Deadly Game (GhostWalkers #5)(78)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Because he’s a threat to me, Ken, not because he touched me.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Mari; it’s both,” he replied grimly. He knew the admission condemned all chance of happiness with her. She was not the kind of woman to walk behind a man. He was a man who would constantly need to protect her, to make the decisions, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to change that. Unlike Briony, who accepted Jack’s domination, Mari would chafe at the restraints. She had been too long on a leash, and exchanging one for another wasn’t going to please her. Once she had a taste of real freedom, she would leave him and never look back.

The thought was crushing. It tore up his insides until he could barely think straight. He needed to focus on something else—anything else. Ken cleared his throat. “As soon as my brain heals a little bit, I can get word to Jack. Maybe he can warn the senator away if you really think Whitney might do him harm.”

“Absolutely I think Whitney intends him harm,” Mari said. “I think he put out the hit on him in the first place. When the command came down to protect the senator, I think it was a ploy to get us there and someone in our unit was going to assassinate him.”

“Sean?”

“Maybe. Probably. He said something that bothered me, something about already being Whitney’s prisoner. Sean’s always been able to come and go. He had far less restrictions than a lot of us.”

“He could have paid a high price for that. You have to consider the possibility that he sold his soul to the devil a long time ago.”

There was another small silence. Mari chewed on her bottom lip while she turned that idea over and over in her mind. “If he did, and all this time he was reporting to Whitney, he would have told him I was going out with the team in order to try to talk to Senator Freeman and Violet.”

“Which is why Whitney made certain Sean pumped you full of Zenith. It was Sean, wasn’t it?”

“Whitney usually gives it to us before we go out on a mission. He was gone. Sean wanted to protect me.”

“Whitney had him give a particularly strong dose. That’s why you healed so fast and then crashed so hard.”

“Do you think Sean knew what he was giving me?”

Ken wanted to tell her Sean was just bastard enough to make certain no other man had her if she didn’t return to him, but she’d been hurt enough. “I doubt it, honey. Whitney gave Zenith out routinely. It was more for his protection than anything else.”

“Because dead men—or women—can’t talk.”

“Exactly.”

“After you used mind control on me,” Mari said, “I wondered why you didn’t on Ekabela’s men. It isn’t easy and it takes a tremendous toll.”

He nodded. “It isn’t easy to clear your mind and keep it focused when someone is cutting you into little pieces.”

“I guess not. And the aftermath is a killer. You’d have to be somewhere totally protected to use it. They would have had you at their mercy anyway.”

“Like any psychic use, mind control has tremendous drawbacks, even more than most psychic talents, because you’re using such powerful energy. I don’t think Whitney can accept that. He wants his GhostWalkers to be flawless. That’s why he’s looking to the next generation. He’s thinking our children won’t have the repercussions of using psychic ability because they’ll be born with it.”

“I didn’t think of that. I just think of Whitney as insane. He’s gotten worse and worse over the years. He doesn’t seem to have to answer to anyone, and because of that, his experiments have become more bizarre.”

“Do you think Senator Freeman knows what goes on here?”

She shook her head. “Violet married him before Whitney started the breeding program. She couldn’t know. That’s why it was so important one of us speak to her. Why would Sean let me go if he planned on killing Freeman?”

“Because if Violet and Senator Freeman were dead, it wouldn’t matter that you were there. And you’re a sniper. They could have made you an accessory to killing a vice-presidential candidate. You wouldn’t be able to go anywhere or do anything with that threat hanging over your head.”

Mari pulled the cross and chain from under the mattress and slipped it over her head so that his gift settled in the valley between her br**sts. She loved the feel and weight of it. Her fingers went to the edge of his shirt. “The guard won’t be here until about five-thirty this morning. We have some time before you have to get out of here.” She pushed up the hem, exposing the crisscrossing scars. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since the first time I saw you.” She bent her head and kissed him, her lips satin soft against the forming ridges. “Can you feel that?”

He could—just barely. A soft shimmer of promise only, skating across his skin. He should stop her. The more he touched her, the more he possessed her, the more difficult it would be later to give her up. “Like a whisper.” His voice was hoarse.

He wasn’t man enough to stop her. Her wandering little mouth was just below his navel, teeth teasing scars, rasping over rigid skin, her tongue doing a little dance to ease each stinging bite.

“What about that?”

He closed his eyes, shifting onto his back, letting her work his pants open and down off his hips. It was dark in the room, but she could see the pattern of scars carrying lower and covering the thick, long erection she was building with those tiny sharp teeth, soft lips, and moist, velvet tongue. “Lower,” he growled. “Lower and a little harder.”

“You have no patience.” Her soft laughter played over his abdomen like a feather. “I’ll get there. I want to do a little exploring first, just see what feels the best.”

She might kill him before the night was over. Her lips were heated silk, gliding over him like butter, a sensation almost beyond his ability to feel—almost. It was just enough to make his c**k jerk and come to attention in breathless anticipation. Her teeth drove the breath from his lungs and sent fire rolling in his belly. Tiny, stinging bites covered by a stroke of her tongue.

Of its own accord his body arched toward her, his fists gripping her hair as a groan tore from his throat. His balls actually pulled up tight, so tight he feared he might explode as his c**k filled, stretching the scars painfully, his erection thickening, lengthening, and bulging with urgent need. He thought to say something—maybe a protest, hopefully not a plea—but his mind and tongue couldn’t get around the words when she wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft in a tight fist.