The Charmer (26 page)

He took her hand in his, and she felt
something slide onto her left hand, over her ring finger. “As you
wish,” he agreed, and then took her hand before she could look and
dragged her out the door.

“Keilor!”

The ceremony was blessed by a stocky priest
in shiny brown robes. Performed outdoors on a raised marble dais
shaded by a tile roof, it was attended by a crowd of hundreds.

Somehow she survived standing in front of a
crowd of strangers to exchange vows with Keilor. By the time they
were done with the simple ceremony she was glad to leave the dais
and descend to the lawn to mingle with the guests.

It was the first time that she’d been exposed
to large bodies of people since her arrival in the Dark Lands, and
it was a bit dizzying. Brightly dressed women and black clad men
she didn’t know wished Keilor well and looked her over with
curiosity. Some of the women were overly friendly in a manner that
smacked of social climbing, and Jasmine instinctively retreated
behind polite reserve with them. Others looked on her coldly,
though none seemed to have the gall to cut her with Keilor at her
side, and he never left her, not for a moment. Everything went
fine.

Until Yesande.

They stood behind an enormous ice sculpture
of a battling stag and a volti, enjoying a lull in between
well-wishers. Most of the guests had gathered around the heavily
laden buffet tables.

“This must have been Jayems’ idea. I know
Rihlia didn’t pick it out,” Jasmine said, stroking the stag’s icy
flank and admiring the frozen flow of muscle. Somebody had
talent.

“Actually, it was a contribution from my clan
for the wedding,” a woman’s voice said. A tall blond with eyes of
nearly white blue stepped behind the sculpture. “I created it.”

An oath sounded to Jasmine’s left and she
turned to see Keilor bare his teeth in a snarl.

The woman smiled with amusement. “Hello,
Keilor. I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”

Gold fire leapt into his eyes and for a
moment Jasmine feared that her new husband was going to kill the
woman on the spot.

The stranger had no such fears. “Lady
Yesande,” she introduced herself, inclining her head. Soulless eyes
perused Jasmine from head to foot. “You need no introduction, Lady
Jasmine...and Keilor and I are already well acquainted.”

“Past tense,” Keilor said in a voice that
could have crushed rocks.

Yesande smiled, or her lips did. “And now you
are mated to a charmer. Interesting choice. I wonder how you dare
it.” She glanced at the crowd they were drawing and said with lazy
nonchalance, “Given that her mother was a prostitute.”

Keilor took a step toward her, but Jasmine
grabbed his arm. Deep currents were flowing here, and she sensed
Yesande would relish an attack. Something was wrong besides the
obvious, and she was afraid Keilor might be too enraged to see
it.

Yesande glanced at Jasmine’s hand and asked,
“Do you have any idea just how much the Haunt despise whores, Lady
Jasmine? Almost as much as we used to hate charmers.”

The crowd stirred, and Jasmine took a deep
breath. “They’re not exactly favored by your average human, either,
myself included.” With her peripheral vision she saw Raziel and
Isfael casually position themselves near enough to be helpful in a
hurry if need be. Mathin caught her eye from the crowd and held it,
a silent warning in his eyes.
Tread with caution.

Faking a calm she didn’t feel, Jasmine looped
her arm around Keilor’s waist and said, “Keilor isn’t worried about
that, though. He told me last night he’d kill me if he ever caught
me with someone else, and I believe him.”

Keilor looked at her in shock as the crowd
murmured. The very idea of a man killing his mate…

Feeling reckless, Jasmine added smugly,
“Besides, once you’ve had the best, why bother with the rest? I’m
holding on to this wildcat. And speaking of which...” She sent her
scandalized husband a provocative look, “...don’t we have a wedding
night to celebrate?”

“I’m holding on to this wildcat?” Keilor
asked incredulously once they reached her room.

“It worked,” she said tartly. She was still
miffed at the whole scene with his old girlfriend, and she was more
than happy to take it out on him. “What I want to know is how she
found out about my mother.” She took off the diadem and set it on
an end table. “It’s not exactly common knowledge here.”

“I didn’t tell her, if that’s what you’re
thinking.” Keilor took off his robe and tossed the expensive
garment over a chair. His new wife gave him a dirty look and took
it to the closet. When she emerged she was wearing a robe with a
glimpse of silver showing at the bottom of the vee. Several pieces
of black armor littered the couch.

Jasmine put her hands on her hips and glared
at him. “Unless you’re itching for a fight, buddy, I suggest you
take that junk and put it in the closet. You’re not turning my room
into a pig pen.”

He wasn’t thrilled with her bossiness, but he
did collect his gear and stash it in the closet. He came out
wearing loose white trousers that tied at the top and nothing else.
It was a terribly distracting tactic to use when she was trying to
fight with him.

Striving to remember she was still annoyed,
she crossed her arms and sat down on the couch, leaving him plenty
of room at the other end.

Keilor took in her mulishness and knew it for
what it was. He chose to attack her jealousy with direct action.
Ignoring her mood, he stretched out on the couch and placed his
head in her lap. “I don’t dwell on the men you knew before me,
love,” he told her gravely. “I expect the same courtesy from
you,”

“None of them are likely to rake you over the
coals in public.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or mention how I looked
without my clothes.”

Several heartbeats passed in silence. “I did
not go to her willingly, Jasmine.” His voice roughened as he sat
up. “She drugged me.” Seeing her horror, he explained, “Libran.
Sweet Surrender.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I believe you’ve
heard of it.”

The aphrodisiac that had almost killed her.
Someone had given him that? She placed one hand on his thigh and
watched him soberly.

“She took an interest in me when I was still
young, but I despised her.” His nose wrinkled in remembered
distaste. “She had...has, twisted tastes, besides being
unattractive.”

Self-disgust hardened his voice. “I was young
and inexperienced at the time, and her clan caught me by surprise.
When I woke up, I was chained and already drugged. Easy prey.”

Jasmine laid her head against his shoulder.
When he hurt, she hurt.

He wrapped his arm around her. “I’d likely
still be there if Mathin hadn’t poured an antidote down my throat
and given me a blade.”

She rubbed her head against him, her
breathing harsh. “Love…” He felt her swallow. “When was this?”

“Thirty years ago,” he answered without
thinking.

She sat up, startled. “Thirty

how old
are
you?”

Instead of answering, he kissed her. When she
was properly befuddled, he told her, “So now you know, and you have
no reason to be jealous.”

“No,” she agreed, breathless, but still angry
with Yesande. “But the next time I see her, I hope I have a gun in
my hand.”

He kissed her, and a little of the chill
left. “You would fight on my behalf?”

“Well…” She forgot whatever it was she’d
meant to say as he eased her back to the couch, a hot promise in
his eyes. “Wait!” she protested, and placed a hand on his chest. “I
almost forgot—” His lips touched hers, and for a breathless moment
she nearly forgot what was so urgent. Before he could completely
blank her mind, she forced him to let her up.

His expression stated her reprieve was
temporary.

She fumbled with the black cord that held her
dragonfly pendant and finally got the knot loose. Straddling his
lap, she placed it around his neck like a choker, knotting the cord
just below the bead that prevented it from slipping off. The black
beaded tail trailed down his spine. She smiled, pleased. “Now we’ve
both given each other something unique of our own.”

He fingered the pendant. “What did I give
you?” he asked, thinking she would speak of the jewelry or clothes,
and feeling rather self-conscious and silly with a symbol he was
used to associating with her femininity on his neck.

With a shy but satisfied smile, she answered,
“Well, you were a virgin the first time we—”

He sat up so fast he nearly dumped her from
his lap. “A virgin!” Highly insulted, he asked incredulously, “How
in the name of all that’s holy did you come to that
conclusion?”

She squirmed. “Well, Rihlia—” she stopped,
confused. “You said yourself you’d never done it.”

“I’d never mated,” he said firmly. “But I can
assure you I’ve had more than my share of lovers. I am definitely
not a virgin.”

“But—” Before she could say anything else to
further insult him, he kissed her, stole her words and her silly
thoughts. If anyone had been close to a virgin last night, it had
been her, and he was more than willing to demonstrate the gaps in
their knowledge.

He broke their kiss just long enough to
promise with a wicked smile, “When tonight is over, you’ll never
have cause to question my experience again, wife.” Then he settled
more comfortably between her thighs and proceeded to blow her
mind.

It was several seconds before the pounding at
the door registered.

Keilor sat up, cursing the fact that he’d
told Isfael and Raziel to take the night off and enjoy the feast.
Both Haunt were likely curled up with a woman by now, and he hadn’t
bothered posting any other guards. After all, Jasmine had him
now.

“It had better be a fire or a flood!” he
snarled. “Who comes?”

“Knightin,” came the instant reply.

Keilor got up and headed for the door.
Knightin would not bother him now unless the matter was urgent. He
flung the door wide. “What is—”

The Haunt at the door gutted him.

Chapter 22

She was so cold.

Jasmine opened her eyes as dawn broke over
the mountain camp. She started to shake. She remembered everything.
Curled up in her bedroll, she endured the burning tears and grief
as she mourned for her love.

Rocks crunched by her head and cloth rustled
as someone knelt before her. Yesande stared at her dispassionately.
“You’ll get over it,” she said. “Where we’re going, I can supply
you with many men to please you. You need never settle for one
again.”

Jasmine snarled at her, and she smiled. “Such
a brave little charmer. No wonder Keilor found you amusing. Don’t
worry, pet.” She traced the curve of Jasmine’s ear and Jasmine
recoiled. “No one is going to harm you. You’re far too valuable.”
She stood up and called to the Haunt with them, “Break camp. We
need to be out of here before Jayems’ trackers find us.”

Jasmine scrambled up and tried not to think
about who had dressed her. At least they’d chosen pants and a
tunic.

She’d been drugged, and much of last night
was a blur. She pulled on her boots, which were close at hand. She
wouldn’t find a way to escape lying on her back, and danged if she
wanted to give the creepy Yesande or anyone else, ideas. After all,
what other use could they have for a charmer?

No one touched her, though, during the
seventeen hellish days it took to reach Yesande’s citadel.

Stags had never been Jasmine’s favorite
animals, and she liked them even less after riding double all day,
every day with Yesande for over two weeks. The hide wore off the
inside of her thighs and her backside, and she could hardly walk
for the first three days. After a week she started to saunter like
John Wayne, and she was certain she’d never be able to stroll with
her legs together again.

She only had one question for Yesande in the
entire time. “How old are you?” she’d asked as they rode along a
ridge on the third day.

Yesande had looked at her over her shoulder
in inquiry. “Sixty-seven.”

Jasmine had said nothing else.

“We’ll find her,” Mathin promised Keilor.

Keilor closed his eyes and fought against the
drugs. “If Yesande has hurt her….” he said, his voice dark with
fury and pain. He should be the one going. Instead he was taking up
space in a hospital bed while his enemies ran off with his
wife.

“Don’t worry, we’ll bag her and Knightin,
too,” Raziel promised him. “He made a grave mistake when he
splattered your guts all over the floor and neglected to take your
head. You’ll be on your feet and ready to rip his heart out by the
time we get back.”

“Jasmine, it’s Mathin.”

Her eyes moved under her half-shut lids, but
she didn’t move.

It had taken weeks to track Yesande to this
remote citadel, and nearly a day to convince his sister to let him
have a go at the charmer. Yesande’s medics had yet to isolate the
pheromone responsible for her charmer abilities, and they’d begun
feeding her drugs to increase her libido in the hopes of increasing
production.

Unfortunately, the side affects were
hostility and aggression, fed by her refusal to have anything to do
with the men Yesande sent her to slake her thirst. Since the men
were all unmated, none of them could force the issue, either. All
Jasmine had to do was to tell them not to touch her, or to go away,
and they went.

Yesande was encouraged by that, since she
liked to watch the encounters, and enjoyed seeing the power she
planned to make her own.

Still, the charmer’s stubbornness annoyed
her, and she’d finally agreed to let Mathin try his luck.

Blessing the fact that he was Yesande’s
brother for the first time in his life, since it allowed him to
proceed without an audience, he lifted the charmer’s eyelid and
peered into one dilated pupil. “Jasmine!”