Teasing Danger [Darklands Book 1] Page 28

  A gray storm cloud drifted through Jasmine's heart, freezing her to the spot. “She bled a lot.” Someone gasped, and Jasmine opened her eyes to stare at the shaken Rihlia. “I'm sorry. No, there was nothing."

  Keilor squeezed her hand under the table, giving her support and comfort.

  "Still, it doesn't rule out outside influence. We don't know what knowledge her experiments might have given her. Regardless, if she's behind the disappearances, something needs to be done,” Jayems said, steepling his hands and touching his upper lip briefly. He raised his head a notch until his tented fingers rested against his chin. “Any ideas?"

  "Yesande would not welcome me back, so I can't go openly, but I am still familiar with her lair,” Mathin offered. “I could always seduce some information out of one of the women there."

  "Rather sure of yourself, aren't you?” Leo suggested, raising a brow.

  Mathin just smiled.

  Jasmine cleared her throat. “Why bother going to her? She seems to go to great lengths to get her hands on Sylphs. Why not make it easy for her? Wave a Sylph under her nose and she's sure to pounce."

  "No,” Keilor said in tone that brooked no argument. “You will not play bait.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he squeezed her hand under the table in warning.

  "She wouldn't have to,” Leo offered, standing up and moving beside Jasmine. Without a word, she reached out and took Jasmine's free hand.

  "Leo, no!” Jackson shouted, standing up, but it was too late. Their symbionts flowed together, forming one interlocked whole, and pulsed. Jasmine jerked in surprise as a warm buzz flowed through her body, concentrated in her left arm, and then flowed out through her symbiont and into Leo's. The symbionts separated and streamed back to their respective hosts.

  "Neat trick,” Mathin growled, his nostrils flaring as his eyes dilated.

  Jackson took one look at Mathin's hungry expression and ordered his sister with a killing look, “Purge it right now!"

  "That would be foolish,” she returned, standing firm, if wary. “The plan is a good one."

  Jackson's hard eyes swept the assembled Haunt. “Did you not think of what might happen to our women if word of this gets out?” he demanded of her.

  "I wonder if this stuff could be transferred to a man?” Jasmine murmured, eyeing her husband with speculation.

  "Don't even think it,” her husband growled.

  "Enough! Jasmine, stop making trouble, Mathin, behave,” Jayems ordered. “You do not have to worry about any of us making use of the information, Jackson. Yesande is the only one who would desire an army of lust crazed fools."

  Mathin glowered at him and slid his gaze back to Leo.

  Unnerved, her eyes flickered away from Mathin and settled with determination on her brother. “Do you have a better way to end this, brother? Who will it be next time, your wife, our little sister?"

  "Uh, Leo,” Jasmine interrupted. “Just so that you know, you're letting yourself in for a pack of trouble with this Sylph thing. I do hope that you can turn it off as easily as you turned it on, otherwise it might be best to consider other options."

  Jackson tensed, and Leo bit her lip. “I'll be all right for a while. The symbiont won't work the pheromone into my genetic makeup for at least a month."

  There was a tense moment of silence. “Three weeks,” Jackson finally bit out. “I give you three weeks, and not an hour more, understood?” Still very angry, he dropped back into his seat, and Leo followed suit. “Now what?"

  "Is it always like this?"

  Jasmine glanced at Leo, noted her unease, and smiled with sympathy. “Actually, it's been a great deal better for me since Keilor and I, uh.... “she waved a hand. “Since I got married and started bleeding off a little of ... whatever it is that makes them do that.” She indicated the nearly slavering Haunt males thronging the marketplace. Eyes lingered on Jasmine, but they positively glued themselves to Leo, much to the consternation of her Ronin escort. Jasmine's Haunt bodyguard handled it with stoic resignation. They'd been through all this before.

  All but Mathin, of course, who'd appointed himself one of Leo's protectors, in spite of Jackson's none too subtle hints to take himself off elsewhere. Leo's persistent suitor wasn't in sight at the moment, but Jasmine caught glimpses of him from time to time, and she knew that he was nearby, watching.

  Leo knew it, too.

  "What does he think he is doing?” she muttered in irritation that bordered on true anger as she caught a glimpse of Mathin through the crowd. “I hardly need another protector—Jackson is bad enough."

  Jasmine looked at her askance. “What? Don't you recognize lust when you see it?” Leo's face grew fiery with rage, but Jasmine said anyway, “Mathin's not such a bad sort. Granted, he's a lousy cook, but he's worth his weight in platinum when you find yourself in a mess."

  "You can say that, after he broke your arm?"

  "Given the choice between that and remaining Yesande's permanent guest, I'll take Mathin's way, thank you very much. It's crude, and it's rude, but you've got to admit, it's effective.” The scent of oranges reached out and seized Jasmine's nose, so she stopped and bought a couple of them. Handing one to Leo, she peeled it as they watched the basket maker under the striped awning next door make a laundry basket.

  Juice spurted as she dug her nails into the peel, releasing a delightful whiff of citrus. “So, do you have a sweetheart back home who'd object to all this male attention?"

  Pretending great concentration on her task, Leo shook her head. “No, but that is not the point. I do not like being stared at, and it's infuriating to know that their interest is merely a chemical reaction."

  Jasmine nodded. “Hard on the ego, isn't it? Not to mention danged annoying. But hey, look on the bright side, at least you can get rid of it.” She popped a juicy orange segment into her mouth and then umphed!, as though something important had occurred to her. Rolling her eyes as she chomped quickly, she finally cleared her mouth to ask, “Speaking of getting rid of things,” she held up her forearms, “What about these?"

  Gaping as though Jasmine had suggested killing the pope, Leo asked, “Why would you wish to do such a thing?"

  "Relax, Leo, I'm just curious. Now that I'm gotten used to the little guy, I kind of like him, but let's just say that something came up, and I needed to get him off. Then what?"

  "It is not done,” Leo answered in consternation. “The symbionts extend our lives, bring health, and provide all manner of help. They define who we are as a people. Why should anyone wish to shed one?"

  Jasmine raised an imperious brow, unknowingly picked up from her new Haunt family. “I define who I am, Leo, and no one else. I like being one of a kind, knowing that there's no one else just like me."

  "But don't you need a connection with someone? With others similar to yourself?” Leo pressed, sucking the juice out of the end of an orange wedge and licking an escaping drop, oblivious to the intensity of her audience with her attention focused on Jasmine. “Don't you have a need to belong?"

  Jasmine noticed the male Haunt's fascinated stares, and smiled. A teenage boy who was watching Leo and not his feet ran into his mother when she stopped to admire some silk, and earned himself a scolding.

  Her smile grew. “I do belong.” She placed a hand on her belly. “I belong to Keilor, and he belongs to me. If I never had anyone else, he would be enough."

  Leo looked away and shook her head. “I don't understand that.” Noticing her admirers, she scowled. “How can you even know that it's you he loves and that he's not caught in the spell of the Sylph?"

  Shrugging, Jasmine answered, “We're past all of that. He's said that he loves me and I believe him. It's there in his eyes, in the way that he treats me. It's in his kiss, like nothing I've ever experienced before, and it has nothing to do with skill. I believe that even if I'd never been a Sylph, we still would have come together. The pheromone isn't irresistible—it doesn't command the heart.” Jasmine grinned as she caught sight of Math
in, who was headed straight for them, and pitched her voice a tad higher. “It might have brought him to heel quicker, though."

  Dark eyes caressed Leo with unnerving intensity. “I'd be pleased to be at your heels anytime, sweet Sylph.” He leaned in closer, bridging her personal space, and murmured against her ear, or your knees, or even—"

  Leo shouldered him out of her way and stalked on, blond ponytail switching, hips swaying angrily. A low hum of appreciation vibrated from Mathin.

  Jasmine caught his arm. “She doesn't like you, Mathin."

  "Hm. The way you didn't ‘like’ Keilor?"

  Flushing, she crossed her arms. “That was different."

  Mathin smirked, “Did your husband ever tell you that we can smell a woman's arousal, milady?” Her eyes widened, and he flashed her a wicked smile of assurance. “Leo likes me very much, I promise you.” Pulling away from her slack grip, he followed after Leo.

  Jasmine blinked. So that was how it was. Still, she liked Leo, and she didn't want to see her get hurt. Not that her watchful Ronin escort would ever allow Mathin to get Leo alone ... but still. Jasmine well knew how such dogged pursuit by an irresistible rogue like Mathin could weaken a girl's heart.

  With a fatalistic sigh, she shook off her concerns, promising herself that she would not interfere. Love was a messy thing, but those two were both adults, and they'd just have to fight it out like everyone else.

  She just wasn't sure which one she ought to wish the luck to.

  The one walk through the marketplace was the last of its kind that Leo took. Her presence had been scented and witnessed, and now all they had to do was wait.

  "Seventeen days there, seventeen days back,” Jasmine said, shaking her head. “Unless Yesande has taken up residence in the neighborhood, or unless she's got someone closer to home keeping an eye on things, you're going to have to purge the Sylph thing, Leo.” She picked up one of the long sticks that speared the marinated meats and vegetables on the tray nearest her and moved from the table to the bonfire Keilor had built in the fire pit. The fire was the only light in the darkened and deceptively unprotected garden. Fireflies danced and whizzed through the rare black night, but did nothing to illuminate the six people around the fire.

  Mathin shook his head, taking the stick from her and laying it on the grill. The faint, flower scented breeze ruffled a lock of hair that had escaped his queue. It caught in the faint stubble at his jaw and he brushed it away with impatience. “It won't matter. Now that the word's out, she'll come for her, regardless. If she finds that Leo is no longer a Sylph, she'll be that much more piqued, and even more determined to get her hands on her. A power that comes and goes? It will smack of control, and Yesande could never resist that."

  Keilor shot a quick look at Jackson, saw that his jaw was clenched, and looked away. “The sooner, the better. We're ready for her. Though you—” he pulled Jasmine back into his arms, settling her between his bent knees and stroking her rounded belly, “—will stay well out of it."

  "Bossy, aren't you?” she teased, turning her face into him and rubbing her head against his chest, which was covered in a dark green silk shirt and not his uniform vest for once. “I wouldn't worry about it.” She affected a lofty tone. “Yesande wouldn't dare tangle with me again. After all, I thrashed her so badly the last time we met that she wouldn't risk the humiliation of a rematch."

  Keilor snorted in amusement, and Mathin raised a brow, looking at her askance, “And which time was this?” She stuck her tongue out at him, and he shook his head, chuckling. He rotated the shish kebabs, and the fire snapped and sizzled as their fats and juices dripped into its flames.

  "Do you ever miss your world?"

  Jasmine looked at Leo, surprised by the sudden question. “Why?"

  Leo shrugged. “You gave up a great deal to stay here. I was wondering if you have regrets."

  "Hmm ... I haven't really thought about it, so I guess not."

  Leo frowned and poked a stick at the fire, raising sparks. “There must be something that you regret leaving."

  Smiling, Jasmine snuggled deeper into Keilor's arms. “Nothing worth giving up this. Believe me, I've got the better end of the bargain."

  Leo grunted, unconvinced. “I don't care much for the swamps, but I wouldn't leave my family just to be with a man. We need every Ronin we can spare to take back our homelands from the beasts. Besides, I just can't see leaving my people."

  "You still have that choice. After all, you're not in love. I would have thought the same thing if I'd been asked before being yanked into the Dark Lands, but I would've come anyway if I'd thought I was needed.” Jasmine paused a moment, watching the fire. “Love isn't something that's easy to resist. Sometimes it's a pull stronger than the fear of the unknown."

  Mathin slanted a glance at Leo, and she quickly looked away, scowling. “I'd just as soon avoid it."

  Jasmine laughed and chanted, “Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man.” When the others looked to her for an explanation, she dismissed it with an airy wave, “It's nothing, just an old nursery tale. Are those done, yet, Mathin?"

  They were, and he distributed the skewers, adding more to the grill as he munched with one hand.

  "What I want to know is, now that you've gotten what you really came for—help ending the kidnappings—are you guys still going to keep to your trade agreements?” Jasmine asked after she'd finished her first shish kabob. “It's still worthwhile, isn't it?"

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, with neither side wishing to speak first. Finally Keilor said with caution, “I would not be adverse to trade, provided the Ronin are still willing."

  Jackson studied his denuded skewer. “We might be willing, on a trial basis, and on a much smaller scale than originally agreed upon.” He slid a wary gaze to Mathin. “We would require that all transactions occur at this citadel, however. The swamps are difficult at best to penetrate without a symbiont, dangerous at worst. We would not like to be responsible for any casualties."

  Jasmine grunted. “No offense, but you can have your swamps. I, for one, will die happy if I never have to see them again."

  Her words lightened what had essentially been a warning against trespassing, and Keilor relaxed behind her. “I think we can handle that, provided that you leave a permanent agent here to deal with any business that may come up. Preferably someone capable of acting as an ambassador, as well."

  For the first time that evening, Ma-at spoke up. “I am willing."

  "I need you at home, Ma-at. You're too valuable to me to leave behind,” Jackson objected. “It would have to be someone else."

  "I'll stay."

  Jackson glowered at his sister. “You are too young."

  "I am twenty-four,” Leo gritted out. “Hardly a child."

  "Hail the elder,” Jackson retorted with a sitting half-bow. “Sorry, white-hair, but you'll be going with us. I can't spare the men to watch over you."

  "Jasmine is my age, and look what she has done. Perhaps certain offices call for youth and flexibility,” she contended, setting her jaw.

  "She has a point,” Ma-at interrupted, interrupting what looked to be the beginnings of a royal argument with the ease of long practice. “I can stay with her, as well as two or three of the others. Besides, if she were back home, you'd only waste your energies finding things to fight about. Apart, you may actually get something useful done for the rest of us."

  "We would not like to see her get hurt,” Keilor assured him. “If you chose to let her stay, we will watch over her as well. You have my word."

  There was nothing Jackson could say to that without giving offense. Instead he said in a tone that brooked no argument, “We will talk about it later."

  It must have been a doozy of a talk, because when Jasmine next saw Leo, she was not happy. In fact, she was quietly simmering. She tried to discuss it with Keilor, but he had concerns of his own.

  "Whether she goes or stays matters littl
e at this point,” he said, leveling a stare at his wife across the dining table in their new suite of rooms. “What I want to know is, when are you going to start visiting Rihlia again? It's been weeks, and still you two do not speak unless thrown together."

  All appetite abruptly fled. Jasmine twiddled her spoon as if fascinated with the play of light on it. “She hasn't been feeling well."

  "All the more reason to visit. You can cheer her up."

  She squirmed. “Keilor...."

  He set down his cup of cinnamon tea with a sharp click. “What should you have done, Jasmine? Allowed Rhapsody to kill you? Would that have made Rihlia happier, do you think? I swear I am sick to death of this foolish dance you two are having. Do something! Scream, yell, fight about it if you must, but get it over with. Jayems and I have had enough!"

  Jasmine tossed down her spoon. “What do you recommend I say to her, huh? ‘Gee, fine weather we're having today. You're looking well in spite of the dark circles under your eyes and that nasty pallor. Oh, and by the way, I'm so sorry that I killed your mother!'” Her voice rose to a near shout at the end, and she shoved her chair away from the table, hurrying down the three steps from dining level to sunken living area. She plopped down onto an overstuffed chair of blue on blue.

  Keilor pried her fingertips away from her forehead and held her hands as he knelt before her. “We all do what we have to sometimes, my love. For myself, I am glad that you are still whole, still safely carrying our baby. You were willing to cross worlds for her, could she not cross this barrier for you?"

  In spite of Keilor's assurances, Jasmine did not go easily into the lion's den. He had to all but drag her to Jayems’ suite and deposit her inside Rihlia's room.

  He and Jayems stared at the closed door. When no one came bolting out of it immediately, they exchanged a wary glance. “How is it on your end today?” Keilor inquired.

  A muffled shout came from behind the door, and Jayems answered, somewhat distracted, “She grows more depressed and miserable each day. If I see one more tear I may have to run and hide."

  Swearing, foul and loud, issued from the door. “I hope that's your wife,” Keilor murmured. “I'd hate to think that my own woman could out-swear the entire garrison."