by Autumn Dawn
"Yeah? Well, she wouldn't have been there if your kind hadn't lost her,” she snapped back.
He grabbed her arms and jerked her to him, angry on such a deep level that he could barely verbalize his emotion. “You have no idea what you are saying, creature. Beware lest you test my mercy,” he warned her softly, almost relishing her trembling. She understood him.
Unfortunately, his flaring nose caught her feminine scent, bringing with it a desire that flooded his senses in an entirely alien way. For a moment his mind stalled, and the closest he could come to breaking away was to shift his hands down her arms a fraction. Spellbound, the only thing that he wanted in that moment was to let his body speak to her in a language entirely it's own.
Lightning traveled up his arms from her frozen body and he let go with a gasp and a curse. “Sylph!” he hissed, gripping the hilt of his blade.
"What did you call me?” she demanded in angry disbelief. “I am not filth! I..."
He slashed an angry hand through the air to cut her off. “Sylph! Temptress, siren, poison!” he told her with venom. Of all the woman in the world Rihlia had to call friend, why one of them, one of the few guaranteed to be trouble to the males of his kind?
"Temptress?” she huffed in amused disbelief. “That's a first.” She put one hand on her hip and eyed him, shaking her head. “The worst I've ever been accused of is “cute", and I think the guy was just being nice."
He reached out to tow her along again, thought better of it, and pointed with an unsteady hand. “There is the trail. Follow it.” He thought of prodding her along with his blade for good measure, but perhaps that was going too far. After all, it wasn't as if she'd leap on him and attempt a seduction right there.
Probably.
Her head turned to follow his pointing finger and she squinted in bewilderment. “Where?"
"Right there,” he repeated, wondering what was wrong with her. Maybe it was a trick to lower his defenses.
The sultry wind ruffled her limp hair as she gave a weary sigh. “Look, I can't see a thing out here, ok? I can barely see you, so if you plan on getting where we're going tonight, you'll have to lead the way."
It was not worth arguing. The sooner begun ... He started walking; not so fast that she couldn't see him, but far enough ahead to ensure zero contact. One couldn't be too careful with a Sylph.
For thousands of years, her kind had been used by humans to lure and trap the men of the Haunt. The best of their warriors had been enticed by the unique, bewitching scent of the Sylph and killed by their masters until there were few of the men left. That combined with the unrelenting fear and hatred of humans had driven his kind to seek their own world, free of the hunters.
And now one of them was here.
Jayems would be furious.
As they approached the forest entrance to the hollowed volcanic mountain that served as the Haunt fortress, he kept a wary eye on the female, remembering Rihlia's unfortunate reaction to her first sight of the warrior Haunt. This girl was no different. The moment she saw the shadowy guards she stumbled back with a gasp, which was at least an improvement over the ear shattering shriek he'd been braced for. Reaching back, he grabbed a fistful of her shirt, dragged her through the door and propelled her down the hallway with a business-like hand at her back.
"Wh-what..."
Badly shaken, she could barely get the words out. At least she wasn't hysterical. It had taken much longer to calm Rihlia down enough to make her believe the Haunt were not a danger to her. But then, she belonged to this world.
He would make no such assurances to this human.
"Wait here,” he told the girl sternly, pointing to the cushioned bench set in the alcove opposite his lord's rooms. She sank limply onto the bench, obeying him without a murmur, but it wasn't him that she was looking at. He turned to the pair of Haunt guards flanking the massive double doors and eyed them wryly as they saluted him with a silent nod and opened the door. She was unlikely to attempt any mischief while under their baleful stare, but just to be sure...
"Eat her if she moves,” he ordered, and watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened. Hiding his grin at the grimace of distaste on his right and the rolled eyes to his left, he entered the room.
"She is here,” he reported, stepping into the large room. Jayems looked up quickly from where he sat at his polished desk of dark wood and slammed shut the heavy ledger he'd been perusing with a muffled thud. His polished boots remained exactly where they were crossed on the desktop as he waited for more details.
Rihlia wasn't nearly as calm. She leapt up off of the blue and cream couch and demanded breathlessly, “Where?"
Keilor smiled slightly, amused. For all she looked the princess in her gold and white silken robes and smooth braids woven with pearls and topaz, she was as bright eyed and eager as a much younger girl.
Grimness replaced his amusement fast enough, though, as he recalled her friend. “There's a problem,” he informed his lord darkly. “She's a Sylph."
Jayems’ feet uncrossed, dropping with unnerving deliberation to the floor. He slammed his palms down on the desk and leaned forward. “A what?"
Keilor shook his head slowly. “She could be nothing else. I'm certain of it."
Jayems swore and got to his feet, pacing with barely controlled anger.
His reluctant betrothed looked between them in angry confusion. “What's the matter? You told me she could—"
Jayems whirled to face her, his dark tunic riffling in the breeze. “I gave permission for you to say good-bye, and I will still allow it, but the minute you are finished, she goes."
Her eyes flared in temper. “Well, of course, darling,” she agreed acidly. “After all, we wouldn't want any unsavory humans loitering about, now, would we?"
He stalked her, stopping inches from her and bending his head to pierce her with his stare. “I'm gratified we understand each other, wife.” Before she could snarl out a denial, he snapped, “Bring her, Keilor. Let's finish this."
Jasmine sat where she'd been ordered, staring at the intricate mosaic patterns in the wood floor and trying very hard not to gawk at her guards. It was impossible to keep her eyes to herself. They kept darting up to peek with horrified fascination at the wolf-men posted at the door. Lemming pressed close against her leg, whining softly.
They made no bones about staring back.
They had the heads and flattened faces of wolves, and their entire bodies (or what she could see outside their black uniforms) were covered in dark hair. Each guard wore a leather holster with a gun of some sort strapped to his thigh and a long knife sheathed at the hip. Combat boots, pants and laced leather vests completed the ensemble. They looked frighteningly competent.
Frightening being the key word.
It was a relief when her warden opened the door and ordered her to, “Come.” Swallowing hard, she got to her feet and edged swiftly past the guards, relaxing a fraction only when the door was safely shut behind her. Lemming gave a glad bark and charged forward, and Jasmine turned to see Wiley laughing as she knelt down to hug her dog.
"Good girl!” she praised the collie, fondling her ears affectionately. “You found me, didn't you?” Then she looked up and saw Jasmine, and her eyes glittered with tears as she stood up. “Aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” she murmured, and embraced her in a crushing hug. “I thought you'd never get here."
Jasmine pulled back and gave her a wobbly grin. “Blame it on your map. You forgot to mention that last curve in the road.” Her smile faded as she glanced at the two men watching them impassively and then back to her friend. “What's going on, Wiley?"
"It's...” Wiley broke off and looked at the dark haired man Jasmine didn't know, who was perched on a desk, feet crossed at the ankles. Her erstwhile escort stood near him and as far from Jasmine as he could get.
"I don't suppose we could have some privacy?” Wiley asked coldly. The handsome stranger inclined his head, indicating that he had heard her, but he didn't
move. She muttered something under her breath and led Jasmine to the far end of the room, sitting down with her on a couch. Lemming came up and nudged Wiley's hand, and she absently stroked her while she explained.
"We're on another world,” she began slowly.
Jasmine glanced at the triple moons visible through the window comprising an entire wall and then back at the door and nodded slowly in agreement. She'd figured that one out on her own.
Wiley watched her carefully. “I was born here."
Jasmine's eyes unfocused for a moment as she pondered that. “It explains a few things. Go on."
Wiley took a breath. “The guy who brought you here is my cousin, Keilor."
Jasmine's eyes darted in surprise to the man, and for the first time she really looked at him, scrutinizing his features. Black, silken hair framed high cheekbones, reminiscent of a Cherokee warrior, and the faint flare of his nostrils reinforced the impression. She couldn't see the color of his eyes from across the room, but the expression in them of wary distaste was all too clear. She was already far more familiar with the feel of his body than she cared to remember, and the excellent lighting in the room only confirmed that he possessed a physique any warrior brave would be proud to own. He raised a dark brow at her in mocking acknowledgment of the introduction, and an unnerving image of him in nothing but a loincloth and a tan, long hair free from it's tie, flashed into her mind.
A surge of wild heat accompanied the foreign thought, stunning in its intensity. Almost it seemed he called to her, compelled her heart to thunder. Something very strange happened in those few seconds. Deep in her mind a door slammed open, opening the way to a dark, wild wind. For a moment she swore she felt his soul touch hers, leisurely touch and possess. She shuddered. Against all logic, she knew him. She knew this man. And suddenly she wanted him with a desperation bordering on mania.
It terrified her.
The moment passed. Annoyed at her wild imagination, she hurriedly whipped her gaze back to her friend. “You have my sympathy,” she snapped, irked at the lingering rush in her blood.
Wiley smiled wryly, having noted nothing amiss. She didn't even look at the other man, just jerked her head slightly in his direction. “The other guy is called Jayems.” They were both quite for a moment. Jasmine looked down and saw that Wiley's hands were knotted in her skirt. At last Wiley said stiffly, “They won't let me go home, and they want you to go back right away and forget you ever saw me."
Jasmine sat back, carefully controlling her anger and her breathing. Her expression was cold, but a dangerous smile turned up one side of her mouth and lurked in her eyes when she felt able to control her voice. “Two words, my friend.” She twitched an eyebrow and switched to Pig Latin. “Avyna, Ealsay, anda eytha anca ovesha ita upa eirtha assa.” Navy SEALS, and they can shove it up their—.
Wiley laughed a little, relieved. She understood that Jasmine wasn't going to just leave her there.
Jasmine smiled slyly back at her and squeezed her hand tightly and then stood up. “It's been real, Wiley, and I'm glad to see that you're all right.” She turned to the one called Keilor. “I'm ready to go home, now."
Keilor was looking back at her with a knowing expression. He turned to Jayems and made a few signs with his hands. Jayems glanced at her assessingly and signed back. Keilor moved towards her. “Why so hasty? You just got here. Perhaps it would be best if you waited to return until morning. He watched her closely.
Jasmine felt the panic flash like a neon sign across her face and quickly looked down, doing her best to contain it. She swallowed and said as evenly as possible, “I thought you were in a hurry to get rid of me.” She bit the inside of her lip, cursing herself for saying something so revealing, and hastily amended, “Not that I mind staying to talk to a friend or anything, but this place gives me the creeps."
Jayems straightened from the desk and sauntered towards her until both he and Keilor towered over her. She didn't dare look at him. “Friends,” he mussed. “That's not what Rihlia called you. Sister of her heart, she said. Closer than blood.” He paused and looked her up and down with too knowing eyes the color of polished bronze. “Odd that such a one would desert her so quickly.” Suddenly he grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Would you be planning trouble, little sister?"
She met his eyes with difficulty, and kept them there through force of will. “Who would believe my story?” she evaded and then mentally winced. Why hadn't she just lied? She might as well just blurt out that she intended to bring the entire US Army with her if she could find her way back.
He studied her for a moment and then softly snorted. Releasing her, he told Keilor, “Find her a room down the hall and see that she's comfortable, would you, cousin? And post guards at her door.” His smile was less than pleasant. “We wouldn't want anything to happen to Rihlia's loyal little sister."
She stiffened as Keilor's hand closed around her arm and he started to drag her off.
Wiley got in his way at once. He canted his head to the side slightly and paused to acknowledge her effort. “Cousin."
Alarmed, Wiley looked around him to rail at Jayems. “What are you doing?"
His eyes narrowed. “Sending her away before I break her neck for lying to me.” He glanced at the wide eyed Jasmine grudgingly. “Though I suppose she can be forgiven, as she does it out of loyalty to you.” He glowered at Wiley. “Though there is a limit to what I will forgive those who try to deceive me."
Wiley stiffened. “You said that she could go home.” Wiley pushed almost plaintively. His face hardened. “Keilor."
Without another word, Keilor gently moved the resisting Wiley aside and continued toward the door, surmising that Jayems wished to continue his battle in private.
"You be nice to her!” Wiley shouted after Keilor as they entered the gray stone hall.
Chapter 2
Keilor looked down at Jasmine assessingly. “Do you want me to be nice to you, Dragonfly?"
She glowered at him. “I doubt you know how.” They paused at a set of double doors a short way down the hall.
He flashed her a wicked smile. “I can be very nice when I choose. His hand closed over the door handle, but he didn't open it just yet. He moved a fraction closer to her, his warm breath slid across her skin as he traced the iridescent dragonfly pendant at her throat. She dropped her eyes, shivering just a little as chills rushed through her. “Be good, my Dragonfly. Be very, very good,” he whispered, lifting her chin until their faces were only inches apart. He stroked his fingers lightly down her neck, making her breath catch. A warning glinted in his eyes. “You won't like it if I have to correct you."
Jasmine pulled away from him and looked pointedly at the carved panels of the door, resenting how he made her feel. He was the enemy. What did her stupid body think it was doing, reacting like that? It wasn't as if he were potential boyfriend material.
Her frustration made her snap, “You get off on trying to scare women, don't you?"
Not really. Keilor paused, considering their uninvited guest. Initially he'd agreed with Jayems that the most efficient way to be rid of the human girl was to frighten her silly. That plan had failed miserably. But who could have known about her courage? Certainly Rihlia had been ready to run, and without provocation. Perhaps it was time to find a new way of dealing with the human.
After all, like it or not, she was going to be here a while.
Opening the door, he gestured her inside with a flourish. “Lights,” he called, and the lights came on. “Softer,” he ordered, and they dimmed. His eyes swept down her. “Bath.” Immediately steaming water began to fill a tub at the side of the large room. It was large enough for four people and reached by a series of steps chiseled of blue veined marble. A carved screen, now folded, stood between it and a handsome armoire of red wood and mirrored doors. He gestured toward it. “Towels. The door next to it is a closet, not that you'll find anything in it at the moment.” He turned slightly on the parquet flooring. “
Bed."
Jasmine glanced at the large bed against the left wall and then gasped and moved closer for a better look. Vines curled around a pair of naked lovers entwined in a standing position on each post. She rolled her eyes, grateful that she rarely blushed. Heaven help her. It would be a miracle if she could get to sleep in such a bed. She dared a glance at the headboard and quickly looked away, brain burning. “Don't you have somewhere else I can sleep?” Her eyes skittered restlessly around the otherwise elegant room, and then up at the ceiling. She groaned. An enormous mirror in a golden frame was mounted above the bed. “I mean ... with a less...” she waved her hand at the bed.
"I could,” he answered agreeably, looking amused, “Though I couldn't guarantee your bed would be solitary."
She glared at him. “Fine.” He raised an intrigued eyebrow. “This is fine,” she gritted.
He shrugged. “As you wish. If you need anything—something to eat, for instance—just raise your voice slightly and call for service."
Jasmine waited a moment after he'd left and then quickly opened the door. Two wolf guards looked down at her inquiringly from either side of the door. She growled in frustration and shut the door, locking it for good measure. Then she slumped against it, done in. Lemming had stayed with Wiley, so nothing disturbed the silence in the room, or her thoughts, such as they were. Her brain felt numb, temporarily shocked into immobility by the events of the evening. Her body ached mildly from her climb up and down the Alaskan hills, and her feet throbbed and sweated unmercifully in her double layer of socks.
A click caused her to roll her head towards the tub. The water had stopped pouring. After a moment of contemplation she gave a fatalistic shrug. Ah, well. What else did she have to do?
Jasmine sighed and stretched luxuriously against the silky sheets and then forced herself to roll over. It took a bit more effort to pry her eyes open long enough to actually see and process her surroundings. She sat up in bed with a start.