Teasing Danger

by Autumn Dawn

  A little frightened and a lot shaken, Jasmine got to her feet. This was a lot more complicated than she’d thought. “He was a virgin?” she asked, repeating the most difficult of the concepts to accept.

  Rihlia nodded.

  “A virgin,” Jasmine repeated. She still couldn’t get past that one. How could such a confident, competent man possibly be a virgin? She’d had both men and boys use the word as an insult to her, and she just couldn’t reconcile her image of innocence and fumbling inexperience with anything about Keilor, or the Haunt for that matter. Her eyes boggled as another thought hit her. “Fallon is a virgin?”

  Rihlia grinned. “Every unmated male is a virgin, silly. Every woman, too.”

  “Urseya?” She still remembered Urseya standing in nothing but a thin slick of mud, boldly flirting with Keilor.

  “I never said that they weren’t experienced, you goober,” Rihlia said, giving her a friendly little push. “Sticking it in doesn’t take brains or skill. Even amebas manage to reproduce.” She smirked. “I take it that Keilor was one hot number.”

  This time, Jasmine felt her entire body blush. She hid her face in her hands. What an understatement!

  Now that she understood what Keilor had been talking about with his ranting about exchanging fluids and all, and armed with the knowledge that Keilor had been a virgin, Jasmine had several things that she urgently needed to discuss with him. At the top of the list was the whole vulnerability issue. They had to do something about that. She refused to be responsible for an alien thing that exposed emotions. Just to set the record straight, he also had to know, in case he didn’t already, that she wasn’t capable nor desirous of such exposure on her own part, either. Once he understood that, they could move on to more subtle things, like his walking off in the middle of an argument.

  She returned to her room to avoid the flurry surrounding Rihlia, but Keilor didn’t show up soon enough to suit her and pacing only fed her frustration. Deciding to seek him out, she checked in his room, but he wasn’t there, either. Since she was there and he wasn’t around to tell her no, she decided to muck out some of the refuse from his sty, starting first with the nasty blanket on his gray mattress. Using as few fingers as she could, she drug the icky thing over to the door and started a trash pile.

  That mattress had to go, she decided as she viewed the lumpy thing with hands on hips. It looked like it had been run over by a Mack truck, left out in the rain and left to dry out in somebody’s driveway. Throwing open the door, she surveyed Raziel and Isfael, who were on duty today. Raziel glanced at her from where he was slouched against the opposite wall, arms crossed and one leg slack, obviously bored. His limp red sash and red insignia where the only hints of color about him today. A silver earring dangled from one ear. Poor Isfael just looked stoic.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why Keilor was wasting officers to guard her when even Rihlia only had regular soldiers. They weren’t exactly models of discipline, either. More than once she’d walked out only to find them at a game of dice. She shrugged it off. They were a likable pair, and they’d gone a long ways towards helping her to relax around the Haunt. Besides, maybe rank had some privileges.

  She raised her brows at them. “So, when are you two going to get a real job?” Raziel snorted but didn’t move. Isfael gave her a toothy and decidedly unnerving grin. Girding her loins, she said, “Hey, I know you guys aren’t butlers, but I’ve got something heavy here that I need to get rid of. Could one of you give me a hand?”

  The pair followed her into the room and she propped her hands on her hips again, grimacing. “Can you believe this mess?” she asked with disgust. “The man runs an entire army and probably tortures his recruits with inspections and stuff, but he can’t even be bothered to pick up his socks.”

  “Rank has its privileges.”

  Startled, Jasmine whirled around and stared. Isfael and Raziel had shifted into human form. Isfael was uglier than sin, and she thought with a flash of chagrin that the poor guy looked much better covered in hair. Raziel was unremarkable in appearance, except for his piercing blue eyes. Both of them nodded to her with respect. “Congratulations on your new match,” Raziel said, and she realized that he was the one who had spoken. “Keilor is a good friend of ours, and we wish his new wife every happiness,”

  “Happiness and a long life,” Isfael seconded.

  Jasmine frowned a bit. “Well, I don’t know about the long life, but I’m definitely going for happiness. Thank you.”

  Isfael unclipped a small pouch from his belt, flipped up the cover and extracted a folded belt and a black laser gun. He presented both to her with a toothy smile. “We thought that Keilor’s wife ought to have her own gun. This way, if he gets out of line, you can bring him to heel.”

  Jasmine laughed and took the holstered weapon. “Thank you,” she told them, and tried it on for size over her pants and tunic. It fit very well. When she looked up again, they had shifted back. She blinked and shivered. “You guys have got to stop doing that,” Shaking her head, she pointed four fingers of her right hand at the mattress, thumb folded in, and then jerked her thumb over her shoulder, indicating that it had to go. The guys each grabbed an end and took it with them out the door, dumping it in the hallway.

  It was hard to know which of the scattered papers lying around might be important, so she just gathered them into one neat stack and put them on the freshly scrubbed table. Eyeing the crusty dishes, she decided that reinforcements were called for, and summoned a maid to attend to them while she gathered up the scattered laundry and started loading it into the washing machine in increments.

  Time passed quickly. She was inside the tub, cleaning, when Keilor found her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked with a frown. “The ceremony is in half an hour.” Already dressed in a stunning silver thread trimmed, open midnight robe of velvet over black leather battle armor, he looked magnificent. His dark hair was pulled back in a queue with a black clip, and a silver chain with blue stones at every other link held the edges of his robe together. He looked ready to dazzle, and very impatient.

  “Oh, no!” Popping out of the tub in alarm, Jasmine dismissed the maid, who was dusting the furniture, tossed her rag in the dirty laundry pile and sprinted for the door, snagging her wedding gift on the way. Keilor was forced into an undignified lope to keep up with her. Seeing that she was well in hand, her body guards followed at a more sedate pace.

  “Bath!” Jasmine ordered the moment she stepped in the door, wishing that her room came equipped with a shower. Why was it that cleaning always made the cleanee dirty? Stripping a little self-consciously, she took her frustration out on her errant husband. “You could have found me sooner.”

  He leaned against the armoire, unabashedly enjoying the view. “How was I to know that you would be so enticed by your wifely duties that you would forget your own wedding ceremony?”

  Crouched in tub, she froze with soap in hand. “It’s Rihlia and Jayems’ ceremony...isn’t it?”

  He raised a brow. “There’s been a change of plans. We will also be taking our public vows today.” His expression brooked no defiance.

  Jasmine remembered the soap and slowly began to use it. “I don’t know anything about Haunt ceremonies. Shouldn’t we take a little more time to—” Keilor straightened up and gave her a quelling look, and she trailed off, watching him disappear into her wardrobe. Remembering the need for haste, she quickly finished up, wrung out the end of her ponytail and toweled off. Keilor emerged from the closet just as she wrapped the towel around herself, a dress she’d never seen before draped over his arm. He held it up so for her inspection.

  The dress itself was a simple black velvet sheath, long enough to reach her ankles but slit to just above the knee for ease of movement. Two silver clips held the three-quarter inch straps to the bodice. The outer robe was a smaller replica of his own midnight velvet, except that instead of the rearing stags she could now see embroidered into the e
dges of his clothes, hers had silver leaves and vines with small flowers. In place of snarling volti heads, the chain that clasped her robe had dragonflies. The material felt heavenly against her fingers.

  Touched, she looked at him. “You had this made for me.”

  He said nothing, but his eyes shone.

  She raised up on her toes and clasped her hands around his neck, brushing her lips against his in a thank you. His arms slid around her, and their kiss deepened. His hand fisted on the back of her towel and he pulled it from her, leaving her nude. Warm hands drifted down her back and settled possessively on her derriere, kneading and lifting. With a groan, he broke away, and she could tell it cost him much to step back. “We have to go.” Cupping her face, he gave her a careful kiss and handed her the gown. While she dressed he moved to stare out the window, giving them both a chance to cool off.

  Jasmine finished, then looked around. “You forgot the panties.”

  Her husband grinned at her. “It wasn’t an oversight.”

  Rolling her eyes, she moved to the wardrobe door, but he was there before her, blocking her way.

  “Keilor! Move.” He didn’t budge an inch, and her face flamed. “I am not wandering around in public with no underwear.”

  For a moment he didn’t move, gauging the strength of her conviction. With a disappointed sigh, he stepped aside. “We really must do something about this shyness of yours,” he complained as she went after her unmentionables.

  Her only reply was a muffled snort.

  Deciding to leave her hair down in the interest of speed, Jasmine made quick work of brushing it and then stashed the brush back in the armoire.

  Keilor stepped behind her as she closed the mirrored doors. He placed a diadem of linked prismatic silver dragonflies and tiny blue topaz, amethyst and sea colored gems on her brow. Her eyes widened in alarm. It was by far the most beautiful gift anyone had ever given her, and it also had to be the most costly. “Keilor, no! I—”

  He placed one finger on her lips and admonished, “I am your husband. I can well afford to lavish gifts on my beloved wife. Would you deny me this pleasure?”

  Tears prickled her eyes. “But—”

  He flashed her a wicked smile and pulled her against him. “Of course, I had to sell my favorite stag and indenture myself to the jeweler to afford these lovely gems, but—”

  She poked him in the ribs, trying to hide her smile under a pout. “It was very sweet. Please don’t do it again.”

  He took her hand in his, and she felt something slide onto her left hand, over her ring finger. “As you wish,” he agreed, then took her hand before she could look and half dragged her out the door.

  “Keilor!”

  The door cut off her wail.

  The ceremony was blessed by a stocky priest in shiny brown robes. Performed outdoors on a raised marble dais shaded by a tile roof, it was attended by a crowd of hundreds.

  Somehow she survived standing in front of a crowd of strangers to exchange marriage vows with Keilor. By the time they were done with the simple ceremony she was more than glad to leave the dais and descend to the lawn with the guests.

  It was the first time that she’d been exposed to large bodies of people since her arrival in the Dark Lands, and it was a bit dizzying. Brightly dressed women and black clad men she didn’t know wished Keilor well and looked her over with curiosity. Some of the women were overly friendly in a manner that smacked of social climbing, and Jasmine instinctively retreated behind polite reserve with them. Others looked on her coldly, though none seemed to have the gall to cut her with Keilor at her side, and he never left her, not for a moment. Everything went fine.

  Until Yesande.

  They were standing behind an enormous ice sculpture of a battling stag and a volti, enjoying a lull in between well wishers, who were gathering around the heavily laden buffet tables.

  “This must have been Jayems’ idea. I know Rihlia didn’t pick it out,” Jasmine said, stroking the stag’s icy flank and admiring the frozen flow of muscle. Somebody had talent.

  “Actually it was a contribution from my clan for the wedding,” a woman’s voice said. A tall blond with eyes of nearly white blue stepped behind the sculpture with them. “I created it.”

  An oath sounded to Jasmine’s left and she turned to see Keilor bare his teeth in a snarl.

  The woman smiled with amusement. “Hello, Keilor. I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”

  Gold fire leapt into his eyes and for a moment Jasmine feared that her new husband was going to kill the woman on the spot.

  The stranger had no such fears. “Lady Yesande,” she introduced herself, inclining her head. Soulless eyes perused Jasmine from head to foot. “You need no introduction, Lady Jasmine...and Keilor and I are already well acquainted.”

  “Past tense,” Keilor said in a voice that could have crushed rocks.

  Yesande smiled, or her lips did. “And now you are mated to a Sylph. Interesting choice. I wonder how you dare it.” She glanced at the crowd they were drawing and said with lazy nonchalance, “Given that her mother was a prostitute.”

  Keilor took a step toward her, but Jasmine grabbed his arm. Deep currents were flowing here, and she sensed that Yesande would relish an attack. Something was wrong besides the obvious, and she was afraid that Keilor might just be too enraged to see it.

  Yesande glanced at Jasmine’s hand and asked, “Do you have any idea just how much the Haunt despise whores, Lady Jasmine? Almost as much as we used to hate Sylphs.”

  The crowd stirred, and Jasmine took a deep breath. “They’re not exactly favored by your average human, either, myself included.” With her peripheral vision she saw Raziel and Isfael casually position themselves near enough to be helpful in a hurry if need be. Mathin caught her eye from the crowd and held it, a silent warning in his eyes. Tread with caution.

  Faking a calm she didn’t feel, Jasmine looped her arm around Keilor’s waist and said, “Keilor isn’t worried about that, though. He told me last night that he’d kill me if he ever caught me with someone else, and I believe him.”

  Keilor looked at her in shock as the crowd murmured. The very idea of a man killing his mate....

  Feeling reckless, Jasmine added smugly, “Besides, once you’ve had the best, why bother with the rest? I’m holding on to this wildcat. And speaking of which....” She sent her scandalized husband a provocative look, “...don’t we have a wedding night to celebrate?”

  “I’m holding on to this wildcat?” Keilor asked incredulously once they reached her room. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “I don’t know,” Jasmine returned. “What do you think it is?” She was still a little miffed at the whole scene with his old girlfriend, and she was more than happy to take it out on him. “What I want to know is how she found out about my mother.” She took off the diadem and set it on an end table. “It’s not exactly common knowledge here.”

  “I didn’t tell her, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Keilor took off his robe and tossed the expensive garment over a chair. His new wife gave him a dirty look and took it to the closet to find a hanger. When she emerged she was wearing a robe with a glimpse of silver showing at the bottom of the vee. Several pieces of black armor littered the couch.

  Jasmine put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Unless you’re itching for a fight, buddy, I suggest you take that junk and put it in the closet. You’re not turning my room into a pig pen.”

  He wasn’t thrilled with her bossiness, but he did collect his gear and stash it in the closet. He came out wearing loose white trousers that tied at the top and nothing else. It was a terribly distracting tactic to use when she was trying to fight with him.

  Striving to remember that she was still annoyed, she crossed her arms and sat down on the couch, leaving him plenty of room at the other end.

  Keilor took in her mulishness and knew it for what it was. Deciding to attack her jealousy with direct action, he stretched
out on the couch on his back and placed his head in her lap. “I do not dwell on the men you knew before me, love,” he told her gravely. “I expect the same courtesy from you,”

  Her lip protruded. “None of them are likely to rake you over the coals in public.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or mention how I looked without my clothes.”

  Several heartbeats passed in silence. “I did not go to her willingly, Jasmine.” His voice roughened as he sat up. “She drugged me.” Seeing her horror, he explained, “Libran. Sweet Surrender.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I believe you’ve heard of it.”

  He brought the foot opposite her up onto the couch and rested his arm on the bent knee. She placed one hand on his thigh and watched him while he talked. “She took an interest in me when I was still young, but I despised her.” His nose wrinkled in remembered distaste. “She had...has, twisted tastes, besides being unattractive.”

  Self-disgust hardened his voice. “I was young and inexperienced at the time, and her clan caught me by surprise. When I woke up, I was chained and already drugged. Easy prey.”

  Jasmine laid her head against him, seeking to give comfort or take it—perhaps both. He wrapped his arm around her. Stroking her hair, he continued, “I’d likely still be there if Mathin hadn’t poured an antidote down my throat and given me a blade.”

  She rubbed her head against him, her breathing harsh. “Love....” He felt her swallow. “When was this?”

  “Thirty years ago,” he answered without thinking.

  Pulling back, she repeated, eyes wide, “Thirty—how old are you?”

  Instead of answering, he kissed her. When she was properly befuddled, he told her, “So now you know, and you have no reason to be jealous.”

  “No,” she agreed, breathless, but still angry with Yesande. “But the next time that I see her, I hope I have a gun in my hand.”

  He kissed her, and a little of the chill left him. “You would fight on my behalf?”

  “Well....” She forgot whatever it was she’d meant to say as he eased her back to the couch, hot promises in his eyes. “Wait!” she protested, placing a hand on his chest. “I almost forgot—” His lips touched hers, and for a breathless moment she nearly forgot what was so urgent. Before he could completely blank her mind, she forced him to back off and let her sit up.