Teasing Danger

by Autumn Dawn

  “What is this?” she asked, gingerly touching a coconut sized, hairy brown fruit hanging from a tangle of stems connected to a trunk. She tapped it experimentally and found the rind to be as hard as a nut.

  Keilor laughed. “It’s a cannonball tree, though it’s been bred to remove the stench and improve the flavor. The plants it’s descended from smell much like sewer sludge. When I was a boy I decided to cultivate one for an academic project. Somehow, the plant I grew reverted back to its original form. Imagine my surprise when the lovely scented blossoms produced fruit edible only for a stag,” Jasmine chuckled, and he added impishly, “They made very useful stink bombs, though. It took weeks to get the smell out of our rival cadet’s barracks.”

  She smirked. “Making friends and influencing people even then, huh?”

  He gave her a sidelong glance but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he gestured to another plant, an interesting specimen with long pods growing directly from the trunk. “The cacao tree. The chocolate you love so much grows in these pods.”

  “Really?” She look at the tree with interest. Forget the kale and the turnips, someone had been thinking when they brought seeds for this thing along. Excited, she turned a little too quickly to ask him a question and lost her balance. When she grabbed onto his arm to steady herself, he hissed. Fearing she’d hurt him, she quickly let go, then frowned. She’d felt a bandage under the long sleeve of his shirt. She touched the midnight silk carefully. There was definitely a bandage under there. “You hurt yourself.”

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

  “But—”

  “A medic looked at it. You don’t have to worry, it will be fine.” When the worried expression didn’t leave her face, he teased, “Would you like to see for yourself?”

  For a moment she looked as if she would say yes. Instead she looked down and thrust her hands into her pockets, nudging the crushed shell with the toe of one sandal. “I guess the tournament was a bad idea.”

  He raised her chin and looked into her troubled eyes. “The tournament was a very good idea. I enjoyed it. So did everyone else.” When that didn’t help, he added playfully, “Besides, if you hadn’t seen me today, I wouldn’t have had the chance to see you fall at my feet. Think how my ego might have suffered.”

  She snorted and turned away with her arms crossed, but he could tell she was trying to hide a smile.

  Dinner was fun. When he brought her back to her room a short while later, they found that the table had been prepared with the ingredients for a Chinese hot pot. A steaming wok on a stand with a small flaming lamp underneath graced the center of the table. A platter of raw meats and seafood sat at one side, and a matching one of sliced vegetables was on the other. Crystal condiment servers and a covered glass stand containing sweet confections had been placed on one end of the lace tablecloth, an arrangement of white candles of different shapes decorated the other. Jasmine asked Keilor to light them while she changed into a simple, yet elegant white and silver tunic with loose harem pants. The sleeveless silk top reached almost to her knees, but the split bottom seams made it very comfortable to move in. Even with a chemise underneath it and a wide silver sash hugging her waist it was so weightless that she almost felt naked. Telling herself that she was being silly, she opened the door and stepped out.

  Keilor’s heart almost stopped when he saw her. The thin silk, though opaque, molded to her body in a way that made him very glad that it was he and not another man who was with her tonight. She wore her hair down, and it was all he could do not to drop what he was doing and make them both forget about dinner.

  There was something very intimate about saying the blessing with just the two of them. At first he placed his hands, as was customary, on her shoulders, but he couldn’t resist allowing them to slide down her soft skin. He was so close, he felt her lungs expand to take in a silent, deep drought of air. When he laced his fingers with hers and wrapped his arms around her, she shivered. It was very difficult to let her go after the blessing was done.

  “Can I look at your um, sword?” Jasmine asked after they’d finished their dessert.

  He unsheathed it and handed it to her. “Be careful,” he cautioned as she moved towards the couch to study it in comfort. He followed and sat beside her.

  “How does it work?” she asked, turning the long knife this way and that, looking for a way to activate it. He took it away from her and slid his thumb against the guard. Instantly a blade of blue energy appeared, eclipsing the razor edged steel. She didn’t try to take it back, just looked it over carefully, catching his eye and nodding when she was done. The blue hummed back into the blade, and he gave it back to her.

  “The energy source is inside the haft. I release the beam when I slide the catch.”

  She looked it over a little longer and gave it back to him to be sheathed.

  She settled back against the pillows plumped against the arms of the couch and bent her knees, bringing her bare feet up on the cushions. For a moment, she watched him. “I know why Rihlia didn’t tell me about the Haunt. Why haven’t you?” When he frowned, uncertain exactly what she was asking, she elaborated, “You shape shift.”

  “Ah.” This was definitely a subject to be approached with caution. He didn’t want to foster any more distrust than she must already be feeling. “If you had known in the beginning, what would you have done?”

  She snorted. “Run screaming for the woods?”

  He rolled his eyes. “And at what point after that would I have known that it was safe to tell you without fear of hysterics? Your people used to burn mine at the stake, Jasmine,” he told her, very serious. “I was not eager to see you hate us.”

  There was nothing she could say to that.

  He searched her face. “And now that you know what I am, do you fear me?” Every muscle in his body tensed, waiting for her answer.

  She kept her eyes on her knees. “Are you willing to be patient with me? It’s the same with Rihlia. I know better than to fear the woman, but I don’t know the Haunt.”

  He slid down beside her, careful not to let his weight crush her. “You know this Haunt.” He let his lips slide across her parted mouth, once, twice. “He burns for you,” he whispered, and slowly withdrew. Exercising great restraint, he took a deep breath and placed her feet in his lap. They needed to talk, but he felt that if he didn’t have some kind of contact, he would die. “You know that I can not give you children.”

  Jasmine swallowed hard. “If I had met you when I was forty-five, we might not have had kids, either.”

  “You are not forty.”

  “I might not be able to have kids anyway, for all we know,” she reasoned, biting the inside of her lip.

  “That’s not likely,” he answered with grim logic. Delusions would not serve them. “I would like children, but I am not adverse to adopting them. I need to know how you feel.” So much depended on this, and he was not willing to let it wait for another day.

  She closed her eyes, and was silent for a long moment. Finally she said, “It depends. I can do it, but—” she took a ragged breath. “It’s painful.” They were silent for a moment. “I know that this is the sort of thing that needs to be discussed, but isn’t it just a little premature?” She tried to smile. “This is only a first date, after all.”

  Keilor slid back down next to her. “That depends,” he answered, stroking her face with a gentle touch. “—on whether you’re ready for this.” His kiss was light but full of passion and power. It did not take long before her hands were sliding into his hair, asking for more.

  It cost him much not to give it to her.

  He broke the kiss and moved back just out of reach. When she tried to pull him back, he resisted. “Are you ready to make promises to me, Dragonfly?” he asked before words could leave her opened mouth. “Are you ready to be mine and no other’s?” She lowered her eyes, and he persisted, “Not just for a time, but for all time?”

  A rush of breath left her mouth.
“I haven’t had time—you’re asking for some serious things, Keilor.”

  “I’m a serious man.”

  She pushed him back and sat up, scrubbing her face with her hands. “I didn’t know that you were going to ask me this.” She clasped her hands and rested her weight on her forearms, which were propped on her knees. Staring at the floor, she said, “I’m not sure I know you well enough.”

  Keilor forced his muscles to relax somewhat. He’d hoped to see this through tonight, but he had more mettle than she did. He could out wait her. Freeing one of her hands, he kissed it and then stood up. “As you wish. I can give you time.”

  “Wait!” she called, as he turned away. She stood up. “Let me walk you to the door.” They paused in front of it, and he looked at her expectantly. She was blocking the exit.

  She shifted a little and then dropped her eyes. “Goodnight,” she murmured.

  “Goodnight,” he answered, wondering what else she had to say. It must be something, or she would move.

  She cleared her throat and muttered something. Looking anywhere but at him, she said, “It’s customary where I come from to end a date with a kiss.”

  She didn’t see the wolfish grin, but she couldn’t miss it when his arms slid around her and he pressed her up against the door. Before she could draw another breath he was inside her, kissing her mouth with a ruthless determination that left no doubt in her mind just how much he wanted her. She moaned when his thigh slid between her legs and rubbed against her, and he didn’t care that her guards could hear them. His hand slid down and cupped her bottom, pulling her more firmly against him.

  “Keilor!” she gasped and then bit his neck, sucking with mindless need as he rubbed against her.

  “Promise me forever,” he ordered her savagely. This was almost more than he could take. “Give me the right to stay.”

  She pressed her forehead against his chest, sobbing for breath.

  In the end, she waited too long to answer.

  Chapter 11

  “What are you doing?”

  Jasmine and Rihlia stopped practicing the self-defense move they were working on and looked at Keilor. He was back in uniform today and his bandaged biceps, and a few fading nicks and bruises, showed clearly. Jayems was right beside him in the empty courtyard, looking grave.

  “Practicing getting out of grabs,” Jasmine answered and wiped her forehead. It was difficult to look him in the eye after she’d all but begged him to stay last night.

  “Don’t go,” she’d begged, even as she’d slowly allowed him to step back.

  He’d closed his eyes and slowly drew his hands away. “When you’re ready,” he’d promised, and she’d moved away, disappointed, as he’d opened the door and left.

  He was making a bad habit of that, she thought, sulking somewhat. Bringing her attention back to the question at hand, she said, “Before that we were doing kicks. Why?”

  The late morning sunlight didn’t quite reach the floor of their open air chamber, and cool shadows played across his face. “Do you really believe it will help you?”

  “It saved me from being raped once and robbed twice,” Jasmine returned tartly. “Yeah, I think it will help.”

  “Twice?” Rihlia demanded sharply. “When was the second time?”

  Jasmine waved her off.

  Something painful flashed across Keilor’s face. Jayems looked at him in sympathy and motioned for his wife to follow him. Some things were better dealt with in privacy.

  “I’m glad for that, then,” Keilor said, coming closer. “But you aren’t dealing with humans, now. A Haunt would literally tear you apart with his bare hands, Jasmine.” He looked at her gravely. “I could rip your body open with nothing but my hands.”

  It was his quiet manner that disturbed her the most. Keilor might be arrogant, but he never boasted. He didn’t need to. She looked down at his hands. They looked ordinary enough, but she’d seen him in action. She believed him.

  Agitated, she freed her ponytail, swept the loose strands back into place and twisted the band back around it. “So what do you suggest? If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that bad guys don’t strike when the good guys are in shouting distance. What am I supposed to do, let them hurt me without a fight?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  She saw it, and wrapped her arms around herself, sheltering her heart. “It’s not that I don’t think you’d help me if you were there, but you can’t be there all the time,” she persisted. She could tell he didn’t like it, but he was listening. “I know I can’t match any of you physically. I’m not stupid. Still, even you got caught by surprise when I punched you in the nose that one time.”

  He snorted, but she thought she saw a hint of a smile. “Blind luck.”

  “Maybe, but what if I’d done something more deadly than just bloody your nose?” she argued. “What if I’d had a knife? The point is, the fact that I seem so completely helpless might just work in my favor.”

  Keilor eyed her, attempting to distance himself from the situation and think of her as a scrawny, stunted cadet with a sharp mind and a healthy respect for her life. It was true, she would never come close to matching a Haunt in battle. The idea was completely ludicrous. However, when it came to sheer nerve and craftiness...perhaps there might be something. First things first, however.

  Before she even knew she was in danger, he had her by the throat. He did not hurt her, but he was not polite about it, either. “You are dead,” he informed her grimly. “Your neck is broken and you are dead. As long as you expect nothing less, I can try to teach you something that might give you a few more minutes against a Haunt, as long as you are very quick and very sly. A minute might be long enough to let me reach you. Someone else might save your life. The odds of you escaping more than one man, unaided, are laughable. Do you understand?” She nodded, and he released her.

  Enveloping her in a crushing hug, he told her, “I don’t want this.” He kissed her temple and rubbed his head soothingly against her. “I will never leave you unguarded for a second. I know you are brave, but my heart stops when I think of you resisting an assassin, because I see the ending.” His voice roughened. “But I won’t deny you your chance for revenge, and I won’t force to you to remain ignorant if you truly wish to learn.” He pulled back to gage her reaction. “This isn’t necessary. Are you sure you wish to learn?” A touch of humor lit his eyes. “I’m known as a critical teacher.”

  “Hmpf.” She drew back and straightened her black tunic. “If you get too annoying I can always get Mathin or Fallon to teach me. Or even Jayems.”

  A crack of laughter escaped him. She had no idea. “If you think any of them would be an easier master, you’re in for a rude disappointment.” He drew her closer. “Besides, if you think I’m going to allow another man so much access to you, you’re sadly mistaken.” His voice lowered to a seductive purr. “I’m a very possessive man.”

  “Are you?” she breathed against his lips, opening hers in invitation and sipping from his mouth.

  “Are you ready to marry me?” he asked.

  She drew back from him in frustration. “I like you better when you don’t open your mouth,” she snapped. Why did the man keep doing this? She knew what blue balls were, but what did they call it for a woman?

  His eyes glimmered. “You like my open mouth.”

  “Not when words are coming out,” she griped, pulling away. Fine, if he was going to be difficult then they might as well get down to business. “Show me how to use that,” she ordered, pointing to his holstered gun.

  Jasmine creaked into her room that night and shut the door stiffly behind her. She eyed the bed and bath, debating whether or not she could stay awake long enough to soak away some soreness, or if it would be better to flop down on the bed, sweat and all, and pray for oblivion. Reluctantly, she decided on the bath.

  He was trying to kill her, she thought as she hobbled over, sat down on the marble bath steps and plunked her head
down into her hands. All right, he probably wasn’t, but she strongly suspected he was trying to drive her so hard that she’d give up on learning self-defense all together. Only sheer mulishness had kept her at it for the last half hour, and when her legs had finally given out and dumped her on her butt, Keilor had just raised an eyebrow and inquired if she were finished for the day.

  Sometimes she hated that man.

  The only thing that consoled her, she thought as she gingerly stripped off her shirt, was the knowledge that she’d proven herself today. He now knew she meant business, and he’d ease up and get on with it at a more reasonable pace. After all, she wasn’t one of his grunts. And if he didn’t, she thought with dour resolution, he’d be sorry.

  “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  Jasmine lowered the laser gun in her aching arm and gave him a look. She knew how to use a gun, and she was a good marksman. He hadn’t said a word the last five times she’d nailed the impossibly small dot on the stone wall he’d designated as her opponent’s heart. Her jaw worked and she said tightly, “I hit the target.” One more patronizing, arrogant comment out of his mouth, and she’d—

  Completely uninterested, he shrugged. The movement caused muscles to ripple in his bare arms, but she barely noticed—or told herself she didn’t. “If you’re satisfied with merely nicking the center, instead of striking it dead on, then I bow to your womanly judgment.” Boredom colored his every word and it was all she could do not to slap his indifferent face.

  The morning had been difficult, at best. Keilor had run her through her paces with all the enthusiasm of one indulging a pampered child. With each patronizing bit of praise, or sigh of tolerance, her fury had uncoiled, and now it was barely under her control. Unfortunately, Keilor was making the supremely stupid mistake of treating even that with blasé disregard, which only added gunpowder to the fire.