Jayems stroked his fisted index finger with his thumb as he regarded Keilor impassively. "Perhaps. What of our own kind, though? Recent events have proven they can be as treacherous as any foreign enemy. At this time I am not averse to strengthening my clan with human ties. Your wife has proven they can be loyal."

"It's possible my wife is an exception," Keilor murmured. "I am concerned that her delight at meeting others of her kind will weaken her judgment."

"Maybe it will, for a time. It's easy to trust in the familiar, but she is your wife now. She will listen to you."

Keilor slanted him a look. "You think she would accept it if I told her that I will not ally myself with the Ronin?"

Jayems' eyes slipped downward, conceding to Keilor's very valid concern. The Ronin had a valuable ally in Jasmine, and no doubt knew it. "I know you're in a difficult position, Keilor, but I will support you. I will not command the same from you, but..." He did not need to say what was already understood. Together they could stand firm against the rest of the Haunt, divided... division might be disastrous.

"I need to find my wife," Keilor muttered so he wouldn't have to answer Jayems. He knew what his answer would be; the one that might make him a traitor in the eyes of his people. But if that was what it took to secure the future for his family then so be it. He could do nothing less for his wife and child. If he had to choose whom to protect, his family or his race, his race could fend for themselves.

He was a family man.

"This is for you." Keilor handed Jasmine a black box like the one he wore on his belt. "It's coded with your personal frequency."

Jasmine took the summons box and lifted a brow. "My, what lovely presents you bring me."

He smiled a little. "Until I say otherwise, I want you to wear your gun every time you leave this room." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off sternly, "Every time, Jasmine."

She took a deep breath. "All right. I can just imagine how stupid I'm going to look at nine months pregnant, toting a gun..." Muttering, she took his hand and tugged him down to sit beside her on the bed. Since he remained tense, she rose on her knees behind him and began to massage the rock-like muscles in his shoulders. "Is this about the Ronin?" His muscles tensed under her hands, and she grimaced. At this rate she'd wear out before he did.

"Among other things." He was silent for a moment. "Be careful. Just because they're human doesn't mean they can be trusted."

"I'm not completely stupid, you know," she grumbled, pausing in her ministrations. "I think I can figure that out."

Turning around, he took her hands in his. "You aren't stupid, only ignorant of some of the dangers we face, dangers you now need to know about." Careful not to edit out even the worst of Tor Maphin's insults, though he wanted to, he repeated what had been said at the council. She needed to know.

She took it better than he'd expected.

"That homely sack of dog puke!" she exclaimed. "He's lucky you didn't carve him up into stew meat."

"I was tempted," he said with a quick smile. "But now you see why I'm concerned. Tor is not our only enemy." His gaze softened, and he stroked her cheek. "Be careful, love, but don't be afraid. I will keep you safe."

Safety was overrated.

"You're certain your husband would not object to this?" Ma-at asked again, a frown marring his stolid face. He glanced at Isfael, who stood nearby with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, but made no move to stop her. No support there. He tried again, "He didn't seem pleased by the idea when we first arrived."

Jasmine slung a leg over the Symbiont cycle and grabbed Leo's waist. She'd practically begged to ride the cycle, humbling herself with shameless determination, and she was not about to miss this chance. "That was then, this is now. Besides, Keilor's an understanding kind of guy."

Isfael snorted and rolled his eyes. Ma-at and Scoir, who'd accompanied Leo, frowned, but before they could do anything, the silver cycle whipped tendrils around its rider's legs, and Leo gunned the throttle.

Just in time to shoot past an angry Keilor and a startled Jackson.

Jackson watched the pair without expression. "Leo is a good rider, her Symbiont dependable."

The look Keilor shot him was pure murder. Then his eyes narrowed back on the moving blur that was his wife.

What fun!

Jasmine shouted with delight as the cycle took the curve of the practice field with dizzying speed. "This thing rocks!" she yelled, relishing the wind tugging at her ponytail. "Rihlia would kill to ride this baby," she gloated.

"Can't," Leo shouted back over her shoulder. "It won't take Haunt." She slowed to a more sedate pace, conserving the symbiont cycle's living strength, allowing it to *breathe'. Unfortunately, the slower pace brought the glowering male faces of their small audience into focus. Leo dared only two more passes before she slowed the creature down to park directly in front of Keilor.

Knowing the value of first attack, Jasmine leapt onto the packed dirt and flung her arms around her husband, giving him a quick kiss. Then she started chattering, far too fast for him to speak. "Did you see me? Can you believe it? That thing must go a hundred miles an hour! Can I-"

Keilor touched two fingers to her lips, cutting off the flow off words. "I am pleased you enjoyed yourself, but I think it would be best to wait until after the baby is born before you go tempting fate again, yes?"

Encouraged by the slight amusement lurking in his eyes but chastened by his very real concern and the shades of anger clinging to his mouth, she ducked her head and nodded in agreement. "I promise not to go so fast again until after the baby is born, unless it's life or death. Deal?"

Danger flashed in her husband's eyes. "We will talk about it further." Nodding to the riders, he took her arm and walked toward the citadel at a rapid pace. Jasmine smiled and sent a jaunty wave to Leo, not particularly concerned.

Keilor's hand tightened at her nonchalance and then relaxed a hair, careful not to bruise. As soon as they'd passed out of earshot, he said in a tight, contained voice, "I thought I'd made my wishes very clear last night."

With a verbal shrug, Jasmine answered, "I'm a grown woman, Keilor, even if I'm not as old as however old it is you are. I knew the risks, and I certainly don't need a grandfather telling me what to do at this late date."

Golden flames danced in his Haunt eyes. "You took the risk in the name of fun, and to prove your independence. My concerns were never an issue to you."

There was a heartbeat of silence. "Well...they did pass through my mind. But come off it, Keilor, what are you going to do, beat me?" She dared a glance at his face and faltered. He did look kind of mad.

"See that we are not disturbed," he told Isfael and the guard who was filling in for Raziel. Once in their room, he locked the door.

CHAPTER 28.

Jasmine unbuckled her gun belt and laid the weapon on the table. When she turned around, he was there, already divested of his own gear. A startled rush of air escaped her as he backed her up against the table, picked her up and deposited her on the top. Closing the distance between them with a decisive movement of his hips, he took hold of her waist. Holding her eyes, he whispered, "My wishes are my commands, Dragonfly. I am not only your husband, but your lord, and you will obey me as such."

She cocked her head, trying to hide her rapid breathing. "Getting a little dramatic, are we-Oh!" In seconds she was naked, with little idea how, and this time there was nothing between her bare bottom and smooth, hard wood. "You animal, you," she breathed, excited but attempting to remain in control with a show of worldliness.

Dumb move.

Keilor grabbed her hips and pulled her to him, bringing her tender parts flush up against the rough material of his pants and his potent arousal. His stinging nip on her tender throat made her jump, but the suction he applied to soothe her skin left her panting.

It was when she started to wind her arms around his neck and rub against him that she understood Keilor wasn't playing a game. He caught her hands and placed them flat against the table, holding them there while he resumed his play at her throat, slowly moving lower.

She moaned with frustration and tried to rub against him, but he moved back, just out of reach, and resumed his teasing. "Keilor," she said in warning, becoming annoyed. "Let me-ah! Stop with the nips allaohh..." His hot, wet mouth closed over one nipple, driving out all her breath, and his restraint of her hands only made her more aware of how much she wanted to touch him.

Using the only part of her that was free, she tried to wrap her legs around his waist, but he broke away and stalked off to her closet, returning with two long sashes and a white fur coat. He tossed the coat on the table and lifted his shocked wife, laying her down on the unbearably silky fur.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, alarmed when he began binding the sashes around the table legs. She tried escaping, but he was much too quick for her, and in less than a minute she found herself on her back, her hands securely fastened above her head.

For a moment Keilor merely looked at her, his eyes drifting down her body and fastening with potent awareness at the slick place between her thighs, making her tremble with both embarrassment and desire. "Stop it," she whispered, closing her eyes.

The door of the cooler in her room opened and shut, and then there was a rustling in the cupboard by the table. Two clinks sounded, just above her head, out of sight and reach. Then the table shook a little, and her eyes opened in time to see Keilor vault onto the top.

He took off his clothes, and he was very, very slow about it.

By the time he'd removed his pants and dragged them over her quivering thighs, she was in a sweat, and fighting not to twist on the fur, knowing its silky caress on her naked skin would be her undoing.

He tossed the pants. Dropping to his knees, he crawled over her, straddling her body, but touching very little of it. Then he parted her thighs with one knee and slowly slid down the length of her.

She clenched her teeth at the sensual assault, but a long, tortured hiss escaped anyway. "Patience is not always a virtue," she rasped, and lunged up, trying to capture his lips. The restraints stopped her a hair's breadth from his mouth.

Cool dark hair caressed her as he teased her lips, nibbling and licking but refusing to deepen the kiss, to let her respond. She twisted in frustration, snarling at him as his mouth slid aside to torment her ear. "Now, man, NOW!" she shouted, wrapping a leg around his hips and surging upwards.

Instead of complying, he rolled aside and propped his head on his hand as he watched her with masculine satisfaction. "Who is your husband?"

"You are, blast you! You scurvy, bloodless-"

"What is my name?" he interrupted, circling one dusky nipple with lazy possession.

She moaned, and her head rolled to the side. "Keilor."

"Mmm," he said, and rewarded her with a brief, too shallow kiss. "And who is your lord?"

"God!" she snapped, just to irritate him.

"Among men," he allowed, amused. His finger trailed down her belly and slowly circled her navel.

Shivers began and would not stop, but danged if she'd give him the satisfaction. "You really get off on these domination games, don't you, babe? So sorry to disappoint you, but-" She broke off as he reached above her, bringing a bottle of dark cinnamon oil, packed full of the curled bark, and a decanter of rich caramel sauce into view. "What are you doing with that?"

He winked at her and uncorked the oil, pouring a generous pool into the palm of his hand.

Nearly mesmerized and a touch horrified at what that stuff was going to do to her control, she whispered, "That can't be good for fur."

He chuckled, and a moment later his slick hands came down on her body.

It was far worse than she'd imagined. She pleaded and begged, hollered and swore, but he was relentless. Every square inch of her body was treated to a heated, merciless torture.

All but the one place she needed him the most.

It was the kisses that were her final undoing.

"Will you obey me?" he whispered against her lips, teasing her with butterfly kisses when what she needed was hard contact. "Am I your lord?"

"Mercenary!" she snapped, too close to losing the skirmish.

"Marauder," he agreed, amused. He rubbed his hard length against her, stealing another gasp. He licked the inside of her mouth.

A woman could only take so much. "Yes!" she gasped. "My lord, you can be my lord. Please!"

Triumph flared in his eyes. "I am your lord, and you will obey me."

For a moment the words stuck in her throat, but it only took one teasing touch of him at her swollen entrance and she started babbling, "Yes! Oh, God, yes, please, you're my lord, I'll obey, I'll-" A scream tore from her throat as he slid deep, deep inside her, pinning her squirming hips to the table.

He kissed her long and sweet. "Thank you," he murmured, and began to love her with a gentle passion that soon turned to flaming need. He could not get enough, and she strained against her bonds until he set her loose. She lunged up, wrapping around him with arms and legs, sinking her teeth lightly into his shoulder until screams and sobs of pleasure forced her to let go.

The pleasure that came then was the best they'd ever known.

"What did you get that out for?" Jasmine asked later, snuggling against Keilor with sated affection.

He took up the decanter of caramel sauce and gave her a wicked grin. "Let me show you."

Keilor was surprised to find Raziel leaning against the opposite wall when he exited. Then he remembered it was time for his shift to begin.

Raziel smirked, his blue eyes twinkling as he toyed with his earring. "Is it safe to return to Haunt? The noise coming through the door was too much even for poor human ears."

A rare flush bronzed Keilor's cheekbones. "I'm out here, aren't I?"

"So you are." Raziel inclined his head in merry acknowledgment.

Keilor snorted, choosing to ignore his friend's imprudence even as a smile teased his lips.

They had been rather noisy.

"We seem to be making a bad habit of this," Jasmine joked, sitting down in the chair beside her friend's bed two days later. "How are you doing, Ri?"

"I'm beginning to understand why you were such a grouchy patient." She shifted against the mattress, grimacing in discomfort. "Between Jayems' hovering and my mother trying to cheer me up, I'm slowly going mad. Tell me I wasn't that bad."

Jasmine grinned. "Worse. Just be glad you don't have to live on liquids for a week," she said when Rihlia groaned in dismay. "The important thing is you're going to be okay, the baby is doing fine, and you'll be on your feet in time to watch your toes disappear under your baby belly."

Rihlia glared, but then her look softened. "Thank you, Jasmine. If it hadn't been for you-"

"You would have done the same for me," Jasmine interrupted before Rihlia could grow maudlin again. The pregnancy was really turning Rihlia into a bawl baby. Jasmine shuddered. She'd count herself lucky if all she suffered from was bad temper.

Rihlia picked at the covers. "I suppose you heard that one of the assassins was Knightin?"

Keilor had told Jasmine they'd uncovered evidence that Knightin had been receiving bribes during the last year, possibly longer. A discreet investigation had begun to search for other possible traitors.

"Jayems is talking about moving me to a safer place until all of this is over."

Jasmine looked up, surprised. "No one has said anything to me."

"He just brought it up today. I was too tired to fight about it much, but I don't want to go, especially now of all times." Tears shimmered in her lowered eyes. "I don't want to leave him right now."

"I'd be happy to talk to Jayems for you, if you like," she offered.

Fresh tears of gratitude sprang to Rihlia's eyes, and Jasmine jumped up, rushed her goodbyes, and beat a fast retreat.

God save them all from pregnant women.

Jasmine commandeered a bench at the side of the training area where Keilor was instructing a group of soldiers in the art of the sword. She'd never watched him at work, and it was a novel experience to see him through the eyes of his students.

They worshiped him. He asked the impossible, and they delivered because it was he who asked. He was curt, but never cruel. He didn't accept excuses, merely worked patiently with a student until that student understood what he wanted of him, demonstrating where necessary. The beauty of it was, his demonstrations were always matter-of-fact and instructional, never an outlet to showcase his own skill.