Scent of Danger Read online

  Keilor crossed his arms, pausing with the Haunt to watch the spectacle. “Can’t you control your woman, Mathin?” he asked, returning a taunt his friend had often used on him.

  “I’m not his woman!” she said vehemently. “I hate him!”

  “That’s not what you said last night,” Mathin grated, taking her arm. He walked on, ignoring her hiss of frustration.

  “I didn’t say anything last night, and you know it!”

  “Maybe, but what did you do?” His mood lightened as she did her best to injure him. “Nooo, that wasn’t it.”

  “Can’t you save the foreplay? I’m on a schedule,” Keilor drawled.

  “If I must.” He quickly bent his knees and tossed her over his shoulder, ensuring there would be no more delays. A soft pat on her bottom prevented the rear assault he felt coming. “Don’t make me retaliate,” he warned. Accepting her silence as answer enough, he smiled at Keilor, all teeth. “After you.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Andrea seethed as their party entered the citadel. Slung over Mathin’s shoulder and moving at a fast clip, she couldn’t see much beyond the smooth tiled floors on the ground level and the exquisite parquet flooring on the upper.

  Of course, there was his backside, but since she didn’t have anything to stab him with, it didn’t do her much good.

  Fortunately, Mathin decided to flip her upright before they arrived at their destination. He even held her arm to get her past the head rush. She pressed a hand to her aching stomach and shot him a glare—the man had a hard shoulder.

  “So far, I’m not impressed with the tour,” she grouched. They stood in a stone corridor, before a heavy wooden door. Keilor seemed to have disappeared, but there was a werewolf guarding the door. She gave him a guarded glance, but he didn’t look ready to pounce…yet.

  Mathin stared. “I tried to make it easy on you, if you’ll recall. You’re the one who started throwing punches.”

  She prepared to blast him, but his warning smile made her reconsider. The jerk wasn’t above spanking her.

  His eyes narrowed with smug humor. “Now pumpkin, you wouldn’t wish to upset your grandmother, would you?”

  “My…what?idor

  The Haunt guard opened the thick wooden door. Mathin strode through, sweeping her along with a hand at her back.

  The room beyond was sunny, and brimming with familiar knickknacks and gewgaws. Crazy colors covered nearly every surface. Hooked rugs in a riot of clashing colors, Afghans and slipcovers—the very ones she’d packed away—covered the furniture in a rainbow of dizzying shades. It looked like someone had tossed a bag of Skittles all over the place.

  Bewildered by the display, she simply stared. Why would Mathin have brought all this stuff? Her grandma wouldn’t be happy when she got home and discovered it missing. Wait…he didn’t think she wanted it, did he?

  “Surprise!”

  Andrea jumped as her grandmother popped out from behind a couch. She wrapped her startled grandchild in a rose-scented hug, making glad noises.

  Confused, Andrea stiffened. “Grandma?” she asked tentatively.

  Her grandmother pulled back and gave her a brilliant smile. “Oh, isn’t it wonderful! That sweet Fallon has arranged for us to live here in the Dark Lands. Isn’t it beautiful? Such lovely weather! I’ve always said he was a sweet boy.”

  Behind them, someone guffawed.

  Ignoring the sound of amusement, Andrea demanded, “What are you talking about?” She hoped it would make sense, because she couldn’t stand much more bewilderment. “What happened to the cruise to Tahiti?”

  “But I just said, dear,” Matilda answered with a fond smile. “I arranged for you to come up and meet his nice Haunt friend and fall in love—one look at him and I knew you’d fall in love—and for me to come here with you to help raise the grandbabies.” She beamed at Mathin over her shoulder. “You’ll have such beautiful babies.”

  Appalled, and more than a little nauseous at her grandmother’s unqualified approval of Mathin, Andrea demanded, “Are you saying you traded me for a chance to come here and...and...I’m not having his babies!” Shock and fury made her teeth chatter. She was a virtual prisoner and her grandmother was prattling on about babies. With Mathin! Was she possessed?

  In case her grandma didn’t get the point, Andrea pointed at Mathin and shouted, “He dragged me here over his shoulder, for pity’s sake! I’m not in love with him. I don’t even like him!”

  “Actually, I carried you over my shoulder,” Mathin said mildly.

  Andrea threw an ugly ceramic chicken at him.

  He plucked it neatly out of the air with one hand.

  Her grandmother didn’t even blink. “Settle down, Andrea. And don’t raise your voice to me. Your mama taught you better manners, bless her dear departed soul.” She sniffed. “She would be so proud to see you here, so near to your wedding.”

  Frozen in rage, Andrea stared at her happy grandmother, her fists hard with the desire to beat some sense into her. Not that she could. Besides the fact that it was wrong, her last spanking had been at the age of fourteen, administered by her father because she’d sassed her grandma. Respect for her elders was far too ingrained, no matter the provocation.

  She’d have to find another target.

  The blood pounded in her head as she passed the Haunt at the door without a thought. Nearly blind with rage, she looked around desperately for something to wreak havoc on.

  As if he read her thoughts, Mathin moved ahead of her and thoughtfully opened a door. “This one is unoccupied if you’d like to be alone for a while.”

  Grateful for his actions but unable to speak a polite word, she passed through the door, locking and slamming it behind her.

  The room within was completely done in white and smelled musty with disuse. Even the wood of the couches and upholstered chairs was snowy cream.

  Andrea was not normally a violent woman. She’d always considered fit throwing and tantrums to be the province of children. Today was another matter. Furious at her captivity and her grandmother’s betrayal, she grabbed one of the many porcelain statues from one of the pedestals that lined the walls. It smashed to shards against the white- embossed, papered wall.

  The action sobered her somewhat, and she stared at the mess, aghast. Until she remembered Mathin and her grandmother’s betrayal.

  Fury swelled, but this time she headed for a more repairable target—the enormous white-swathed bed visible through a door in the living quarters. Here she didn’t hesitate to toss pillows to the floor and stomp on them. When that didn’t work, she leapt atop the bed, jumping up and down to the sound of the creaking suspension. Even that was not enough, so she grabbed a fat pillow by its lacy case and used it to beat the tall bedposts senseless. “Stupid, stupid jerk!” she chanted, whacking the innocent post with all her might. “How dare he kidnap me? I’m not sleeping with him,” she shouted rebelliously, huffing for breath as she swung the heavy pillow. “Who does he think he is, Conan? Overblown fathead!”

  Only when she was dizzy and covered in sweat did she release the poor, limp pillow. She sat hard on the bed, not at all cheered by the light washing in the window. That was when the grief hit. How could Grandma do this to her? Had she been brainwashed?

  The thought gave her hope. What if? Wasn’t that a werewolf ability? She frowned. Or was that vampires? But if Mathin could be believed, they were nothing like either.

  She rubbed her forehead. The shock was overloading her body’s ability to cope, leaving her shaky and cold. She had to rest or she’d have a full-blown attack just like that morning.

  She lay back and closed her eyes, hoping Mathin would respect the lock. Whether he did or not, she had to rest. She just hoped she wouldn’t wake to another nightmare.

  “You gave her what room?”

  Keilor winced at Jasmine’s incredulous demand. He had retired with Mathin to his private suite after their conference with Jayems. The open design of their house allowed a good view
of Mathin, who pretended to be completely engrossed with their one-year-old boys as they played in the sunken living room. Light flooded the house from the clear wall behind the kitchen, making the need for other illumination unnecessary.

  A pen of sorts had been erected around the perimeter of the living area, leaving the twins with plenty of carpeted area to tumble and play. It also kept them out of the fireplace and their mother’s collection of potted fruit trees.

  Keilor shrugged and snatched a piece of the vegetable she was chopping for dinner. “Mathin said she didn’t seem picky at the time. Besides, we could hardly take her to Mathin’s room. They’re not mated yet.”

  Reminded of the source of her ire, the petite terror turned her wrath on Mathin. “And how could you, Mathin? What possessed you to drag the poor girl here when there’s plenty of Haunt women chasing you?”

  Mathin scowled as he tried to pry a lock of his long hair from a giggling twin while gently fending his brother off with his knee. She’d already heard the full story, and he wasn’t about to go into again. “You could have a little faith in my premonitions. They’ve saved your life often enough.”

  “Escorting me through the swamps was one thing.” She leaned against the long island and waggled the hand still holding her cleaver at him. “This is entirely different. She probably thinks….” she broke off, unable to say it without blushing. Agitated, she brushed a brown lock of hair off her forehead and glanced at Keilor. “Does she know you’re not going to, um, hurt her? That she has rights and choices?”

  “Actually,” Mathin blinked innocently at her, “I thought I’d let you tell her.”

  Jasmine opened her mouth as if to blast him, but must have thought better of it. An annoyed expression crossed her expressive face, and then morphed into her famous crafty look. Grown men had been known to run when presented with that look.

  Archly, she said, “I think I will. In her place I’d certainly feel more comfortable talking to a woman.” Her smile was evil. “And while I’m at it, I’ll make certain she knows she doesn’t have to marry you if she doesn’t want to. And I’ll tell her just what to do to avoid a Haunt-style wedding.”

  “If you wish. It won’t do you any good.” He shared a knowing smile with Keilor. “Some woman just can’t resist a wolf on the prowl.”

  Andrea had been awake and brooding for some time when she heard a tentative knock on the door. A moment went by while she decided if she wanted to answer it.

  The knock came again, followed by a woman’s voice. “Hello? Andrea? My name’s Jasmine. Can I come in? I promise Mathin’s not out here.”

  It was the note of sympathy in the woman’s voice that did it. “Just a minute.” With a grimace for the broken statue, Andrea went to the door and unlocked it. One the other side was a pretty brunette in a blue and silver, Grecian inspired gown. For some reason she seemed terribly familiar. Almost like the woman at Kmart, though they looked nothing alike. Cautiously, she said, “Hello.”

  “Hi. I’m Keilor’s wife. I thought I’d invite you over for something to eat. It’s not quite dinner, but I’ve got some munchies if you’d like.” Her smile was mischievous. “Besides, I thought I’d tell you a thing or two Mathin might not want you to know.”

  Sensing an ally, Andrea nodded and shut the door behind her, doing her best to ignore the pair of Haunt guards who immediately followed them. “Thank you. That room was beginning to give me the creeps.” She hunched her shoulders. “All that white.”

  Jasmine glanced at the door with visible distaste. “I know what you mean.” Dismissing the subject, she added, “Our suite is just down the hall.” Arched windows lighted the dove-colored blocks of stone that formed the passage, sparkling faintly off the flecks of mica in the rock.

  “This is nice,” Andrea said as Jasmine led her into her suite, admiring the crest design worked into the wood of the floor and the tasteful tans and creams of the velvet-covered furniture. A restful number of plants graced the room. “Very nice.” She gestured to the pen surrounding the sunken living space and the toys inside. “You have children?”

  Jasmine laughed. “Twin toddler boys. Mathin and Raziel took them out to see the stags. No doubt I’ll have to give them both a bath when they get back.”

  Andrea’s brows rose. “You trust Mathin with your children?”

  Her hostess plucked a fruit segment from a platter on the long island, silently gesturing for her guest to pull up a bar stool and help herself. The comment she waved away with a careless gesture of her hand. “Believe it or not, he adores children, and he’s really very good with them. I’ve trusted him with my life…though I don’t know what he’s thinking with this latest stunt.” She studied Andrea curiously. “Don’t take this wrong, but he’s hardly the sort of guy who needs to go around kidnapping women, you know? You’d swear the man was a charmer himself the way women pursue him.”

  Andrea frowned. “I’d figured as much. Do you know why he brought me here?” She dropped her eyes to the orange piece of fruit in her hand, too nervous to eat until she heard an answer. Would Jasmine be honest with her?

  Jasmine sighed. “My guess is he’s got the hots for you, which isn’t surprising, considering you’re a charmer. Not that he can do anything about it without your permission,” she hastily assured her, touching her hand. “Rape is punishable by death here, and he’s not the type.” She made a face. “But don’t think he won’t try to seduce you.”

  She cleared her throat and fussed with the veggie tray. “I should warn you, when a man sleeps with a woman it’s the same as marriage here. A Haunt can mate only once, and once the body fluids mix…” She raised her hands in defeat. “Like it or not, you bed him, you wed him.”

  Andrea squinted in confusion. “And how many wives does he have?” The thought of joining a harem repulsed her, not that it would come to that.

  She’d geld him first.

  Jasmine laughed. “Sorry, I’m not explaining this too well. The Haunt can fool around all he or she wants, right up until the point of consummation. If they go past that, they’re hooked for life. Adultery usually results in madness, thanks to their unique genetic makeup.” When the confusion didn’t clear from Andrea’s brow she explained gently, “Mathin is a virgin as we define the term, as are all unmated Haunt.” The grin was back as she waggled a piece of fruit at Andrea. “But if you value your life, don’t call him that. The term means a man of no experience here, and he’s definitely not that.”

  Her brain swimming with details, Andrea muttered, “I see. I think. So you’re saying that he plans to...um, seduce me into marriage. Why? Didn’t you just say there were other women here who’d like to...?” she trailed off. None of this made sense.

  Jasmine rested her chin in her hand, considering. “Well, like I said, there’s always the charmer thing.”

  “Hardly.” She gave Jasmine a level stare. “Do I look like a red-hot vixen to you?”

  She smiled ruefully. “You’re pretty, but no.” She poured them both a glass of iced tea. “Not that it matters. I knew what you were the moment I saw you.

  “Besides, if Mathin said he was saving you from cults, then he was. Whatever you might think of him right now, he’s not a liar.” She paused for a moment, tapping her nails on the counter-top. “There is one other thing.”

  Andrea looked up, unsure whether to be hopeful or to brace herself. “What’s that?”

  The nails tapped faster in time to Jasmine’s agitation. “That Haunt believe in a lot of things that might seem strange to you. One of those things is casting lots. They believe that the result of the lot casting is holy. That’s how my friend Rihlia ended up here and married.” She sighed, tracing the marbled stone. “I don’t know about that, but I must admit it seems to have worked out well. She’s happy.”

  She stared off in the distance, her mind tracing memories. “One thing I have found to be uncannily accurate is the foreknowing some of them have. I’ve seen Mathin in some dangerous situations suddenly do the
completely unexpected, often saving our lives. Later on he’d explain he’d been acting on one of his premonitions.” She paused, meeting Andrea’s eyes. “In that, I’ve become a believer. You would be too, if you’d seen what I have.” Her gaze grew troubled. “But this time I have to wonder if Mathin’s actually listening. He claims that bringing you here was partly based on a premonition.”

  What could she say to that? Andrea had no experience with such things, nor had she ever thought much about them. Did a premonition give Mathin the right to kidnap her? What did that have to do with Mathin’s curious attraction to her?

  She abandoned the subject for a moment, rubbing her forehead to release the tension gathered there. “My grandma’s here.”

  Jasmine didn’t even blink at the unrelated topic. “I heard.”

  “She brought her every earthly possession,” Andrea mumbled in distress.

  Her hostess chuckled in sympathy, remembering the garish collection. “I saw.”

  “I didn’t even bring a toothbrush,” Andrea moaned, sinking deeper into depression.

  “Now that I can help with. Come on.” Jumping off the stool, Jasmine took her to her bedroom, heading for a closet door.

  Andrea stopped in the door, staring in shocked fascination at the ornately carved lovers on the posts of Jasmine’s bed. A movement caught her eye and she looked up, startled to see a huge mirror on the ceiling. Yikes.

  “Keilor’s idea of a present,” Jasmine said dryly, poking her head out of the closet.

  Embarrassed to be caught staring, Andrea quickly turned her head and hurried over.

  “Just be glad Rihlia and I have had some time to work on the Haunt seamstress’s idea of underwear. You do not want to know what passed for bras when we showed up.” Beckoning to Andrea, she disappeared into the walk-in closet.

  “Now this,” she said, holding up a sapphire blue nightgown and robe set, “Will definitely look good on you. Besides, it’s not like I have much use for it with Keilor around.” Grinning at Andrea’s blush, she laid the set aside and rummaged for undergarments. “Brand new,” she said, holding up a ribbon-wrapped package of assorted silk panties. “We can get a seamstress in to fit you for bras later. I’m positive you don’t want to go shopping for overnjis,” she said, holding up the garment in question.