Teasing Danger [Darklands Book 1] Read online

  Keilor's heart almost stopped when he saw her. The thin silk, though opaque, molded to her body in a way that made him very glad that it was he and not another man who was with her tonight. She wore her hair down, and it was all he could do not to drop what he was doing and make them both forget about dinner.

  There was something very intimate about saying the blessing with just the two of them. At first he placed his hands, as was customary, on her shoulders, but he couldn't resist allowing them to slide down her soft skin. He was so close, he felt her lungs expand to take in a silent, deep drought of air. When he laced his fingers with hers and wrapped his arms around her, she shivered. It was very difficult to let her go after the blessing was done.

  "Can I look at your um, sword?” Jasmine asked after they'd finished their dessert.

  He unsheathed it and handed it to her. “Be careful,” he cautioned as she moved towards the couch to study it in comfort. He followed and sat beside her.

  "How does it work?” she asked, turning the long knife this way and that, looking for a way to activate it. He took it away from her and slid his thumb against the guard. Instantly a blade of blue energy appeared, eclipsing the razor edged steel. She didn't try to take it back, just looked it over carefully, catching his eye and nodding when she was done. The blue hummed back into the blade, and he gave it back to her.

  "The energy source is inside the haft. I release the beam when I slide the catch."

  She looked it over a little longer and gave it back to him to be sheathed.

  She settled back against the pillows plumped against the arms of the couch and bent her knees, bringing her bare feet up on the cushions. For a moment, she watched him. “I know why Rihlia didn't tell me about the Haunt. Why haven't you?” When he frowned, uncertain exactly what she was asking, she elaborated, “You shape shift."

  "Ah.” This was definitely a subject to be approached with caution. He didn't want to foster any more distrust than she must already be feeling. “If you had known in the beginning, what would you have done?"

  She snorted. “Run screaming for the woods?"

  He rolled his eyes. “And at what point after that would I have known that it was safe to tell you without fear of hysterics? Your people used to burn mine at the stake, Jasmine,” he told her, very serious. “I was not eager to see you hate us."

  There was nothing she could say to that.

  He searched her face. “And now that you know what I am, do you fear me?” Every muscle in his body tensed, waiting for her answer.

  She kept her eyes on her knees. “Are you willing to be patient with me? It's the same with Rihlia. I know better than to fear the woman, but I don't know the Haunt."

  He slid down beside her, careful not to let his weight crush her. “You know this Haunt.” He let his lips slide across her parted mouth, once, twice. “He burns for you,” he whispered, and slowly withdrew. Exercising great restraint, he took a deep breath and placed her feet in his lap. They needed to talk, but he felt that if he didn't have some kind of contact, he would die. “You know that I can not give you children."

  Jasmine swallowed hard. “If I had met you when I was forty-five, we might not have had kids, either."

  "You are not forty."

  "I might not be able to have kids anyway, for all we know,” she reasoned, biting the inside of her lip.

  "That's not likely,” he answered with grim logic. Delusions would not serve them. “I would like children, but I am not adverse to adopting them. I need to know how you feel.” So much depended on this, and he was not willing to let it wait for another day.

  She closed her eyes, and was silent for a long moment. Finally she said, “It depends. I can do it, but—” she took a ragged breath. “It's painful.” They were silent for a moment. “I know that this is the sort of thing that needs to be discussed, but isn't it just a little premature?” She tried to smile. “This is only a first date, after all."

  Keilor slid back down next to her. “That depends,” he answered, stroking her face with a gentle touch. “—on whether you're ready for this.” His kiss was light but full of passion and power. It did not take long before her hands were sliding into his hair, asking for more.

  It cost him much not to give it to her.

  He broke the kiss and moved back just out of reach. When she tried to pull him back, he resisted. “Are you ready to make promises to me, Dragonfly?” he asked before words could leave her opened mouth. “Are you ready to be mine and no other's?” She lowered her eyes, and he persisted, “Not just for a time, but for all time?"

  A rush of breath left her mouth. “I haven't had time—you're asking for some serious things, Keilor."

  "I'm a serious man."

  She pushed him back and sat up, scrubbing her face with her hands. “I didn't know that you were going to ask me this.” She clasped her hands and rested her weight on her forearms, which were propped on her knees. Staring at the floor, she said, “I'm not sure I know you well enough."

  Keilor forced his muscles to relax somewhat. He'd hoped to see this through tonight, but he had more mettle than she did. He could out wait her. Freeing one of her hands, he kissed it and then stood up. “As you wish. I can give you time."

  "Wait!” she called, as he turned away. She stood up. “Let me walk you to the door.” They paused in front of it, and he looked at her expectantly. She was blocking the exit.

  She shifted a little and then dropped her eyes. “Goodnight,” she murmured.

  "Goodnight,” he answered, wondering what else she had to say. It must be something, or she would move.

  She cleared her throat and muttered something. Looking anywhere but at him, she said, “It's customary where I come from to end a date with a kiss."

  She didn't see the wolfish grin, but she couldn't miss it when his arms slid around her and he pressed her up against the door. Before she could draw another breath he was inside her, kissing her mouth with a ruthless determination that left no doubt in her mind just how much he wanted her. She moaned when his thigh slid between her legs and rubbed against her, and he didn't care that her guards could hear them. His hand slid down and cupped her bottom, pulling her more firmly against him.

  "Keilor!” she gasped and then bit his neck, sucking with mindless need as he rubbed against her.

  "Promise me forever,” he ordered her savagely. This was almost more than he could take. “Give me the right to stay."

  She pressed her forehead against his chest, sobbing for breath.

  In the end, she waited too long to answer.

  Chapter 11

  "What are you doing?"

  Jasmine and Rihlia stopped practicing the self-defense move they were working on and looked at Keilor. He was back in uniform today and his bandaged biceps, and a few fading nicks and bruises, showed clearly. Jayems was right beside him in the empty courtyard, looking grave.

  "Practicing getting out of grabs,” Jasmine answered and wiped her forehead. It was difficult to look him in the eye after she'd all but begged him to stay last night.

  "Don't go,” she'd begged, even as she'd slowly allowed him to step back.

  He'd closed his eyes and slowly drew his hands away. “When you're ready,” he'd promised, and she'd moved away, disappointed, as he'd opened the door and left.

  He was making a bad habit of that, she thought, sulking somewhat. Bringing her attention back to the question at hand, she said, “Before that we were doing kicks. Why?"

  The late morning sunlight didn't quite reach the floor of their open air chamber, and cool shadows played across his face. “Do you really believe it will help you?"

  "It saved me from being raped once and robbed twice,” Jasmine returned tartly. “Yeah, I think it will help."

  "Twice?” Rihlia demanded sharply. “When was the second time?"

  Jasmine waved her off.

  Something painful flashed across Keilor's face. Jayems looked at him in sympathy and motioned for his wife to follow him. So
me things were better dealt with in privacy.

  "I'm glad for that, then,” Keilor said, coming closer. “But you aren't dealing with humans, now. A Haunt would literally tear you apart with his bare hands, Jasmine.” He looked at her gravely. “I could rip your body open with nothing but my hands."

  It was his quiet manner that disturbed her the most. Keilor might be arrogant, but he never boasted. He didn't need to. She looked down at his hands. They looked ordinary enough, but she'd seen him in action. She believed him.

  Agitated, she freed her ponytail, swept the loose strands back into place and twisted the band back around it. “So what do you suggest? If I've learned anything over the years, it's that bad guys don't strike when the good guys are in shouting distance. What am I supposed to do, let them hurt me without a fight?"

  A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  She saw it, and wrapped her arms around herself, sheltering her heart. “It's not that I don't think you'd help me if you were there, but you can't be there all the time,” she persisted. She could tell he didn't like it, but he was listening. “I know I can't match any of you physically. I'm not stupid. Still, even you got caught by surprise when I punched you in the nose that one time."

  He snorted, but she thought she saw a hint of a smile. “Blind luck."

  "Maybe, but what if I'd done something more deadly than just bloody your nose?” she argued. “What if I'd had a knife? The point is, the fact that I seem so completely helpless might just work in my favor."

  Keilor eyed her, attempting to distance himself from the situation and think of her as a scrawny, stunted cadet with a sharp mind and a healthy respect for her life. It was true, she would never come close to matching a Haunt in battle. The idea was completely ludicrous. However, when it came to sheer nerve and craftiness ... perhaps there might be something. First things first, however.

  Before she even knew she was in danger, he had her by the throat. He did not hurt her, but he was not polite about it, either. “You are dead,” he informed her grimly. “Your neck is broken and you are dead. As long as you expect nothing less, I can try to teach you something that might give you a few more minutes against a Haunt, as long as you are very quick and very sly. A minute might be long enough to let me reach you. Someone else might save your life. The odds of you escaping more than one man, unaided, are laughable. Do you understand?” She nodded, and he released her.

  Enveloping her in a crushing hug, he told her, “I don't want this.” He kissed her temple and rubbed his head soothingly against her. “I will never leave you unguarded for a second. I know you are brave, but my heart stops when I think of you resisting an assassin, because I see the ending.” His voice roughened. “But I won't deny you your chance for revenge, and I won't force to you to remain ignorant if you truly wish to learn.” He pulled back to gage her reaction. “This isn't necessary. Are you sure you wish to learn?” A touch of humor lit his eyes. “I'm known as a critical teacher."

  "Hmpf.” She drew back and straightened her black tunic. “If you get too annoying I can always get Mathin or Fallon to teach me. Or even Jayems."

  A crack of laughter escaped him. She had no idea. “If you think any of them would be an easier master, you're in for a rude disappointment.” He drew her closer. “Besides, if you think I'm going to allow another man so much access to you, you're sadly mistaken.” His voice lowered to a seductive purr. “I'm a very possessive man."

  "Are you?” she breathed against his lips, opening hers in invitation and sipping from his mouth.

  "Are you ready to marry me?” he asked.

  She drew back from him in frustration. “I like you better when you don't open your mouth,” she snapped. Why did the man keep doing this? She knew what blue balls were, but what did they call it for a woman?

  His eyes glimmered. “You like my open mouth."

  "Not when words are coming out,” she griped, pulling away. Fine, if he was going to be difficult then they might as well get down to business. “Show me how to use that,” she ordered, pointing to his holstered gun.

  Jasmine creaked into her room that night and shut the door stiffly behind her. She eyed the bed and bath, debating whether or not she could stay awake long enough to soak away some soreness, or if it would be better to flop down on the bed, sweat and all, and pray for oblivion. Reluctantly, she decided on the bath.

  He was trying to kill her, she thought as she hobbled over, sat down on the marble bath steps and plunked her head down into her hands. All right, he probably wasn't, but she strongly suspected he was trying to drive her so hard that she'd give up on learning self-defense all together. Only sheer mulishness had kept her at it for the last half hour, and when her legs had finally given out and dumped her on her butt, Keilor had just raised an eyebrow and inquired if she were finished for the day.

  Sometimes she hated that man.

  The only thing that consoled her, she thought as she gingerly stripped off her shirt, was the knowledge that she'd proven herself today. He now knew she meant business, and he'd ease up and get on with it at a more reasonable pace. After all, she wasn't one of his grunts. And if he didn't, she thought with dour resolution, he'd be sorry.

  "You'll have to do better than that."

  Jasmine lowered the laser gun in her aching arm and gave him a look. She knew how to use a gun, and she was a good marksman. He hadn't said a word the last five times she'd nailed the impossibly small dot on the stone wall he'd designated as her opponent's heart. Her jaw worked and she said tightly, “I hit the target.” One more patronizing, arrogant comment out of his mouth, and she'd—

  Completely uninterested, he shrugged. The movement caused muscles to ripple in his bare arms, but she barely noticed—or told herself she didn't. “If you're satisfied with merely nicking the center, instead of striking it dead on, then I bow to your womanly judgment.” Boredom colored his every word and it was all she could do not to slap his indifferent face.

  The morning had been difficult, at best. Keilor had run her through her paces with all the enthusiasm of one indulging a pampered child. With each patronizing bit of praise, or sigh of tolerance, her fury had uncoiled, and now it was barely under her control. Unfortunately, Keilor was making the supremely stupid mistake of treating even that with blasé disregard, which only added gunpowder to the fire.

  Jasmine had a wicked temper.

  Cradling her pistol in one hand, she gently tapped the black muzzle against her palm. Giving him an insincere smile, she said sweetly, “Since I'm such a lousy shot, I guess it's a good thing you only gave me a practice gun, huh?” She eyed him with malevolence. “Wouldn't want me to miss and actually damage anyone, would we?"

  He smirked. “You aren't ... quite that bad.” He squinted up at the sun. “After a time I may even allow you to practice with a real weapon.” A short laugh escaped him. “Then we will see if it will do you any good."

  She shot him.

  Standing sideways, with her arm angled across her stomach, she rotated the gun a fraction and shot the arrogant fool in his solar plexus. Then she stood over him and gloated.

  Haunt guards surrounded her immediately, and she looked up with immense satisfaction and proffered the butt of her pistol, inquiring, “Would any of you like to be holding the bag when he wakes up?"

  They checked.

  "No?” She quirked a brow and holstered her weapon. Crossing her arms, she stared down at him as she waited for the stun to wear off.

  As the minutes ticked by, her temper cooled, and she began to feel a touch uneasy. Pacing helped a little, but she couldn't keep from glancing at Keilor's prone body and wondering what he'd do when he woke up. Men weren't very forgiving when it came to public humiliation.

  That fact that he'd trampled her pride in front of witnesses wasn't irrelevant, but it began to seem less and less important as time dragged by.

  "What is this?” A rough male voice demanded. Mathin strode onto the practice field with long legged efficiency. “Why have you l
eft him there?” he demanded of the small gathering of Haunt and one sullen human.

  "He's fine,” Jasmine said as he squatted down to check for a pulse. “He's just taking a little nap."

  Mathin's look froze her blood.

  "He was being a jerk,” she defended herself, her eyes widening with indignation. Sheesh, it wasn't that big a deal. Everyone was acting like she'd just robbed a bank.

  "So you shot him in the back,” he said with contempt.

  She raised a brow and affected hauteur. “Actually, he was facing me at the time."

  He stared at her, incredulous. “And you have the gall to stand about waiting for him wake up?"

  Huffing in exasperation, she answered, “I try not to give into my cowardly instincts more than once a week. Besides,” she jerked her chin in Keilor's direction, “What's he going to do? Kill me?"

  Mathin's gaze was long and level. He glanced back at Keilor. “This is one time when I would take advantage of your supposed tender gender and depart, Lady Jasmine.” He stood and dusted his hands. “I can distract him for a time until his temper cools."

  She crossed her arms and stared at the ground. Tempting as it was.... “I would rather see this through,” she said quietly, speaking her thoughts. “Seeing him at his worst is preferable to imagining him at his worst, and I can assure you, I have a vivid imagination. Besides, if we.... “she trailed off, embarrassed, and chose other words than what she'd almost said. She wasn't willing to voice everything out loud. “It's better to learn to fight it out in a civilized fashion early on, you know? Saves time later.” She looked at Keilor and swallowed, murmuring. “Presuming there is a later."

  Keilor's eyes opened with a snap, and he was on his feet before Jasmine had time to blink. Snarling, he yanked her down across his bent knee and spanked her three times. When he was sure he had her attention, he pulled her to her feet and shook her. “What in the name of all that is holy did you think you were doing?” He shook her again, ignoring Mathin and the others. In all his years no one, especially not someone under his training, had ever dared to have such cheek. Had she been a man he would have pulverized her, but since she was a woman the best that he could do was blast her with words.