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

His face was a few inches from hers when she opened her eyes to stare directly into his. Fear leapt, turned the deep blue of her eyes nearly violet with alarm. Her eyes glittered with a kind of reflective shine, and then she squinted, as if the light hurt them. She blinked once and her eyes were clear, cool, and assessing. She reached for her sunglasses and slid them onto the bridge of her nose with a casual haughtiness that told him she was a princess and he was a mere peasant.

Tansy opened her eyes from a peaceful dream and found herself staring into perfect cat’s eyes. Cold, unblinking, so dark blue they were almost black. Focused. She was looking into the eyes of a man who had killed often. Shaggy dark hair spilled across his forehead, touching a thin white scar that ran the length of a rough face that was all angles and planes. He looked weathered and all too dangerous. There was a shadow along his jaw as if he couldn’t be bothered to be civilized enough to shave. He wore no expression on his face at all, just that sweeping fixed stare, cool as a cat’s.

She lifted her chin a few inches, her lashes sweeping down to veil her expression before she put on her dark glasses. She made no attempt to cover her nudity because there was nothing she could do about it and she didn’t want to give him any more of an advantage by letting him see she felt vulnerable.

Rising with as much grace and dignity as she could manage, Tansy crossed to her neatly folded clothing. She had to brush past him, and he didn’t budge, his frame solid and muscular, his skin rubbing against hers and causing a brief frisson of awareness. Electricity zinged along her nerve endings and tiny wings took flight along her stomach. She could feel those blue-black eyes tracking her every step of the way. Tansy was eternally grateful she’d never cut her hair. The long length of it covered her bare bottom, giving her a false sense of security. She had no idea that the silky platinum and gold mass against her dark skin was provocative, and only served to give her an erotic, seductive appearance, emphasizing her curves.

Keeping her back to him, she pulled on her shirt and stepped into her jeans, taking several deep breaths to maintain control. Out of habit, Tansy wrapped the length of her hair several times and secured it at the back of her head with a large barrette. Surreptitiously, she looked around for her tranquilizer gun. It was not in the usual place by the jutting rock, which meant he probably had it. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face the stranger.

He was a large, heavily muscled man. The sheer brute strength of him set her heart pounding. If she had to be caught naked, alone, in the middle of nowhere, why couldn’t that person have been some ninety-pound weakling? She feared more than the actual size of him. He exuded power from every pore. He looked dangerous in some way she couldn’t define. She might dismiss the impression of power by saying it was his looks, but she knew better. His features looked as if they could have been carved from stone, every bit as rugged as the granite surroundings. He wasn’t handsome—he was far too rough-cut for that. But he was striking in a scary way.

“I’m sorry I startled you.”

His voice was smooth black velvet, the devil’s tool and sarcastic as hell. Intense anger simmered below that smooth exterior. She touched her tongue to her lips, her only concession to nerves.

“It was time to wake up anyway.” She made herself shrug. “This is a private preserve and you aren’t allowed here.” He was military, not a hunter. His eyes were flat and hard and watchful—too watchful, as if he expected her to make a run for freedom. She shifted to the balls of her feet and turned slightly to angle her body toward his, presenting fewer targets should he attack.

“I came looking for you.”

Because she’d been so startled to wake up to him, she hadn’t registered until now that being in close proximity to him didn’t cause the headaches she’d suffered around other human beings—including her parents. The ravenous psychic energy that normally surrounded her when she was close to people wasn’t present. She felt the slight breeze, heard the continual call of birds, the buzzing of bees, but no whispers in her mind.

“You came looking for me?” she echoed, feeling a little lost. Her gaze flicked over him, taking everything in the way she did, her mind cataloguing the picture, referencing the scars along with his gear—especially the knife at his side.

He smiled as if to ease her fear. He looked like a mountain lion right before mealtime. “Let’s start again. I’m Kadan Montague.” Deliberately, his smile almost wolfish now, he held out his hand.

Automatic reflex was nearly her undoing. Right before his hand could envelop hers, Tansy stepped backward, both hands behind her back. She didn’t dare chance physical contact with him. Nor did she wish to get close enough if his intentions were to assault her.

His smile widened at her reaction, warmed the strange black eyes until they glittered like a cat’s at night. “You aren’t afraid of me.” He made it a statement.

Anyone with a brain would be afraid of him, especially a woman. This was a man’s man. There was nothing boyishly handsome in that rugged face. Nothing soft and gentle in those glittering eyes, but something else. What was it that both intrigued and repelled her?

“You caught me in a compromising position. You must admit it isn’t exactly a situation that would make a woman feel safe.”

Kadan studied her face—the flawless complexion, the full mouth, and the long, lush lashes—but it was her eyes that intrigued him most. There was no question that she was enhanced—he could feel the powerful psychic energy she gave off—but there was something more as well, something he’d not seen in other GhostWalkers before, and whatever the talent, it showed in her eyes. He had to resist reaching out to touch her soft expanse of skin. Twice now, her small white teeth had tugged thoughtfully at her lower lip, a habit he found sexy as hell. She wasn’t reading him, and that so rarely happened to her, he could tell she that she found the experience unsettling.

She had a little too much confidence in herself, which meant she had to have some defense training. Deliberately he allowed his gaze to drift over her body and then back up to her face. She controlled the blush, and that meant she had amazing discipline and command of her body. He sent up a silent prayer that he had the same discipline and command of his body. He needed to get his mind off all that skin, her sweet curves and that damned pouty lower lip.

“What is it you want, Mr. . . .”

“Kadan,” he interrupted. He kept his voice soft, but he poured steel into it. She was looking at him with those enormous blue-violet eyes, and the strange little shimmer unsettled his belly and tightened his groin. He damn well wasn’t going to be the one out of control.