The Charmer (7 page)

Jasmine shook her head and said in faint
amusement, “I’m sure.”

“The day she disappeared, we were all
frantic. Jayems would not sleep for two days. In spite of the best
efforts of the Haunt elite, we could find no trace of her. I didn’t
see a smile cross Jayems’ face for months afterward.”

Jasmine’s voice was heavy. “That little girl
grew up, Keilor. She’s not the same person.”

He stopped the stag. Splaying his fingers
against her jaw, he gently turned her head to look up at him,
leaning to the side so she could see him clearly. He held her gaze,
letting her see how he felt. “She deserves the chance to find out
for herself exactly what she is, don’t you think?” He could sense
her weakening, so he pushed harder. “Her family loves her and wants
her, Jasmine. Give her the opportunity to learn that. Jayems will
never let her go while she still thinks we threw her away.” He
released her and set the stag in motion, giving her a chance to
think; glad he’d been able to explain to her how they felt.

He’d deliberately misled her a bit—Jayems
would never let Rihlia go, regardless, but he knew if he said as
much he might have closed her mind to everything he’d told her. At
least this way they had the chance of winning her as a powerful
ally in the battle for Rihlia’s heart. If she chose, Jasmine could
single-handedly win half the war, and he wasn’t going to be
squeamish about using her to do so.

He looked again at Jayems and Rihlia. More
than one heart hung in the balance.

Jasmine couldn’t sleep for a long time that
night. She kept analyzing every nuance of her conversation with
Keilor that afternoon. Everything kept coming back to his eyes, and
the way he’d looked when he’d said that Wiley’s family wanted her.
Earnest. Sincere. But what was best for Wiley?
Was
she
running away because she thought they’d abandoned her?

With an annoyed grunt, she tossed off the
covers and got dressed. She really shouldn’t have taken that nap
earlier in the afternoon, but there was no help for it now.

She opened her door and immediately the two
Haunt turned to look at her. She gave them both a rather sick
smile. She still wasn’t used to having werewolves guarding her
door. “Can’t sleep,” she explained apologetically. She must be
crazy to want to wander around in the dark with these two. “Um, is
there any reason I can’t take a walk out here?” When they glanced
at each other but made no move to stop her, she eased out of her
room and shut the door.

To the left were Wiley and Jayems’ rooms. To
the right, the great unknown. She chose the right. In no particular
hurry, she meandered at a thoughtful pace down the well-lit stone
hall, aimlessly watching the patterns on the parquet flooring. Her
guard trailed behind, allowing her privacy. There was something to
be said for silence, she decided.

She’d only been walking along for a couple of
minutes when she was startled into looking up. Another silent Haunt
with the same insignia she’d noticed on Keilor and Jayems blocked
her path, and he seemed to have business with her. Uneasy, she
looked to her own guards, only to see them salute the newcomer with
a fist over their hearts and a slight bow. They gave her a slight
nod as well and then returned the way they’d come. Bewildered, she
considered the Haunt in front of her. A replacement?

Deciding to test her theory, she took a step
forward as if she intended to go around him and he fell into step
with her. Relieved, she continued with her walk, gradually relaxing
as he did nothing but accompany her. Her steps slowed and she
settled back into an aimless meander.

The hallway opened up unto the head of a
broad staircase leading to an inner courtyard, and she stared in
awe at the view of the triple moons and scattered stars. Slowly she
sank down to absorb the view. The evening breeze caressed her
cheek, pleasant with the scent of flowers. Her guard settled
unobtrusively against the wall.

After a time, curiosity got to her. “You guys
don’t talk much, do you?” she said softly, loathe to break the
serenity of the night. To her surprise, the Haunt answered her in
the sign language she’d seen the guards use. When she continued to
watch him, he repeated himself slowly, fingers to chest, an
inclination of his head and then fingers to lips.

“You do talk?” she guessed, intrigued. Hm.
This could be fun. Maybe these guys weren’t too bad after all. She
eyed him and decided to accord him a healthy respect, just in
case.

She gestured to the stair just above her, but
he didn’t move. Frowning, she chewed the inside of her bottom lip.
“You’re on duty?” He inclined his head again and she relaxed,
leaning back against the wall and hugging her knees. Touching the
spot over her heart, she asked, “The patch, is it an indication of
rank?” One nod. “Are you higher ranking than the last guy?”
Yes.

Well now, this wasn’t so bad. As long as she
asked yes or no questions, they’d get along just fine. Scratching
her jaw, she stifled a yawn. “Are there Haunt women? I guess there
are, but all I’ve seen are guards. Not that I’ve seen a lot of this
place. Are you married?”

He started slightly, but slowly shook his
head.

“Me neither. It’s got its advantages, though.
There’s something to be said for only answering to myself. Though
sometimes…” she trailed off. Her bones started to grate against the
hard step through the padding of her muscles and she shifted.

The Haunt was an indistinct outline even in
the moon-flooded night, and she squinted, trying to see him better.
“You see better than I do at night, don’t you? And hear better?” He
affirmed it, and she considered the matter further. “And your sense
of smell...is it much better than mine?” Yes. “As good as a dog’s?”
This time, when he agreed with her, she shivered, reminded of their
differences. What else might be alien between them? Her toes
curled. “Are you stronger than humans, faster? Is that why all the
Haunt are guards?” He stared at her, and in the moonlight his eyes
reflected red.

She shut up, and it was a long time before
she got up the nerve to move.

Chapter 6

Jasmine slapped a deck of cards and a
decanter of honey liquor on the table. “Prepare to lose, Wiley. I’m
feeling lucky tonight.”

“Ha!” Wiley plunked down a drawstring bag
full of little snail shells. Next to it she set a platter of raw
vegetables arranged around a hollowed red pepper filled with creamy
dip. “You, my friend, are going down.”

Jasmine made a face at the platter and got up
to rummage in the pantry of the suite Wiley shared with Jayems.
Emerging triumphant with a jar of hot pickles and a bag of sour
candies, she packed them to the dining table and went back to
search the cold pantry for some cold cuts. Already she missed
cheese.

“What are you doing?” Jayems asked as he
entered the kitchen with Keilor and Knightin in tow. For some
reason, Wiley colored.

“Poker,” Jasmine answered. She returned to
the table, a large plate of sausages filling her hands and bottle
of fiery mustard clamped under one arm. She set those down and went
back to reconnoiter the kitchen cupboards.

“What are you doing, Jas, preparing to feed
an army?” Wiley asked. She leaned one hand on the table and rested
the other on her hip. “Keep this up and there won’t be room to
play.”

“Nag, nag, nag,” Jasmine muttered, her voice
muffled in the depths of the cupboard, blissfully unaware of the
two sets of interested male eyes wandering over her derriere. Twin
fires sparked in Knightin and Keilor’s eyes as she bumped her head
on something and wriggled.

Knightin came to his senses first and jerked
his eyes away in annoyance. “On second thought, Jayems, I’ll pass
on that drink. I just remembered I have some things to deal with
before morning. Good evening.” Keilor barely spared him a glance
before returning to savor the view. His vision fogged as he inhaled
her scent. It was all he could do not to act on the fantasy playing
out in his head.

Fingers snapped in front of his face and he
blinked at the unwelcome intrusion.

“Your eyes were glazed, my friend,” Jayems
told him dryly.

Jasmine emerged with a package of savory rye
chips, which she poured into a pieced wooden bowl. Munching on a
handful, she took the bowl with her and settled into a chair. “Your
deal,” she told Wiley, leaning back in her chair. Glancing at the
watching men she said briskly, “This is not a spectator sport,
gentlemen. Play or get lost.”

Jayems frowned with annoyance, but before he
could remind her that she was in his kitchen, not hers, Wiley said,
“Quit trying to rob them, Jas. You know they’d end up without a
penny to their names.” She poured a splash of liquor into two
glasses, adding an extra splash in one of them.

Leering, Jasmine reminded her, “They use gold
and silver here, remember?” She eyed the men calculatingly. “I
think we ought to let them play, if they provide their own
ante.”

“Ante?” Keilor asked. He drifted closer and
snagged a chip.

“Money, honey,” Jasmine supplied, taking the
glass with the least amount of liquor. “You’ll also have to supply
your own booze. I don’t think there’s enough here to put us all
under the table.”

“There isn’t enough there to put one of me
‘under the table’,” Keilor said with disdain, and went in search of
something stronger.

“We wager with real money while you use
snails?” Jayems asked with a scowl, pulling out a chair.

“What are we supposed to wager, our virtue?”
Jasmine retorted, getting up to grab a glass of juice. All that
salt was making her thirsty. Keilor had just returned to the room
as she said that, and he froze in his tracks. Jayems looked at
Wiley out of the corner of his eye.

Wiley’s eyes narrowed. “Forget it.”

“I don’t know, I think the idea has merit,”
he answered smoothly.

“You would.”

Keilor brought two glasses with silver crests
to the table and poured a generous shot into each. “If I’m going to
be playing with real coin against shells, I’d have to agree with
Jayems. We should at least get a kiss if we win the game.”

“No.”

Jasmine hesitated for a moment. Their newest
plan depended on robbing these two blind. The question was, what
was she willing to do to get home?

Anything.

Well, almost anything. Taking a bracing
breath, she negotiated, “No tongues.”

“Jasmine!” Wiley cried in disbelief.

Eyes narrowed, Keilor bargained, “If you sit
on our laps while delivering it.”

Wiley slapped a hand on the table,
embarrassed. “Stop it, you two!” She was ignored.

Cupping her chin in thought, Jasmine ran a
thumb over her lips, considering Keilor with mercenary eyes. If she
had to sit on his lap then she darn sure was going to make it
count. “Gold coin for every shell.”

Keilor smiled wickedly. “I’ll give you two
for every shell if you sit astride.”

That gave her pause. Some of the fun of
bargaining drained out of Jasmine as she considered whether
possible bribe money was worth what he was asking. Her eyes
flickered as she looked down, counting the cost to her pride.

“Don’t you dare,” Wiley warned her, breaking
the tense silence.

“Oda ouya aveha anothera away ota etga oneyma
orfa ibingbra ehta aurdsga, Wi?”
Do you have another way to get
money for bribing the guards?
Jasmine asked casually and then
added in English, “Don’t be a baby, Wiley. It’s just a little
kiss.” Even as she said it she could feel her hot face betraying
her. The very last thing she wanted to do was kiss Keilor, even if
it might help them find a way to get home. The thought of sitting
on his hard thighs, wrapping her legs around him, with only inches
separating significant body parts…. Well, they’d just have to make
certain they won most of the time.

“The winner gets the pot, the losers take a
shot,” Jasmine told them and then explained the rules while Wiley
shuffled the cards in nervous silence.

Predictably, the women won the first few
hands, pulling in money hand over fist. Jasmine and Keilor had just
folded and taken their shots, and Jasmine was watching Wiley with a
smug and slightly inebriated smile when Jayems laid down his first
winning hand. She blinked, but the cards didn’t change.

Slow color flooded Wiley’s cheeks. Jayems
pushed his chair back and laced his hands together over his
stomach, a warm flame of pleasure and expectation in his eyes.
Taking a quick breath, Wiley gulped her liqueur, squared her
shoulders and then with more haste than grace, she straddled
him.

No doubt she’d intended to make the kiss a
quick peck, but it quickly became apparent that she was not in
command, and tongues or no tongues, when Wiley finally slid off of
Jayems’ lap, she was clumsy with more than alcohol. She knocked her
chair sideways trying to sit down, and Jasmine couldn’t help a
snort of laughter as she helped set it to rights.

Then she lost.

“Huh,” she said in consternation, and slowly
tucked an escaping strand of hair behind her ear. She reached for
her drink, attempting to stall.

Before her fingers could close around it,
Keilor snatched it up. With a wicked glint in his eye, he toasted
her. “I’d hate for your senses to be dulled for this, Dragonfly.”
With a quick toss he finished her drink and then scooted back his
chair, waiting.

She looked away from the electric promise in
his eyes and told herself sternly to move. Just a little kiss, she
reminded herself, rising. It wasn’t helping. Reluctance slowed her
every movement and made the slide onto Keilor’s lap torturous for
both of them. When she would have stopped halfway, he grasped her
hips and pulled her flush, sending a shockwave of thrill through
them both.