Scent of Danger Page 4

  Its blade was as dark as the hilt, but the most surprising thing was the grooves in the haft on either side of the blade. Careful not to touch the edge, which appeared razor-sharp, she probed the grooves, wondering at their purpose. Why would anyone want such a thing in their knife? If one were to actually use it, it would only collect...blood.

  A little nauseated by the idea, she was about to slip it back into its sheath when an arm came around and gripped her hand over the hilt. Startled, she screamed and tried to twist away.

  “Easy!” Mathin’s voice came in her ear, sounding rather pained. He released his grip on her waist and turned her about, carefully prying her hand from the hilt. “This isn’t for chopping vegetables, you know.”

  “You scared me to death!” she accused as she stepped back, bumping against the bed. “Stop sneaking up on me like that.”

  “No more than you did me,” he answered calmly, putting away the blade. “This is more dangerous than you know. I’d appreciate it if you don’t touch it.”

  Reminded she was trespassing, she looked away, chagrined. “Um, sorry about that. I was just looking at the rooms to see what I was going to have to clean and got distracted. I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

  “No harm done. But you don’t have to clean this room. I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “Oh.” Feeling rather like a chastened child, she slipped around him, intent on escape. When he made no move to stop her, she paused at the door and risked a glance over her shoulder. He hadn’t moved. What? No pass? Not a single risky comment?

  One dark brow went up in silent inquiry.

  A shake of her head told him it was nothing, and she left, baffled by his behavior. The man had caught her in his bedroom and hadn’t done a thing about it. Not that she’d wanted him to, she hastily assured herself. It was just odd, considering his earlier behavior.

  The more she thought about it, the grumpier she became, and by the time she reached her room she was in a door-slamming kind of mood.

  Fickle, that’s what he is, she told herself as she grabbed some clean clothes. I knew it! It rankled to be proved so right, though.

  The worst of it was the blow to her vanity. She’d been doing just fine, known she was only middling desirable, and then he’d swept in and filled her head with glitter. Now the party was over, the novelty exhausted and she was back where she’d started, albeit a bit bruised from the bumpy landing.

  Well, she was on to his game now, and wiser for the lesson. It wasn’t going to happen again.

  “Bon appetite,” Andrea said as she set the last dish on the dining table and prepared to retreat to the kitchen where she’d eat her dinner.

  “Are you not hungry?” Fallon asked, looking at the two place settings. “We would hate to lose your company for the meal.”

  Andrea studied the linen covered table, the candles, even the lighted china hutch in the corner, anything to appear busy. Straightening her shoulders, she looked Fallon in the eye and said, “Actually, I’d planned to eat in the kitchen. After all, this is a business relationship.”

  “Absolutely not.” Fallon entered the kitchen and came back with Andrea’s filled plate and teacup, setting it to his left. “I rather like your country’s tradition of informality. Besides, we are isolated enough here without forcing more distance.”

  Smiling like a cat, Mathin fetched a pair of chopsticks and a spoon from the china hutch, placing them beside her plate. The action brought him conveniently close enough to claim her as his partner for the blessing.

  Andrea tried not to scowl as Fallon spoke words of thanks. Mathin was up to his tricks again, and she didn’t like it one bit. She especially disliked the way her respiration increased and her blood sped as the warmth of his hands seeped through her clothes. It was a great relief when he seated her and returned to his place across the table.

  Mathin couldn’t miss Andrea’s sulkiness, and he suspected that it was due to his new reserve. A secret smile curved his lips. So, the little charmer resented the withdrawal of his affections. It almost made wearing the nose filter bearable.

  Since it was obvious she wasn’t going to be the one to speak to him first, he asked her, “What is the tea you drink? It smells interesting.” Of course he couldn’t smell or taste a thing at the moment, but she wouldn’t know that.

  She glanced at the pretty crystal cup. “It’s called sassafras tea. It comes from the bark of a tree. I use it to help control my blood sugar.”

  Mathin canted his head and studied the reddish-brown liquid. “What do you mean?”

  Used to explaining her oddity, though never comfortable with it, Andrea traced the rim of her cup. “I have hypoglycemia. It’s an inherited disorder. Diabetics don’t produce enough insulin—hypoglycemics make too much. If I eat too much sugar or too many quickly metabolized carbohydrates I get sick. Headaches, leg cramps, numbness in my hands and feet. Mood swings. Sometimes I get really cold or start to sweat.” She swallowed hard, reminded of some of the grimmer symptoms. “Many times I get depressed, or dizzy and confused. Sometimes my body just shuts down and I start to lose consciousness.” She paused and then added glumly, “Suicide is very high among hypoglycemics. The sudden blood sugar drops make people go crazy.”

  Their grim expressions yanked her attention off herself. Knowing that no one really wanted to hear about somebody else’s illness, she shrugged it off as if it weren’t one of the nightmares of her life and forced a smile. “It’s usually no big thing. I just try not to get stressed, eat regularly and I have a veggie drink or granola bar handy. A healthy snack almost always fixes it.”

  Mathin exchanged a concerned look with Fallon. The Haunt did not drink their vegetables. Nor was the idea particularly appealing. “Can’t your medics do something for you?”

  “Our doctors? Not unless my pancreas stops producing insulin and I become a diabetic.” She smiled dryly. “Trust me, we don’t want that.”

  Mathin returned to his meal in a much more sober frame of mind. The Haunt rarely suffered illness, thanks to their unique makeup, so he had no experience with it. Though come to think of it, the humans who’d wandered into the Dark Lands didn’t become ill, either, but that was because… Excited by his sudden idea, Mathin sat up straighter.

  Fallon must have anticipated his train of thought, because he gave him a sharp look and shook his head no.

  Undaunted by Fallon’s disapproval, Mathin assumed an innocent expression.

  Fallon’s eyes narrowed.

  “Get it out of your head, Mathin!” They were alone in the study, and Fallon wasn’t shy about raising his voice. “A dalliance here is one thing, but you’re not seriously thinking of taking her to the Dark Lands and finding her a symbiont. Think of the uproar you caused with Jasmine! The last thing we need is another incident.”

  “Jasmine would have died without my intervention,” Mathin pointed out, close to losing his temper. He was tired of having that thrown in his face. He had saved her, hadn’t he?

  Fallon’s eyes narrowed, swirled with golden heat. “It wouldn’t have been needed if you hadn’t broken her arm.”

  A snarl escaped as Mathin’s own eyes glowed golden. “Be careful,” his gravelly voice deepened. “I didn’t see you there with a better solution.”

  A moment of silence passed as Fallon looked upward, taking a deep breath. When he sought Mathin’s eyes again his own had resumed their natural shade. “I was here at the time, but point taken. Still, you have to admit that introducing yet another symbiont-wearing charmer to our people would be a difficult thing. You’d be taking a woman you say you don’t love from her world and introducing her to a society very different from her own. She will have enemies no matter where she goes simply because of what she is. Is that fair? For that matter, how could you love her? You’ve only known her a day. Real love takes time to grow.”

  There was nothing Mathin could say to that. It wasn’t fair, and he knew it. Worse than that was the knowledge that he didn’t care.
Even when he couldn’t smell her, he wanted her. The attraction wasn’t as powerful, but it was insistent. Was it only the knowledge of what she was that aroused him?

  Legend had it that to lie with a charmer was to experience pleasure worth dying for. Was it not said that more than one Haunt had gone to his death smiling after a night with a charmer? It would have had to be powerful pleasure indeed to allow a man to smile in the face of the woman who’d betrayed him.

  Mathin was no virgin, as the Haunt counted such things, and he’d known satisfaction many times; but never had he felt more than physical release. No matter how beautiful the woman, he had always felt that something vital was missing. The notion had bothered him so much that he’d abstained from pleasure for nearly two years now, much to his own consternation. In fact, he’d begun to wonder if something were wrong with him—until he’d met Andrea. Somehow she was the key.

  None of which he could explain to the practical Fallon.

  “Look, Mathin. I know you,” Fallon said, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Women adore you, for whatever reason,“ he grinned at Mathin’s sardonic look, “and you adore women. It’s only the shortage of agreeable ladies and being in close quarters with a charmer that’s causing you trouble. All I ask is that you wait until some of the Haunt women get here. As soon as you see them you’ll forget all about Andrea, you’ll see.”

  Doubtful, Mathin thought, but remained silent. After all, he’d seen scores of beautiful women in the last two years and had not been moved, but he was not about to share his private thoughts with anyone.

  “I can’t believe I’m driving a three hundred thousand dollar car.” Andrea gripped the wheel and carefully watched the road, terrified lest she wreck it. “A house. I’m driving the price of a house. Several houses,” she murmured, dazed.

  So much for being adventurous. It had seemed like a good idea to chose the sports car over the black Land Cruiser, but now all she could think about was how bad she’d feel if she so much as scuffed it. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this sort of lifestyle.

  Amused by the note of awe in her voice, Mathin slanted her a look from the passenger side. “And this impresses you?”

  Her jaw dropped at the absurdity of his question. “Are you kidding? Like I’m ever going to get another chance to do this!” She gestured with one hand, encompassing the open top, the beautiful day, her hair whipping in the wind of their passage. “You might take all of this for granted, but for someone like me it’s a dream come true. And I still can’t believe he let me drive it,” she murmured, almost to herself. As far as she knew men never let women, let alone employees, drive their cherished sports cars, let alone a Lamborghini Diablo.

  “And what makes you think this is nothing special for me?” It was, in fact, only the second time he’d traveled by car, expensive or otherwise, and he quite enjoyed it. Even if it was difficult to completely trust a vehicle that traveled at these speeds.

  Andrea frowned at his intimate tone. “You know what I mean. You don’t strike me as the type to deprive yourself of anything.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Mathin stared straight ahead, his arm propped on the side of the door. He debated, and took a chance. “I haven’t been with a woman in two years.”

  The car swerved. It took a moment, but Andrea brought the vehicle back under control, though her hands still shook from the impact of her shock. Fortunately for them, traffic was light. “By choice?” she asked incredulously. Why would a man like him choose to be alone?

  He gave her a look that instantly assured her of what a foolish question that was. If Mathin had been alone, it wasn’t for a lack of willing partners.

  Which brought her to the next logical question. “Are you...sick? I mean, ill?” In this day of AIDS one never knew.

  Consternation brought his brows together. “I’m never ill.”

  Oh. Well, maybe he meant…Her face heated. He wasn’t trying to tell her that he was...? ”Um, you’re not...you don’t like guys, do you?”

  The shock on his face had her pulling over and stopping the car. The indignation that replaced it had her groveling in an attempt to salvage his male pride. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I—”

  One moment she was babbling and the next he moved over, braced against the wheel and her seat, and kissed her.

  All thought stopped. His lips were warm and soft, yet erotically demanding. Sparkling tingles zipped from him straight to her heart, and lower. Much lower. He nibbled at her lips, nipped, and she opened, needing his heat. His tongue swept into her mouth as if he owned it, stirring her desire with controlled passion. So sensual, and just the perfect pressure, but she sensed a fire in him, knew that she could be the one to fan that fire into consuming flame.

  A low growl came from his throat as he shifted his mouth to her throat, tormenting her sensitive nerves. Then he groaned. “Bloody uncomfortable car.”

  Shaken out of her haze, she pulled back as he did, breathing hard. “I-I guess that means you just like women, huh?” she joked feebly, trying to lighten the moment. He’d more than removed any doubts as to his orientation.

  His soft snort of amused annoyance wafted the fine hairs at her temple as his lips brushed her skin. “Only you would ask such a question, little rogue.”

  “Rogue?” she half-laughed, pushing him back even as he withdrew. “I’m not the one doing the kissing here.”

  He froze above her, a look of speculation on his face. “Are you claiming you didn’t like it?”

  Not about to fall into his trap, she dodged the question. “We should be going,” she said a little breathlessly. It was definitely in her best interests to shift his focus.

  Andrea didn’t fully relax again until they got underway, and even then her mind was not on the road, but him. She wished he hadn’t kissed her. Wished she hadn’t liked it. It didn’t help that the heavy-lidded glances he kept sending her did what they did to her heart rate.

  And why had he told her that about not having sex for two years? She risked a glance at him when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t seem the type to spill that kind of information to just anyone.

  Excitement stirred inside her. Was this his way of saying she was special?

  Don’t be a ninny, Andrea, said her practical, cynical side. Whatever had prompted the confession, it wasn’t personal. Neither was his kiss. It had just been a way to prove he wasn’t gay, and she’d been convenient. Any woman would have done at that point.

  She almost believed it.

  Since she had a lot to do that day, Andrea chose a mall attached to a grocery store and carefully parked the car, making certain to activate the anti-theft system as they exited. Once inside she told Mathin, “Go have a look around. I’ll be in the bookstore if you need me.”

  He nodded at her and watched her disappear into her chosen shop, then glanced around. Fallon had already taken him around town, but he was still amazed at the huge selection of goods for sale at these places. In the Dark Lands most merchandise was still crafted by hand; they did not have so many factories. He’d not yet made up his mind whether that was good or not.

  Since he had no interest in clothing and he was unaccustomed to the popular music here, Mathin chose to investigate the toy store. The bright colors intrigued him. As a child he’d never had toys; his father had believed that his son should be a warrior from the first and had scoffed at frivolous pastimes. Certainly he’d have sneered at the soft, blunted weapons offered to boys here. The dolls were cunningly fashioned, though, and on a whim he bought a female equipped with a number of frilly dresses as a gift for Jayems’ small daughter. Since it was unfair to bring her a token while neglecting Keilor and Jasmine’s twins, he also added two little warrior figures, complete with weapons.

  Pleased with his purchases, he sought out Andrea, ignoring the admiring looks of the shop girls and the female patrons. He found her easily enough within the small shop, crouched on the floor by a shelf of books. Since she looked content, he elected not to disturb h
er, shaking his head at one of the lady staff members who approached him.

  Clearly disappointed, the pretty blond offered, “Well, let me know if you change your mind.” Her shyly admiring gaze flitted across his torso and then dipped lower as if she were unable to help herself. Pink color washed her face and she quickly withdrew to continue stacking books.

  Her behavior didn’t surprise him; women always acted that way around him. He didn’t welcome the attention that morning, however, not when his interest was centered on one female in particular. With a sigh of resignation Mathin crossed his arms and waited, leaning against a stack. Even though he tried to ignore them, he couldn’t stop his sensitive ears from hearing the whispered comments.

  “Have you ever?”

  “I wish!”

  “Do you think he’s a model?”

  Minutes passed and he grew irritated with the unceasing speculation. Unwilling to put up with it any longer, he took the short steps needed to Andrea and knelt beside her, picking up the stack of books she’d selected. “Are these the ones you’ve chosen?”

  “Oh! Mathin.” She put a hand to her heart in surprise. “I didn’t see you there.”

  He refrained from rolling his eyes at the low comment another women made on that, knowing Andrea couldn’t hear it anyway. “If you’re ready…”

  “Actually, I am.”

  Before she could add anything else, he scooped up her books and took them to the cashier, paying for her purchase.

  Astonished at his actions, Andrea laid a hand on his arm, trying to angle him out of the way. “Mathin, you can’t! I’ll pay.”

  He calmly handed the cashier the correct amount of money and took the bag, leaving Andrea to follow him out of the store.

  She stopped him just outside. “Mathin….”

  “Pay me later,” he told her to pacify her before she besieged him with protests, though he had no intention of accepting her money. “Would you like to look in there?” He nodded toward the jeweler’s, remembering the quick, interested glance she’d sent it before heading to the less expensive bookseller’s. She glanced in the direction of his nod, then quickly turned her head, but not before he saw her desire.