Lethal Game (GhostWalkers 16)

She did her best to pretend not to see Malichai as he stepped out of the shadows, but he cut her off and took her arm as she turned toward the room she claimed as her own.

“We need to talk.”

The ominous words men never liked to hear and there he was, saying them to Amaryllis. She might have laughed if he didn’t sound and look so serious. Her stomach plummeted. She blinked at him and then looked down at the fingers curling around her arm. “I really need to get some sleep, Malichai. We can talk in the morning.”

“Who do you think you’re kidding, baby?” he asked. “By morning you’ll be gone. Let’s talk before you do your disappearing act.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, but she didn’t lie to him. She couldn’t do that to him. Her heart accelerated, worried now that she might not be able to leave so easily. He could change her mind. One look. One word. His touch. She was so susceptible to him. How could she explain to him what she was? A killing machine. A woman who had never even checked on the two others who had escaped with her, while he had gone back for complete strangers and gotten his body shot up. He would never look at her again.

And how did he know she had planned to leave? How could he know her so well after only a week? Had she given herself away in other ways as well? She’d grown complacent there in the bed-and-breakfast. She’d felt too safe for too long.

Amaryllis walked beside Malichai down the hall to his room. She stayed tucked into his side, right under his shoulder. She loved being there. It felt right. So right. She wrapped her arm around his waist, although it was an indulgence and she knew she shouldn’t have. Her body brushed his with every step he took, and she wanted that for the rest of her life. A partner. Malichai. The thought came unbidden and out of nowhere, scaring her. Still, she stayed tight against him until she was in his room.

She took the armchair closest to the window and curled up in it, pulling her legs up and tucking them under her, making herself smaller. Malichai didn’t bother with the lights. It didn’t matter to her. She could easily see in the dark. He paced across the room and when he turned back toward her, she caught the predatory sheen in his eyes and a chill went down her spine.

“I’m a GhostWalker,” he announced without preamble.

It was the last thing she expected him to say and it was akin to a physical blow. She hunched, better to absorb it. Slowly, she uncurled her legs, putting her feet to the floor, every bit the predator he was, ready to unleash her power when it was needed. Inside, she was crumbling. Falling apart. Shocked, dizzy with grief. Malichai. Her Malichai, the enemy.

“I’m not going to give you an explanation because I know you know what that is. You know because you’re one of Whitney’s orphans. I can only surmise you managed to escape on your own.”

He fell silent, his hand going up as if that would stop her from launching herself at him. The only thing stopping her was her inability to breathe properly. But the moment she got that under control . . .

“If you’re waiting for me to say something, it isn’t going to happen.” She went very still. There was none of the warmth that normally showed in her expression when she looked at him. She watched him, wholly focused on him, revealing the cat, letting him see she wasn’t without her own physical aids.

Malichai went doggedly on. “I really am on vacation. It was entirely a coincidence for me to be here. At first, I worried that you were sent after me for some reason. I was weaker than normal and if Whitney was looking to get one of his soldiers back, it would be a perfect time.”

He shrugged and began to pace across the floor, restless energy building in him until his energy felt as if he might explode. She actually felt the pounding ache in his leg, but there was nothing she could do about it, no matter how much she longed to, no matter how strong that pull was to help him.

“Amaryllis . . . I have to find the right words. Make you believe me, so you don’t leave me, but I’m not that man. I’m not good with words.” He sighed, pushed his hand through his hair and resumed his restless pacing. Now he was limping a little. “I’m required to take photographs of anyone I encounter, anyone that gets close to me. My team watches over me, but I found myself protecting you even from them.” He stole a glance at her, clearly trying to read her expression. “I wasn’t positive about you then, but I still had to protect you.”