by Autumn Dawn
Cold lips trembling, she said nothing, just stared up at him and shook with shock.
Swearing, he called for a bath and then looked away for a moment, clenching his fists. Taking a deep breath for patience and another for his fraying nerves, he told her, “Do you know what would have happened to you at the hands of another Haunt, wife? I can think of many that would use your silence as an excuse to get rid of you forever. Why are you being silent about this?” His jaw ground. “You are risking not only yourself, but our child.”
A defeated sigh escaped her. “Wiley doesn’t deserve this,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping.
The bath shut off with a click, and Keilor shut his eyes and shunted his adrenaline to the task off undressing his lover, who was still covered with the gore of her kill. “You accomplish nothing for Rihlia by holding your tongue Dragonfly. Jayems will make certain that she is told everything.”
At the endearment, her breath hitched, and she flung herself at Keilor, half naked and crying.
“Hush, little one,” he soothed, stroking her back. “Just tell me what happened. I know it wasn’t your fault.” He could not relax until he had every detail. Then and only then could he deal with her emotions, and almost as urgently, his own.
She pulled away a little, and he stripped off the rest of her splattered clothes, helping her into the bath and sitting on the edge. Slowly her shaking stopped as he bathed her, and she finally told him the complete tale. Only then did the tension of duty drain from him, leaving behind a flood of feeling and a need for comfort that could only be dealt with in one way.
Jasmine was just as frantic as he was when he urged her from the hot water and into his arms, uncaring that his clothes got soaked, encouraging her as she ripped them off in her frenzy to get to him. He dried her with his hands and the heat of their passion, giving her love, making it right, making everything all right again.
Need.
Heat.
Wanting.
They took each other in the depths of the big bed, and satisfied them all.
Jasmine felt half dead with emotion afterwards, barely rousing herself to whimper a protest when her lover withdrew, leaving her only half of a whole.
“Shh,” he told her, kissing her temple and pulling her into the comfort of his arms. “I have to go, but not for a little while. You need to rest.”
For a little while there was quiet. Then, “Is it always so hard, Keilor?”
Sighing, he gathered her closer for a moment, understanding immediately what she was asking. “No, and more’s the pity.”
Jayems’ face was savage as he paced in front of his desk. “How many more vipers are we going to find at our ankles, Keilor? Or should I be asking how long before one of them sinks its fangs in again?”
Keilor crossed his arms and waited. He was not the only one tired of murder attempts centering around his wife. A thought struck with sudden force. “Does Rhapsody have anything to do with Yesande, Jayems?” He shook his head, answering his own question. “Of course not. She would not approve a strike against her own daughter, or would she?” he asked, leveling a questioning look at his cousin.
“Who can say now? ‘The dead are notoriously tight-lipped’,” Jayems said, quoting a grisly proverb. “A search of her rooms revealed nothing, not that I thought it would, considering how our luck has been running.” He put his fists on his desk and leaned forward, allowing his loose hair to fall forward, concealing his face. “How are they getting past us? We’re neither fools nor innocents, and I’d swear on my soul that Knightin was a good man once, and he gave us nothing—nothing!—under the truth drug.” Shoving his hair back, he straightened and looked at Keilor with hard eyes. “I have never seen anyone resist Nerasia the way that he did today. It was almost as if—” For a moment he became utterly still. Only his eyes moved, as if visually tracing a thought in the air above his carpet.
When he looked up, his eyes glittered with a solution. “Jasmine said that Yesande experimented on her, didn’t she? Took samples of her blood?”
Keilor nodded. He did not like to remember that time.
Jayems leaned forward. “The Ronin, our symbiotic friends, are human. We’ve had so little contact with them. Who’s to say that they don’t still breed Sylphs?”
Keilor closed his eyes, considering the unthinkable impact of that possibility. “That would be a very bad thing.” His eyes snapped back open, glittering with the same genius that gleamed in Jayems’. “But it would explain their sudden interest in opening communications with us. Yesande discovering a cache of Sylphs, craving their power, conducting experiments...If several of our women suddenly went missing, I would be looking for a way to infiltrate the enemy and scout around, too.”
“And Jasmine is a Sylph....”
“A natural lodestone for them, and a possible ally,” Keilor finished. “No wonder they risked bringing a young woman with them. Considering what Jasmine will do for a friend, it was a thundering good strategy.”
“And just how did they know about that little trait of hers?” Jayems asked knowingly, and Keilor inclined his head. “This is all starting to come together, cousin, and I think that it’s about time that we had a little chat with our visiting dignitaries. And Mathin, of course.”
A dangerous smile curved Keilor’s mouth. “Of course.”
Chapter 16
Fifteen Ronin, four Haunt and Jasmine sat around Jayems’ table, preparing to play a game of poker involving people’s lives.
Jayems opened the game by dealing Jackson a question. “Have you had any strange disappearances among your people recently? Women, in particular?”
Jackson’s head came up. “We were given to understand that they were Sylph.” His impersonal gaze flickered over Jasmine. “Not that we are able to tell one way or another.”
“And you, Mathin? Dare I hope that you have useful information about this?”
“I confirmed that at least one of the missing women was a Sylph—I’d met her before. I’m guessing about the others, but given Urseya’s interest in Jasmine, the blood tests that she took, and all that we know about her, it seems a good guess that she’s after the pheromone.”
Jayems glanced at Keilor. “Any chance that she’s already got it?” He quickly explained about Knightin and the Nerasia and Rihlia’s mother.
“But I saw Knightin,” Jasmine protested. “His eyes were perfectly lucid. He didn’t have that stoned look.”
“Stoned?” Keilor inquired.
She colored. “Drugged, half-stupid.” When his eyes narrowed, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, I was far too busy trying not to drool over you myself to notice if you looked dazed.”
He lifted a brow, but the scowl left his face just the same.
“That still doesn’t explain his resistance to the truth serum,” Jayems pointed out. “Did you notice anything strange about Rhapsody?”
A gray storm cloud drifted through Jasmine’s heart, freezing her to the spot. “She bled a lot.” Someone gasped, and Jasmine opened her eyes to stare at the shaken Rihlia. “I’m sorry. No, there was nothing.”
Keilor squeezed her hand under the table, giving her support and comfort.
“Still, it doesn’t rule out outside influence. We don’t know what knowledge her experiments might have given her. Regardless, if she’s behind the disappearances, something needs to be done,” Jayems said, steepling his hands and touching his upper lip briefly. He raised his head a notch until his tented fingers rested against his chin. “Any ideas?”
“Yesande would not welcome me back, so I can’t go openly, but I am still familiar with her lair,” Mathin offered. “I could always seduce some information out of one of the women there.”
“Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Leo suggested, raising a brow.
Mathin just smiled.
Jasmine cleared her throat. “Why bother going to her? She seems to go to great lengths to get her hands on Sylphs. Why not make it eas
y for her? Wave a Sylph under her nose and she’s sure to pounce.”
“No,” Keilor said in tone that brooked no argument. “You will not play bait.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he squeezed her hand under the table in warning.
“She wouldn’t have to,” Leo offered, standing up and moving beside Jasmine. Without a word, she reached out and took Jasmine’s free hand.
“Leo, no!” Jackson shouted, standing up, but it was too late. Their symbionts flowed together, forming one interlocked whole, and pulsed. Jasmine jerked in surprise as a warm buzz flowed through her body, concentrated in her left arm, and then flowed out through her symbiont and into Leo’s. The symbionts separated and streamed back to their respective hosts.
“Neat trick,” Mathin growled, his nostrils flaring as his eyes dilated.
Jackson took one look at Mathin’s hungry expression and ordered his sister with a killing look, “Purge it right now!”
“That would be foolish,” she returned, standing firm, if wary. “The plan is a good one.”
Jackson’s hard eyes swept the assembled Haunt. “Did you not think of what might happen to our women if word of this gets out?” he demanded of her.
“I wonder if this stuff could be transferred to a man?” Jasmine murmured, eyeing her husband with speculation.
“Don’t even think it,” her husband growled.
“Enough! Jasmine, stop making trouble, Mathin, behave,” Jayems ordered. “You do not have to worry about any of us making use of the information, Jackson. Yesande is the only one who would desire an army of lust crazed fools.”
Mathin glowered at him and slid his gaze back to Leo.
Unnerved, her eyes flickered away from Mathin and settled with determination on her brother. “Do you have a better way to end this, brother? Who will it be next time, your wife, our little sister?”
“Uh, Leo,” Jasmine interrupted. “Just so that you know, you’re letting yourself in for a pack of trouble with this Sylph thing. I do hope that you can turn it off as easily as you turned it on, otherwise it might be best to consider other options.”
Jackson tensed, and Leo bit her lip. “I’ll be all right for a while. The symbiont won’t work the pheromone into my genetic makeup for at least a month.”
There was a tense moment of silence. “Three weeks,” Jackson finally bit out. “I give you three weeks, and not an hour more, understood?” Still very angry, he dropped back into his seat, and Leo followed suit. “Now what?”
“Is it always like this?”
Jasmine glanced at Leo, noted her unease, and smiled with sympathy. “Actually, it’s been a great deal better for me since Keilor and I, uh....” she waved a hand. “Since I got married and started bleeding off a little of...whatever it is that makes them do that.” She indicated the nearly slavering Haunt males thronging the marketplace. Eyes lingered on Jasmine, but they positively glued themselves to Leo, much to the consternation of her Ronin escort. Jasmine’s Haunt bodyguard handled it with stoic resignation. They’d been through all this before.
All but Mathin, of course, who’d appointed himself one of Leo’s protectors, in spite of Jackson’s none too subtle hints to take himself off elsewhere. Leo’s persistent suitor wasn’t in sight at the moment, but Jasmine caught glimpses of him from time to time, and she knew that he was nearby, watching.
Leo knew it, too.
“What does he think he is doing?” she muttered in irritation that bordered on true anger as she caught a glimpse of Mathin through the crowd. “I hardly need another protector—Jackson is bad enough.”
Jasmine looked at her askance. “What? Don’t you recognize lust when you see it?” Leo’s face grew fiery with rage, but Jasmine said anyway, “Mathin’s not such a bad sort. Granted, he’s a lousy cook, but he’s worth his weight in platinum when you find yourself in a mess.”
“You can say that, after he broke your arm?”
“Given the choice between that and remaining Yesande’s permanent guest, I’ll take Mathin’s way, thank you very much. It’s crude, and it’s rude, but you’ve got to admit, it’s effective.” The scent of oranges reached out and seized Jasmine’s nose, so she stopped and bought a couple of them. Handing one to Leo, she peeled it as they watched the basket maker under the striped awning next door make a laundry basket.
Juice spurted as she dug her nails into the peel, releasing a delightful whiff of citrus. “So, do you have a sweetheart back home who’d object to all this male attention?”
Pretending great concentration on her task, Leo shook her head. “No, but that is not the point. I do not like being stared at, and it’s infuriating to know that their interest is merely a chemical reaction.”
Jasmine nodded. “Hard on the ego, isn’t it? Not to mention danged annoying. But hey, look on the bright side, at least you can get rid of it.” She popped a juicy orange segment into her mouth and then umphed!, as though something important had occurred to her. Rolling her eyes as she chomped quickly, she finally cleared her mouth to ask, “Speaking of getting rid of things,” she held up her forearms, “What about these?”
Gaping as though Jasmine had suggested killing the pope, Leo asked, “Why would you wish to do such a thing?”
“Relax, Leo, I’m just curious. Now that I’m gotten used to the little guy, I kind of like him, but let’s just say that something came up, and I needed to get him off. Then what?”
“It is not done,” Leo answered in consternation. “The symbionts extend our lives, bring health, and provide all manner of help. They define who we are as a people. Why should anyone wish to shed one?”
Jasmine raised an imperious brow, unknowingly picked up from her new Haunt family. “I define who I am, Leo, and no one else. I like being one of a kind, knowing that there’s no one else just like me.”
“But don’t you need a connection with someone? With others similar to yourself?” Leo pressed, sucking the juice out of the end of an orange wedge and licking an escaping drop, oblivious to the intensity of her audience with her attention focused on Jasmine. “Don’t you have a need to belong?”
Jasmine noticed the male Haunt’s fascinated stares, and smiled. A teenage boy who was watching Leo and not his feet ran into his mother when she stopped to admire some silk, and earned himself a scolding.
Her smile grew. “I do belong.” She placed a hand on her belly. “I belong to Keilor, and he belongs to me. If I never had anyone else, he would be enough.”
Leo looked away and shook her head. “I don’t understand that.” Noticing her admirers, she scowled. “How can you even know that it’s you he loves and that he’s not caught in the spell of the Sylph?”
Shrugging, Jasmine answered, “We’re past all of that. He’s said that he loves me and I believe him. It’s there in his eyes, in the way that he treats me. It’s in his kiss, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and it has nothing to do with skill. I believe that even if I’d never been a Sylph, we still would have come together. The pheromone isn’t irresistible—it doesn’t command the heart.” Jasmine grinned as she caught sight of Mathin, who was headed straight for them, and pitched her voice a tad higher. “It might have brought him to heel quicker, though.”
Dark eyes caressed Leo with unnerving intensity. “I’d be pleased to be at your heels anytime, sweet Sylph.” He leaned in closer, bridging her personal space, and murmured against her ear, or your knees, or even—”
Leo shouldered him out of her way and stalked on, blond ponytail switching, hips swaying angrily. A low hum of appreciation vibrated from Mathin.
Jasmine caught his arm. “She doesn’t like you, Mathin.”
“Hm. The way you didn’t ‘like’ Keilor?”
Flushing, she crossed her arms. “That was different.”
Mathin smirked, “Did your husband ever tell you that we can smell a woman’s arousal, milady?” Her eyes widened, and he flashed her a wicked smile of assurance. “Leo likes me very much, I promise you.” Pulling away from he
r slack grip, he followed after Leo.
Jasmine blinked. So that was how it was. Still, she liked Leo, and she didn’t want to see her get hurt. Not that her watchful Ronin escort would ever allow Mathin to get Leo alone...but still. Jasmine well knew how such dogged pursuit by an irresistible rogue like Mathin could weaken a girl’s heart.
With a fatalistic sigh, she shook off her concerns, promising herself that she would not interfere. Love was a messy thing, but those two were both adults, and they’d just have to fight it out like everyone else.
She just wasn’t sure which one she ought to wish the luck to.
The one walk through the marketplace was the last of its kind that Leo took. Her presence had been scented and witnessed, and now all they had to do was wait.
“Seventeen days there, seventeen days back,” Jasmine said, shaking her head. “Unless Yesande has taken up residence in the neighborhood, or unless she’s got someone closer to home keeping an eye on things, you’re going to have to purge the Sylph thing, Leo.” She picked up one of the long sticks that speared the marinated meats and vegetables on the tray nearest her and moved from the table to the bonfire Keilor had built in the fire pit. The fire was the only light in the darkened and deceptively unprotected garden. Fireflies danced and whizzed through the rare black night, but did nothing to illuminate the six people around the fire.
Mathin shook his head, taking the stick from her and laying it on the grill. The faint, flower scented breeze ruffled a lock of hair that had escaped his queue. It caught in the faint stubble at his jaw and he brushed it away with impatience. “It won’t matter. Now that the word’s out, she’ll come for her, regardless. If she finds that Leo is no longer a Sylph, she’ll be that much more piqued, and even more determined to get her hands on her. A power that comes and goes? It will smack of control, and Yesande could never resist that.”
Keilor shot a quick look at Jackson, saw that his jaw was clenched, and looked away. “The sooner, the better. We’re ready for her. Though you—” he pulled Jasmine back into his arms, settling her between his bent knees and stroking her rounded belly, “—will stay well out of it.”
