“You deserved it!” she shouted, and kicked
him in the shin.
He released her, afraid of what he might do
if he did not.
Tears of fury glittered in her eyes. “You
were being a jerk on purpose!” she accused him.
He narrowed his eyes. Very coldly, he
reminded her, “You asked for my help.”
Shoulders heaving, she answered with
contempt, “I asked someone I thought was my friend for help.” Her
eyes raked him with disdain. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
She started to brush past him and he caught
her arm. He wasn’t finished.
Unfortunately, she was.
“
Release me
,” she ordered him, in the
tone no Haunt could resist. Of their own volition, his fingers
opened, and she stalked away.
Furious at his inability to follow, he looked
around, seeking a target.
The other Haunt melted away with prudent
haste.
Mathin just shook his head in sympathy.
“Women and war don’t mix, my sorry friend. Come and have a
drink.”
“She asked me for help.” Keilor thumped his
glass on the redwood table and poured a third shot of rye liquor.
“I fail to see what she had to complain of.” The windowless taproom
in the bowels of the citadel was busy serving lunch, but was not
nearly as boisterous as it could become with the after dinner
crowd. They could converse easily, and there was enough space
between tables to ensure a sense of privacy.
“Perhaps you don’t wish to see it,” Mathin
observed as he leaned back on his chair. He caught the eye of the
least ugly waitress and smiled with promise. She hurried over, and
he inspected her with lazy satisfaction.
A little breathless, she asked, “Can I get
you anything, sir?”
He gifted her with a dazzling smile.
“Something solid, I think, to soothe my hunger. I’ve got a powerful
appetite this afternoon.”
Blushing, the woman took his order and
hurried off to deliver it to the kitchen. The men watched as the
other two waitresses conveniently converged on the bar at the same
time and talked in whispers and giggles. The boldest even glanced
back at the two warriors and smiled.
“When women are petted, they purr, and their
friends purr, too,” Mathin said, a pleasant smile on his face.
“Dampen their spirits, however—” he made a clawing motion with his
hand.
Amused in spite of himself, Keilor still had
to inquire, “And if they ask to be taken out in the rain?”
Mathin sighed and shook his head at him.
“She’s a woman, imbecile. You can’t expect her to react like a
soldier. Galling as it might be for a warrior, she’s one student
who’ll never come close to what we regard as perfection.” He paused
and stretched his long legs. “So give her what she wants. Surely
there’s something she might master.” His eyes danced with thinly
veiled amusement. “She appears to be fairly promising with a
gun.”
“Go away!” Jasmine shouted at the door. Her
bottom smarted and her pride still stung, and she wasn’t about to
let Keilor come inside and inflict more damage. She wasn’t a child,
and if he wasn’t bright enough to figure that out then he could
just go to
“Jasmine,” Keilor said again through the
door. He was beginning to sound exasperated.
Urseya smirked over her teacup. “Perhaps you
should just let him in.” She took a sip, savoring it. “Besides, if
he’s come to grovel, I, for one, wish to see it.”
Hmm. She does have a point, Jasmine thought.
Urseya had witnessed the entire fiasco earlier, and when Jas had
stalked off, she’d joined her on the way back to her room,
complimenting Jasmine on her spectacular aim. Then she’d casually
remarked that if Jasmine truly wished to unman a man, she’d be more
than happy to teach her every trick she knew.
Jasmine had stopped, stunned, and scanned her
face for an ulterior motive, but she’d quickly been convinced of
Urseya’s sincerity. It seemed when it came to proving men were
inferior beings, Urseya rose to the occasion.
In light of that… “Come in if you dare,”
Jasmine called.
Keilor wasted no time with subtleties.
“Urseya.” He nodded to his cousin and took Jasmine by the hand.
Before she could react, he pulled her up and towed the door, intent
on some privacy.
“Hey!” It was impossible to get any kind of
traction on the polished floor, so the best Jasmine could do was
yip at him like a toy poodle tied to the back of a Mack truck.
“Don’t you have any manners, you troll? I have a guest!”
Instantly, Keilor stopped, spun on the balls
of his feet and swept Urseya with a courtly bow. Jasmine teetered,
and he wrapped a long arm around her and plastered her to his side.
“Do forgive us, dear cousin, perhaps we can chat after my love and
I have completed our business. Make yourself at home, and don’t
wait up for us.”
Too astonished by his actions to protest,
Jasmine allowed herself to be towed along as far as the second door
in the hallway before she found her tongue. “Are all Haunt
barbarians or am I just terribly unlucky?”
His low laugh made her shiver. “Some day soon
you’ll find that having a barbarian for a mate can be a very good
thing.”
Heat pooled in her belly and she stumbled at
the sudden ache. Keilor’s head rose like a wolf scenting prey, and
his nostrils flared. His eyes told her he knew, and his knowledge
of her weakness made her tremble. Without a word, he picked her up
and carried her the short distance to his room.
The interior was dim, the furniture brown and
heavy. His room was half the size of hers, yet contained a
microscopic and very cluttered kitchen. The ugly quilt on his
narrow bed was ragged, torn, and sliding off the naked mattress,
which rested on the floor. Weapons of every description littered
the coffee table, furniture, and nested in corners, along with
various articles of discarded clothing.
It looked like Martha Stewart’s version of
hell.
“Take one step toward that bed, and I swear
you won’t live to regret it,” Jasmine vowed, repulsed.
Keilor halted and looked down at her in
surprise. “What’s wrong?”
Jasmine wriggled, and he set her down on her
feet. Wrinkling her nose, she called for lights and made a wary
survey of the place. Experimentally, she ran her hand across the
back of one of his leather chairs. It came away dusty. With a
grimace, she wiped her fingers on her pants, leaving a dirty gray
streak. “What is it with men and dirt?”
She moved a crusty plate off of one of his
leather chairs. A discarded towel made a good rag, and she dusted
the chair before sitting. Stuffing poked out from the frayed
upholstery. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice this the last time I
was in here. How can you live in such squalor?”
“I believe you were preoccupied,” Keilor
reminded her, irritated. Since she had chosen to sit in a chair, he
moved to the battered leather couch and sat down, resting on arm
across the back. His eyes swept her with restless hunger.
“Forget it,” she informed him in a
no-nonsense tone. “I am not making it with you in this pig sty.”
She ignored his narrowed eyes. “You were so eager to talk. So,
talk.”
He pinned her with a stern look. “What
happened this afternoon will not happen again.” He paused, but she
only watched him warily. “If you have a grievance with me we will
talk about it, not attack each other.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Urseya’s going
to take up where you left off.” Her eyes lowered to half-mast to
disguise their glimmer. His words brought back her hurt feelings.
Keeping her eyes lowered, she forced out through a tight throat, “I
doubt I’ll feel the need to shoot
her.
”
The silence dragged out, and finally she
admitted, “I may have been a little rash this morning, but you have
to admit, I did catch you off guard.” He didn’t flex a muscle, so
she went ahead and dug her grave deeper. “You were so convinced I
would never measure up, I couldn’t resist proving you wrong.”
He relaxed at last. “You don’t need to
measure up.” When her face darkened, he added, “Not to the standard
I am trained to use.” His face and voice now reflected his years of
experience, the easy command that made him such a daunting
warrior.
“I realized this afternoon that what you had
asked of me and what I had thought you’d asked of me were not the
same at all. I apologize for treating you like a soldier.”
Well, this was better. In the light of his
apology she could be magnanimous. “It might have been a little
childish to shoot you,” she admitted. “I’ll try not to lose my
temper next time.” She smiled slyly. “Or at least, not in front of
witnesses.”
He snorted and returned in kind, “Then I’ll
try to restrain myself from spanking you...and wait until we’re
alone to administer an appropriate punishment.” It was obvious what
sort of torment he had in mind as his eyes heated. His nostrils
flared as he caught her scent, and for one heated moment, she
almost reconsidered letting him take her then and there.
Whew! They needed a subject change, quick.
“When was the last time you cleaned this place, Keilor?” she asked,
standing up to circle the room. No point in being too obvious about
bolting to the door. Better just to detour and slip out as her
circuit brought her close to the exit.
In two graceful strides he was at her side,
offering her his arm. Amused, he told her, “You’ll reach the door
more quickly if you travel in a straight line.”
Her reprieve was short lived.
Not five steps from his door, they stopped,
and Keilor backed her up against the wall. Loosening her hair from
its tie, he smoothed it back and twisted a strand around his
finger. He brought it to his lips, and shock waves traveled up the
strands to dance around her scalp. “Tell me what you want in a
husband,” he whispered.
Jasmine drew a ragged breath. She’d never
considered making a list. “I don’t know.” How was she supposed to
consider such things when he was making her toes curl?
She felt him smile against her cheek. “I will
not beat you, Dragonfly.” He took one of her hands from his chest
and slid it dangerously low on his hip, letting her feel the ripple
of his taunt, warm muscles. “I am a good provider.” He moved
closer, cradling himself against her hips and burning with every
hard inch.
She couldn’t help it, her mouth fell open and
she moaned.
“It’s n-not the...money,” she gasped. She’d
never expected anyone to provide for her, the last few weeks not
withstanding. Truth be told, she’d begun to feel less like a
pampered prisoner and more like a parasite every day. She wanted to
do something with her life, earn her own way. Besides, with a room
like that, how rich could he be?
Undaunted, he took her right hand and slid it
under his vest, over his heart. “Then perhaps you’ll accept this?”
he asked softly He brushed his mouth against her lips. “It’s been
yours for some time now.”
A lump formed in Jasmine’s throat, and her
eyes prickled. No one had ever told her what he was telling her,
save Rihlia. No man had ever felt as much. She closed her eyes. “I
don’t deserve it.”
For a moment, he simply held her. Then, with
words she would remember for the rest of her life, he breathed in
her ear, “I don’t know what’s happened in your life to make you
believe that, but I will spend the rest of mine proving you
wrong.”
She kissed him. There was no doubt of her
answer now.
“My feet are always cold,” she warned him.
“I’ll be forever wanting to put them on you.”
He chuckled and nuzzled her neck, drawing on
the tender skin. “I like the idea of cold feet in bed. I’m always
overly warm, myself.” His voice dropped an octave. “Besides, I
think I can find a few ways to warm you up.”
“Um.” Jasmine broke away from his kiss with a
gasp. “I hate a mess. I’ll be forever nagging at you to pick up
after yourself.”
“I’ll survive,” he assured her and kissed her
with dizzying hunger. She arched into his body, craving more, and
he obligingly slid his hand down to cup her breast.
A soft cry escaped her, and her hands slid
into his hair. She removed his clip to tangle her fingers in the
silky strands. All thoughts of where they were and the likelihood
of being caught evaporated from her brain. All she could think
about was fusing her body to his and putting out the fierce
ache.
Lucky for her, he had a fraction more
sense.
Keilor tore his mouth from hers, took her
hand and nearly ran to her room.
Urseya was gone, and they wasted no time
getting naked. Keilor made it as far as his pants before passion
overcame him and he tumbled her back on the quilt, feasting on her
mouth as if he’d never get enough. “Give me the words before I go
up in flames,” he demanded, breaking the kiss to free her mouth for
speech.
“I’m yours, for as long as you want me,” she
scrambled to say. The time for waiting was well past. All she
wanted now was completion.
He rewarded her with a melting kiss. “I take
your promise and give you mine. I’m yours, heart and soul, until
the end of my life or yours. May it be a long time in coming.”
Jasmine cried out as his mouth closed over
her nipple, sending seismic tremors throughout her hungry body.
From her single, failed experiment at loving at nineteen, she’d
concluded she simply wasn’t one of those woman who felt much
sensitivity in her breasts. Keilor’s feverish tongue and gentle
teeth proved her dead wrong.
She squirmed and tugged at his shoulders,
desperate to have him inside. “I’m ready! Oh!” she cried out. His
hips moved against her in acknowledgment, but his words didn’t
bring any promise of relief.
“Not yet.” His answer was guttural and swift,
but plain enough. His mouth switched to the breast he’d just
massaged with his callused palm, and she arched underneath him and
cried out.