Murder Game (GhostWalkers #7)(36)
Author: Christine Feehan

“You’re going to have to go stand over there if you want this to work.”

“I’m staying. Just get on with it.”

Tansy sighed and forced herself to concentrate. Kadan had separated the game pieces into two groups. The first were the objects left behind at each crime scene on the East Coast. The stallion, frog, snake, and blade. There were two stallions.

“Was the stallion the first murder?”

He nodded his head.

“Then they have a sequence. Like cards or a board game, they have a certain order and each player takes his turn. If you lined them up in the order you found them, the frog would commit the next murder.”

“That’s right.” His breath fanned her cheek, moved the strands of hair falling around her face. His lips whispered over the nape of her neck.

“Kadan. Really. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. But you’re going to know where you are, and who you’re with. You’re not going to be pulled down that long tunnel into a nightmare. I’ll be right here, real and solid, and nothing is going to take you from me.”

She shook her head. “You’re so crazy. Fine. I’ll try.”

She had to admit to herself she was a little afraid. There were so many of the game pieces, and the energy was strong, radiating out to her palm even through the material of the glove as she passed her hand over them. In a way, she was thankful for the distraction of Kadan’s hard body and gentle hands. She knew once she began picking up impressions, there would be no feelings like she had now, the arousal peaking her ni**les and teasing her thighs, the feel of his hand slipping under the tail of the shirt and shaping her bottom, his fingers doing their silky slide as he stroked her skin possessively.

She wanted to stay like this forever, feeling a part of him. Sharing his mind and the pleasure he got in just touching her. He loved just being able to slide his fingers over her, slip a hand inside her shirt and cup the weight of her breast, thumb caressing her nipple. The intensity of his enjoyment at simply stroking her skin was amazing to her and she didn’t want to go back to the real world, where no one ever laid a hand on her and she never dared to have actual contact.

I’m not going anywhere.

He couldn’t promise that. She looked at the ivory figurines. If she touched them, and she couldn’t control what happened, if the voices sank into her head, were trapped in her mind, he would have no choice but to abandon her.

Kadan swore and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. We can’t let them keep murdering people, Kadan. They have a taste for it and they won’t stop.” Tears burned behind her eyes. Usually there was one killer, one depraved mind she was forced to share. This time there were eight, and they were psychic, just as she was.

His lips slid over her ear. “My mind shares yours. If you’re determined to go through with this, then know wherever this takes you, you won’t be alone, Tansy. I’m strong. I’ll find your mind and I’ll bring you back.”

“Last time I broke into a million pieces.”

“I’ll find each one.”

It was the resolve, that absolute determination, that reassured her that he meant what he said. He wouldn’t abandon her no matter how bad it got. It was his nature to be completely focused and implacable. He wouldn’t turn back or turn away. His willpower gave her strength. Tansy settled her fingers around the frog, lifting it from the table.

The jolt was hard. The room shifted beneath her feet as the energy rushed at her with greedy claws. She hadn’t expected the frog to be so strong. She’d already formed an opinion that he was one of the lesser members of the team, but his psychic energy was intense. She felt the familiar slick oil pouring into her mind, a sludge that indicated perverse sickness. He sought power. Always power. He wanted attention. Wanted his strength known when no one saw him. He was always passed over by everyone. His commanding officers thought themselves superior, but they were nothing to him—nothing.

Each week he took people down into his world. They had no idea he held their lives in the palm of his hand. He enjoyed that feeling, deciding—live or die by his hand. Who would he choose to let live? He wanted them to know, but only the ones who died knew, at last, looking into his eyes while he held them under. See me. Drowning, drowning. See me.

Tansy! Kadan’s voice was sharp, filled with menace, with command.

She dared not disobey him. His fingers forced her hand open. She hadn’t realized she was sobbing, or that the whispers had grown loud in her mind. Tears poured down her face. The screams were loud now, victims screaming as water poured into their lungs and he stood toe to toe, holding them down, forcing them to stare at his mocking, exultant face.

Revere me. I’m a god. I condemn you to death. See me. Damn you, look at me. You will stay with me and always see me.

Kadan shook her. “Look at me. Look at me now.”

Her dazed eyes, shimmering with opaque violet, jumped to his. Kadan dragged her away from the table to the center of the room. He could feel the thick oil clouding her mind, hear the screams and whispers threatening to take over. He refused to allow her to look away from him. Deliberately he filled her mind with emotion, with warmth and tenderness, his hands gentle.

“Are you with me, baby?”

She moistened her dry lips, blinking rapidly. He could feel her mind clinging to his. “I’m all right. He was stronger than I expected.” She shivered again, trying to drown out the sound of his voice. Thankfully, Kadan’s firm, velvet-soft voice, although low, pushed over the top of the other. Kadan had established his dominance, and his power and control over her was absolute. His voice took over in her mind. We’re together, baby, one mind, one skin. They can’t touch you.

His voice was a caress, sliding over her, into her, so that she grasped at the feel of him as if he were a life preserver.

“I’m all right. I’m good.” It wasn’t altogether true; she retained the sludge, but it was easier to break with the voices.

“Tell me what you saw.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Bodies in the water. At least six, maybe more; I couldn’t make myself look. He drags them down and drowns them. He likes to watch their eyes.” She frowned. “He doesn’t need scuba gear; he can hold his breath a really long time, or maybe he doesn’t even need to do that. He breathes underwater—is that possible? Can one of the GhostWalkers actually breathe underwater? He’s killed many times. But his murder in the game wasn’t satisfactory to him. Something went wrong. He wants another turn.”