Murder Game (GhostWalkers #7)(74)
Author: Christine Feehan

She breathed through her mouth, trying to keep from smelling the blood that thickened around her mind as she concentrated on her prey. The killer wanted to show off, terrifying the woman deliberately. Tansy shook her head, trying to rid herself of his evil nature. There was no conflict in him, only an eagerness to appear larger and more terrifying than anyone else. He wanted the world to fear him, thinking that would get him the respect he deserved.

She shivered, pushing the killer away from her to grab at the anchoring thread. The puppet master, so the opposite of the killer. He wanted no fame or recognition. He pulled the strings and made the others dance. If they were caught, he could walk away, no ties whatsoever to the killings. His concept, his handpicked killers, and no one knew, not even Whitney. His bank account grew and the homicidal maniacs had their fun. It was all a nice little game any way you looked at it.

Tansy held her breath. He sat at a desk, his clothes impeccable, even the pleat of his trousers exact. He had a strong physique, took good care of himself. His hair was trimmed short and he wore glasses, which made him look distinguished, but not handsome. He had to take care with his image that no one focused on his appearance one way or the other.

“Drop it, baby,” Kadan hissed, alarmed. “You’re too close.” His hands closed hard over hers, prying at her fingers to release the ivory knife.

She could almost smell the puppet master. The sounds of his world crowded in, and if she could just catch that elusive scent. It smelled like . . .

Cinnamon.

“Shit! Damn it, he’s found you.” Kadan dragged her up, knocking her hand against the table in an effort to dislodge the game piece. Her eyes had gone all the way opaque. She was deep in a trance, caught in another world.

The puppet master turned his head, removing his glasses as he did so. She found herself staring at pale blue eyes. Shiny eyes.

Hello, beautiful. You took the bait and came to visit me again. I’m delighted to meet you. He held up a file with her name on it. I’ve been reading about you. Such a gorgeous girl. Too bad you let those sick bastards get to you. Are you feeling better now? The voice was pitched low, solicitous. He believed he was stronger than she was, that he could control her too.

Kadan popped open the tin of Altoids Gator had tossed onto the front seat of the car, and he shoved one into his mouth. He caught Tansy’s chin and ruthlessly brought his mouth down on hers, his tongue demanding entry, sweeping inside to claim her. She was lost in the labyrinth of a spider’s web, and he needed something stronger to bring her out. The only thing he could think of was him and the way he showed love. Feeling desperate, he kissed her, pouring everything he was into that kiss. His personality, such that it was, dominant and controlling, ruthless and dangerous, protective and loving her with every fiber of his being. He shared the taste of cinnamon, the wild call between them. You belong to me. He can’t have you. It was a command, hard and firm, demanding absolute obedience. Come to me now.

No! You f**k. She’s mine. The puppet master screamed the words in Tansy’s mind, trying to hold her to him, his web of threads wrapping her up in a cocoon.

Tansy tasted cinnamon and heard the demand in Kadan’s voice. There was no way to defy him or ignore him. This was Kadan at his most dominating, his tone promising swift retaliation if she didn’t listen. She shivered and reached for him. The moment she did, the sticky hold on her loosened. She felt Kadan’s strength yanking her to him, his mouth hard and aggressive. Then she felt his hands on her, the force of the blow against the table.

Drop it now, baby. Drop that f**king thing now.

Don’t you dare! The puppet master lost his smooth edge and snapped his own command, two dominants determined to control her.

No matter how rough his hands, how hard his voice, Kadan’s mouth was tender, loving her. Craving her. Needing her. Nothing else mattered. She became aware of the ivory piece digging into her palm, the cries of the victim, the killer mocking the woman as he gutted and lifted her, still alive, to the meat hook overhead. She heard the insidious whisper of the puppet master, calling to her. And then Kadan flooded her mind, filled her with—him.

Strong arms. Broad shoulders. Heavily muscled chest. The scent of the outdoors and danger. His mouth, sensual or cruel. His eyes filled with love and desire. She leapt, throwing herself to him, giving him everything she was, turning her back on everything else in her life until there was only Kadan, trusting him to catch her.

Kadan watched the ivory piece fall to the table as he wrapped his arms around Tansy, preventing her limp body from hitting the floor. Blood leaked from her ears, mouth, and nose. He’d expected that, but not from her eyes. She was hemorrhaging internally and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Hell, he’d probably broken her hand trying to break the seal of the tracker. He could see it was already swelling and turning color. Her palm was imprinted with the blade, the details etched into her skin.

He lifted her, cradling her high against his chest, detesting that he had been the one to bring her back to this life. Nearly running, he took her through the house to the bedroom they shared, placing her carefully on the bed.

“Tansy. Wake up, baby. I’m afraid to let you sleep.” He didn’t know how powerful the elite tracker was, or even if he could find her like this, but the voices were still trapped in her mind and that meant there was every chance the puppet master was there as well. “Come on, honey, open your eyes for me.”

Kadan soaked a washcloth and wiped the trickling blood from her face and ears. He had the pills for her headache as well as a glass of water. This was going to be a bad one. She was shivering continually and when he touched her mind, he found chaos instead of awareness.

“All right, baby. It’s going to be all right.” He said it more to comfort himself than her. He sank down onto the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms, wanting to surround her, wanting her to breathe him into her body. He rocked her gently. “Wake up for me. Open your eyes.”

She remained limp, although tremors rippled through her body repeatedly. He lifted her swollen hand, examining it carefully to see if any of the bones were broken. Ordinarily he could open her hand easily, but when she was in her hypnotic tracking state, her pressure points didn’t react as readily as he would like. If they continued, he would have to figure out some way to get rid of the object she was reading without injuring her.

He turned her hand over and opened her fingers to examine her palm. The details of the knife were pressed deep, but there was no burn, just the imprints as if she’d been holding it so hard her skin had picked up the impressions—and he didn’t want them there. Kadan used the pad of his thumb to rub gentle caresses back and forth over the knife etched into her palm. The bristles were hard, but velvet soft, and he was careful to keep the sticky side from touching her skin, wanting only to soothe her.