The Charmer (5 page)

Keilor snorted with agreement. “Ah, the bliss
of a man already spoken for! Too bad our doctors can’t replicate
that protective little brain chemical. It would save us all a lot
of grief. Short of becoming a Haunt with no sex drive or falling in
love, the rest of us are stuck.”

Jayems shook his head. “This is not good,
Keilor. I don’t like my options.” He ticked them off grimly on his
fingers. “I can send her back and pray she won’t cause trouble.”
Their eyes met, and he closed that finger back into his fist. They
both knew it wasn’t worth the risk. “I can lock her away from all
but my wife, women, and mated males.”

“And have Rihlia resent you forever,” Keilor
concluded.

Jayems withdrew that finger, clenching his
fist. “Never,” he swore. “We will work past this. In the
meanwhile…”

“Find her a lover, my lord,” Knightin
suggested reasonably, and they looked at him in surprise. He’d made
no secret that he disliked the presence of the charmer and her
subversive essence, dreading the influence that it would have on
his men. Knightin hated disorder, and a charmer was the definition
of it.

“That might work,” Keilor agreed and looked
hopefully at Jayems. He didn’t care for the woman’s influence on
him, either. The sooner she was mated, the sooner her wretched
power would be confined to one poor soul, and the rest of them
could get on with their lives as before. He frowned, momentarily
displeased by the thought of all those intensely erotic charmer
pheromones being spent on just anybody. Then he shrugged it off. It
was only the lingering affects of her remembered scent making him
possessive, and an excellent example of why Knightin’s suggestion
was a good one. “I’m for it,” he asserted firmly.

Jayems looked hopeful for a moment and then
scowled. “It can’t be just a lover. By forcing her to stay and
accepting her as a guest of my lady, I’ve declared her my guest as
well. Honor dictates that I can’t scheme her into such a
disreputable position. Besides, a lover wouldn’t be good enough. As
long as she’s not securely attached, the men will still vie for
her.”

Knightin nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right,
it will have to be a mate,” he agreed, practical as always.

Keilor noticed Jayems eyeing him
thoughtfully, and the hair rose on the back of his neck. He
scowled. “Forget it, cousin. I’m not wedding to solve your
problems.”

His lord shrugged. “It will have to be
someone like you, a man of rank. Preferably a warrior of strong
will.” He grinned wickedly. “She would trample anyone less.”

Decision made, he went to his desk, sat down,
and pulled out a pen and paper. “Very well. What lambs shall we
toss to the slaughter?”

Jasmine hurried through the giant trees at a
fast walk. She was still amazed she’d managed to slip away from the
guards during the game of ‘go find’. Even with Wiley’s long counts,
and the fact that she’d only traveled half this distance before, it
would be a matter of minutes before the Haunt guards caught on, and
they would find her in no time. Lemming wouldn’t know enough to be
slow in her tracking, either. At least they’d managed to work their
way deep into the woods for this last game, and she was certain
gate between worlds was just up ahead. With any luck, her stuff
would still be there; if not on this side, then the other.

It had better be, otherwise, she was in
trouble. She couldn’t survive the September temperatures of Alaska
for long without protection.

She caught a flash of wild animal eyes, and,
thinking of the wolves, ran faster. She didn’t want to end up a
Jasmine burger.

Nothing smelled right. The exotic scent of
the redwood forest seduced her brain, invigorating and enervating
all at once. Odd calls sounded through the deepening twilight, and
she felt something squish against her knee. Giving a little shriek,
she looked down to discover she’d plowed over a huge mushroom. It
had a brown cap the size of a Stetson hat.

Something skittered through the ferns. She
whipped her head around in time to see a black beetle the size of a
terrier heading away from her.

She ran.

Without warning a shadow detached itself from
the forest and stepped into her path. She cried out and staggered
back a step. Then she recognized him. Keilor.

Oh, oh.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, and electric
intensity vibrated in his words.

Though he’d half expected it, Keilor wasn’t
thrilled at the position she’d placed him in. As a Master of the
Hunt, it was one of his responsibilities to see to his people’s
safety. By running away, most likely to bring others of her kind
into his world, she was endangering the Haunt and all he held dear.
That he could not allow, and he would do what he must to keep her
from doing it again.

Even if he wished things could be
otherwise.

She hunched over, sucking in air and hiding
her eyes. “We were playing ‘go find’,” she offered, knowing he knew
the truth but hoping he’d accept her excuse.

He didn’t.

He stepped forward. “I win.” Her eyes widened
in alarm as he invaded her space. “You seem to have a problem with
authority,” he observed with deliberate menace, and she swallowed.
“Perhaps it’s time to acquaint yourself with the law of your new
land.”

Jasmine wasn’t immune to intimidation.
Unfortunately, whether he knew it or not, Keilor’s advance was
playing havoc on her body. Nerve endings his dream-self had ignited
in the night chose that moment to flash in technicolor glory
through her mind.

A reckless thrill raced through her and
flashed in her transparent face, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.
She didn’t want to feel this way.

The answering flare of heat in his eyes,
quickly banked, said he knew.

“Justice is swift,” he continued, forcing
them both to focus on his point. Whatever it had been. “Punishment,
often cruel.” His dark gaze swept her, sizzling with what lay
unspoken between them. “So reckless, little dragonfly. So eager to
tease danger.“ He stepped back, holding out his hand. “Give me your
sash.”

Jasmine’s hands clamped protectively around
the sash at her waist. She took a step back. “Why?”

Arctic chill slipped into his voice. “Do you
give it to me, or do I take it?”

She wanted to believe he wouldn’t really hurt
her. Swallowing hard, she slowly unwound it and gave it to him, her
arm at full extension.

He grasped her wrists and raised her arms
above her head as he bound them to a convenient branch.

At that point Jasmine should have struggled.
She knew it. Maybe he knew it, too. She told herself he was bigger,
and stronger, and she’d never get away. All lies. None of that had
stopped her before. None of it would have stopped her now if she
hadn’t wanted…

The air was warm, but she shivered.
Let
him think it’s fear,
she begged silently, closing her eyes.
Just this once I don’t want to think about it.
Besides, it
was too late.

His eyes on hers, he flicked open the clasp
of her overnji. She flinched.

As if he owned her, he leisurely trailed his
fingers over the fluttering vein in her neck, pausing just a moment
to trace the dragonfly on her necklace. Her breathing picked up,
and he smiled at the unmistakable scent of charmer desire. For a
moment he forgot it was terror and not passion he was supposed to
inspire, and he reveled in her response. With his eyes half closed,
he drank deeply of her intoxicating perfume.

Whether he knew it or not, Keilor wasn’t a
man in control. No man could be so close to a charmer and remain
his own.

He shook his head as he remembered this was
supposed to be a lesson, not a seduction. He moved to kiss her.

She snarled at him.

“Behave,” he warned her with sensual promise,
“or I’ll bite back.” She nipped him anyway, and he nipped her back
sharply on the bottom lip, careful not to damage her tender skin.
She gave a shocked whimper and jerked back. “Behave,” he repeated,
and licked the small hurt to soothe it. The soothing turned without
warning into a commanding kiss, full of hot persuasion.

Jasmine was having second thoughts. Whatever
had possessed her to let him do this? The man was arrogant enough
as it was without her giving in to him like a fool. Now was a fine
time for fear to start speaking sense! Never mind that it was a
fear born of inexperience.

She tried to bite him, but it took only
moments for thoughts of revenge to be swept away by the siren call
of their desire. His was a kiss specially designed to overcome a
woman’s objections. She moaned and kissed him in return, then
jerked back with a mortified gasp.

He laughed softly against her ear, and she
shivered. Her response to him was flattering, and he knew she
wasn’t happy about it. It was not what he’d intended. He’d have
done nothing more than scare her into obedience if she hadn’t
betrayed herself with her unmistakable desire. Now heat like a
river poured through him, consuming restraint, daring him to test
her limits.

Pulling back, he flashed her a predatory
smile, and untied the knot of her bandeau. He left the ends draped
loosely over her neck, still protecting her from his eyes, but the
slightest movement on her part would cause them to slide right off.
She held very still, but her pupils smoked over, and her body spoke
of anticipation, not fear.

Barely breathing, she watched him warily as
he traced a finger across her lips, to her temple and down her jaw.
Ever so slowly it moved down her throat, her breastbone, and all
the way down the stripe of skin exposed by her unfastened clothes.
It circled her pretty navel and dipped slightly below the first
button of her pants.

She shuddered, and it wasn’t with fright.

He grinned with wicked delight.

With one hand he grasped the white bandeau
where it crossed her back and slowly pulled it away to bare her
breasts. She gasped as her nipples were exposed, visibly struggling
to control her breathing. It didn’t work, and her lovely breasts
thrust forward with every inhalation, begging for his attention.
The nipples tightened under his gaze. He met her eyes with a look
hotter than molten gold. “Very nice,” he approved hoarsely, and she
shut her eyes and writhed against her constraints. He unfastened
the buttons on her pants and heard her breath catch in
anticipation.

He was killing her.

With excruciatingly erotic, nerve wracking
slowness she felt the soft slide of heavy silk as he lowered her
pants just enough to be able to trace the top line of silk he
revealed. Another hot tremor seized her, and she sucked in a
breath. To cover it, she snapped, “Enjoying yourself?”

His eyes were full of sultry promise. “Oh,
yes, but not nearly as much as you’re about to.” He smiled when her
hips jerked in randy enthusiasm at his words.

She swore, furious at the sexual control he
had over her body. So I want him, so what? she thought angrily.
It’s just hormones. He was too arrogant, and he delighted in trying
to scare her. Why should she give him even that much without a
fight?

Unfortunately, to fight him was to fight her
body, and it was showing signs of surrender under his tender
assault that even a blind man couldn’t miss.

Keilor wasn’t blind. He flashed her a wicked
smile that made a sheen of sweat break out all over her body. He
lightly ran his nails over her hips, up her sensitive sides to cup
her tender breasts. She cried out and her body surged forward,
begging for more.

“With pleasure,” he whispered, and rolled her
nipples between his thumbs and fingers. She tried to hide her face
against her arm, but could do nothing about her pleasured cries. He
kept his touch light; just enough to tease, not enough to satisfy,
and her body jerked as she tried to restrain it from thrashing. His
hands trailed downward over her flushed skin, pushing her pants
down just enough to bare the scandalous panties.

With his hands spanning her hips, his thumbs
lightly stroked along the very edges. In a low, dangerous voice, he
asked her, “Will you be toying with me again?” He didn’t need to be
more specific; they both knew he referred to her attempted escape,
and now she knew he took it personally. Very personally.

She grit her teeth, unwilling to give him the
words, knowing he already understood she wouldn’t lightly defy him
again. Her hips twisted once under his caressing hands and she let
out a strangled sound of frustration and rage. Boldly, he reached
down and lightly touched her erotic nerve center—once. Even braced
for it, a scream tore loose from her sensitized body.

He removed his hand, but still she thrashed,
fighting against losing all dignity and begging him for more. He
waited until she regained some shreds of control and opened
desperate, glittering eyes. Holding her gaze, he slowly pulled up
her pants, savoring each uncontrolled jerk that told him how much
her body fought the deprivation of his touch.

Pain, her body cried. Pain from needing it.
His eyes told her he understood, and at the slightest word from her
he’d ease the hurting, but that he knew better than to expect such
a request from such a proud woman.

He dressed her as leisurely as he’d undressed
her and set her loose. Without a word she turned on her heel and
headed back the way she’d come.

He didn’t try to talk, and he seemed content
to let her set the pace. It wasn’t much, as gallantry went, but
she’d take what she could get. She wasn’t up to idle chatter just
then.

She’d felt desire in her life, she thought,
wading through the fern fronds. Even hot, raging lust, but she’d
never before walked through fire. The idea that a near stranger
could do that to her, could make her nearly frantic with need, did
not please her.

Maybe there’s something in the air, she
thought suspiciously, taking a discrete sniff. Maybe it’s not me at
all, but something to do with that thing he calls me. What was it,
a charmer?