at her pony tail. “Rihlia would kill to ride this baby,” she gloated.

  “Can’t,” Leo shouted back over her shoulder. “It won’t take Haunts.” She slowed to a more sedate pace, conserving the symbiont cycle’s living strength, allowing it to ‘breathe’. Unfortunately, the slower pace brought the glowering male faces of their small audience into focus. Leo dared only two more passes before she slowed the creature down to park directly in front of Keilor.

  Knowing the value of first attack, Jasmine leapt onto the packed dirt and flung her arms around her husband, giving him a quick kiss. Then she started chattering, far too fast for him to speak. “Did you see me? Can you believe it? That thing must go a hundred miles an hour! Can I—”

  Keilor touched two fingers to her lips, cutting off the flow off words. “I am pleased that you enjoyed yourself, but I think it would be best to wait until after the baby is born before you go tempting fate again, yes?”

  Encouraged by the slight amusement lurking in his eyes but chastened by his very real concern and the shades of anger clinging to his mouth, she ducked her head and nodded in agreement. “I promise not to go so fast again until after the baby is born, unless it’s life or death. Deal?”

  Danger flashed in her husband’s eyes. “We will talk about it further.” Nodding to the riders, he took her arm, walking away at a rapid pace towards the citadel. Jasmine smiled and sent a jaunty wave to Leo, not particularly concerned.

  Keilor’s hand tightened a bit at her nonchalance and then relaxed a fraction, careful not to bruise. As soon as they’d passed out of earshot, he said in a tight, contained voice, “I thought I’d made my wishes very clear last night.”

  With a verbal shrug, Jasmine answered, “I’m a grown woman, Keilor, even if I’m not as old as however old it is that you are. I knew the risks, and I certainly don’t need a grandfather telling me what to do at this late date.”

  Golden flames danced in his Haunt eyes. “You took the risk in the name of fun, and to prove your independence, Dragonfly. My concerns were never an issue to you.”

  There was a heartbeat of silence. “Well...they did pass through my mind. But come off it, Keilor, what are you going to do, beat me?” She dared a glance at his face and faltered. He did look kind of mad.

  “See that we are not disturbed,” he told Isfael and the guard that was filling in for Raziel before he hustled his woman into her room and locked the door. Jasmine took several steps into the room, unbuckled her gun belt and laid the weapon on the table. When she turned around, he was there, already divested of his own gear. A startled rush of air escaped her as he backed her up against the table with his body, picked her up and deposited her on the top. Closing the distance between them with a decisive movement of his hips that widened her eyes further, he took hold of her waist, leaning forward just enough to force her to grab onto his shoulders for balance. Holding her eyes, he whispered, “My wishes are my commands, Dragonfly. I am not only your husband, but your lord, and you will obey me as such.”

  She cocked her head, trying to hide her rapid breathing. “Getting a little dramatic, are we—Oh!” In seconds she was naked, with little idea how, and this time there was nothing between her bare bottom and smooth, hard wood. “You animal, you,” she breathed, excited but attempting to remain in control with a show of worldliness.

  It was not to be.

  Keilor grabbed her hips and pulled her to him, bringing her tender parts flush up against the rough material of his pants and his potent arousal. His stinging nip on her tender throat made her jump, but the suction he applied to soothe her skin after left her panting.

  It was when she started to wind her arms around his neck and rub against him that she understood Keilor wasn’t playing a game. Catching her hands, he placed them flat against the table, holding them there while he resumed his play at her throat, slowly moving lower.

  Moaning with frustration, she tried to rub her aching nipples against him, but he moved back, just out of reach, and resumed his teasing. “Keilor,” she said in warning, becoming annoyed. “Let me—ah! Stop with the nips all—ohh....” His hot, wet mouth closed over one nipple, driving out all her breath, and his restraint of her hands only made her more aware of how much she wanted to touch him. Using the only part of her that was free, she tried wrapping her legs around his waist to draw him near, but he broke away, stalking off to her closet and returning with two long sashes and a white fur coat. He tossed the coat on the table and then lifted his shocked wife, laying her down on the unbearably silky fur.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, alarmed when he began binding the sashes around the table legs. She tried escaping, but he was much too quick for her, and in less than a minute she found herself on her back, her hands securely fastened above her head.

  For a moment Keilor merely looked at her, his eyes drifting down her body and fastening with potent awareness at the slick place between her open thighs, making her tremble with both embarrassment and desire. “Stop it,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

  The door of the cooler in her room opened and shut, and then there was a rustling in the cupboard by the table. She gritted her teeth, waiting. Two clinks sounded, just above her head, out of sight and reach. Then the table shook a little, and her eyes opened up in time to see Keilor vault onto the top.

  He took off his clothes, and he was very, very slow about it.

  By the time he’d removed his pants and dragged them over her quivering thighs, she was in a sweat, and fighting not to twist on the fur, knowing that its silky caress on her naked skin would be her undoing.

  He tossed the pants. Dropping to his knees, her crawled over her, straddling her body, but touching very little of it. Then he parted her thighs with one knee and slowly slid down the length of her.

  She clenched her teeth at the sensual assault, but a long, tortured hiss escaped anyway. “Patience is not always a virtue,” she rasped, and lunged up, trying to capture his lips. The restraints stopped her a hair’s breadth from his mouth.

  Cool dark hair caressed her as he teased her lips, nibbling and licking but refusing to go deeper, to let her respond. She twisted in frustration, snarling at him as his mouth slid aside to torment her ear. “Now, dang it, NOW!” she shouted, wrapping a leg around his hips and surging upwards.

  Instead of complying, he rolled aside, propping his head on his hand as he watched her with masculine satisfaction. “Who is your husband?”

  “You are, blast you! You scurvy, bloodless—”

  “What is my name?” he interrupted, circling one dusky nipple with lazy possession.

  She moaned, and her head rolled to the side. “Keilor.”

  “Mmm,” he said, and rewarded her with a brief, too shallow kiss. “And who is your lord?”

  “God!” she snapped, just to irritate him.

  “Among men,” he allowed, amused. His finger trailed down her belly and slowly circled her navel.

  Shivers began and would not stop, but danged if she’d give him the satisfaction. “You really get off on these domination games, don’t you, babe? So sorry to disappoint you, but—” She broke off as he reached above her, bringing a bottle of dark cinnamon oil, packed full of the curled bark and a decanter of rich caramel sauce into view. “What are you doing with that?”

  He winked at her and uncorked the oil, pouring a generous pool into the palm of his hand.

  Nearly mesmerized and a touch horrified at what that stuff was going to do to her control, she whispered, “That can’t be good for fur.”

  He chuckled, and a moment later his slick hands came down on her body.

  It was far worse than she’d imagined. She pleaded and b
egged, hollered and swore, but he was relentless. Every square inch of her body was treated to a heated, merciless torture.

  All but the one place that needed him the most.

  It was the kisses that were her final undoing, though.

  “Will you obey me?” he whispered against her lips, teasing her with butterfly kisses when what she need was hard contact. “Am I your lord?”

  “Pirate!” she snapped, too close to losing the skirmish.

  “Marauder,” he agreed, amused. He rubbed his hard length against her, stealing another gasp. He licked the inside of her mouth.

  A woman could only take so much. “Yes!” she gasped. “My lord, you can be my lord. Please!”

  Triumph flared in his eyes. “I am your lord, and you will obey me.”

  For a moment the words stuck in her throat in rebellion, but it only took one teasing touch of him at her swollen entrance and she started babbling, “Yes! Oh, God, yes, please, you’re my lord, I’ll obey, I’ll—” A scream tore from her throat as he slid deep, deep inside her, pinning her squirming hips to the table.

  “You’ll obey me,” he questioned, forcing her to say it once again, sealing it for all time, even though it cost him. He braced himself, steeled for yet another defiant refusal. If this were about anything less than the safety of their child....

  Her entire body shuddered as she fought the words before they rushed out, along with last of the defiance. “I will obey you, my husband, my lord,” she groaned in fealty.

  He kissed her long and sweet. “Thank you,” he murmured, and began to love her with a gentle passion that soon turned to flaming need. He could not get enough, and she strained against her bonds until he set her loose. She lunged up, wrapping around him with arms and legs, sinking her teeth lightly into his shoulder to grip him yet more until screams and sobs of pleasure forced her to let go.

  The pleasure that came then was the best they’d ever known.

  “What did you get that out for?” Jasmine asked later, snuggling against Keilor with sated affection.

  He took up the decanter of caramel sauce and gave her a wicked grin. “Let me show you.”

  Keilor was surprised to find Raziel leaning against the opposite wall when he exited. Then he remembered that it was time for his shift to begin.

  Raziel smirked, his blue eyes twinkling as he toyed with his earring. “Is it safe to return to Haunt? The noise coming through the door was too much even for poor human ears, Commander.”

  A rare flush bronzed Keilor’s cheekbones. “I am out here, am I not?”

  “So you are.” Raziel inclined his head in merry acknowledgment. “I’ll see to it that no one disturbs our sleeping lady.”

  Keilor snorted, choosing to ignore his friend’s imprudence even as a smile teased at his lips.

  They had been rather noisy.

  “We seem to be making a bad habit of this,” Jasmine joked, sitting down in the chair beside her friend’s bed two days later. “How are you doing, Rih?”

  “I’m beginning to understand why you were such a grouchy patient.” She shifted against the mattress, grimacing in discomfort. “Between Jayems’ hovering and my mother trying to cheer me up, I’m slowly going mad. Tell me I wasn’t that bad.”

  Jasmine grinned. “Worse. Just be glad you don’t have to live on liquids for a week,” she said when Rihlia groaned in dismay. “The important thing is you’re going to be okay, the baby is doing fine, and you’ll be on your feet in time to watch your toes disappear under your baby belly.”

  Rihlia glared, but then her look softened. “Thank you, Jasmine. If it hadn’t been for you—”

  “You would have done the same for me,” Jasmine interrupted before Rihlia could grow maudlin again. The pregnancy was really turning Rihlia into a bawl baby. Jasmine shuddered. She’d count herself lucky if all she suffered from was bad temper.

  Rihlia picked at the covers. “I suppose you heard that one of the assassins was Knightin?”

  Keilor had told Jasmine that they’d uncovered evidence that Knightin had been receiving bribes during the last year, possibly longer. A discrete investigation had begun to search for other possible traitors, but there was only so much that could be done.

  “Jayems is talking about moving me to a safer place until all of this is over.”

  Jasmine looked up, surprised. “No one has said anything to me about that.”

  “He just brought it up today. I was too tired to fight about it much, but I don’t want to go, especially now of all times.” Tears shimmered in her lowered eyes. “I don’t want to leave him right now.”

  Biting her lip, Jasmine averted her face. The idea of escaping danger was appealing, no doubt, but she didn’t want to leave Keilor behind to do it. Besides, there were no guarantees in life. Who was to say that sending Rihlia away would make her any safer? “I’d be happy to talk to Jayems for you, if you like,” she offered.

  Fresh tears of gratitude sprang to Rihlia’s eyes, and Jasmine jumped up, rushed her good-byes, and beat a fast retreat.

  God save them all from pregnant women.

  Jasmine commandeered a bench at the side of the training area where Keilor was instructing a group of soldiers in the art of the sword. She’d never watched him at work before, and it was a novel experience to see him through the eyes of his students.

  They worshipped him. He asked the impossible, and they delivered because it was he who asked. He was curt, but never cruel. He didn’t accept excuses, merely worked patiently with a student until that student understood what he wanted of him, demonstrating where necessary. The beauty of it was, his demonstrations were always matter-of-fact and instructional, never an outlet to showcase his own skill.

  And he was skilled. Every fluid movement and graceful gesture spoke of strength and stamina, both in battle, and—

  Jasmine flushed as images of the night before tumbled into her head, popping up behind her eyes and frizzling up through her nerve endings to explode in her lips, her breasts, her—

  “Mind if we join you?” Urseya, dressed in a stunning brocade gown of rust and gold, joined Jasmine on her bench without waiting for an answer. Leo, accompanied by two of the Symbiont riders, took the remaining space on Jasmine’s other side.

  An unaccustomed stab of jealousy groped at Jasmine’s heart, but she pushed it aside. There was no reason to feel that way, and she wasn’t about to start playing the clinging, insecure wife at this late date.

  “I understand that congratulations are in order.” Urseya glanced at Jasmine’s stomach, and for a moment a flash of something dark and glacial surfaced in her eyes before swimming away from the light.

  Jasmine stilled and searched her face. Her brain had instantly labeled the dark thing malice, and her every instinct told her not to relax, to search below the surface of Urseya’s now placid face. “Yes.”

  “I suppose Keilor is very happy,” she said, watching him demonstrate a movement without expression. “If the child survives, I’m certain that its...mixed blood will barely bother him.”

  “Why wouldn’t it survive, Urseya?”

  Indifferent eyes moved again to Jasmine’s stomach. “We’ve only the history of the by-blows, of course, but the odds of you carrying the baby through the third month are astronomical. No human woman has ever carried a Haunt child past the fourth month. Didn’t you know?”

  Leo cleared her throat. “The symbiont might make all the difference, Lady Jasmine,” she said quickly, touching Jasmine’s shoulder. “You’ve seen yourself what they can do, I wouldn’t concern myself too much about it.”

  Urseya’s voice dripped false concern. “I’m certain that Keilor only wished to protect you by not telling you this.”

  A low sound of fury escaped Jasmine’s lips as she rounded on Urseya. “Do not pretend to be my friend. Now leave!”

  “Do not presume to order me around, Sylph,” Urseya sneered, allowing gold to flicker in her eyes. Isfael took a warning step nearer, and she eyed him with con
tempt, standing up. “Do not worry for her, Sylph’s pet. She faces no danger from me.” She cast one more mocking look at Jasmine’s belly then turned on her heel, leaving in a swirl of rust brocade.

  Still simmering, Jasmine saw Keilor approach from the corner of her eye. “Your best defense is silence,” she warned him before he could say a word. Standing up, she told him with barely suppressed fury, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check on the fragile sticker apparently glued to my forehead. I think I feel it peeling off.”

  Keilor, of course, did not leave her to simmer, but fell into step at her side. “It is a well known fact that even strong women behave oddly when they are breeding, just look at Rihlia.”

  “I did, I have, and I’ll forgive you on those grounds this time only. Do you understand? This is my body, Keilor! You can’t just demand courtesy without giving any in return.” She took his silence for agreement. “Now, don’t you have a class to run?”

  “What did Urseya say to you?” he asked, ignoring her hint.

  Her lips tightened. “I think you got the gist of it.

  A gentle but firm hand on her arm pulled her to a stop in the shadow of a garden archway. “I’m not interested in the ‘gist’ of it, Jasmine. I need to know details.” His serious, concerned expression told her without words why.

  “You’re afraid that she....” she whispered, unsettled. She wanted to protest, to say that even Urseya wouldn’t sink so low as to betray her family, but the words died unspoken. With everything that had happened, dare she dismiss Urseya’s actions as simple jealousy? She touched her stomach, remembering the dark thing in Urseya’s eyes, and clenched her jaw. “Why don’t we go find some privacy?”

  Jayems rubbed his lips with his thumb, his face grim as Jasmine finished repeating her brief exchange with Urseya.

  “I’ve already assigned the necessary personnel to look into it,” Keilor assured him, crossing his arms as he waited for Jayems to respond.

  Jayems glanced at Jasmine, who was seated in a chair in front of his desk. His gaze cut to Keilor. “Are you prepared to use the option we discussed now?”