Homecoming by Autumn Dawn Read Free Book Online Page B

turned a gun on him. He might ... take it personally.”
    That silenced her. Jasmine sat there for a while, and then asked, “So, Jayems wants to marry you. Has he kissed you yet?”
    Wiley stiffened. “Nosey, aren’t you?”
    “He has.” Jasmine studied her. “Was it repulsive?”
    “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “Wi, this is me. Talk. I’ve been going crazy, praying he hasn’t hurt you.”
    “He hasn’t hurt me.”
    “But he kissed you.”
    “It wasn’t that bad,” Wiley insisted, glossing over the truth. She’d had enough kisses to know when one held potential, but it didn’t matter. “I’m not marrying him for his kisses.”
    “Then you’re going to marry him?”
    “No! Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t even know him. I don’t even like him!” But she was starting to. Know him, that is. She couldn’t like him, not after he’d scared her to death that afternoon. Grudgingly, she admitted that he’d kept his promise not to hurt Jasmine, but that wasn’t a reason to like him. It was a tiny point in his favor that he’d keep his promises, though.
    Too bad she couldn’t make him promise to send her home.
     

Chapter 8

    Jayems was half dressed.
    Wiley stopped in the doorway, surprised to see him sliding away a sword. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of loose maroon pants. A light tracing of hair trailed down his hard chest to his waistband and disappeared.
    Knighten, who was similarly dressed, bowed to her and stepped around her.
    Uneasy with how much she’d noticed of Jayems, Wiley remembered the Haunt guards at her back and stepped inside. They shut the door behind her, leaving her alone with him.
    “Did you have a good visit?” Jayems asked cordially, pouring himself a glass of water. She tried not to notice how the sweat trickled down his throat as he tipped his head back.
    “Yes.” She took a seat on the couch, adjusting a throw pillow. “You guys still use swords here? They have guns these days, you know.”
    “We have guns. He sat down opposite her. “We practice all kinds of armed and unarmed combat. Guns do nothing to exercise the body.” Judging by his, he exercised regularly.
    She averted her eyes from his. She’d been sneaking a peek again. Focusing firmly on his face, she asked, “Do women do that, too?”
    “If they like. Would you like instruction?”
    Was he planning to teach her himself? She chewed her lip, pondering how unwise that would be.
    “Tomorrow I’m bringing in a tutor for you. You’ve missed a great deal of history.
    I thought you might want to catch up on some of it. I also brought you this.” He reached over to the side table and picked up a folder. He handed it to her.
    Inside was a picture of a man. She stared at it, but it didn’t ring any bells.
    “It’s your father, Crewel Sotra,” he said softly.
    Wiley looked at it, feeling numb. She didn’t remember his face, had forgotten long ago what he looked like, except for the dark hair. Dressed in the black uniform of the Haunt, he had an indigo shirt under the leather vest, and a red Celtic knot, a symbol of rank, on his shoulder.
    “He loved your spirit. He would have been proud of you for surviving the way you did. He was a good man,” Jayems said quietly.
    An ache started in behind her eyes and spread to her throat. She looked down to hide her expression, but her eyes kept returning to her father’s face. Afraid to cry in front of Jaymes, she laid the picture on the coffee table and got up to look out the huge window. The three moons were rising as the world faded to dusk. The child moon was closest to the father moon that night, while mother moon looked coldly on from a distance.
    Jayems came and stood beside her, silently offering her support. In the pain of the moment, she took it. “I was such a brat when I first came to the orphanage. I remember
    having screaming fits, especially at night. I’d yell until I was hoarse, “I want my Daddy! I want my Jayems!” They