by Autumn Dawn
Andrea frowned and drifted back to the couch. The idea of becoming a housekeeper for a man she knew nothing about was ludicrous, of course, but she wasn't sure how to say so without hurting her grandmother's feelings. After all, she was so excited, and it must be good for her to have something to concentrate on after receiving the blow of incurable disease. With that in mind, she cautiously ventured, "I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a caretaker, Grandma."
"Of course you are!" her grandmother rushed to assure her. "And it will be such a relief to depart this world knowing that you're in the capable hands of a man who can take care of you. Wait until I tell him--"
"Whoa, wait minute!" Andrea protested, raising her hands to slow the flood. "I'd be working for him, not..." She colored, certain that she didn't want to finish that sentence. "Anyway, I didn't say I would...."
But her grandmother was talking again, fast and furiously, and there was no getting in a word of protest. She never did figure out how, but by the end of evening her grandmother had extracted a promise from Andrea to at least stay for the summer.
It was late when they finished talking, so her grandmother took Andrea to one of the six guest bedrooms and wished her a good-night.
Andrea went to bed wondering what had become of her common sense.
* * * *
The scent of roses--a fragrance she'd always hated--woke her in the morning.
Andrea opened her eyes and groaned as the smell of roses wafted from the lacy sheets. The sight of a raucous parade of ducks--the theme for this supposedly masculine room--greeted her as she stared at the canopy above. Throwing back the matching comforter, she swung her feet to the braided rug beneath and tried to wake up. A glance at the bedside clock said it was late morning.
Shocked that her grandmother had allowed her to sleep in so late, since she'd always been insistent on rising early--a holdover from her days on the farm--Andrea reached for her jeans and a ribbed shirt. In moments she was dressed and groomed, making fast work of refreshing the twin braids at each temple. As soon as she'd fastened the beads on the ends of each braid she left the room, electing to skip the makeup, as was her custom.
She'd been too tired for a tour the night before, but it didn't take much effort to find the immaculate kitchen. A wide array of shining copper pots hung from the rack above the long work island, giving a hint that the room was well-stocked. A stainless steel refrigerator and a very modern stove formed an odd contrast to the crocheted blender covers and parti-colored valances. The smell of recent cooking lingered in the air but no trace remained of any breakfast dishes. How odd. Grandma never passed up a chance to force an enormous breakfast on her only grandchild. Where could she be?
Andrea propped her hands on her hips and surveyed the sunny kitchen until her eyes drifted once again to the fridge. Tacked to the front of it with a colorful hodgepodge of magnets was a piece of paper. Perhaps a note?
Andrea moved closer, leaving it tacked to the fridge as she read in her grandmother's swirling hand, "Dear Andrea, I'm so glad you've agreed to take care of the place in my stead. I know you'll make me proud. After all, you're a child of your word."
With a scowl for that dirty tactic, Andrea read on, "Now I'm off to do something I've always wanted--cruise to Tahiti!" Andrea gaped and read in growing fury, "If you need anything at all, just ask Fallon. He's been very good to me and I'm sure that you're going to adore him. Love, Grandma."
A streak of blue words such as Andrea rarely uttered spilled from her lips. She'd been set up!
"Such harsh words from such a pretty lady," purred an impossibly sexy voice.
Andrea froze in the middle of a tirade against her grandmother and a vehement vow to hate her new employer on sight. Oh, please, God, no, she mouthed without turning around. It had to be him and she was about to die of embarrassment.
"At least I assume my lady is exceptional; the view from behind is certainly promising," he continued in that gravely, deeply masculine drawl.
Outrage made her stiffen. How dare he make such a personal comment! What kind of rake was this Fallon? Turning quickly, she retorted, "I beg your--" The blistering set down she'd planned shriveled on her tongue. Instead she stared, reduced to mute awe. Oh ... my ... word. Is he real?
Glossy black hair fell to his lean hips, framing a face so outrageously sensual it just couldn't be real. The same might be said for his athletic body. She hadn't seen a man that well built in ... well, never, actually. Every inch of his long, perfect legs was clad in tight black denim, and the things it whispered of his assets had her face heating with a sudden fever. The heat only got worse as she dragged her eyes up his perfect torso and over his masculine jaw until she met his wicked black eyes. Eyes that snapped with knowing confidence and sensual promise.
White teeth flashed in a wicked grin as he returned her inspection, very slowly. "As I thought. Very promising." He moved closer.
Thrown off stride by her intense reaction to him, she moved back. And came up against the fridge. "I...." She licked lips made dry by nerves. "Are you Fallon?"
"No." He stopped just before her, planted his hands on either side of her. "I am Mathin. And you are mine."
* * * *
He'd known who she was when he'd entered the kitchen to inspect Fallon's new chatelaine. Seconds after he'd entered the room and her unique scent reached him, he'd also known what she was. A sylph. Desire in the flesh for a man of his race. A wildcard mutation among humans with a pheromone capable of inflaming the male Haunt, of enspelling his senses until his very will became her own. Women such as herself had been used for generations to purge the world of his race until only a remnant remained; a remnant that had finally fled to another world to escape extinction.
At the moment he didn't care, wasn't more than vaguely cognizant of those important details. Desire roared through his body, carried in by the scent of her unique pheromone.
Proof enough of her danger.
His blatant statement of ownership didn't have quite the effect he'd hoped.
Jogged partially out of her lust induced paralysis, Andrea ducked out of his arms and dashed behind the counter. "Guess again, pal," she warned him. Even though her heart sped and she breathed too hard, she was not going to let him seduce her like some starry-eyed groupie. Judging from his behavior, that's exactly the reaction he was used to.
Well, not this time.
He moved closer, his gaze intent and far too heated.
She inched back, putting more counter between them. "I'm warning you, buster! Come any closer and you'll regret it for what's left of your days." Kick to the knee, elbow to the nose when he bends over, run like heck as he tries to recover, she repeated to herself as she eyed him. It wasn't just that he was a stranger and she knew nothing about him. Instinctively, she feared what would happen if he ever got within kissing distance. Already her hormones and adrenaline battled one another, confusing her brain with different urges. If he took her in his arms ... it wouldn't be pretty. It might take days to pick up all the dropped morals and lofty principals sure to splatter the floor.
Instead of chasing her, Mathin planted one hand in the center of the island and vaulted over it, landing gracefully on the other side. "It's difficult to carry on a conversation with you in constant motion," he observed. His eyes still held vibrant arousal, and he did not relinquish his ground, but he made no further move toward her.
Unwilling to provoke him, she held her ground, watching him warily. "Do you usually accost women before breakfast or is this an exception?"
Mathin relaxed and leaned lazily back against the counter, showing her with his body that he wasn't about to pounce. Yet. "Normally the women accost me, and more often than not wish to become my breakfast. Or dinner, depending on the hour." When she rolled her eyes, he added casually, "So did you, before you thought to fear me."
"Get over yourself!" she protested, feeling her face break out in a blush. No way was she going to admit anything of the sort. Besides, his smug assumptions
truly infuriated her.
Even if they were true.
"Someone has obviously spoiled you, but don't expect me to carry on the tradition. For your information," she drew herself up, doing her best to look assured and worldly, "I have a boyfriend."
Well, an ex-boyfriend, but he didn't know that.
Undaunted, his dark eyes swept her body again. "And what does this boy have to do with us?" he inquired, his faint smile absolutely possessive. "Children have no place in this discussion."
Flame leapt and danced inside her, threatening to incinerate her self-control. Judging by his intriguing accent, he came from a foreign place. Fine. She'd just do the women of America a service by setting him straight. Someone had to take him down a peg. "What I meant was, I have a man."
"You do now."
Stifling the desire to scream and stamp her feet in frustration like some B movie bimbo, Andrea took a deep breath to steady herself. This man was seriously scrambling her wits and she had no idea what to say to him to make him stop. Men did not do this to her.
Although he made no move to stop her, his eyes never left her for a second. "You are not used to pursuit. Are the men here so blind?"
"That's enough!" Incensed at his relentless campaign, she gripped the counter, seeking a rock in her confusion of swirling emotion. This was nothing personal to him. Holding fast to that bit of logic, she said scathingly, "I know your type, and I'm not falling for this, so give it up already."
He had the perfect response to that, but the look of genuine distress on her face caused him to hold his tongue. The little sylph did not believe in his sincerity. No, it was not that, he thought with a sense of growing wonder. This was a woman who cared about the men in her life; a thing so rare he'd barely recognized it. But it was there on her face, the fear for her heart. Had he not seen the same look countless times on his friend Keilor's wife he might never have recognized it.
But Jasmine was also a sylph, as well as a woman of Earth who'd accidentally stumbled through the gate between worlds in her search for a friend. Keilor had been given the task of keeping her safe from mischief and in the process had fallen in love. No one had expected their union to survive the challenges it faced, but not only had it survived, it thrived.
And now here was another sylph, a woman like Jasmine. Unlike Jasmine, though, this one was unclaimed. Even better, she was pledged to serve in this house for many days to come. His smile grew absolutely wicked.
Imagine the possibilities.
Andrea didn't know what he was thinking, but she didn't trust that naughty smile in the least. It didn't take a great brain to figure out it had something to do with getting her naked. Not with that look in his eyes.
Just as she decided on the perfect speech to wipe the sultry confidence from his face, another man entered the kitchen. This one was a handsome blond with shoulder length hair neatly queued at the back of his neck. Even before he saw her he stopped dead. His head snapped up, and his nostrils flared as if testing the air. Seconds later bright, piercing green eyes flashed her way, dark with indefinable emotion. "Andrea, I presume."
Uncomfortable with the way he stared, she said tightly, "Yeah. But I think there's been some kind of mistake." She plucked the magnets off the note, swearing when one fell only to be caught by Mathin. The man was quick, she'd give him that.
Silently he offered it to her in his cupped hand.
Gingerly she reached for it, trying not to make contact. In vain. His palm was callused, burning. The instant she touched it an invisible shock of lightning traveled between them, buzzed through the bones of her arm with stunning power, trapped the air in her lungs.
Shocked, her eyes shot to his, searched for answers. The only thing she saw was echoing electricity dancing in his eyes. And a shimmering, golden heat.
"Definitely a mistake," Fallon muttered as he witnessed the exchange. "A moment of your time, Mathin."
Reluctantly Mathin moved toward him, never taking his eyes from the woman. He could almost read the thoughts behind Fallon's grim expression. Already she has him, the look seemed to say.
Mathin grinned. Judging from the bewildered look on her face, the girl had no idea what to do with him. That was not a problem. He was an excellent teacher.
"She goes," Fallon told Mathin the moment they stood in hall. "Had I known what she was I never would have agreed to this."
Mathin shrugged as if unconcerned. "Is that wise? There are several Haunt in the area come to speak with you. Should they meet her away from our protection..." he trailed off meaningfully. "You know how much some of us still hate sylphs." And if his people should see one of the hated mutants used to track them and destroy their families, they would kill her. There were still humans out there who knew about the Haunt and thrived on hunting them.
Appealing to Fallon's gallantry never hurt.
Fallon blew out a breath of exasperation and sent a peeved look toward the kitchen.
Seeing that his logic was taking affect, Mathin pressed his advantage. "Besides, what if the wrong humans discovered what she was? You know what the Cult of the Black Sylphs would do with her. And if she refused to become a huntress...." They both glanced toward the kitchen. "At least being murdered by vengeful Haunt would be quick."
"Very well." Fallon folded his arms and stared at Mathin. "And I suppose you're volunteering to guard her?"
White teeth flashed in a wolfish smile. "Night and day," Mathin was quick to avow. "After all, who knows more about guarding sylphs?" After all, he'd spent weeks rescuing his friend Keilor's wife from scheming Haunt and hauling her out of the swamps. Compared to that, guarding this little sylph would be child's play.
Fallon snorted and rocked back on his heels. "Jasmine was mated--to your friend no less. Besides, she would never have allowed you to touch her. And as I recall you and Raziel wore nose filters for the entire journey. We have none here."
"Would it matter?" Mathin's gaze was speculative as he looked toward the doorway. "She is an attractive woman. I would have noticed regardless."
"I hardly noticed," Fallon said repressively. "But I did notice her scent." He shook his head as if throwing off an unwanted thought. "What man wouldn't? If she's to be here then she will remain in your company, not mine. I can't afford to be distracted just now; the applicants for Darkland crossovers will be arriving very soon. Blight that!" he swore, reminded of the impending arrivals. He began to pace, his boot heels clicking over the parquet floor. "I can't have her here with a houseful of unattached males. The elders here are disapproving enough already. They still feel that leaving Earth was the same thing as running from our troubles. Having a sylph here will only light the fire at the stake."
"You worry too much," Mathin said, waving away his concerns. "None of the males here are a match for either of us--certainly not these young stags. She couldn't be safer. Besides," his eyes gleamed, "I don't intend to leave her unattached for long."
That would certainly solve Fallon's problems, since once focused on a single man as a sexual outlet the sylph's production of pheromones virtually stopped. Mathin's headaches, however, would be just beginning. "Think it over carefully first," Fallon urged him quietly. "The pheromone can be addictive. You might be tempted to make the union permanent."
Mathin raised a brow. "Some things are foreordained, my friend. Now stand aside before you're trampled." Before Fallon could object further, he led the way into the kitchen.
A current of warm air brought her musky spice to him, rousing instant desire. The stuff of silken sheets and moonlight, naked skin and a lover's cries. The scent of legend.
Completely unaware of her allure, Andrea watched them warily from her perch on a barstool. She was of half a mind to walk off now and leave them hanging. The only thing keeping her here was the need for answers.
"Forgive me for neglecting you earlier, madam," Fallon said politely, coming no farther than the doorway. "I was ... distracted, but it was very rude. You had some problem you wished to discuss
with me?"
Determined not to like him, she slid off the stool and handed him the note. "Yes, definitely. I think my grandma's up to some sort of trickery. Last night she made me promise to stay for the summer, telling me she was dying of cancer and practically begging me to take over for her. Today I find this."
He took it with two fingers, almost seeming to be holding his breath. "Hmm," he said after a quick scan, during which he moved toward the counter and placed it on the top. "I knew of no illness. It was my understanding that she was calling you in as a temporary replacement while she went on vacation."
"Ha! I knew it." She whacked her closed fist against her thigh, vindicated. "She's up to her old tricks again."
Fallon edged discreetly away, earning a bemused frown from Andrea and a smirk from Mathin. "And those would be?"
"Matchmaking," she all but spat. "The woman is determined to run my life. If she'd had her way I would have been married at seventeen and pregnant with my fifth child by now." Her teeth clenched, she looked away in disgust. This was too humiliating. "The only thing that's kept her from setting me up before was a few thousand miles. Why was I stupid enough to change that?"
"I can sympathize," Fallon murmured from the far side of the room. "My mother is much the same. However, as you gave your word and I'm still in need of a caretaker, this changes nothing."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, lifting her head. "You said yourself it was a mistake."
"Actually, I was referring to something else entirely. This arrangement will work well enough. I do have one request, though." He glanced at the vivid curtains and winced. "If you could pack away your grandmother's decorations while she is gone I would appreciate it. She seems to have been busy since last I was here." He looked her over speculatively. "You don't have an affinity for bright colors, do you?"
She couldn't help it, she laughed. "It is pretty awful, isn't it? But--"
Visibly relieved, he nodded at Mathin. "He'll be glad to assist you in any way you require. Just take him shopping with you and he'll see to your purchases." He grinned at Mathin's scowl. "Mathin adores shopping." When the scowl turned positively lethal he added, "He'll also be available to answer any questions you may have, since I don't plan to be home much. This is somewhat of a vacation for him so he might as well make himself useful. Do you drive a stick?"