Lightning Game (GhostWalkers #17) -Christine Feehan Page 0,51

kisses across her eyelids and down the tracks of her tears to the corner of her mouth. That beautiful mouth. It made no sense to him that anyone, even Whitney, could be that cruel to children. Life, yes, but a man, no.

He brushed his lips gently over hers, settling his hand at the bare nape of her neck. She responded tentatively at first. A hesitant movement of her lips, velvet soft, sliding along his, until his stomach did a strange somersault. He had never been into kissing that much, it always seemed far too intimate, but now, intimacy was extraordinary and necessary.

She opened her mouth under his, and he poured himself into her. That fire in her, contained in her body, an astonishing supply of sheer power, rose to meet the powerful energy in his. The two collided with the force of an erupting volcano, or a lightning bolt. Around them, just as earlier, he heard the sizzle and crackle of high voltage. He felt the static charge in the hairs on his body. Sparks played over his skin and flames rushed through his veins like currents of electricity.

Lights dazzled behind his eyes and he had to look, no matter the feeling of euphoria, or of being transported to somewhere else. His lightning bug had taken on her silvery glow. Her hair had gone wild, thick, standing out from her head as untamed as the storms overhead. She blinked as he lifted his head, calling attention to her eyelashes, those silvery-blue lashes. Her eyes had gone almost completely silver. Around her rib cage circled dazzling pulses of light, streaks of white-hot lasers that were so bright she really did resemble the famous fireflies that danced in the grass at sunset.

He let his breath out slowly. His palm shaped her face. “You’re so beautiful, Jonquille. I can’t imagine any other woman for me. Not ever. I can’t see anyone else but you. Kissing another woman or touching them is out of the question.”

The two of you had better not be off somewhere doing something you shouldn’t, Diego intruded.

Such as? Rubin demanded. I’m having a moment and you’re interrupting.

Such as impregnating her with my future niece or nephew. You don’t yet know if she’s on our side. We haven’t completely vetted her.

I swear I’m going to shoot you, Diego.

That’s going to be hard to do when I’m the one with the rifle.

I’ve got my rifle with me.

You don’t. You left it here. Fat lot of good it’s doing you when it’s sitting in the dark where the potatoes are supposed to be. You went after her so fast you took everything but your rifle.

“You two are arguing again, aren’t you?” Jonquille asked, amusement tinging her voice. “Is that the way it would be if we actually were in a romantic relationship? We’d be in the moment and your brother would interrupt and the two of you would start?”

Rubin was a little afraid it might really happen that way. You are totally cramping my style. I thought you wanted to have a niece or nephew.

“My brother is crazy.”

“You both are a little crazy. Ask him if he’s got breakfast ready.”

Rubin was grateful for the respite from the assault on his body, and he suspected Jonquille was as well. Kissing his lightning bug was really like igniting an explosive. He set her carefully off his lap.

Do you have breakfast ready? We’re starving after patrolling and keeping you safe while you slept.

My ass, you were patrolling.

“Did the cougar leave? We weren’t exactly being quiet for a few minutes there.”

“She’s looking this way. She was eating, but now she’s getting up and dragging her very large meal away from the game trail into the heavier bush,” Jonquille reported.

That doesn’t tell me if you have breakfast ready, Rubin pointed out.

He stood up, deliberately dropping his arm around Jonquille’s shoulders. They watched as the cougar, across the clearing, the stream and some thirty or forty feet along the game trail, dragged the carcass of the buck into deeper brush. The fact that she hadn’t done that earlier told him she probably hadn’t eaten in several days.

Not yet. I didn’t want it to get cold.

That was Diego. He might act tough, but in the end, he would think of that detail.

Can you make it back to the house in half an hour?

“He’s going to make breakfast for us. Says he can have it ready in half an hour. We can make it back there cutting through the brush. If