Deadly Game (GhostWalkers #5)(44)
Author: Christine Feehan

His teeth scraped back and forth over the pad of her finger, his brows coming together as he thought. “Briony is like the sunshine. She’s bright and cheerful and lights up a room, and when she laughs, she makes you want to laugh with her. She looks just like you, beautiful dark eyes and the same beautiful hair.” He rubbed strands between his fingers. “When the sunlight shines on her, with all that gold and silver and platinum, she looks like a million bucks.”

There was genuine affection for her sister in his voice, and Mari hugged that knowledge to herself. She needed to know that with everything she’d lost, her sister had been allowed to live a real life. “What about her family? Were they good to her?”

“She grew up in a circus family with four big brothers. I think performing was difficult on her because none of them were an anchor and she had to learn to cope on her own, even as a child, but she’s strong, Mari, and has courage.”

“What about her parents? Were they good to her?”

“She loved them very much, and yes, they were good to her. They had always wanted a daughter. One of her brothers served with us for a while. He’s a good man.”

“Does Jack love her?”

“What do you think?”

“I think he put a gun to my head and would have pulled the trigger if he believed for even one moment that I was a threat to her—or to you.”

“She didn’t know about you. Whitney erased her memory. Whenever she tried to remember, she’d feel pain. When she finally was able to push past whatever he did to block her memory, she made us promise to find you.”

“And you shot me.”

A faint grin touched his mouth. “Well, I might not tell her that part.”

An answering ghost of a smile curved her lips. “I guess not.” She swallowed and looked away from him. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Ken shifted, sliding off the bed to give her room, trying to be casual and not embarrass her. “Let me help you sit up. You’re going to be a little shaky for a day or two. That cocktail Lily gave you can make you pretty sick.”

Mari frowned at him, looking alarmed. “We can’t stay longer than a day or two, especially not with Lily here. They’ll keep coming until they find me.” And why did that make her so sad? While she’d yearned for freedom, a part of her had been terrified of going out into the world without a clue what she’d face.

Ken wrapped his arm around her back and lifted her into a sitting position, steadying her when she swayed with weakness. “Why haven’t you escaped? You can’t tell me that you and the other women, all trained soldiers, all psychically and physically enhanced, couldn’t get out in all this time.”

Mari pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart. Did one admit cowardice to a man who had been tortured so hideously? She couldn’t meet his eyes.

Ken caught her chin and forced her head up. “Mari, stop that. You were raised by a madman in an environment of discipline and duty.”

“At first, I didn’t mind it at all. I liked the training and the discipline. There was a lot of physical activity, and I excelled at weapons training and hand-to-hand, so it was simply a way of life to me. I didn’t know any other way really existed. And there was Briony. I was so afraid for her. He promised she’d have a good life if I cooperated with him. When I read about families, I just pictured Briony in the role and it was all good.”

Mari swung her legs over the side of the bed, testing the strength in her injured one. Zenith healed fast, but one still had to work the muscles to get them in shape, and Ken was right—she was trembling with weakness.

“When did you begin to realize all people didn’t live the way you did?”

“Whitney gave us an excellent education. He wanted intelligent soldiers capable of making quick decisions when we were cut off from our unit, but in doing that, he encouraged us to think for ourselves. It didn’t take long to realize our compound was a prison, not a home.”

She stepped onto the floor, acutely aware of Ken’s body heat seeping into her pores as his arm circled her waist to steady her. His scent enveloped her, clouding her mind for a moment, until all she could think about was the feel of his skin against hers. She wanted to push his shirt aside so she could examine the scars on his chest and down his belly . . .

“Stop. I’m not a saint, Mari.”

She kept her smile to herself. She liked the rough edge in his voice and the way his eyes, such a startling silver, darkened with such intense hunger whenever she thought about touching his body. “It doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?”

Ken swallowed his answer. It hadn’t taken much prior to his capture in the Congo, but he’d thought that part of his life was long gone. Mari had changed everything. His body was hard and full and one painful ache with just the slight brush of her soft skin against him. Nothing had gotten him revved up since his return from Africa, nothing and no one until Mari. Could pheromones possibly be that powerful? So powerful that he was not only sexually attracted, but emotionally drawn to her as well?

He walked her across the room without answering her. Just thinking about sex was enough to make him feel wild.

After a few minutes, Mari emerged from the bathroom pale, her body swaying. Ken didn’t wait for her to try to walk back to the bed. He swept her up, cradling her against his chest. For a moment she was stiff, holding her body away from his, resistance running through her.

“Don’t fight me. You’re as weak as a kitten right now. You can do push-ups tomorrow, but for right now, I’m putting you back in bed.”

She stared up at him with her big, dark eyes and her sinfully full lips and a look somewhere between an innocent and a temptress, and he knew he was lost. “Damn it all to hell,” he muttered, stalking across the room and placing her on the bed. “You can’t look at me like that, Mari.”

He bent down, framing her face, thumbs sliding over her soft skin once before he took possession of her mouth. He had thought—hoped—that that first kiss had been a fluke, but the moment he touched her lips, teasing and tugging with his teeth until she opened for him, he was in instant meltdown. He kissed her over and over, stealing her breath, giving her his own, drowning in need.

She was frying his brain. He couldn’t even think clearly, his head roaring, thunder in his ears, his heart pounding, and his body so hard and rigid, he rubbed his palm over the thick bulge desperate for relief. She had done that—made him come alive, feel like a man again. She’d given him back his life, and if he took what her dark gaze was offering, he might completely destroy hers.