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made to
be worn crossed over the breasts and tied at the back of the neck
for a bandeau. Somehow the maid convinced Jasmine to put the
bustier thing—which she called an overnji— over the bandeau
and at least look at it.
    “It’s very respectable,” the older woman
reassured her. “My daughters wear it all the time.”
    “I look like a harem girl,” Jasmine muttered,
staring at the midnight blue overnji and white bandeau she’d been
conned into.
    Wiley smirked and grabbed the dark blue sash.
She wound it low about Jasmine’s hips and knotted it. “There,” she
said, putting her hands on her hips and standing back to look over
her creation. “Now you look like a harem escapee turned
pirate.”
    “Why, thank you, Wiley,” Jasmine sneered,
stalking out. “That is so much better.” She yanked open the armoire
doors and extracted a brush she’d discovered there the night
before. As she eyed the top in the mirrored doors while she worked
the tangles from her hair, she decided that it wasn’t so bad. At
least her stomach was flat. Heck, she’d worn crop tops in public
that bared about the same amount of skin and never thought twice
about it. Of course, none of those had ever been chosen for her by
a man.
    With effort she chased the image of Keilor
holding her new panties in his hands, perhaps imagining her in
them. It was swiftly replaced by the image of him looking over the overnji , trying to guess at the size of her…
    She took a deep, deep breath and then
expelled it slowly. Keilor wasn’t thinking about her breasts, or
anything else for that matter. Men who looked like he did didn’t
need to fantasize. Shoot, for all she knew, he was happily married
and had three kids, not that she cared.
    What she needed to be thinking about was
getting Wiley and herself back home where men were manageable and
the local police force didn’t look like the cast of Howling
III .
    They needed a plan.
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
    Keilor shook his head as Knightin’s recording
finished late that afternoon. “I think we can conclude that she’s
cagey, disrespectful, and definitely up to no good.”
    Jayems gave him a thoughtful look from where
he sat, arms crossed, on the edge of his desk. He slanted a look at
Knightin. “How did the charmer affect you?”
    His captain frowned at the memory. “Like a
panting boy with an armful of naked woman. It’s making me wish I’d
fixed my interest elsewhere long before she ever showed up.”
    Keilor snorted with agreement. “Ah, the bliss
of a man already spoken for! Too bad our doctors can’t replicate
that protective little brain chemical. It would save us all a lot
of grief. Short of becoming a Haunt with no sex drive or falling in
love, the rest of us are stuck.”
    Jayems shook his head. “This is not good,
Keilor. I don’t like my options.” He ticked them off grimly on his
fingers. “I can send her back and pray she won’t cause trouble.”
Their eyes met, and he closed that finger back into his fist. They
both knew it wasn’t worth the risk. “I can lock her away from all
but my wife, women, and mated males.”
    “And have Rihlia resent you forever,” Keilor
concluded.
    Jayems withdrew that finger, clenching his
fist. “Never,” he swore. “We will work past this. In the
meanwhile…”
    “Find her a lover, my lord,” Knightin
suggested reasonably, and they looked at him in surprise. He’d made
no secret that he disliked the presence of the charmer and her
subversive essence, dreading the influence that it would have on
his men. Knightin hated disorder, and a charmer was the definition
of it.
    “That might work,” Keilor agreed and looked
hopefully at Jayems. He didn’t care for the woman’s influence on
him, either. The sooner she was mated, the sooner her wretched
power would be confined to one poor soul, and the rest of them
could get on with their lives as before. He frowned, momentarily
displeased by the thought of all those intensely erotic