The Charmer

40

The warrior’s brows shot up. “The untamable Master of the Hunt, captured at last by a woman?” Mathin studied him. “You have no desire for children?”

Keilor rubbed his thumb over the rim of his cup. “I accept that I won’t have them.” He could have explained he planned on adopting a child, but the sudden tightness in his throat prevented it. A forceful swallow of mead cleared it enough for him to ask, “What of you? I had always assumed you liked children. Why would you court a human?”

A humorless smile traced Mathin’s lips. “Perhaps, in my case, it would be better to remain childless.” There was a moment of silence. Mathin’s line was not called the Mad for nothing.

“Besides, legend has it that to lie with a charmer is to experience pleasure worth dying for. Is it not said that more than one Haunt went to his death, smiling, after a night with a charmer?” He leaned forward, disregarding Keilor’s black look. “I’m no mewling virgin, Keilor. I’ve known satisfaction many times, but never have I—” he broke off, looking frustrated, as if the words eluded him. Or perhaps it was only that he realized the personal nature of what he’d been about to reveal. He finished gruffly with, “I’d like to test the legend.”

“To legends,” Keilor toasted him, not bothering with childish denials. Jasmine would be his tomorrow, and he was man enough to let his jealousy go, even though he wanted nothing better than to bare his teeth and launch himself across the table. To distract himself, he asked, “And what do you think drives her other suitors? Other than l**t?”

Mathin snorted and refilled their cups. “Bloodless politics, my friend. A man can adopt children, but how many get the chance to ally themselves with the strongest family in the realm?” Keilor grunted, and he grinned. “Though no doubt the lady has some attraction.”

Keilor ignored him.

“Speaking of women, where is your cousin, Fallon?” A wolfish gleam glimmered in his eyes. “Off on one of his mysterious journeys?”

Keilor gave him a bland look. Mathin knew full well where Fallon had gone, and he’d give his right nut to be able to follow. Even Mathin would have to have a powerful reason to use the gate uninvited, however. Volti were known for their savagery.

Obviously using great restraint, Mathin said nothing more. He was a proud man, and he wasn’t going to sulk. “I marvel at his timing.” He refilled their empty glasses. “Is he still determined to keep his freedom, or has your loyal cousin ceded the game to you?”

Before Keilor could open his mouth to retort, a knock sounded on the door.

“Come,” Mathin called. A messenger entered and handed him a slip of paper. A slow, wicked smile curved Mathin’s lips as he scanned the note.

“Tell her yes,” he told the messenger, who nodded with respect and disappeared.

Mathin tossed Keilor the note and tilted his chair back to watch his face.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Two glowing slits were all that remained of Keilor’s eyes when he finished and tossed the note to the table. His nostrils flared wide as he stared at it, wishing he could incinerate it and the nine others like it. No doubt the little witch did it just to torment him.

“It would seem the Lady Jasmine is curious about the Ten,” Mathin needled him, the devil in his eyes. “Or perhaps just one of the Ten?”

Keilor snarled at him.

***

“Were you invited?” Jasmine murmured coldly to him the next morning as he joined her and the Ten for breakfast. They were on the opposite side of the formal dining room from the rest of the gathering, which also included the female members of his family, most likely to help insure good behavior.

Keeping his voice equally low, he leaned forward and breathed in her ear, “After the private invitation you extended to me last night, I had no reason to think you’d exclude me this morning. Or are you afraid to face me?”

There were so many things Jasmine wanted to say to that, the numerous messages temporarily paralyzed her tongue. Keilor just smiled at her and joined the rest of the men. For a moment she didn’t dare turn around, afraid the rage coursing through her would make her behave like a fool. She considered, strongly, calling the guards and having him thrown out.

The man had left her—left her!—shaking and huddled in his bath, suffering the twin agonies of humiliation and blistering desire. He had made her want him, and then been cold enough to leave her there to suffer. The man was cruel, and after she’d stumbled back to her room with two Haunt guards watching her with suspicion, she’d let out her anger and hurt in a flood of bitter tears.

Never again.

Rihlia snared Keilor into standing with her to say the blessing. She knew all about last night, and her lightly veiled anger shimmered in her eyes.

He couldn’t have missed it, but other than one wary look, he made no comment.

Inviting the Ten to breakfast this morning had been her idea. “He wants to play games with you, fine,” she’d said, furious on Jasmine’s behalf. “We’ll skewer the rat and roast him over a fire made of the sexiest men we can find. We’ll teach the arrogant jerk not to play games he can’t win.”

Somehow, the idea had seemed much better last night.

The smile she offered Mathin, the handsomest of her guests, and the most likely to defeat Keilor today, was a pale imitation of the flirtatious smile she’d meant to deliver. She felt too bruised to offer more.

Something odd flashed in Mathin’s eyes when she looked at him, almost as if he saw the truth behind her smile. His eyes flickered to Keilor, an indecipherable expression in them. When he looked at Jasmine again, though, his expression was clear. “May I share the blessing with you, Lady Jasmine?” he asked, and his rough voice sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.