Badly shaken, she could barely get the words out. At least she wasn't hysterical. It had taken much longer to calm Rihlia down enough to make her believe the Haunt were not a danger to her. But then, she belonged to this world.
He would make no such assurances to this human.
"Wait here," he told the girl sternly, pointing to the cushioned bench set in the alcove opposite his lord's rooms. She sank limply onto the bench, obeying him without a murmur, but it wasn't him she was looking at. He turned to the pair of Haunt guards flanking the massive double doors and eyed them wryly. She was unlikely to attempt any mischief while under their baleful stare, but just to be sure…
"Eat her if she moves," he ordered, and watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened. Hiding his grin at the guards' puzzled glances, he entered the room.
"She is here," he reported, stepping into the large room.
Jayems looked up quickly from where he sat at his desk of polished, dark wood. The heavy ledger he'd been reading closed with a muffled thud, but his boots remained crossed on the desktop as he waited for more details.
Rihlia wasn't nearly as calm. She leapt off the couch where she'd been sitting and demanded breathlessly, "Where?" Her long dark hair had been braided with pearls and topaz, and someone had gotten her into a white silk robe. He wondered who'd worked the miracle. The last time he'd seen her she'll still been stubbornly clinging to her old clothes.
Keilor smiled slightly, amused. For all she looked like a princess, she was as bright-eyed and eager as a much younger girl. It was easy to see in her the child she'd been.
Grimness replaced his amusement as he recalled her friend. "There's a problem," he informed his lord darkly. "She's a charmer."
Jayems' feet uncrossed, dropping with unnerving deliberation to the floor. He slammed his palms down on the desk and leaned forward. "A what?"
Keilor shook his head slowly. "She could be nothing else. I'm certain of it."
Jayems swore and got to his feet, pacing with barely controlled anger.
His reluctant betrothed looked between them in angry confusion. "What's the matter? You told me she could—"
Jayems whirled to face her, his dark tunic riffling in the breeze. "I gave permission for you to say goodbye, and I will still allow it, but the minute you are finished, she goes."
Her eyes flared in temper. "Well, of course, darling," she agreed acidly. "After all, we wouldn't want any unsavory humans loitering about, now, would we?"
He stalked her, stopping inches from her to pierce her with his stare. "I'm gratified we understand each other, wife." Before she could snarl out a denial, he snapped, "Bring her, Keilor. Let's finish this."
* * *
Jasmine sat where she'd been ordered and stared at the intricate mosaic patterns in the wood floor. It was hard not to gawk at her guards, and her gaze kept darting up to peek with horrified fascination. Lemming pressed against her leg, whining softly.
They made no bones about staring back.
They had the heads and flattened faces of wolves, and their entire bodies were covered in dark hair. Each guard wore a leather holster with a gun of some sort strapped to his thigh and a long knife sheathed at the hip. Combat boots, pants and buckled leather vests completed the ensemble. They looked frighteningly competent.
Frightening being the key word.
It was a relief when her warden opened the door and ordered her to, "Come." With forced courage, she got to her feet and edged swiftly past the guards, relaxing only when the door was safely shut behind her. She was going to have nightmares about this place.
Lemming gave a glad bark and charged forward.
Wiley laughed as she knelt down to hug her dog. "Good girl!" she praised the collie and fondled her ears affectionately. "You found me, didn't you?" She looked up and saw Jasmine, and her eyes glittered with tears. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she murmured, and embraced her in a crushing hug. "I thought you'd never get here."
Jasmine pulled back and gave her a wobbly grin. "Blame it on your map. You forgot to mention that last curve in the road." Her smile faded as she glanced at the two men who watched them impassively. She looked back at her friend. "What's going on, Wiley?"
"It's…" Wiley broke off and looked at the dark haired man Jasmine didn't know. He was perched on a desk, his feet crossed at the ankles. Her erstwhile escort stood near him, which was also as far from Jasmine as the room allowed.
"I don't suppose we could have some privacy?" Wiley asked coldly. The handsome stranger inclined his head, indicating that he had heard her, but he didn't move. She muttered something under her breath and led Jasmine to the far end of the room, sitting down with her on a couch. Lemming came up and nudged Wiley's hand, and she absently stroked her while she explained.
"We���re on another world," she began slowly.
Jasmine glanced at the triple moons visible through the window comprising an entire wall and then back at the door. She nodded slowly in agreement. She'd figured that one out on her own.
Wiley watched her carefully. "I was born here."
Jasmine's eyes unfocused for a moment as she pondered that. "It explains a few things. Go on."
Wiley took a breath. "The guy who brought you here is my cousin, Keilor."
Jasmine's eyes darted in surprise to the man, and for the first time she really looked at him, scrutinizing his features. Black, silken hair framed high cheekbones, reminiscent of a Cherokee warrior, and the faint flare of his nostrils reinforced the impression. She couldn't see the color of his eyes from across the room, but the expression in them of wary distaste was all too clear. She was already far too familiar with the strength of his hands, and the excellent lighting in the room only confirmed that he was in excellent shape.
He raised a dark brow in mocking acknowledgment of the introduction.
"You have my sympathy," she told her friend.