In moments her eyes had opened and she looked at him with the cold stare of a wounded cobra. Before she could tell him to go fry in hell, he grabbed her hair, yanked her to him and hissed in her ear, "Your husband sent me, you idiot. He's alive, and if you ever hope to see him again, you'd better play along." He allowed her to pull back. She watched him, openly distrustful, but said nothing.

He figured silence was the best cooperation he was likely to get under the circumstances. He pulled her to her feet, went to the door, and called for the guards to open it.

Yesande was on the other side, flanked by ten of her Haunt, and she was not happy. "You raped her," she said, taking one look at his blood on Jasmine's lips. Her eyes narrowed, and she informed him with cold intent, "She is no good to me mated, fool."

He pulled Jasmine in front of him and grabbed her throat before his sister could order her Haunt to attack. "She comes with me or you lose her, Yesande." He was not failing Keilor, not after making it this far.

Smirking, Yesande chided him, "Come now, brother. Cease these games. You may have forced the charmer to spread her legs and mate with you-not that I blame you; I agree something had to be done-but you'll not kill her."

Mathin broke Jasmine's arm.

Even Yesande recoiled a step at her shriek.

"Still think I won't kill her?" he asked savagely, trying not retch at her gasping sobs. She deserved better than this.

Yesande took a step back, pallor leaching her already pale skin. "Father's madness," she whispered with horror. "It did carry to you."

He allowed his eyes to gleam golden. This time the Haunt stepped back as well. "Go," she told him hoarsely, too afraid to stand in his way now.

He drew his sword and dragged the moaning Jasmine out of there. No one got in his way.

"What happened to her?" Raziel demanded when they reached the stags.

Mathin touched the sides of Jasmine's neck over her carotid arteries and cut off the blood flow to her brain. It put her out of her misery for the grueling ride ahead. "I broke her arm," he said grimly, and handed her up to Raziel.

Eyes wide, Raziel said, "If we live through this, Keilor is going to kill you."

"He'll have to stand in line," Mathin answered, as angry Haunt swarmed out of the citadel. He spurred his stag for the hills.

It took them nearly two days of reckless dashes and miserable damp as they hid from Yesande's soldiers, but they gained a lead on the other Haunt. By then Jasmine's arm had been set, and she was taking painkillers, but the drugs coming out of her system combined with their grueling pace took their toll.

Humans were never meant to keep pace with a Haunt.

"If we don't do something soon, she's not going to make it back to Keilor," Raziel said quietly as they ate. Jasmine lay on a pallet on one of the higher pieces of swampland. Thin insect netting shrouded her from head to toe, but they could still see her pallor through the veil. Her breath sounded harsh over the calls of insects and swamp birds.

Mathin looked off through the raised tree roots to where Isfael stood guard in the deepening gloom. He was in Haunt, and somewhat protected from the insects by his thick fur.

An insect bit Mathin and he slapped at it, coming away with a hand covered in glowing bug goo. "I know. That's why we're going to start looking for a symbiont."

Raziel dug a shred of giant swamp snail out of his teeth with a sliver of wood. "What's that?"

"A creature that lives in these swamps. They don't have much use for Haunt, but I think a symbiont may be just what our patient needs."

She was dying.

As Jasmine lay next to the giant tree, she found she didn't care. Mathin had gone off to hunt, leaving Isfael and Raziel to guard her. She didn't want him to come back. When he did, they would leave again. Riding hurt.

She was so very tired, and she just needed to rest.

She missed Keilor. Maybe, she thought fuzzily, if she went to sleep she might dream of him again. Her eyes began to close, and she almost thought she saw him, somewhere in her mind, beckoning...

"Here you go," A rude, raspy voice intruded, and Keilor vanished like so much smoke. She opened her eyes and scowled weakly at Mathin, who knelt beside her with a pouch. The pouch moved.

Thinking of the various forms of swamp life he'd forced down her throat, she informed him with as much strength as she could muster, "If that's dinner, you can have my share."

"It's not dinner." He reached into the pouch and extracted a ball of liquid silver. Isfael and Raziel watched with interest. "This, my cranky little charge, is your new best friend."

The blob was about the size of a baseball and moved like a worm, stretching out and up as if scenting the air. Suddenly the creature stiffened, and its "head" slowly rotated in her direction. It reared back, as if in surprise.

Then it zapped onto her.

Jasmine screamed as the creature landed on her chest with a big warm splat and spread out into a sheet of blood warm silver. With her undamaged arm and hand she frantically tried to grab it and pull it off, but the silver flowed through her fingers and eagerly slid down inside her sling. A tingling buzz spread from the site of the break, and then up her arm and over her body. By the time it reached her head and buzzed through her brain she was on her feet, something she hadn't been able to do unassisted for twenty-four hours.

"Mathin!" she screeched, as she felt the wave move down her body to the soles of her feet and back up to settle around her forearms. "Get it off!"

"Why?" He smiled, watching as she franticly tore off her sling and tried to pull the happy symbiont off her forearms. The symbiont now resembled a pair of silver filigree bracelets covering her forearms from wrists to elbow.

"It'll suck the life out of me!"

"No, it will suck the life into you," he corrected as he saw her face flush with healthy color. Now he just might be able to get her back to his friend in one piece.

It couldn't happen fast enough for him.

Keilor wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and sheathed his sword. Perspiration slicked his entire body, and he grabbed a towel to swipe at his chest and flawless abdomen.

He cursed the lingering weakness. The towel dragged on Jasmine's dragonfly choker, and he flung the cloth away with an oath, assailed by painful longing.

It had been over a month since he'd sent others after his wife.

"You're going to damage yourself again if you keep this up," Jayems observed from where he lounged in the doorway to Jasmine's room. Keilor spared him a glance full of self-disgust but said nothing.

Jayems wandered into the room, pausing to pet Casanova. The independent little villi was the only one not concerned about his mistress. "We know they got her out."

"With a broken arm and a bloody mouth!" Keilor snarled.

Jayems winced, remembering his cousin's reaction to that bit of news. Mathin would be lucky if Keilor didn't break every bone in his body when next he saw him. "She was alive. Raziel and Isfael are with them."

"Small comfort," Keilor answered morosely. He looked at but did not see Jasmine's lemon tree.

Jayems froze. "You don't think she would betray you?" he asked in amazement. "She's not the kind of woman to take her promises lightly, and despite the ugly rumors, I don't believe she'd dishonor you." Thanks to spies, they'd had some intelligence on Yesande's doings at the Citadel, none of it encouraging. They knew Jasmine had been drugged with aphrodisiacs, knew about Yesande's experiments.

"It's not that," Keilor said, but his words were half-hearted.

Jayems inclined his head with a touch of temper. "If you think her association with Mathin is likely to foster affection, think again. He can be charming on the surface, but you of all people ought to know that prolonged contact with Mathin is more likely to drive Jasmine into fits of rage, not passion. I've no doubt she's counting the days until she's free of him."

Keilor sighed, a little cheered. The grim warrior in him still wished to brace for the worst, but perhaps it was time to exercise some faith in his woman, as a husband should. It would help if he knew where they were, so he could meet them half way.

This unending waiting was getting to him.

CHAPTER 23.

Jasmine pulled at her new "bracelets" and sent Mathin another dirty look. It had been two days now, and they still couldn't get the symbiont off her, not that anyone cared. After all, they weren't the ones feeling a pulsing, breathing, snake-like thing occasionally move on their arms.

Mathin ignored her. He'd merely shrugged away her complaints and pointed out that the creature had healed her. It also continued to supply her blood with extra oxygen in exchange for her carbon dioxide and bodily wastes, making her capable of sustaining the pace of the others. Her personal distress was of no interest to him.

She fingered the pistol Raziel and Isfael had given her for a wedding gift. They'd brought it with them at Keilor's request. Even gravely injured, he'd thought of her.

It was a comfort to know he was alive. His friends assured her that Haunt healed quickly. They were able to sustain incredible amounts of damage, even wounds that would kill a human.

She gazed wistfully in the direction of home, wishing she were out of the foggy, muggy swamp. She couldn't see a whole lot in the deepening gloom, and finally gave it up. She needed to apply some more bug repellent, anyway.

Strands of greasy hair brushed her face as she squatted down. She grimaced and pulled out the tie to tighten her ponytail. "If we don't get a bath soon, Yesande's Haunt are going to smell us coming a mile away."

"You're welcome to take your chances in the swamp," Raziel teased.

Jasmine shuddered. No one was that desperate. Tugging the end of her hair over her shoulder, she began to finger comb the knotted ends, scowling as the split ends slid through her fingers. Apparently her symbiont didn't do hair. "I need a haircut," she grumbled.

"I have a knife," Raziel offered, reaching for it as if she would really use it.

"No thanks," she answered, warding him off with one hand. The last thing she needed was the mess a blade would make of her hair. "What I really need is a sharp pair of scissors, but since we don't-" she broke off, staring as the symbiont on her right forearm slithered down into her hand. It coalesced into pair of scissors joined to her wrist by a thin loop of liquid metal. "Hey," she whispered in astonishment. "Maybe this little guy is good for something after all."

Mathin rolled his eyes. "Just like a woman. Save her life, and she snubs you. Provide her with grooming aides, and you're her friend for life."

The symbiont turned out to be handier than a Swiss army knife. All Jasmine had to do was think of what she wanted, and the symbiont became that thing. Any manner of utensil or hand tool was suddenly available to Jasmine at a thought, including cups and needles. It even formed into a string for cat's cradle.

"There might be some defensive capabilities to this creature," Raziel observed. Isfael, who remained almost constantly in Haunt, signed something back, and Raziel raised a brow. "I agree. A knife or a garrote might prove invaluable against an unsuspecting foe, provided you knew what you were doing. What do you think? Would you like to test your new friend's capabilities?"

Jasmine, who'd caught some of what Isfael had been saying, grimaced. The idea of using the symbiont for disemboweling or stabbing was not appealing, but considering what they might yet face, maybe she'd better get over her aversion. Her life might just depend on it.

So Jasmine learned to kill. Whenever they had time to stop during the nights, her warrior escort taught her new ways to maim and butcher, silence and scavenge, or made her practice what she did know.

She soon discovered Keilor had been right; compared to him, her new instructors were merciless, inflexible, and exacting. They never deliberately hurt her, and physically they were more careful with her hide than they were with each other, but she did accumulate her share of bruises, mostly from learning to fall and roll over uneven ground.

None of them cared if she got angry, swore at them, or cried. As far as they were concerned, she was now a warrior in training, and she could just get over it.

Wonder of wonders, she did.

The symbiont was a big help. Not only did it thrive by absorbing the damage to her person, it lent her a never before known speed and agility. It did nothing for her strength, but her stamina almost matched that of the Haunt, and that was not a small thing.

No amount of grueling exercise could take her mind off of her husband for long, though. With every day that went by her longing grew, until she dared not think of him while riding lest her seat on the saddle-usually behind Mathin or Raziel-become an aching torture.

Oddly enough, none of her companions seemed to be affected by the increased levels of pheromone she knew she emitted at those times. Wondering if her marriage had something to do with it, she finally asked Mathin about it.

He snorted with ill humor. "Isfael merely remains in Haunt, where one never feels the desire to mate, and he can still scent danger. As for Raziel and I..." He scowled. "We've been taking a sinus blocker since we reached you. We can't smell or taste a blasted thing while using it."

Jasmine's eyes widened. "Is that why you've been such a jackass?"

Raziel roared with laughter. "I don't know what that is, but just the way you said it... It's got to be good."

"A male beast of burden, known for its stubborn refusal to cooperate and its nasty temper," Jasmine supplied.

Raziel grinned wickedly at the glowering Mathin. "A jackass," he repeated, smirking. "I'll have to remember that. However, I'm afraid our Mathin can't blame the sinus blockers for his disposition. You ought to know by now he's just naturally a foul tempered beast."

Mathin curled his lip at him.

Almost two months to the day Jasmine had been taken, they finally came within a days' ride of Jayems' citadel. Instead of growing relaxed as they entered the forest of fern and towering redwoods, however, her escort increased their vigilance. All traces of levity ceased, as did superfluous chatter. Everyone was on the alert for a last minute betrayal.

They needn't have worried.

Within minutes of entering the forest, volti joined them, running just inside the forest beside the bridle path. Jasmine felt a strong sense of deja vu, but instead of fear, this time she felt exhilaration and a sense of homecoming. Only one thing worried her. "Do you think Keilor will be happy to see me?" she whispered.

Three heads, two in Haunt, whipped around to stare at her. "I can't believe you just asked that," Mathin finally got out. Giving her one last suspicious look, as if wondering if she'd left her wits somewhere in the swamps, he went back to scanning the trees for assassins. Shaking their heads, Raziel and Isfael did the same.

Well. That would teach her to ask a man to boost her confidence.

Her tension increased the closer they got to home, and she kept forcing herself to relax her legs from around the barrel of the stag, lest it run. Still damp from her recent bath, her hair flowed loose down her shoulders and began to wave from the wind of their passage.

"Do you think we could go a little faster?" she asked. The men ignored her, and she slouched, sulking. "I could almost get off and run there faster," she muttered, but nobody listened.

Two hours from the citadel, Isfael and Raziel signaled they heard riders, coming fast. Excited, Jasmine leaned to the side, watching the road. Would Keilor be with them?

He was.

"Keilor!" she shouted happily as he thundered into view on a sweating stag. She levered up on Raziel's shoulders and knelt on his halted stag's back to get a better look in a way that must have been very annoying for Raziel. Grinning like a fool, she waved to her husband, almost losing her seat in the process but for Raziel reaching back to steady her.

Keilor snatched her from Raziel's stag at a trot and seated her so she straddled him. He proceeded to kiss her as if about to ravish her there and then. With eager lips and hungry hands, she told him she wouldn't mind.

"I missed you," she gasped, snatching some air before the dizziness he caused overwhelmed her.

He groaned, pulled her head back and told her with his volcanic kiss that he'd missed her, too.

Wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug, she sobbed against his neck, "I'd thought you were dead."

"Never," he assured her fervently, holding her close as he stroked her hair. "I'm right here, Dragonfly."

At his use of her nickname, the tears came in earnest, and it was some minutes before she even noticed they were heading for the citadel at fast clip. By then Keilor had switched her position so that she sat curled in his lap, supported by his arms. "I missed you," she said again, giving him a hug.

His arms tightened around her. "Good," he answered with fierce satisfaction. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming home when the news came you had entered the forest." His jaw tightened, and he shot a glare of pending retribution at Mathin over her head.

Mathin inclined his head coolly but said nothing.

"How is your arm? We had heard it was broken," he asked with concern. There was no telling what she had suffered on her journey, and the first thing he intended to do was to have her examined by a medic. If Mathin had let anything happen to her...