Toxic Game (GhostWalkers #15) - Christine Feehan Page 0,35

to his groin. His mind screamed a warning. Shouted at him, warring with his body. His hands came up to grasp her, whether to push her away or pull her closer, he wasn’t certain.

Her lips were soft. Sinful. Temptation itself. Her tongue licked along the seam of his mouth, then she poured into his mind and it was the most intimate thing he’d ever experienced.

I’m with you. Every step of the way. Open your mouth.

He obeyed, but he didn’t know why. It was wrong, and she was taking away her last protection. Then her tongue stroked along his, a delicate dance, a promise that he would never be alone again. He wouldn’t die alone. She would be right there with him. Everything about it was wrong and he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself. Every bit of iron will, every bit of discipline went right out the window.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her like she was his and had been for years. Like he was a man dying and she was his greatest love. He felt like she was. Shylah Cosmos. His only little peony. His delicate flower. Dependable. Long-lived. She’d tied her fate to his. Now, if he wanted to save her, he was going to have to figure out how to save himself.

5

Draden and Shylah approached the little hut that Agus Orucov and the Williams brothers had used while they were in the forest. The position of the small hut was perfect: It was set in a little clearing surrounded by trees, but the trees were far enough from the structure to allow for uninterrupted satellite access.

He wasn’t too worried that the MSS would find them—he was certain the terrorists would stay close to the river—but he wasn’t going to take chances. He’d already allowed Shylah to tie her fate irrevocably to his. He was crouched low in the brush, studying the hut, perfectly still, every muscle locked in place. He could have approached using the slow-motion movements of the leopard, but instead, he lifted his hand and touched his lips with his fingers.

He glanced to his side where his little peony was right there with him. She lay stretched out in the dirt, her gaze fixed intently on the hut. She had perfect lips. They were naturally pink and full, and she had a habit of making a little moue with them, which he loved. Now he’d tasted her. The best thing he’d ever tasted in his life was homemade strawberry lemonade from the bayou. She had the faint taste of sass and sweet. Lethal and homey. The combination was deadly to a man like him.

Will you stop? There was a faint hint of laughter, but mostly exasperated embarrassment.

You kissed me, gave me that obsession. Now you’re just going to have to live with the consequences. That’s the way it works. You always have to pay the piper. You’ve got yourself a bona fide stalker.

She gave the mental equivalent of a sniff. I was the one doing the kissing. I think I turned the tables on you.

She had. It had been the last thing he’d expected from her. She was a little quirky, but very focused when she was onto something. She was also way out of his league. Classy. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. Every trait he could ever want, yet stubborn as hell. She wasn’t going to accept leadership or …

Call it what it is, handsome. It’s dictatorship. I get that from Whitney and pay him the least amount of attention possible. I’m not going to rely on someone else when I have perfectly good judgment.

It didn’t show good judgment to kiss me when I’m infected with a hemorrhagic virus.

Her amusement slipped into his mind and wrapped around his heart. Occasionally I have lapses, and you have to admit, you’re pretty irresistible.

He had an urgent desire to kiss her again. This kiss wouldn’t be so damned sweet either. He held himself in check.

Whitney must love having you. You’ve got to be an enormous asset to him.

The humor faded from her mind. There’s no pleasing Whitney, and after a while I gave up trying. I truly don’t care that he thinks I’m flawed. I sometimes get so focused that I can’t see or hear what’s going on around me. That drives him insane because no soldier can survive that way.

Yet he sends you out alone on one of the most dangerous assignments imaginable.

She gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. I’m good at what