Jasmine didn't budge. "This is some sort of social trap, right? I pick the wrong guy and I offend someone for life." She shook her head. "No way. You pick for me."

Wiley shifted, impatient, and gestured to the guards to open the door. They tried to obey.

Jasmine braced her back against it and glared at them.

"You won't offend anybody, just pick someone," Wiley insisted.

As Jasmine opened her mouth to argue, the door was forced open from the inside. Keilor stood there, frowning.

Wiley's laugh was high-pitched. "Jasmine's a little nervous. We're ready to go in now." Jasmine glowered, but kept her mouth shut as Keilor took her arm and led her into the banquet hall. She felt like the opening band at a rock concert as three brightly robed women and one man looked her over curiously, then turned their attention eagerly back to the door.

Well, the women looked back.

The stranger's eyes froze on her face, then drifted down her body, retracing their path no faster than they had to. His loose, navy blue trousers and gold trimmed tunic were cut in the Chinese style and edged in gold. His blond hair was pulled back neatly with a clip and fell to his shoulders. By his bearing, he was a commander of some sort.

Keilor's touch at the small of her back fell away as the man took her hand and slowly raised it to his lips. "Fallon, sweet lady." His intense green eyes sizzled. "Your servant, day or night."

A little shocked, mostly because such a risque comment was directed at her, she stammered, "Uh, thanks." She looked back at the door and he reluctantly parted with her hand. It was difficult to pay attention, since he remained close enough for her to feel him breathe.

Wiley stared at an older woman with braided silver hair, and the woman looked back at her with sky blue eyes alive with emotion. Wiley had a look of consternation fixed on her face, but the other woman...

The queenly lady glided forward, entranced, until she stood blinking fiercely at Wiley. Her voice was hoarse when she whispered, "Daughter?" Suddenly she hugged the stiff young woman, shaking her head over and over. "Rihlia," she said, and her eyes were wet with tears.

CHAPTER 8.

Jasmine hadn't meant to drink so much, but as she looked up and saw Wiley seated at the opposite end of the table with her family, she felt the need for fortification.

Something had to warm her insides.

Wiley's family consisted of her mother, Lady Rhapsody, Rhapsody's sister Lady Portae, and two cousins. Urseya, a young woman about their own age, was a sloe-eyed beauty of perfect dimensions and practiced poise, while her older brother, the handsome Fallon, looked to be in his late twenties. They were all that was left of the extended family who had existed before the devastating assassinations swept the Haunt. The murders had wiped out most of their bloodline and resulted in the loss of Rihlia, as Rhapsody explained during dinner.

Quite a loss, if the stunning male specimens present were any indication.

Fallon, who'd single mindedly secured her for his partner during the blessing, favored her with another one of his sexy smiles. The benediction had been spoken with a man standing protectively behind every woman, hands on shoulders, giving thanks and promising to use the strength given by the nourishment to protect and provide for their family and loved ones. Fallon's hands had settled on her shoulders with a definite sensation of promise.

The man was gorgeous and ruthlessly charming, and at another time he would have had her falling at his feet. Tonight his interest left her cold. It was the last thing she needed.

He lifted the green glass wine decanter-a work of art with its woven rush covering-and offered silently to pour for her. She covered her glass with her hand and gave him a faint smile. "No, thank you. I think I've had too much of a very good thing."

In a voice as smooth as molten caramel, he countered, "Ah, but is there ever too much of a good thing?" He refilled his glass and set the decanter aside, and she tried very hard to not to feel anything at all.

Keeping her eyes on the pale amber liquid that remained in her glass, she answered, "In the case of wine, yes, of course."

He sipped his wine and watched her with the lazy gaze of a hunter. "And in the case of men?"

What could she say to make him stop? Men didn't play these kinds of games with her.

Keilor was useless as a distraction. He was deep in conversation with Urseya on his left and unconcerned with her torment. The bits and pieces she caught of the flirtatious exchange did not help her peace of mind. It seemed Keilor wasn't above playing with whatever new toys came his way. The knowledge that she held no more interest for him than a night's diversion sent dark eddies through her. As a result, vinegar seasoned her response. "A curiosity best left...unexplored."

Green eyes full of amusement studied her as he swirled his wine in its crystal cup. "Hm. How do you know the unexplored isn't hiding pleasures you might find to your liking? Perhaps you might sample a little excitement and find it's to your taste?"

She snorted, and the wine must have rotted her brain, because she told him candidly, "The last guy who promised me a little excitement turned out to have a tongue like a slug. No thanks." Conversations stopped, and even Keilor turned to look at her.

Fallon looked startled. "A slug?"

Perhaps she'd taken the right tack after all. At least he'd stopped flirting. "A cold, wet slug, and once was quite enough, thank you. I'm swearing off men. You're all a pack of trouble."

Jasmine stood up and nodded at Wiley's mother. "It was a pleasure to meet you, ma'am, and congratulations on your reunion, but your wonderful wine has gone to my tongue, and you'd be better off without my company. So if you'll excuse me..."

Astonished she'd managed to pull off such a diplomatic speech, she left before the poor woman could reply.

It seemed like the smart thing to do.

She dreamed of her mother that night.

Jasmine lay curled on the tile next to the commode, waiting for the next upheaval from her stomach. She tried not to think, other than to chant the mantra, "I will never touch Haunt alcohol again. I will never..." Then the knocking began.

"Jasmine, are you ok?" Wiley sounded worried. Maybe she'd noticed how much she'd been drinking the night before.

"Hung over. Go away," she croaked, and she was left in peace for a little while.

She was in stage two with a horrendous headache and a cold, soggy cloth over her eyes when Wiley tried again. "You'll feel better if you eat something," she coaxed.

Jasmine groaned a denial and tossed a pillow at the door.

By stage three it was late afternoon. She'd taken a bath and her body was beginning to function better, but unfortunately so was her mind. She'd just sent Wiley away again and was lying on the couch in her jeans and t-shirt, staring at nothing, when she heard Keilor's deep voice over the intercom.

"Open the door, Jasmine."

Immediately she got up and padded across the hardwood floor with bare, silent feet. She didn't even think of telling him to go away, not when he was using that tone.

He entered her room and strode to the table with a covered tray. He set it on the table while she shut the door. "Sit down and eat."

Her feet dragged as she moved toward him, but the moment he uncovered the steaming sweet and sour fish and snowy rice underneath, her mouth began to water. She devoured everything on her plate.

Keilor opened the shutters and sat in the chair opposite her. He kept his eyes mostly on the view, though occasionally he glanced at her to gauge her progress. As she finished the last few bites, he stood up and walked around the table.

She rubbed the edge of the table with her thumb. What would he say first? That she'd made a fool of herself last night? That she ought to be nicer to Wiley? "What if I promised you I wouldn't cause any trouble if you agreed to take me home?"

His eyes glinted dangerously. Her scent was making him feel aggressive. He needed to touch her. "I'd tell you to stop sulking." In a lightning fast maneuver, he snaked his hand around her waist and pulled her roughly up to him. She pushed against him, but was no match for his large, battle-toned body.

Giving her nowhere to run, he voiced a suspicion that budded in his mind while watching her drink more than was good for her. "Admit it-you're jealous of Rihlia."

She struggled, but he wouldn't give an inch. "Wiley is my friend! I've never been jealous of her in my life." She grunted, twisted, but his arm was a rigid restraint. With a strangled shriek of rage, she aimed a bite at his shoulder, but he seized her hair and imprisoned her head.

"Admit it!" His nostrils flared as his eyes shot sparks at her. A hot tremor shot through him, but they both ignored it. "You...are...jealous!" He'd spent another sleepless night alone, thinking of her, and he was not about to back down until they'd dealt with this. Maybe then he'd get some peace.

Furious at her restraint and battered by emotions she could no longer contain, she shouted back, "All right! I'm jealous, ok? I've never been more jealous in my life." At her admission, his arm relaxed. She took every inch of distance he offered.

As her words registered, shame filled her. Her hands curled into fists, clutching his shirt, and her head slowly bowed. "I love her like a sister and I've never wanted to outrun her so badly in my life. God help me." Blood pounded in her ears, and she felt lower than low. Hah! Some friend she was.

"She needs you, you know."

She nodded and tried to keep the moisture burning her eyes inside. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

Almost reluctantly, he separated their charged bodies and led her over to the living area. He chose a velvet armchair and sat down, tugging her down to sit in front of him. With gentle hands he massaged her shoulders.

She sighed, an aching kind of sigh, and let her eyelids drift shut. "Why are you being so nice?"

His voice, when it finally came, was husky, and it sent little firecrackers off up and down her nerves. "I'm not being nearly as nice as I'd like to be, but I'm trying to behave." His thumbs eased up to work the knots out of her neck. "Fallon would think I'm a fool."

She angled her neck to give him better access. "What's he got to do with it?"

"He's a determined man. Don't underestimate him. Just when you think you've driven him off, he'll come back and surprise you."

She tensed, and his fingers pressed more firmly into the bunched muscles. "I don't know why he bothers."

"I told you-you're a charmer." He was matter-of-fact, as if the topic were as unremarkable as the dawn rising in the eastern sky. "He couldn't do anything else."

She frowned. "It doesn't seem to be bothering you."

His hands tightened on her shoulders. He turned her around until she was kneeling in front of him. Taking her hand, he put it on his warm erection, holding it there when she would have jerked back in surprise.

He held her gaze. "I'm a man of action, of discipline. The Haunt follow my orders, and sometimes lives depend on my making hard decisions and keeping a level head." His hard length burned into her palm. Her fingers curled around it.

"I won't be led around by a woman, or by anything else." He pressed her hand more firmly to him and held her eyes for a moment while he got bigger, and harder.

Then he stood up and walked away.

Keilor set the empty tray down on the table while Rihlia watched him with anxious eyes. "She ate."

Rihlia sank down in a wing chair. A new concern filled her face and he shook his head, guessing its source. "Give her until morning. I think you'll find her in better spirits and more pleased with company."

The unhappiness didn't leave her face as she twisted the end of a long black lock. She touched the silver hair ornament holding her hair up and off her face as if she wanted to remove it and then dropped her hand. "She never drinks so much, Keilor. Last night was hard for her."

He tilted his head slightly. "It was hard for you as well, but I don't see you sulking."

She grimaced and slouched in her chair. "I need to, I think. I just haven't had the chance." She raised troubled eyes. "I don't remember her at all. My mother, I mean. She looks at me with such hunger, and all I want to do is push her away. I feel guilty, like I'm doing something wrong-what kind of person doesn't love her mother? Then I get angry because she makes me feel that way, and it starts all over again."

He nodded, just listening, and she went on. "And then there's Jayems." She smiled without humor. "Do you know he told me I was everything he ever wanted in a wife? How could he say something like that? He hardly knows me."

Keilor's smile held real humor. "Love does not take long among our kind-we know."

She leaned back and looked at him skeptically. "Love, Keilor? I think you're getting it confused with-no, don't shake your head. You know I'm right."

He sat down on the couch so she wouldn't have to look up at him. "Cousin, I've known Jayems all his life and seen him with more than his share of women." She scowled at him, but he went on, "Never once have I seen in his eyes what they hold for you."

She clasped her hands over her stomach and stared at her knees. "I don't know what I feel for him." She frowned. "I don't want to have to feel anything at all." There was silence for a moment. "Speaking of feelings, what are you doing to my friend?"

He blinked. "Nothing."

"I know better than that." She folded her arms and her foot started tapping. "There's something going on between you two. Every time you're in the same room the air starts crackling."

Best to cut this inquiry at the quick. He threw an arm over the back of the couch and adopted a nonchalant expression. "Your friend is a charmer, cousin. If I show sexual interest in her, it's no more than can be expected of any man in the room. You'll have noticed Fallon was no different."

"That's a bunch of bull!" Rihlia's eyes shot sparks as she sat forward, gesturing angrily. "She might be a little shy with men, but Jasmine has always been a pretty girl. I don't think it's fair of you to blame some mythical pheromone just so you can have an excuse for being attracted to a human!"

"What I feel, what Fallon feels, what Knightin feels," he answered with grim conviction. "What every unattached male above the age of puberty will feel whenever she is near." He leaned forward, determined to make her understand. "She is pretty, and it doesn't help, but it wouldn't matter if she were fat and bald and covered with boils, men would still want her." She tried to interrupt, but he cut her off ruthlessly. "Fallon likes his women, true, but I've never seen him pursue one with the tenacity he displayed last night. If she hadn't surprised him with that comment about tongues," he grimaced, "then we might have had to leash him to keep him from following her to her room." He paused to give his words weight. "Do you really think her beauty alone would bring three grown men to their knees?"

Rihlia's lips were tight with anger. "Prove it."

"Very well." He strode towards the door. "Give me fifteen minutes to arrange an escort, and I'll meet you in the courtyard. We'll take a tour of the cadet's dining hall." He slammed the door behind him, giving vent to his frustration, and strode quickly down the hall. Jayems might have his head later, but by fire, he'd hear no more complaints about imaginary pheromones!

Word spread about what he was about to do, and by the time he met Rihlia and Jasmine in the bricked courtyard the rest of his female relations were there as well. They'd gathered by a fountain, and the spray from the small waterfall misted the air. It sparkled around his aunt Portae as she talked, gesturing expansively.

Jasmine was coolly confident in the nondescript white uniform of a servant, and even Rihlia looked disdainful, but there was nothing chilly in the greeting Urseya granted him.

"Keilor! This is so exciting," she greeted him, smiling, and put her hand on his arm. When he merely nodded an acknowledgment her smile faded a little, and her hand fell away. "Well." She bounced a bit on the balls of her feet and looked over to their family. "I must warn you, Keilor, we've placed wagers on the outcome of your charmer's unveiling." She smiled up at him through her long lashes. "As a vote of confidence, I've placed my money on you, but I must say, I think Rihlia's friend is cheating dreadfully. Just look at what she's done to her face."

Jasmine's face was coated in something that made it pasty gray, and she'd greased her hair so that it hung in limp strands on her shoulders. Dark circles dimmed her green eyes and she smiled at him, revealing three blackened teeth. She looked like something two days in the grave.

"It won't matter," he said grimly. Jasmine's confidence visibly wavered a bit at those words, and he felt a sharp pang in his chest. He didn't think she was going to enjoy this.

He knew he wouldn't.

Gesturing sharply to the fifteen mated Haunt he'd brought with him, he turned and strode resolutely towards the cadet barracks built into the curving arm of the mountain.

Jasmine told herself she had nothing to worry about. This whole thing was foolish. Keilor had made a mistake, and she'd prove it to the idiot. She'd show him that what he felt, what she felt, had nothing to do with a stupid legend and everything to do with a man and a woman who were attracted to each other, and had been from the first. After that...

Her mind shied away from the *after'. First she had to prove her point. There was no mysterious, seductive pheromone, and even if there ever had been, she didn't have it.

She was butt ugly today and confident that Wiley and the beautiful Urseya outshone her by a mile.

No one would look at her twice.

CHAPTER 9.