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LENGTH: Full Novel
SENSUALITY: Spicy

Cover art (c) Eliza Black 2002
ISBN 1-58608-353-8
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Before Jasmine can figure out her next move her camp is surrounded by wolves, controlled by a stranger hidden by the night. He forces her to choose: follow him or become wolf bait.

She follows him into a world gone suddenly alien. Three moons shine in the sultry night sky, and wolves weave in and out of majestic redwoods.

She finds her friend, but things are more complicated than she ever imagined. They discover they are trapped in a world not their own, held captive by men who are as dangerous as they are exciting. When love calls Jasmine to the arms of a powerful alien soldier, can she overcome what stands between them, or will she run away?

Rating: Explicit Sex and some violence.

"TEASING DANGER is a fantastic story. It has many, many wonderful elements – intrigue, action, drama, romance, danger, sensuality and passion. With twists and turns like I haven’t read in a long while, to a delicious sensual treat, to a sensitive and warm love story, TEASING DANGER is a read that I highly recommend." Road to Romance

"Four Stars! Teasing Danger is a fantastic blend of romance, suspense and science fiction. The hero is an alpha male to the max, but he needs to be for the story. This is a very tightly woven story that left me wanting more. I would love to read more books by Autumn Dawn. She has a magical way of pulling you right into the story, so that it becomes your world as well as Jasmine's and Keilor's. Oh yes, not to be left out, the sex scenes are hot. If you are interested in creatures that can change form or just a great paranormal book in general, this is the one for you." Patricia McGrew, Timeless Tales Reviews

"TEASING DANGER by Autumn Dawn is not only a sexy, exhilarating story but filled with such a breathtaking atmosphere to the story. From the start the characters Keilor and Jasmine share such a great chemistry to each other that it is hard to figure out who started the romance. Great paranormal romance to read not only for its charismatic characters but also the way the characters in this romance seem to blend with the words so easily." LoveRomances.com

“Teasing Danger sizzles with romance and otherworldly adventure. This is a pick-up and don’t put down story that will you keep you interested from the first page to the last.” Word Museum Reviews

"This story is worth reading over and over again. There is some violence, but it is so integrated into the story, you do not think about gore. (Nothing along the lines of the violence of Laurell K. Hamilton.) Keilor's methods of making Jasmine behave definitely upped my blood pressure and respiration. He takes tall, dark and handsome to a new level, and the self control . . . yum, yum. Definitely a keeper." Sensual Romance Reviews

“Four out of Five swords! Filled with some truly risque love scnes, pasison, action and moments of light heartedness, I found Teasing Danger to be a fun read.” Cindy Lynn Speer, GWN Reviewer

"...Autumn Dawn's TEASING DANGER, from NCP. It's fun, fast & sexy, and has a very hunky hero." Susan Grant, author of the Star King, a Leisure/Dorchester release

“Perfect 10! Combining the best elements in fiction, Autumn Dawn wove a truly wonderful story with threads of suspense, paranormal, and contemporary to make the complete picture a fantastic read for anyone who enjoys these genres. I couldn't read this one fast enough to see just what happened next. I've given TEASING DANGER a Perfect Ten for the tightly woven story that not only left me drooling after future stories, but also for the fact that as soon as I was finished reading - I went back and started all over again. Autumn Dawn has a magical way of drawing you into another world and making you believe that there just may be more to life as we know it. Simply put: I want more from this author! Read this one now if you're a fan of unique paranormal romance. I guarantee you won't be disappointed.” Romance Reviews Today

"Four Stars! Ms. Dawn has created a fantastic blend of science fiction and romance with this story!" The Fiction Forum

TEASING DANGER

By

Autumn Dawn

(c) copyright August 2002, Autumn Beadreault
Cover art by Eliza Black, (c) 2002
New Concepts Publishing
www.newconceptspublishing.com
4729 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636

Chapter 1

“Wait a minute, Lemming! Let me catch my breath,” Jasmine gasped, clutching a slender poplar for balance and causing a shower of bright leaves and water to pepper her head and shoulders. For a moment, her vision blurred and her legs trembled, but she stiffened them, waiting it out. It was the painful tightness in her chest that was more difficult to ease.

Used to such stops, the black and white border collie trotted over to her, tail wagging, and sat gracefully at her feet. Deciding a rest was in order, Jasmine inspected a large rock that had been washed free of the hill’s sticky clay, looking for ants. Satisfied, she shifted the holstered pistol on her hip and sat down gingerly on the lichen covered stone to take in the view.

Densely wooded Alaskan hills rolled away in the distance without a sign of civilization. Autumn had hung her golden coins from every birch and cottonwood as far as the eye could see, and the gold water wash of late evening sunlight showed them to their best advantage. Even the dark spruce covering the gentle slopes were sprinkled with the natural glitter.

She glanced at her watch, her breath frosting in the chill air; 7:44 P.M.. It would start getting dark soon, and this late in September, it could snow at any time. Too bad it wasn’t June. If it were then she wouldn’t have to worry about the darkness at all, since the sun never set during the height of summer.

She stood and hefted her pack, her lungs giving a tired protest. Once again she cursed the fact that asthma medication made her heart race and her hands and feet go numb. She could use a dose of something right now. At least it was only exercise induced asthma, she thought, trying to pick up her flagging spirits. All she really needed was a little rest to catch her breath. Besides, she could have been born allergic to chocolate. She glanced at Lemming affectionately. Or dogs.

Though come to think of it, if she’d been allergic to dogs, she wouldn’t have to be out here.

Rapidly losing steam, she trudged up the trail, really little more than a brushy track, noting the moose nuggets and hoof prints in the soft turf without enthusiasm. With her luck she’d run into an irate cow with a calf and get stuck in a Mexican standoff while the cow tried to decide if she was worth trampling or better off ignored. It really was a shame she didn’t have the energy to stop and pick some cranberries. They were plentiful this year and she could use a good batch of cranberry bars.

Heck, while she was dreaming, how about a hot date, an end cut of the Turtle Club’s prime rib and a dry pair of socks?

Or maybe she should be dreaming about a hot date for Wiley, she thought with disgust. She scanned the brush covered hillside. If her friend and roommate paid more attention to her love life then maybe she wouldn’t feel the need to run off to the woods at a moments notice, and she wouldn’t have to chase the girl all over the country.

Like now.

Lemming barked from somewhere up ahead, signaling that she’d found Wiley’s camp. Jasmine’s head came up and she eagerly picked up her pace. In a minute she’d be sipping hot cocoa and roasting herself in front of a hot fire, and—

She entered the mossy clearing where Lemming waited and stopped, confused.

The clearing was empty.

Later, as Jasmine sat nursing a cup of cocoa over a fire that she’d had to make herself, she tried to figure out what could have happened. At first she’d circled the area, calling Wiley’s name and trying to find some kind of evidence as to her disappearance. Most likely Wiley was playing a trick, maybe hiding higher on the hill and grinning as she watched her wade through stickers and brush. As soon as full dark descended though, Jasmine had known Wiley wasn’t playing a game. Something had happened to her friend, and it was too late to make her way back to the Jeep tonight to get help.

Wiley might take off at a moment’s notice on her perverse games of hide and seek, but she always left a map, and she never strayed from it. If she said she was going to be forty-five minutes east of the Dalton Highway that’s where they’d find her. Or rather, Lemming would find her, and Lemming always found her quarry.

She glanced at the search and rescue dog Wiley had trained from a pup. She rested quietly at Jasmine’s side with her chin on her paws, content with a job well done. Jasmine had tried to get her to keep tracking, but she’d only sat down, looked at Jasmine in confusion, and thumped her tail once. As far as she was concerned, her job was over.

She sighed and scratched an itch under her black Road Runner stocking cap. She noticed a sticker bush twig in Lemming’s fur, removed it gingerly and flicked it into the coals. So now what? She didn’t plan to stay in grizzly and wolf infested woods any longer then she had to. Civilization beckoned. She coughed as smoke suddenly blew into her face and moved around the fire, wishing ruefully for some smokeless heat.

Well, there was nothing more she could do right now, and she was tired of having the fire roast her front end while the cold air behind froze her butt. Time to crawl into her tent, shuck down to her long johns and hope she wouldn’t have to shiver too long before the down sleeping bag warmed up. Though come to think of it, the night almost seemed to be getting warmer.

Scoffing at her wishful thinking, she stood and kicked dirt over the fire. That’s when she saw them.

Eyes.

Freaky, glowing golden eyes. Lots of them.

Lemming growled and pressed so tightly against her that she nearly tripped as the eyes evolved into wolves with eerie, alien faces.

Slowly she reached for the 357 Smith and Wesson revolver strapped to her hip. The fur on the creature directly in front of her hackled and it snarled a warning that made the hair all over her own body stand on end. Lemming responded with a vicious snarl/bark that made her jump.

“Touch it and they’ll rip your throat out,” a man’s voice warned mildly from the dark on the other side of the clearing.

Jasmine strangled a yell and whipped her head to the side. “Who’s there?”

As if in a nightmare, a sinister shadow of a man stepped away from the camouflage of the dark trees and stood less than ten feet from her. She itched to draw and cock the gun, but the slight movement of her hand brought the snarling beast before her a step closer.

“Call off your dogs,” she demanded hoarsely. All the moisture that should have been in her mouth seemed to have decided to run down her back instead. Who’d turned up the heat?

“Give up your weapon,” the stranger ordered, and his words were brushed with an odd accent. “They don’t trust you.”

She tensed. “The feeling is mutual, pal, but I’m not doing it. They’ll eat me alive if I do.” She’d watched TV. She knew what happened to the idiots that dropped the gun.

He glanced at the creatures. “Your choice.”

Long moments passed while she held the gaze that must be trained on her from that shadowy face and sweat plastered the hair under her hat to her scalp. For all she knew this guy had kidnapped Wiley and was keeping her somewhere nearby.

If she was still alive.

It was that thought more than anything that made her give in. Swearing one of Wiley’s favorite words, she gave a curt nod. Careful not to make any sudden moves that might set off the terrified dog at her feet or the wolves, she unfastened the safety strap of the holster and eased the gun out. Surprisingly, she wasn’t snarled at until she hesitated at the last moment.

“You’ll never kill them all,” the stranger said with a trace of impatience.

Reluctantly, she tossed down the gun, yanked off her hat and unzipped her heavy coat, shrugging it off. If she had to die, at least it wouldn’t be from the sudden heat. She glanced at the wolf things, but they were no longer snarling. In fact, the one she was coming to think of as the leader had backed off a bit and was watching her warily while the others wove in and out of the huge trees.

Huge trees?

Jasmine paused in the act of stripping off her Norwegian sweater, all the fine hairs on her body standing on end. Huge trees? There were no big trees in this part of Alaska. But there they were, gleaming in the light of the triple moons-what? Triple—!

First things first. Taking a deep breath to calm her jangling nerves, she sent the man a defiant look and pulled off the bulky sweater, tugging the black T-shirt underneath to keep it from riding up. She just stood there in the redwood scented air as half of her brain tried to make sense of the waving fern fronds while the other wished she could ditch her wool socks and the long underwear under her jeans.

The shadow shifted restlessly. “Come,” he said, melting into the trees before she had a chance to argue.

“Wait a minute!” she called, but he ignored her. She hesitated, wondering if she could possibly retrieve the small flashlight inside her jacket. No way did she want to go blindly charging off through the night with a spooky stranger without at least being able to see what he was doing. She bent a little, and the lead wolf snarled. “Easy, fella, I just need to get a light.” His lips pulled even farther back and saliva flecked his muzzle. The other wolf things, taking their cue from the pack master, stalked in closer, showing hundreds of teeth. Suddenly stumbling through the darkness following a possibly vicious stranger held appeal. She picked up her feet and hurried after the man before she found out if the pack had a taste for twenty-three year old, sweaty hikers.

Besides, who knew what else might come creeping out of the brush?

There might have been three moons in the sky, but none of them were full, and she’d never had the best night vision. The second time she nearly went sprawling while jogging after the Shadow, she decided to call a halt. If she didn’t slow down one of the branches hitting her in the face was going to put out an eye, and then where would she be? Besides, Lemming could always track him.

The wolf things had other ideas.

“Look, guy,” she tried to explain to one of the creatures that was inching slowly closer, growling, while Lemming nearly backed up to her leg. “I’m trying, but I can’t see where I’m going. Just give me a minute, okay?”

A hand shot out of the dark and gripped her upper arm, making her shriek.

“This way.”

She gasped for breath, trying to calm her frantic heart while the stranger hauled her through the woods. “Did you have to do that?” she demanded, but he didn’t answer and he didn’t slow down. She tried again. “Where are we going?” Still he didn’t answer. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

His grip on her arm tightened and he picked up speed. “I will return you to your place come morning.”

She dug in her heels and threw every ounce of her weight into it, jolting them to a stop. No way, pal. She didn’t know what he planned, but when a strange man without an ounce of courtesy told her he was going to keep her for the night, she panicked.

As he spun to face her, she shot her fist into his nose, snapping his head back and then grabbed his shirt and rammed her knee into his groin with all her strength.

Or tried to.

The next moment he was holding her on her toes with two frighteningly controlled hands around her biceps.

His voice, when it came, was rough with menace. “You think to deny me anything?” His body was very tense, as if he longed to either choke the life from her or hurl her from him. Even so, she tried to kick him. Swearing, he shook her, making Lemming snarl. The stranger snapped something in a language she didn’t know and Lemming subsided with a whine.

His eyes bore into hers. “You are fortunate that you are a woman, else I would snap your neck and have done with it.” As suddenly as he’d grabbed her, he released her, and she lost her balance, falling on her butt. “You are going back come morning.”

Jasmine trembled, not daring to move for a long, sick moment. Never before had she felt so threatened by a man, so completely aware of her inferior size and puny strength. He had her alone, completely at his mercy, and if he decided to hurt her there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Lemming whined and slid up to her, seeking reassurance, and in that seeking, gave Jasmine a measure of strength. She wasn’t a coward, and she was smart. There had to be a way out of this. Wiley needed her.

He was overreacting.

Keilor watched the female climb shakily to her feet, chiding himself. The girl was young and scared, barely even a woman by the looks of her; and he was a stranger who was deliberately frightening her. Of course she would lash out. As he watched the girl get up he reminded himself that his cousin considered her a friend. He didn’t have to like it, but he could refrain from terrorizing her.

He wiped the blood from his battered nose and his anger flared again. Blight that! He would if she would. Nevertheless, his touch was gentler and his pace slower as he guided her through the darkness. Remorse stabbed him when she shrank a little at his touch and he ruthlessly repressed it. They didn’t want her to like it here, nor to feel welcome, no matter what Rihlia thought. She would come to see the wisdom of remaining separate from the human world soon enough. If he and Jayems had their way, the girl would be going back this instant. Only Rihlia’s need to reassure this girl that she was fine stayed their hands.

The memory of her stripping off her heavy clothes flashed through his mind and he sucked in a breath at the heat it provoked. She glanced at him in surprise and a little fear when his grip tightened on her arm. He forced it to relax. It was only the startling quickness of her disrobing that had caused his body to react, he reassured himself. He hadn’t expected the girl to start stripping. It hadn’t helped to discover that her outer wrappings had concealed an exotically beautiful woman—girl, he corrected himself firmly—girl underneath. It didn’t matter to him what she looked like, the girl was going back as soon as Rihlia said good-bye. It was time for his cousin to rediscover her real family.

He ducked to avoid a branch, thinking how fortunate they’d been to find the long lost Rihlia at one of the intermittent hot points between worlds. He shook his head in amazement. After years of fruitless searching, only to discover the child she’d been had crossed worlds! But now she was home and it was time for her to take her rightful place among her people and her family.

He glanced at the dark haired girl in irritation, the night no barrier to his keen vision. What Rihlia didn’t need was reminders of the past weighing her down while she tried to readjust to her home world. Even if they were sweetly curved and just the right height to—

“I cannot see what she could possibly want with you,” he burst out in frustration.

The girl’s head snapped up and she stopped. “She? Are you talking about Wiley?”

“Her name is Rihlia,” he corrected stiffly, stopping as well. He was annoyed at his outburst. It wasn’t like him to be this edgy around a woman, even a beautiful woman; especially a beautiful woman, and he didn’t like it.

“She’s my age, very dark hair, oriental looking?”

“I know who she is,” he clipped out, “And her name is Rihlia.”

Her eyes snapped fire as she jerked her arm away from him, fear apparently forgotten. Really, for such a midgety creature, she was full of passion. Had she been anyone else, he would have relished that knowledge; but she wasn’t staying.

“Her name is Wiley, you misbegotten—” she broke off and took a deep breath. “I need to see her.”

“Then come.” He took her arm again and set off. The sooner this chore was accomplished, the better. He had more important matters to attend to.

Apparently she wasn’t content to travel in silence, for she said, “What is this place?”

“The Dark Lands,” he answered shortly, hoping she’d be quiet. He glanced off into the trees, toying with the idea of having the volti show themselves again and frighten her speechless, but refrained.

“Why is it called that?”

“To frighten off unwanted humans?” he suggested with exasperation. Were all humans this bothersome, or was it just her? She tripped over a plainly visible rock in the path and swore, forcing him to steady her yet again. He added clumsy and unobservant to the list of things he didn’t like about her.

“What do you mean, ‘humans’?” she asked suspiciously.

“What you are, and what I am not. What Rihlia is not,” he informed her with satisfaction. That ought help drive her off. Humans were notoriously fearful of anyone alien, even their own kind. She would be no different.

“Rih-Wiley is as human as I am,” she gritted out. “I ought to know. We were raised in the same orphanage.”

The remembrance of how his cousin had been kept in a sterile home for abandoned and orphaned children enraged him anew. “She was raised there, but she wasn’t born there,” he clipped out. “Your kind put her there.”

“Yeah? Well, she wouldn’t have been there if your kind hadn’t lost her,” she snapped back.

He grabbed her arms and jerked her to him, angry on such a deep level that he could barely verbalize his emotion. “You have no idea what you are saying, creature. Beware lest you test my mercy,” he warned her softly, almost relishing her trembling. She understood him.

Unfortunately, his flaring nose caught her feminine scent, bringing with it a desire that flooded his senses in an entirely alien way. For a moment his mind stalled, and the closest he could come to breaking away was to shift his hands down her arms a fraction. Spellbound, the only thing that he wanted in that moment was to let his body speak to her in a language entirely it’s own.

Lightning traveled up his arms from her frozen body and he let go with a gasp and a curse. “Sylph!” he hissed, gripping the hilt of his blade.

“What did you call me?” she demanded in angry disbelief. “I am not filth! I...”

He slashed an angry hand through the air to cut her off. “Sylph! Temptress, siren, poison!” he told her with venom. Of all the woman in the world Rihlia had to call friend, why one of them, one of the few guaranteed to be trouble to the males of his kind?

“Temptress?” she huffed in amused disbelief. “That’s a first.” She put one hand on her hip and eyed him, shaking her head. “The worst I’ve ever been accused of is “cute”, and I think the guy was just being nice.”

He reached out to tow her along again, thought better of it, and pointed with an unsteady hand. “There is the trail. Follow it.” He thought of prodding her along with his blade for good measure, but perhaps that was going too far. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d leap on him and attempt a seduction right there.

Probably.

Her head turned to follow his pointing finger and she squinted in bewilderment. “Where?”

“Right there,” he repeated, wondering what was wrong with her. Maybe it was a trick to lower his defenses.

The sultry wind ruffled her limp hair as she gave a weary sigh. “Look, I can’t see a thing out here, ok? I can barely see you, so if you plan on getting where we’re going tonight, you’ll have to lead the way.”

It was not worth arguing. The sooner begun...He started walking; not so fast that she couldn’t see him, but far enough ahead to ensure zero contact. One couldn’t be too careful with a Sylph.

For thousands of years, her kind had been used by humans to lure and trap the men of the Haunt. The best of their warriors had been enticed by the unique, bewitching scent of the Sylph and killed by their masters until there were few of the men left. That combined with the unrelenting fear and hatred of humans had driven his kind to seek their own world, free of the hunters.

And now one of them was here.

Jayems would be furious.

As they approached the forest entrance to the hollowed volcanic mountain that served as the Haunt fortress, he kept a wary eye on the female, remembering Rihlia’s unfortunate reaction to her first sight of the warrior Haunt. This girl was no different. The moment she saw the shadowy guards she stumbled back with a gasp, which was at least an improvement over the ear shattering shriek he’d been braced for. Reaching back, he grabbed a fistful of her shirt, dragged her through the door and propelled her down the hallway with a business-like hand at her back.

“Wh-what...”

Badly shaken, she could barely get the words out. At least she wasn’t hysterical. It had taken much longer to calm Rihlia down enough to make her believe the Haunt were not a danger to her. But then, she belonged to this world.

He would make no such assurances to this human.

“Wait here,” he told the girl sternly, pointing to the cushioned bench set in the alcove opposite his lord’s rooms. She sank limply onto the bench, obeying him without a murmur, but it wasn’t him that she was looking at. He turned to the pair of Haunt guards flanking the massive double doors and eyed them wryly as they saluted him with a silent nod and opened the door. She was unlikely to attempt any mischief while under their baleful stare, but just to be sure...

“Eat her if she moves,” he ordered, and watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened. Hiding his grin at the grimace of distaste on his right and the rolled eyes to his left, he entered the room.

“She is here,” he reported, stepping into the large room. Jayems looked up quickly from where he sat at his polished desk of dark wood and slammed shut the heavy ledger he’d been perusing with a muffled thud. His polished boots remained exactly where they were crossed on the desktop as he waited for more details.

Rihlia wasn’t nearly as calm. She leapt up off of the blue and cream couch and demanded breathlessly, “Where?”

Keilor smiled slightly, amused. For all she looked the princess in her gold and white silken robes and smooth braids woven with pearls and topaz, she was as bright eyed and eager as a much younger girl.

Grimness replaced his amusement fast enough, though, as he recalled her friend. “There’s a problem,” he informed his lord darkly. “She’s a Sylph.”

Jayems’ feet uncrossed, dropping with unnerving deliberation to the floor. He slammed his palms down on the desk and leaned forward. “A what?”

Keilor shook his head slowly. “She could be nothing else. I’m certain of it.”

Jayems swore and got to his feet, pacing with barely controlled anger.

His reluctant betrothed looked between them in angry confusion. “What’s the matter? You told me she could—”

Jayems whirled to face her, his dark tunic riffling in the breeze. “I gave permission for you to say good-bye, and I will still allow it, but the minute you are finished, she goes.”

Her eyes flared in temper. “Well, of course, darling,” she agreed acidly. “After all, we wouldn’t want any unsavory humans loitering about, now, would we?”

He stalked her, stopping inches from her and bending his head to pierce her with his stare. “I’m gratified we understand each other, wife.” Before she could snarl out a denial, he snapped, “Bring her, Keilor. Let’s finish this.”

Jasmine sat where she’d been ordered, staring at the intricate mosaic patterns in the wood floor and trying very hard not to gawk at her guards. It was impossible to keep her eyes to herself. They kept darting up to peek with horrified fascination at the wolf-men posted at the door. Lemming pressed close against her leg, whining softly.

They made no bones about staring back.

They had the heads and flattened faces of wolves, and their entire bodies (or what she could see outside their black uniforms) were covered in dark hair. Each guard wore a leather holster with a gun of some sort strapped to his thigh and a long knife sheathed at the hip. Combat boots, pants and laced leather vests completed the ensemble. They looked frighteningly competent.

Frightening being the key word.

It was a relief when her warden opened the door and ordered her to, “Come.” Swallowing hard, she got to her feet and edged swiftly past the guards, relaxing a fraction only when the door was safely shut behind her. Lemming gave a glad bark and charged forward, and Jasmine turned to see Wiley laughing as she knelt down to hug her dog.

“Good girl!” she praised the collie, fondling her ears affectionately. “You found me, didn’t you?” Then she looked up and saw Jasmine, and her eyes glittered with tears as she stood up. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she murmured, and embraced her in a crushing hug. “I thought you’d never get here.”

Jasmine pulled back and gave her a wobbly grin. “Blame it on your map. You forgot to mention that last curve in the road.” Her smile faded as she glanced at the two men watching them impassively and then back to her friend. “What’s going on, Wiley?”

“It’s...” Wiley broke off and looked at the dark haired man Jasmine didn’t know, who was perched on a desk, feet crossed at the ankles. Her erstwhile escort stood near him and as far from Jasmine as he could get.

“I don’t suppose we could have some privacy?” Wiley asked coldly. The handsome stranger inclined his head, indicating that he had heard her, but he didn’t move. She muttered something under her breath and led Jasmine to the far end of the room, sitting down with her on a couch. Lemming came up and nudged Wiley’s hand, and she absently stroked her while she explained.

“We’re on another world,” she began slowly.

Jasmine glanced at the triple moons visible through the window comprising an entire wall and then back at the door and nodded slowly in agreement. She’d figured that one out on her own.

Wiley watched her carefully. “I was born here.”

Jasmine’s eyes unfocused for a moment as she pondered that. “It explains a few things. Go on.”

Wiley took a breath. “The guy who brought you here is my cousin, Keilor.”

Jasmine’s eyes darted in surprise to the man, and for the first time she really looked at him, scrutinizing his features. Black, silken hair framed high cheekbones, reminiscent of a Cherokee warrior, and the faint flare of his nostrils reinforced the impression. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes from across the room, but the expression in them of wary distaste was all too clear. She was already far more familiar with the feel of his body than she cared to remember, and the excellent lighting in the room only confirmed that he possessed a physique any warrior brave would be proud to own. He raised a dark brow at her in mocking acknowledgment of the introduction, and an unnerving image of him in nothing but a loincloth and a tan, long hair free from it’s tie, flashed into her mind.

A surge of wild heat accompanied the foreign thought, stunning in its intensity. Almost it seemed he called to her, compelled her heart to thunder. Something very strange happened in those few seconds. Deep in her mind a door slammed open, opening the way to a dark, wild wind. For a moment she swore she felt his soul touch hers, leisurely touch and possess. She shuddered. Against all logic, she knew him. She knew this man. And suddenly she wanted him with a desperation bordering on mania.

It terrified her.

The moment passed. Annoyed at her wild imagination, she hurriedly whipped her gaze back to her friend. “You have my sympathy,” she snapped, irked at the lingering rush in her blood.

Wiley smiled wryly, having noted nothing amiss. She didn’t even look at the other man, just jerked her head slightly in his direction. “The other guy is called Jayems.” They were both quite for a moment. Jasmine looked down and saw that Wiley’s hands were knotted in her skirt. At last Wiley said stiffly, “They won’t let me go home, and they want you to go back right away and forget you ever saw me.”

Jasmine sat back, carefully controlling her anger and her breathing. Her expression was cold, but a dangerous smile turned up one side of her mouth and lurked in her eyes when she felt able to control her voice. “Two words, my friend.” She twitched an eyebrow and switched to Pig Latin. “Avyna, Ealsay, anda eytha anca ovesha ita upa eirtha assa.” Navy SEALS, and they can shove it up their—.

Wiley laughed a little, relieved. She understood that Jasmine wasn’t going to just leave her there.

Jasmine smiled slyly back at her and squeezed her hand tightly and then stood up. “It’s been real, Wiley, and I’m glad to see that you’re all right.” She turned to the one called Keilor. “I’m ready to go home, now.”

Keilor was looking back at her with a knowing expression. He turned to Jayems and made a few signs with his hands. Jayems glanced at her assessingly and signed back. Keilor moved towards her. “Why so hasty? You just got here. Perhaps it would be best if you waited to return until morning. He watched her closely.

Jasmine felt the panic flash like a neon sign across her face and quickly looked down, doing her best to contain it. She swallowed and said as evenly as possible, “I thought you were in a hurry to get rid of me.” She bit the inside of her lip, cursing herself for saying something so revealing, and hastily amended, “Not that I mind staying to talk to a friend or anything, but this place gives me the creeps.”

Jayems straightened from the desk and sauntered towards her until both he and Keilor towered over her. She didn’t dare look at him. “Friends,” he mussed. “That’s not what Rihlia called you. Sister of her heart, she said. Closer than blood.” He paused and looked her up and down with too knowing eyes the color of polished bronze. “Odd that such a one would desert her so quickly.” Suddenly he grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Would you be planning trouble, little sister?”

She met his eyes with difficulty, and kept them there through force of will. “Who would believe my story?” she evaded and then mentally winced. Why hadn’t she just lied? She might as well just blurt out that she intended to bring the entire US Army with her if she could find her way back.

He studied her for a moment and then softly snorted. Releasing her, he told Keilor, “Find her a room down the hall and see that she’s comfortable, would you, cousin? And post guards at her door.” His smile was less than pleasant. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to Rihlia’s loyal little sister.”

She stiffened as Keilor’s hand closed around her arm and he started to drag her off.

Wiley got in his way at once. He canted his head to the side slightly and paused to acknowledge her effort. “Cousin.”

Alarmed, Wiley looked around him to rail at Jayems. “What are you doing?”

His eyes narrowed. “Sending her away before I break her neck for lying to me.” He glanced at the wide eyed Jasmine grudgingly. “Though I suppose she can be forgiven, as she does it out of loyalty to you.” He glowered at Wiley. “Though there is a limit to what I will forgive those who try to deceive me.”

Wiley stiffened. “You said that she could go home.” Wiley pushed almost plaintively. His face hardened. “Keilor.”

Without another word, Keilor gently moved the resisting Wiley aside and continued toward the door, surmising that Jayems wished to continue his battle in private.

“You be nice to her!” Wiley shouted after Keilor as they entered the gray stone hall.

Chapter 2

Keilor looked down at Jasmine assessingly. “Do you want me to be nice to you, Dragonfly?”

She glowered at him. “I doubt you know how.” They paused at a set of double doors a short way down the hall.

He flashed her a wicked smile. “I can be very nice when I choose. His hand closed over the door handle, but he didn’t open it just yet. He moved a fraction closer to her, his warm breath slid across her skin as he traced the iridescent dragonfly pendant at her throat. She dropped her eyes, shivering just a little as chills rushed through her. “Be good, my Dragonfly. Be very, very good,” he whispered, lifting her chin until their faces were only inches apart. He stroked his fingers lightly down her neck, making her breath catch. A warning glinted in his eyes. “You won’t like it if I have to correct you.”

Jasmine pulled away from him and looked pointedly at the carved panels of the door, resenting how he made her feel. He was the enemy. What did her stupid body think it was doing, reacting like that? It wasn’t as if he were potential boyfriend material.

Her frustration made her snap, “You get off on trying to scare women, don’t you?”

Not really. Keilor paused, considering their uninvited guest. Initially he’d agreed with Jayems that the most efficient way to be rid of the human girl was to frighten her silly. That plan had failed miserably. But who could have known about her courage? Certainly Rihlia had been ready to run, and without provocation. Perhaps it was time to find a new way of dealing with the human.

After all, like it or not, she was going to be here a while.

Opening the door, he gestured her inside with a flourish. “Lights,” he called, and the lights came on. “Softer,” he ordered, and they dimmed. His eyes swept down her. “Bath.” Immediately steaming water began to fill a tub at the side of the large room. It was large enough for four people and reached by a series of steps chiseled of blue veined marble. A carved screen, now folded, stood between it and a handsome armoire of red wood and mirrored doors. He gestured toward it. “Towels. The door next to it is a closet, not that you’ll find anything in it at the moment.” He turned slightly on the parquet flooring. “Bed.”

Jasmine glanced at the large bed against the left wall and then gasped and moved closer for a better look. Vines curled around a pair of naked lovers entwined in a standing position on each post. She rolled her eyes, grateful that she rarely blushed. Heaven help her. It would be a miracle if she could get to sleep in such a bed. She dared a glance at the headboard and quickly looked away, brain burning. “Don’t you have somewhere else I can sleep?” Her eyes skittered restlessly around the otherwise elegant room, and then up at the ceiling. She groaned. An enormous mirror in a golden frame was mounted above the bed. “I mean...with a less...” she waved her hand at the bed.

“I could,” he answered agreeably, looking amused, “Though I couldn’t guarantee your bed would be solitary.”

She glared at him. “Fine.” He raised an intrigued eyebrow. “This is fine,” she gritted.

He shrugged. “As you wish. If you need anything—something to eat, for instance— just raise your voice slightly and call for service.”

Jasmine waited a moment after he’d left and then quickly opened the door. Two wolf guards looked down at her inquiringly from either side of the door. She growled in frustration and shut the door, locking it for good measure. Then she slumped against it, done in. Lemming had stayed with Wiley, so nothing disturbed the silence in the room, or her thoughts, such as they were. Her brain felt numb, temporarily shocked into immobility by the events of the evening. Her body ached mildly from her climb up and down the Alaskan hills, and her feet throbbed and sweated unmercifully in her double layer of socks.

A click caused her to roll her head towards the tub. The water had stopped pouring. After a moment of contemplation she gave a fatalistic shrug. Ah, well. What else did she have to do?

Jasmine sighed and stretched luxuriously against the silky sheets and then forced herself to roll over. It took a bit more effort to pry her eyes open long enough to actually see and process her surroundings. She sat up in bed with a start.

“Jas...are you awake yet?” Wiley’s voice sounded from a hidden intercom near the door. Jasmine groaned and flung an arm over her eyes, not quite certain that she was ready to face the day. “Jasmine!” Wiley sounded impatient.

“Come in,” she croaked, reaching for the water glass she’d left on the night stand, taking a long drought. Remnants of her dreams, something involving mirrors and a dark haired lover, came to mind as she sat up. Jasmine gripped the glass, mortified at the sharp, answering throb deep between her thighs. What kind of wanton was she turning into? The man was pond scum! How could she?

“I can’t. It’s locked.”

“Ah, nuts.” Surrendering to the inevitable, she shoved aside her dreams, setting down the glass. Crawling reluctantly out from under the blankets, she grabbed the soft, woven, white and gold robe she’d found folded in the armoire and went to unlock the door.

“About time,” Wiley scolded mildly, Lemming at her heels. “I was beginning to fear they’d done away with you, even though Jayems insisted you were still in here.” She gestured for the servants behind her to enter while Jasmine sleepily stifled a yawn. “I brought breakfast.” She crossed to the wardrobe and set a dark bundle of folded clothes inside. “You can see if these fit you after we eat, if you want.”

“Great.” Jasmine finger combed her shoulder blade length hair out of her face and scratched her scalp sleepily. A male servant in a white and gold tunic and loose trousers set a large covered tray on the dining table and took off the lid while a woman dressed in the same uniform began to set the table for two.

“Shutters,” Wiley called out, and the wall directly opposite the door slid open like elevator doors, revealing a wall of clear glass with a breathtaking view.

Jasmine drew in a breath, distracted from the delicious smells of breakfast, and moved closer to stare in awe at the sheer drop below her window.

It was misty outside, the kind of thick fog that was almost rain, but even so she could make out the cove five stories below her room. Towering redwoods rose on every side at the edges of the shore, half hidden in the haze. Farther out, gray sea met smoky sky in a seamless melding that might have stretched forever, off unto the edge of the world. Or perhaps it was merely the hazy glass curve of the magician’s crystal that held this strange dream world.

Wiley stared out the glass as well, wrapped in the same bemusement. “It’s an inlet of the sea—I forget what it’s called. On a clear day you can see the mountains on the other side.” Today she wore a sky blue robe with a long sapphire over-tunic trimmed in black embroidery. She stroked one sleeve of it absently, in a faintly troubled way.

Jasmine shook her head, breaking the spell of the sea. “Beautiful,” she said to Wiley, suitably awed and then, “Let’s eat.”

Wiley laughed and moved towards the table. The manservant stood discreetly against the wall while the young woman made up the bed and collected Jasmine’s clothes, depositing them in a machine hidden behind a wall panel. Jasmine observed that her white uniform didn’t appear to be the best color for a maid as the woman began to clean the tub and then dismissed the matter. Maybe they had superior methods of stain removal here. At any rate, she had more important things to worry about.

She spread a napkin on her lap and had just opened her mouth to broach those matters when Wiley gasped and began to giggle. “What?”

“You had to sleep there?” Wiley pointed an unsteady finger at the bed.

She glanced at it, and the mirror on the ceiling, annoyed all over again. “Your sweet cousin seemed to think it was funny.” She surveyed the silver chopsticks and wide spoon beside her plate with consternation. Perhaps she should have tried harder to master the wooden ones in the Chinese restaurants back home. Picking up her spoon, she scooped a small taste of what appeared to be a sausage pilaf and nibbled on it experimentally. Satisfied, she took the serving scoop and piled a small mountain onto her china plate. “I won’t be sorry to see the end of him.” “Here, have some almond milk.” Wiley smiled almost nervously and handed her an insulated silver ewer.

“Almond milk?” She made a face as she accepted it and poured a little in a tall crystal glass. “What is this, planet of the health food junkies?”

Wiley shrugged in apology. “No dairy animals.”

Jasmine’s brows shot up. “What? No whipped cream, no butter?” Frowning, she took a cautious sip from her cup, a surprised expression crossing her face. “Ok, it’s not bad, but if someone whips out a brick of tofu, I’m leaving.”

Wiley swallowed nervously and toyed with her fork. Addressing it, she said, “You can’t.” At Jasmine’s stunned expression, she explained, “They won’t let you.” She risked a glance at Jasmine and saw her staring, unseeing, at her pilaf. She bit her lip. “They think you’re planning to cause trouble if they let you go.”

“Rescuing you, you mean.” She ground her teeth. Wiley said nothing. Jasmine tossed down her spoon. “What right do they have to hold you here, anyway?” she demanded, incensed. “Seems to me like they gave up on you a long time ago. Why take you back now, when you don’t want to go?”

Wiley sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair. “It’s worse. Jayems...” she drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair and blinked rapidly. “He claims he’s my husband.”

“What?” Jasmine stood up, tossing her napkin on the table. “For crying out loud, why?” Her hands on the table, she leaned over it.

Wiley’s lip began to tremble. “He claims we were ‘joined in a betrothal ceremony’ when we were kids.”

Jasmine shoved her chair away, her robe flapping against her legs as she stood up and paced, the better to rant. “That’s barbaric!” An awful thought occurred to her and she paled and then whirled to face Wiley. “He hasn’t tried to...”

Wiley’s eyes widened, reading her mind with the ease of long acquaintance. “No! No, nothing like that,” she hastily reassured her friend. “I don’t think he’d...I think he’d rather...” She cleared her throat and blushed. “Anyway, it’s the whole idea.”

“I should say so,” Jasmine agreed indignantly, pacing again. She spotted the male servant watching her and stopped, narrowing her eyes at him. No doubt he was sent to spy on them. Well, two could play that game. “What’s your name?” she demanded, and the man stepped forward calmly.

“Knightin, Lady,” he said with a respectful inclination of his head.

She puzzled for a second over the lady—he made it sound like a title—but let it pass, assuming it was a substitute for ma’am in this neck of the woods. She studied his vaguely attractive face for a moment, noting that his long rusty hair was also tied in the back. Long hair appeared to be in fashion on this world. “How do you get a divorce here?”

A gasp came from her right, and she whipped her head around in time to see the maid fumbling for her dropped feather duster. Score one for the home team.

Good, she thought with fierce satisfaction.

Knightin’s expression turned wary. “It is not done, Lady.”

“It’s not done, or it can’t be done?”

He shifted a fraction and took a slight breath. “If a woman can prove she has no desire for her bond mate, than she may be released from her bond, however—”

Jasmine smiled triumphantly at Wiley and watched her shoulders begin to relax. “There, you see? Nothing to—”

“However,” Knightin interrupted, “—in the Lady Rihlia’s case, it would be almost impossible to obtain.” He seemed almost angry, and Jasmine wanted to find out why.

Forcing herself to sit back, she motioned for him to have a seat opposite. “It’s uncomfortable to look up to someone while I’m talking to them. Please.” He complied, but he perched warily on the edge, looking ill at ease. She pretended to be distracted by the view for a moment, letting him stew as she served herself a dainty wedge of baklava. It was difficult to suppress a mischievous smile when she offered him some and he refused. “Now then, please explain why Wiley would have trouble divorcing this Jayems.”

He looked like she’d forced a bite of Chinese bitter melon on him. “Lord Jayems,” he emphasized the title like a nanny prompting diction, “Is the successor to Lord Rohmeis, but only through his bond with Lady Rihlia.”

Jasmine winced a little at all the foreign terms and then looked at Wiley significantly. “So without Wiley, the leadership, or whatever it is, goes poof, huh?” Two could play the name game, and she was not calling Wiley by that stupid name. She took a thoughtful bite of flaky pasty and mulled that over. “But would Wiley really be forced to stay with him if she didn’t want to?” she wondered aloud.

Knightin relaxed and answered with a touch of male arrogance, “Considering the type of bond they share, it’s unlikely that ‘wanting’ could even be an issue.” When they just stared at him, he clarified with satisfaction, “Their bond was determined by casting a lot.”

Jasmine’s temper began to get the better of her again. “Are you telling me...” she paused to control her tone, “that my best friend’s future husband was determined by essentially drawing straws?”

Taken aback, he tried to explain, unconsciously speaking with his hands in his agitation, as well as his voice, “The lots are holy, reliable instruments of—”

“I don’t care about your holy mumbo jumbo!” she shouted at him, leaning forward and gripping her spoon like a miniature weapon. “How could her family do that to her? Where were her parents? Don’t answer that,” she cut him off, raising a hand in warning. “I might get sick.” She glanced at Wiley, who looked worried again, and made herself calm down. Wiley didn’t need her losing her temper. She had it rough enough already.

But it wasn’t fair—none of it. Wiley had already been through too much. Growing up an orphan was tough enough. Suddenly finding an entire family and being snatched by an alien world was more than enough to deal with without watching her friend throw temper tantrums on top of it. What they needed was a plan, and she had just the thing.

She touched Wiley’s hand gently. “Don’t worry about it, Wile E. Coyote,” she teased. “We’ll just treat him like a wart—a little liquid nitrogen, a little discomfort, and poof, he’s gone.” Wiley laughed, as she’d intended. Knightin turned an unhealthy shade of bing cherry, but said nothing.

She eyed him speculatively. “So, what exactly are your orders? Besides reporting every word we say, that is?” She watched in satisfaction as his jaw clenched, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Do you have to follow her everywhere she goes, or only when she’s with me?”

Annoyance simmered in his manner, but his answer was straight forward enough. “Only when she’s with you, Lady.”

She laughed, pleased that he’d confirmed her suspicions, and told Wiley wryly, just to see her smile, “I guess you’d better step out while I get dressed then. There’s only so much I’d care to have reported about me.”

Wiley chuckled and waved her hand, more like her old self. “Go use the dressing room, brat. I promise not to let anyone follow you.”

Jasmine entered the dressing room and closed the door behind her before examining the bundle of clothing that Wiley had brought her. Knowing Jasmine’s tastes, Wiley had selected clothes suitable for a working class woman on the go. There was a pair of black leather boots with breathable canvas panels in just her size—bless the girl!—and several pairs of socks. Comfortable black pants in a material similar to extremely thick silk with a button fly closure and a belt had been included. She set them aside while she searched for underwear.

That was when she hit the first snag.

In disbelief, Jasmine dangled a pair of silky lace panties up in the air, her mouth gaping as the black material parted at the crotch, forming a butterfly. She’d never owned such a scandalous undergarment in her life, and she couldn’t believe Wiley would actually bring her such a thing. Yet here they were, several pairs of them. Yep, she could choose to be risqué in either fire engine red, silver, black, white or midnight blue.

It got worse.

Jasmine had once seen a picture of some ancient Mediterranean pottery where the women wore a type of short sleeved bustier/vest that had boosted their breasts. The garments had been cut out around the breast itself, leaving the naked breast lifted up and exposed as if held in two cupped hands, rather like an offering.

If she wasn’t holding an exact replica, it was dang close.

“Wiley!” she roared, “Get your butt in here!”

Wiley entered on the run. Jasmine held the offending garment up accusingly, and her friend blushed all the way to the roots of her hair. “Don’t blame me,” she said defensively. “They’re standard issue here.”

Jasmine’s eyes boggled, dropped to Wiley’s chest and then hurriedly away. She was not going to ask. “Fine,” she said, her voice strained. “I still can’t believe you brought them, though. As if I’m going to wear a bright red...” she dangled the garment on one finger. “What do you call this thing?”

Wiley crossed her arms. “I never actually asked, and for your information, I wasn’t the one who picked them out.” She paused a moment, letting the horror build and then informed her, “Keilor got them for you after I mentioned you needed a change of clothes.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then, “You let your cousin pick out my underwear?” She ended on a shout.

“He picked out your boots, too, and I don’t hear you complaining about them,” Wiley pointed out.

Jasmine shut up. Some humiliations in life were best not dwelt upon. Trying not to think about it, she put on the black panties, socks and pants. At least the pants were comfortable, she consoled herself. That left the naughty tops to choose from and several long scarves of matching colors.

Still wearing her robe, Jasmine picked one up scowled at it. “What am I supposed to do with this, wrap it around my head and pretend I’m a pirate?” she asked irritably. Since Wiley didn’t know, they called in the maid for a consultation. It turned out that the scarf was made to be worn crossed over the breasts and tied at the back of the neck for a bandeau. Somehow the maid convinced Jasmine to put the bustier thing—which she called an overnji—over the bandeau and at least look at it.

“It’s very respectable,” the older woman reassured her. “My daughters wear it all the time.”

“I look like a harem girl.” Jasmine muttered sulkily, staring at the midnight blue overnji and white bandeau she’d been conned into.

Wiley smirked and grabbed the dark blue sash and wound it low about Jasmine’s hips, knotting it at the hip. “There,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and standing back to look over her creation. “Now you look like a harem escapee turned pirate.”

“Why, thank you, Wiley,” Jasmine sneered, stalking out. “That is so much better.” She yanked open the armoire doors and extracted a brush she’d discovered there the night before. Eyeing the top in the mirrored doors as she worked the tangles from her hair, she decided that it wasn’t so bad. At least her stomach was flat. Heck, she’d worn crop tops in public that bared about the same amount of skin and never thought twice about it. Of course, none of those had ever been chosen for her by a man.

With effort she chased the image of Keilor holding her new panties in his hands, perhaps imagining her in them. It was swiftly replaced by the image of him looking over the overnji, trying to guess at the size of her...

She took a deep, deep breath and then expelled it slowly. Keilor wasn’t thinking about her breasts, or anything else for that matter. Men who looked like he did didn’t need to fantasize. Shoot, for all she knew, he was happily married and had three kids, not that she cared.

What she needed to be thinking about was getting Wiley and herself back home where men were manageable and the local police force didn’t look like the cast of Howling III.

They needed a plan.

Chapter 3

Keilor shook his head as Knightin’s recording finished late that afternoon. “I think we can conclude that she’s cagey, disrespectful, and definitely up to no good.”

Jayems gave him a thoughtful look from where he sat, arms crossed, on the edge of his desk. He unfolded himself and stood, drumming long fingers thoughtfully on his desktop. He slanted a look at Knightin. “How did the Sylph affect you?”

His captain frowned at the memory. “Like a bloody panting boy with an armful of naked woman. It’s making me wish that I’d fixed my interest elsewhere long before she ever showed up.”

Keilor snorted with amused agreement. “Ah, the bliss of a man already spoken for. Too bad our doctors can’t replicate that protective little brain chemical. It would save us all a lot of grief. Short of becoming a Haunt with no sex drive or chance of falling in love, the rest of us are stuck.”

Jayems shook his head. “This is not good, Keilor. I don’t like my options.” He ticked them off grimly on his fingers. “I can send her back and pray that she won’t cause trouble.” Their eyes met, and he closed that finger back into his fist. They both knew it wasn’t worth the risk. “I can lock her away from all but my wife, women, and mated males.”

“And have Rihlia resent you forever,” Keilor concluded.

Jayems withdrew that finger, clenching his fist. “Never,” he swore. “We will work past this. In the meanwhile...”

“Find her a lover, my lord,” Knightin suggested reasonably, and they looked at him in surprise. He’d made no secret of the fact that he disliked the presence of the Sylph and her subversive essence as much as anyone, dreading the influence that it would have on his men. Knightin hated disorder, and a Sylph was the definition of it.

“That might work,” Keilor agreed and looked hopefully at Jayems. He didn’t care for the woman’s influence on him, either. The sooner she was mated, the sooner her wretched power would be confined to one poor soul, and the rest of them could get on with their lives as before. He frowned, momentarily displeased by the thought of the lucky—unfortunate—man that would be the focus of all those intensely erotic Sylph pheromones. Then he shrugged it off. It was only the lingering affects of her remembered scent making him possessive, and an excellent example of why Knightin’s suggestion was a good one. “I’m for it,” he asserted firmly.

Jayems looked hopeful for a moment and then scowled. “It can’t be just a lover. By forcing her to stay and accepting her as a guest of my lady, I’ve declared her my guest as well. Honor dictates that I can’t scheme her into such a disreputable position. Besides, a lover wouldn’t be good enough. As long as she’s not securely attached, the men will still vie for her.”

Knightin nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, it will have to be a mate,” he agreed, practical as always.

Keilor noticed Jayems eyeing him thoughtfully, and the hair rose on the back of his neck. He scowled. “Forget it, cousin. I’m not wedding to solve your problems.”

His lord shrugged. “It will have to be someone like you, a man of rank. Preferably a warrior of strong will.” He grinned wickedly. “She would trample anyone less.” Decision made, he went to his desk, sat down, and pulled out pen and paper. “Very well. What lambs shall we toss to the slaughter?”

Jasmine hurried through the giant trees, forcing her lungs to work. She was still amazed she’d managed to slip away from the guards during the game of ‘go find’. Even with Wiley’s long counts, and the fact that she’d only traveled half this distance before, it would be a matter of minutes before the Haunt guards caught on, and they would find her in no time. Lemming wouldn’t know enough to slow in her tracking, either. At least they’d managed to work their way deep into the woods for this last game, and she was certain that the spot she’d traveled through worlds was just up ahead. With any luck, her stuff would still be there; if not on this side, then the other.

It had better be, otherwise, she was in deep kim chee. She couldn’t survive the September temperatures of Alaska for two days without protection.

She caught a flash of wild animal eyes, and, thinking of the alien wolves, ran faster. Please, God, no, she prayed. She didn’t want to end up a Jasmine burger.

Nothing smelled right. The exotic scent of the redwood forest seduced her brain, invigorating and enervating all at once. Odd calls sounded through the deepening twilight, and she felt something squish against her knee. Giving a little shriek, she looked down to discover that she’d plowed over a huge mushroom with a brown cap the size of a Stetson hat. Something skittered through the ferns to her right and she whipped her head around in time to see a black beetle the size of a terrier heading away from her.

She ran.

Without warning a shadow detached itself from the forest and stepped into her path. She cried out and staggered back a step. Then she recognized him. Keilor.

Oh, oh.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, and electric intensity vibrated on his words.

Though he’d half expected it, Keilor wasn’t thrilled at the position she’d placed him in. As a Master of the Hunt, it was one of his responsibilities to see to his people’s safety. By running away, most likely to bring others of her kind into his world, she was endangering the Haunt and all he held dear. That he could not allow, and he would do what he must to keep her from doing it again.

Even if he wished that things could be otherwise.

She hunched over, sucking in air and hiding her eyes. “We were playing ‘go find’,” she offered, knowing he knew the truth but hoping he’d accept her excuse.

He didn’t.

He stepped forward. “I win.” Her eyes widened in alarm as he invaded her space. “You seem to have a problem with authority,” he observed with deliberate menace, and she swallowed. “Perhaps it’s time to acquaint yourself with the law of your new land.”

Jasmine wasn’t immune to intimidation. Unfortunately, whether he knew it or not Keilor’s advance was playing havoc on her body. Nerve endings his dream-self had ignited in the night leapt to life as half-remembered visions chose that moment to flash in Technicolor glory through her mind. Mercy! Could the real man possibly live up to her lover of the night?

A reckless thrill raced through her and flashed in her transparent face, and she prayed that he wouldn’t notice. The answering flare of heat in his eyes, quickly masked, said he did.

“Justice is swift,” he continued, forcing them both to focus on his point. Whatever it had been. “Punishment, often cruel.” His dark gaze swept her, sizzling with what lay unspoken between them. “So reckless, little dragonfly. So eager to tease danger.“ He stepped back, holding out his hand. “Give me your sash.”

Jasmine’s hands clamped protectively around it as she took a step back. “Why?”

Arctic chill slipped into his voice. “Do you give it to me, or do I take it?”

Instinct told her he wouldn’t really hurt her. She knew it on a level that had nothing to do with logic or emotion, in the same way that she had always known whether or not someone was out to harm her. That discernment had never been wrong, and it was what gave her the confidence to yield. Swallowing hard, she slowly unwound it and gave it to him, her arm at full extension.

He grasped her wrists and raised her arms above her head as he bound them to a convenient branch.

At that point Jasmine should have struggled. She knew it. Hey, maybe he knew it, too. She told herself he was bigger, and stronger, and she’d never get away. All lies. None of that had stopped her before. None of it would have stopped her now if she hadn’t wanted....

The air was warm, but she shivered. Let him think it’s fear, she begged silently, closing her eyes. Just this once I don’t want to think about it. Besides, it was too late.

His eyes never leaving hers, he flicked open the clasp of her overnji. She flinched. As if he owned her, he leisurely trailed his fingers over the fluttering vein in her silky neck, pausing just a moment to trace the iridescent dragonfly on her necklace. Her breathing picked up, and he smiled a little as his nose caught the unmistakable scent of Sylph desire. For a moment he forgot it was terror and not passion that he was supposed to be inspiring, and he reveled in her response. With his eyes half closed, he drank deeply of her intoxicating perfume. Then he recovered himself with a shake as he remembered that this was supposed to be a lesson, not a seduction. Angling his head, he moved to kiss her. She snarled at him. “Behave,” he warned her with sensual promise, “or I’ll bite back.” She nipped him anyway, and he nipped her back sharply on the bottom lip, careful not to damage her tender skin. She gave a shocked whimper and jerked back. “Behave,” he repeated and then licked the small hurt to soothe it. The soothing turned without warning into a commanding kiss, full of hot persuasion.

Jasmine was having second thoughts. Whatever had possessed her to let him do this? The man was arrogant enough as it was without her giving in to him like a spineless fool. Now was a fine time for fear to start speaking sense! Never mind that it was a fear born of inexperience. She didn’t want to look like a complete dolt.

And so she fought him. Stiff with need to retaliate for the loss of her self-control, she tried to bite him, but it took only moments for thoughts of revenge to be swept away by the siren call of their desire. She moaned in need, began to kiss him in return and then jerked back with a mortified gasp.

He laughed softly, knowingly against her ear, and she shivered. Her favorable response to him was flattering, and he knew that she was not happy about it. It was not what he’d intended. He’d have done nothing more than scare her into obedience if she hadn’t betrayed herself with her unmistakable desire. Now heat like a river poured through him, consuming restraint, daring him to test her limits. When would her passion run dry?

Pulling back, he flashed her a predatory smile, and untied the knot of her bandeau. He left the ends draped loosely over her neck, still protecting her breasts from his eyes, but the slightest movement on her part would cause them to slide it right off. She held very still, but her pupils smoked over, and her body spoke of anticipation, not fear.

Barely breathing, she watched him warily as he traced a finger across her full lips, up to her temple, down her jaw and then ever so slowly down her throat, her breastbone, and all the way down the long, vulnerable stripe of soft skin exposed by her unfastened and brief overnji to finally circle her pretty navel and dip slightly below the first button of her pants. She shuddered, and it wasn’t with fright. He grinned in pure enjoyment.

With one hand he grasped the white bandeau where it crossed her back and slowly pulled it away, baring her breasts. She gasped as her nipples were exposed, visibly struggling to control her breathing. It didn’t work, and her lovely breasts thrust forward with every inhalation, begging for his attention. The nipples tightened under his gaze. He met her eyes with a look hotter than molten gold. “Very nice,” he approved hoarsely, and she shut her eyes and writhed against her constraints. Understanding what she needed, he unfastened the buttons on her pants and heard her breath catch in anticipation.

He was killing her.

With excruciatingly erotic, nerve wracking slowness she felt the soft slide of heavy silk as he lowered her pants just enough to be able to trace the top line of dark lace revealed. Another hot tremor seized her, and she sucked in a hissing intake of breath. To cover it, she snapped, “Enjoying yourself?”

His eyes were full of sultry promise. “Oh, yes, but not nearly as much as you’re about to.” He smiled when her hips jerked in randy enthusiasm at his words.

She swore, furious at the sexual control he had over her body. So I want him, so what? She thought angrily. It’s just hormones; just lust, and I don’t have to admit to him how my stupid body feels about him. He was too arrogant, and he delighted in trying to scare her. Why should she give him even that much without a fight?

Unfortunately, to fight him was to fight her own traitorous body, and it was showing signs of surrender under his tender assault that even a blind man couldn’t miss.

Keilor wasn’t blind. He flashed her a wicked smile that made a sheen of sweat break out all over her body. Lightly he ran his nails over her hips, up her sensitive sides to cup her tender breasts. She cried out and her body surged forward, begging for more.

“With pleasure,” he whispered, and rolled her nipples between his thumbs and fingers. She tried to hide her face against her arm, but she could do nothing about her pleasured cries. The wretch kept his touch light; just enough to tease, not enough to satisfy, and her body jerked as she tried to restrain it from thrashing. His hands trailed downward over her flushed skin, pushing her pants down just enough to bare the scandalous panties beneath. With his hands spanning her hips, his thumbs lightly stroked along the very edges. In a low, dangerous voice, he asked her, “Will you be toying with me again?” He didn’t need to be more specific. They both knew that he referred to her attempted escape, and now she knew he took it personally. Very personally.

She gritted her teeth, unwilling to give him the words, knowing that he already understood she wouldn’t lightly defy him again. Her hips twisted once under his caressing hands and she let out a strangled sound of frustration and rage. Boldly, he reached down and lightly touched her erotic nerve center once. Even braced for it, a scream nearly tore loose from her straining body. He removed his hand, but still she thrashed, fighting against losing all dignity and begging him for more. He waited until she regained some shreds of control and opened desperate, glittering eyes at him. Holding her gaze, he slowly pulled up her pants, savoring each uncontrolled jerk that told him how much her body fought the deprivation of his touch. Pain, her body cried. Pain from needing it. His eyes told her he understood, and that at the slightest word from her he’d ease the hurting, but that he knew better than to expect such a request from such a proud creature.

Curse pride, anyway.

He dressed her as leisurely as he’d undressed her and then set her loose. Without a word she turned on her heel and headed back the way she’d came.

He didn’t try to talk to her, and he seemed content to let her set the pace. It wasn’t much, as gallantry went, but she’d take what she could get. She wasn’t up to idle chatter just then.

She’d felt desire in her life, she thought, wading through the fern fronds. Even hot, raging lust, but she’d never before walked through fire. The idea that a mere stranger could do that to her, could make her nearly frantic with need, did not please her.

Maybe there’s something in the air, she thought suspiciously, taking a discrete sniff. Maybe it’s not me at all, but something to do with that thing he calls me. What was it, a Sylph?

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she asked, “What is this Sylph business about, anyway?”

He looked at her, obviously surprised that she would choose to speak to him. He took a moment to answer. “A Sylph makes men want her. It’s the special pheromone she produces that makes the Haunt male wild.”

“I thought a Haunt was a guard,” she said with a sharp glance.

“It is a guard, but also the term for our race,” he explained, looking at her with curiosity. Her interest would have to be powerful indeed to cause her to seek knowledge from him so soon after his...chastisement.

She kept her eyes straight ahead, ignoring what his accent was doing to her insides. “So what does this pheromone do to me?”

He stopped in surprise and then caught himself and continued on. But his tone carried definite inquisitiveness as he answered, “Nothing. You’ve possessed it all your life and it’s done you no harm.”

She clenched her fists. “Then it doesn’t make me...” she left the rest unsaid, not wanting to make a fool of herself. Too late.

She saw him grin out of the corner of her eye. “No,” he answered with an insufferable note of male pride. “You can blame me for that.”

Humiliated all over again, she kept her head down and walked faster.

“Are you all right?” Wiley demanded the moment she and Lemming entered Jasmine’s room. The door closed behind her, sealing off the illumination from the hall and enclosing them in the deepening gloom.

Jasmine looked at her broodingly from the tan and chocolate velvet couch she was lying on. “Where’s your keeper?”

Her friend waved an impatient hand. “Gone. But how are you?” She knelt in front of the couch, concern etching her brow. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” Not wanting to pursue that path any further, she quickly asked, “How did he know? There shouldn’t have been enough time for them to figure anything out.” She’d been going around and around in her head over Keilor’s dreadful timing, but had yet to understand how they’d given themselves away. They’d thought they’d been so careful...

Wiley snorted and moved to an armchair, tucking one long leg under herself. “Lights,” she ordered and then, “Shutters.” Satisfied with their privacy and the improved illumination, she said, “They figured it out right away.” Her lower lip protruded just the tiniest bit. “The Haunt brought me back here and Jayems told me that they knew.” She shivered, remembering what else he’d said. Her eyes swept down. “I was afraid of what Keilor would do when he found you.” She peeked through her lashes to see Jasmine busily avoiding her eyes. Her voice ached when she asked, “What did he do, Jas?”

Hearing that note, Jasmine looked at her and then up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. If she didn’t tell her, she’d imagine the worst and spend days brooding about it and convincing herself that it was somehow all her fault. Besides, this was Wiley. “He tied me up to a tree and kissed me,” she confessed quickly, hoping she’d drop it, knowing that she wouldn’t.

“What?” Wiley looked as if she didn’t know whether to be outraged or titillated. Her expression became thoughtful, even speculative, and her eyes moved as if replaying something in her head. As if thinking out loud, she asked, “How was it?”

Jasmine bounded off the couch, putting another armchair between them as if to stop the flow of curiosity. “Wiley! How could you ask me that?” she hissed in acute embarrassment. A casual friend would have raged over Keilor’s behavior and called lightning down on his head. Someone else would have made dire threats against his manhood and commiserated with her.

There were definite disadvantages to having a friend who knew you so well.

Wiley regarded her with a touch of skepticism. “I know you’re attracted to him. I saw you eyeing his backside earlier.” When Jasmine flushed and mumbled, she went on knowingly, “And if he’d hurt you, or you’d hated it, you’d be upset in a different way. So come on,” she coaxed. “Spill the beans.”

Jasmine kneaded the back of the chair and then grumbled, “It was...okay.”

Wiley’s eyes brightened and she sat up attentively, drawing her other leg under her. “Just okay?”

“Bah.” Jasmine hunched her shoulders and then admitted with extreme reluctance, “All right! Better than okay. More like...” she hesitated as she grudgingly allowed herself to recall the feel of Keilor’s lips on hers, his gentle hands. A shudder passed through her and she heard herself admitting softly, “All the stars fell and lit up my sky.”

Wiley’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she breathed.

Jasmine jerked herself back from the haunting memories and said forcefully, “But it’s not going to happen again.” She walked around the chair and sat down. Drawing her knees to her chest, she hugged them protectively. “I’m not going to let that snake get within ten feet of me next time.”

They sat in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts. Finally Wiley stirred and sighed with regret. “I guess we won’t be going home any time soon.”

Jasmine grunted and felt resentment well up in her. She wasn’t the sort of woman who gave up easily, and it galled her to admit that she felt cowed, but the memory of Keilor’s brand of sensual domination was enough to wipe out any immediate plans for escape.

She groaned and buried her face in her knees, letting the memories flash across the backs of her eyelids. Keilor’s lips, Keilor’s touch, Keilor’s blighted refusal to give her any kind of satisfaction! “A gun,” she muttered, scrubbing her face. “That’s what I need the next time. A gun to shoot the son of a bitch before he gets his hands on me.”

Wiley turned troubled eyes on her. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, Jas,” she said slowly. “Besides, he doesn’t seem like the kind of man to take it well if you turned a gun on him. He might...take it personally.”

Jasmine stiffened, considering the ramifications of a really enraged Keilor. If he did what he’d done to her that afternoon over a minor infraction, what would he do to her for threatening his life? she thought with alarm. It didn’t bear thinking about.

Besides, she didn’t think she could shoot him, not even a warning shot. Just the thought of it turned her insides cold. She sighed, admitting temporary defeat.

She’d have to sleep on it.

“Of course it would work,” Jasmine insisted. Gravel crunched under her new boots as she followed the path to the stables. This pair was made of a tough black fabric with panels that breathed, and were much better suited to the warm, humid climate than her leather hiking boots. Her brown ponytail swished across the back of her neck and her black T-shirt while she checked out the area, taking mental notes.

They were speaking in Pig Latin again to ensure their privacy. Acting on a suspicion, Jasmine had subtly tested her Haunt guard’s hearing and found it amazingly acute. She didn’t dare risk whispering as they had yesterday.

A groom led a haltered riding beast past them, and she saw Wiley raise a bare arm to shade her vision as she eyed the stocky creature with trepidation. The lucky girl had the good fortune to end up in the Haunt world with a tank top. The beast turned too intelligent eyes back at them and stared evilly, snorting in contempt for good measure. It had the body of a horse, but it sported more muscles than a weight lifter. More disturbing, its gray hide was covered with scales, and it had the clubbed tail of a stegosaurus. Rhinoceros-like horns sprouted from its nose.

She nudged Wiley. “The Arnold Swartznegger of horses.” Wiley’s snort of laughter made her smile as well, and she felt her shoulders relax a bit. They could do this.

Jayems hadn’t seemed to mind their request for riding lessons. In fact, he’d volunteered himself and Keilor as instructors. Keilor had seemed about to object until he’d noticed Jasmine’s obvious displeasure, at which point he’d graciously agreed.

The man did love to torment her.

Jasmine spied a row of tightly capped bottles full of a milky liquid sitting in the sun and hefted one thoughtfully. With a naughty smile she spun it by its neck and launched into the routine from the bar scene of Cocktail.

Wiley put one hand on her denim covered hip and chuckled as she watched her friend’s antics. “You’re going to break that.”

She grinned back, passing the bottle behind her back and up over her shoulder. “Never.”

Wiley snorted and flipped the end of her French braid back over her shoulder. “That’s what you said the time you dropped the shampoo bottle and broke it open all over the kitchen floor. We were skidding across the tile every day for the next three months.”

“Shoddy craftsmanship,” she retorted, but caught the bottle deftly and studied the cloudy liquid. “What is this stuff, anyway?” She looked up and saw their instructors approaching. Both were dressed for action in the black uniform and laced leather vests of the Haunt guard, but with the addition of red embroidered patches on their left breasts, possibly an indication of rank. The patches looked like Celtic knot work. Jayems also wore a torque around his neck. Of course the tanned skin with a light sprinkling of hair in place of the pelts of the Haunt made an enormous difference in how she saw the package. Jayems’ muscles flexed naturally as he walked, and for a moment Jasmine found herself envying her friend. She looked up and caught Jayems surreptitiously admiring Wiley’s backside. He noticed her noticing and raised a regal brow. What of it?

She refused to look at Keilor.

It was Keilor who answered her question. He took the bottle from her hands and considered it thoughtfully. “Partly digested Feeder beetle and browse.” He smiled faintly when Jasmine leaned back in disgust. “For the orphaned young stags.” He nodded his head towards the nearby pen holding three of the young creatures and replaced the bottle with the others.

“Stags are omnivores,” Jayems explained. Jasmine noticed that he stood just close enough to Wiley to make her friend fidget, but not close enough to excuse her from seeming rude if she moved away. The fact that Wiley was fidgeting and not freezing made her frown. She almost acted as if....

“They nurse at birth, but as they grow, they need more nourishment than milk provides. Gradually their mothers wean them onto regurgitated browse and prey...” Jasmine gagged, and even Wiley made a sound of disgust, “until they are old enough to find and digest their own food,” he finished wryly.

Jasmine, always the one with the weak stomach, looked at the stags with something close to horror and spoke before she thought. “And we have to ride these things?” She grunted when Wiley jabbed her hard in the ribs with her elbow.

“You need the exercise.” Wiley told her, giving her a significant look. “You wouldn’t want to lose the little muscle that you’ve got, would you?”

Jasmine bristled. “Just because I can’t run triathalons doesn’t mean I’m not in shape. I work out.”

Wiley snorted. “Sweating to the Oldies doesn’t count,” she said contemptuously. She regularly won triathalons, and she could be a bit of a prig about physical fitness. Unfortunately, she’d also decided to make keeping Jasmine in shape her life’s work, in spite of Jasmine’s exertional asthma and the fact that Jasmine could care less about clogged arteries or decaying bone density. It made for some frustrating moments.

“I never—” Jasmine protested hotly, but Jayems cleared his throat, cutting her off.

“Ladies,” he interjected, looping his arm through Wiley’s with smooth finesse, much to her consternation. He made a sweeping gesture with the other. “Adventure awaits.”

Keilor reflected wryly that he was hanging himself with his own rope. Proximity to the Sylph was what he needed to avoid, yet where was she? Nestled between his thighs and teasing him with her sweet little body and her luscious scent.

Not that she’d wanted to be there. It had taken some well chosen baiting on Rihlia’s part and a flat refusal on Jayems’ to ride with anyone other than Rihlia to get her into the double saddle at all.

He poked her. “Stop slouching and straighten your back. The stag won’t respect a spineless rider.” She obeyed him, but persisted in leaning forward to avoid body contact. He sighed in frustration and pulled her back flush to his chest with a small jerk, holding her shoulders to keep her there. “Unless you’re racing, you must sit straight in the saddle. You’ll never have a proper seat otherwise, and the ride will be uncomfortable.” He released her, and she silently did as he instructed. If her muscles got any stiffer, though, he’d be able to take her off the stag and use her for a poker. With that in mind, he began to massage her shoulders. She hunched them, trying to discourage him, but he persisted, and slowly she relaxed. “Better,” he told her. “A relaxed body will obey you better and help to keep your mount calm.”

As they continued down the deserted sunny road in the opposite direction from the gate site, her continued silence began to annoy him, and at last he asked, “Are you sulking because we’re nowhere near the hot spot or because you can’t shove me off this stag and trample me?”

Her answer, when it came, was not what he’d been expecting.

Jasmine turned her head to look at him. “Why do you make her stay here?” she asked quietly. “I don’t understand.” They both looked to where Jayems and Rihlia rode, several lengths ahead.

Keilor had seen Jasmine display many emotions, but this aching quiet stirred an answering sympathy in him. But more, he felt the need to comfort, and he hadn’t felt such tender emotion in a long time. It was something to ponder at another time, but for now... “Do you know anything of your family?” he asked gently, aware that the subject was likely painful for her.

She shrugged, but her voice was harsh. “Sure. My mother was an exotic dancer and my father was some Joe Blow off the street. A married guy with three kids she’d met at a party. He owned a used car dealership. What about it?”

He paused a moment, taken aback by her revelation. “You met them?” he asked tentatively, almost dreading her answer.

“My mother,” she paused and then admitted with great reluctance, "When she was drunk, before she died, she used to rant on about how I’d ruined her life.” She was silent a moment. “It was a lot more pleasant when she was stoned. Then she just ignored me.” At his questioning look, her cynical smile slipped back into place. “That means ‘drugged’, for you.”

What could he say to such a revelation? Would she even accept comfort from him? He cleared his throat. “It wasn’t like that for Rihlia. She was the baby of the family, and very spoiled. Jayems and I adored her from the moment we saw her. She was terribly charming, and very bossy.”

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

He shifted in the saddle, getting more comfortable, and went on. “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 eyes, 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 that 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’d said as much he might have closed her mind to everything he’d been trying to tell 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. Dang, but 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 earlier blocked her path, and he seemed to have business with her. Uneasy, she looked to her own guard, only to see him salute the newcomer with a fist over his heart and a slight bow. He gave her a slight nod as well and then returned the way he’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. As she relaxed, her steps slowed down 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 scent studded night while her guard settled himself unobtrusively against the wall. After a time, curiosity got to her.

“You guys don’t talk much, do you?” she joked 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 curiously, 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 warily, deciding 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 through the padding of her muscles against the hard step 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.

Jasmine slapped a deck of homemade cards on the table and a gold-chased crystal decanter of butterscotch cream liquor. “Prepare to lose, Wiley. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

“Ha!” Wiley plunked down a drawstring bag full of little snail shells and 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 olives and a jar of chocolate candies, she packed them to the dining table and then went back to search the cold pantry for some cold cuts or sausage. 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 supplied, clamping a bottle of fiery mustard under one arm and returning to the table, a large sausage and a plate and knife filling her hands. She set those down and went back to reconnoiter the kitchen cupboards.

“What are you doing, Jas, preparing to feed an army?” Wiley asked, leaning one hand on the table and resting 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 black clad 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 that I have some things to deal with before morning. Good evening.” Keilor barely spared him a glance before returning to savor the view. Lust fogged his vision as he inhaled her scent. Assaulted from two directions, it was all he could do not to act on the fantasy playing out in his head.

In his mind, they were alone, and he knelt behind her, reaching around to unfasten her pants while he licked his way down her lower spine, which was left bare by the high cut scarlet overnji. After the first shock of surprise, she welcomed his touch, sighing approvingly as he slowly lowered the fabric, baring that luscious behind and kissing—

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, drifting closer and snagging 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 re-entered 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 slow 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 shock wave thrill through them both. Jasmine gritted her teeth and gripped his shoulders, stiff with willful desire. He grazed his cheek against hers once in acknowledgment and then slowly slid his mouth to her own. Invisible sparks flew as their lips touched softly. Jasmine’s mouth parted a little of its own accord, and Keilor sipped, drawing delicately on the soft, damp interior, dragging his lower lip across hers. Her heart thumped like a piston as she slid her fingers into his dark hair, instinctively finding the clasp and freeing the silken strands.

So caught up was she that she failed to remember their audience until Jayems said with amusement, “Do you think we should leave him to her mercy or have pity and toss water on them?”

With a groan of heartfelt reluctance, Keilor ended the kiss and set her back. Aching, Jasmine scooted off his lap and felt her way back into her chair, her eyes still too dilated to focus properly. As her left hand connected with the back of her chair, she heard a clink. Dropping down heavily, she opened her hand to look at it and flushed. It was Keilor’s hair clip.

“Keep it,” he said with sultry satisfaction and then mimed a kiss. “A memento.”

The tide had definitely turned in favor of the men, and Jayems and Keilor kept stealing the ladies’ drinks in the name of sharp senses, though the liquor had little noticeable effect on them.

“You must be cheating,” Jasmine muttered, eyeing the pile of shells in front of their opponents with suspicion. They were on their last hand, and her cards were good. Almost unbeatable. Unfortunately, as the liquor wore off she became less willing to take the chance of losing again. As it was she started trembling just thinking about the consequences of defeat.

Still...It was a lot of money. Maybe enough to get them home again. Could she afford to lose this chance when the odds were so completely in their favor?

Keilor raised the bet and Jayems folded. Wiley was already out, and Jasmine couldn’t cover the bet. Taking the last shot straight from the bottle for courage, she cleared her throat and asked huskily, “Would you be willing to take a promissory note on a game of strip poker for my ante?”

Wiley drew in a shocked breath of protest, but choked on her own saliva. While Jayems thumped her on the back, Keilor regarded her intently. “Strip poker?”

Jasmine looked down and tapped her finger on the table, her nerves jangling a warning. And whether she liked it or not, a dangerous thrill of anticipation. Would it be so bad to lose?

Mentally chastising herself for daring to think such a stupid thing, she said, “I’ll tell you after the cards are on the table.” If things went as planned, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because she wouldn’t be in a position to pay up.

He looked skeptical, but one look at Wiley frantically waving, “no, no!” and shaking her head at Jasmine and his expression turned speculative. With a graceful gesture, he tipped his cards onto the table.

“Heh, heh!” Jasmine gloated, tossing her own hand down and raking in the pot. She threw back her head and hooted. “Whoo, hoo!” Jumping up, she did a little war dance and then grabbed Wiley in a head lock and rubbed her head with her knuckles, chortling. “I win, I win!”

“Is she always like this?” Jayems demanded in disbelief, watching Jasmine dance a jig around the room.

Wiley snorted. “Only when she wins.”

Breathless, Jasmine came back to the table and began raking coins and shells into the drawstring pouch. Keilor dropped his hand over hers, pinning it to the table. When her startled eyes met his he asked, “What did I just lose?”

Pinned at an awkward angle over the table, Jasmine had nowhere to hide her hot face. “Ah...” Heat licked at her from his touch, making her tongue thick, and for a moment she felt a pang of regret. Losing might have been the smartest thing she’d ever done. She cleared her throat. “Strip poker is played in private. The ante is...the player’s clothes.”

Keilor sucked in a breath and his fingers tightened briefly before he slowly let her go and leaned back, contemplating the ceiling with a resigned expression. Somewhat subdued, Jasmine finished collecting her loot and then helped to clear the table. With everyone working at once, everything was quickly put away. As soon as it was done, the ladies took their winnings and left.

Keilor poured them both another drink and then saluted Jayems. “A greedy man would regret letting them win that last hand.”

Jayems smiled faintly. “Caught you by surprise with her offer, did she?” Keilor swore softly and gulped his drink, making Jayems laugh. His expression sobered. “How else am I to give them an allowance? Rihlia won’t accept anything from me.”

“Hm, well, she seemed to be accepting your kisses well enough at the end.”

A half-smile curved Jayems’ mouth. “And Jasmine yours.”

Keilor took a deep breath as desire flashed through him. “Bite me, I didn’t think I’d survive much more of that. The Sylph had to win, and swiftly.”

Jayems chuckled and poured them both another drink. “To women,” he proposed, raising his glass.

“To relief.” Keilor countered wickedly, and clinked his glass to Jayems’. A thought occurred to him and he cocked his head, causing the loose strands of his black hair, so like his cousin’s, to brush across his shoulders. “How do you intend to let the Sylph spend her allowance? It’s not as if she can wander through the markets.”

Jayems frowned and propped his chin on his fist. “I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose I’ll have to invite the merchants to bring their samples here.” He brushed his thumb across his lower lip, squinting. “What sorts of things do you think two women raised on Earth might be tempted by?”

“How should I know?” Keilor waved a hand in dismissal. “Females seem to wallow in silks and satins. Send for a dressmaker. Arrange for fittings. Find a perfumer and jewelers. Any merchant selling fripperies should do.”

Jayems shook his head at him. “Such promising husband material,” he mocked. “Yet so ugly.”

“Tell that to Jasmine.” He preened. “That woman couldn’t keep her hands off me.”

Smirking, Jayems pointed out, “She was drinking. You might have been a stag for all she knew.”

Keilor’s smile flashed. “I certainly felt as randy. Too much more of her and we would have both disappeared under the table.”

“And Rihlia would have been after you with a knife....”