Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

“I think we should get married.”

She tilted her head to look up at him, but her mouth curved into that smile that always teased every one of his senses. Amusement. She could feel it and give him that same sense of playfulness and joy that she seemed to have in abundance. “I think you’re a little crazy, Draden.”

“It makes sense.”

“It makes no sense. Why would we get married?”

“Because when I die, I want to go out as your husband.” He’d put the idea out there because he knew she’d smile, but once he voiced it, he found he wanted to marry her.

She walked in silence for a few minutes, not shooting him down, but clearly giving it some thought. “Do you think we have time for that? We’re in Indonesia. Even if we got married, would it be legal?”

He grinned at her. “We’re going to be dead before it matters, but I think yes. I’ve heard it can be done.”

“We’re not really thinking of doing this, are we?” She looked up at his face as they walked.

Draden pulled her under his shoulder, needing to feel as if he were protecting her. He loved looking down at her face. Shylah was back to being herself, that woman who accepted who and what she was as well as who and what he was. She saw him, that man who kept himself isolated, so separate from the rest of the world. She saw him for what he was, and she liked him anyway. Not only liked him but was falling hard for him. He felt it each time he connected with her mind to mind.

To keep her from thinking about dying, he was willing to talk marriage and everything else in between. “Why not? We can do whatever the hell we want to do.” Now that they were both symptomatic, he doubted they had more than a day or two at most, but they could plan. And dream. They had to have something to take their mind off the ugly way they were going to go.

He realized he really did want to die her husband. If they had one day or one hour, it didn’t matter. He wanted that time with her as the man in her life.

She shook her head, her eyes still bright from tears, but she was grinning as she glanced down at the path. “I should say yes and then if we both survived, you’d be stuck.”

He nudged her with his hip. “So would you. Be stuck, I mean, with me. And I’m a much bigger pain in the ass than you are.”

“That would depend entirely on who you ask. If you consult Whitney, he would tell you, without a doubt, that I am.”

He liked the smugness in her voice. Shylah was getting back to her normal self. She was so much like Nonny, she could have been her daughter. “I can imagine you with me in the swamp, helping to raise our sons, shotgun right at your side, everywhere you go.”

“Daughters.”

“Baby. Really? I’m a manly man and I have manly sperm, the kind that only throws sons. Way, way too much testosterone for the female children. You’re going to have to let that dream go.”

“I have my heart set on daughters, so you’re going to have to tone down the male craziness and get the feminine vibe going.”

“I don’t want to crush your heart, sweetheart, but, aside from the fact that it would be impossible for a man like me to do that, it’s just plain not happening. I’d kill any idiot who was dumb enough to try to date a daughter of mine.”

“If they were anything like me, you’d be more than happy to pay someone to take them off your hands.” She giggled.

The sound sent his stomach on an emotional roller coaster. He could feel answering laughter welling up. “We’re having boys. A whole bunch of them.”

Deliberately she heaved a sigh. “Both then, and that’s the final offer.”

“You drive a hard bargain. A couple of girls and the rest boys.”

“ ‘The rest’ being how many?” Suspicion had crept into her voice and onto the expression of her upturned face.

He grinned at her. “Maybe seven.”

“I’d have to shoot you, Draden. All kidding aside, I think you need to remember I have very special skills. Weigh that very seriously before you give me another number.”

He forced himself to look sober. She was terrified, but willing to walk into fantasyland with him to keep from losing her mind. He was so in love with her he couldn’t think straight. Neither of them needed to worry about what was said. Like Shylah, he knew that even if their bodies tried to fight the infection, in the village, there had been a 100 percent kill rate. Their odds weren’t good.

“You have a very good point. I’ll go with three.”

“Since they’re mythical, I’ll agree to that.”

“You’ll go hunting and fishing with me.”

“I’m not certain how I feel about killing animals.” She frowned. “What does it involve? Besides pulling the trigger.”

“You skin the animal—”

“Whoa. Stop right there. There’s no skinning. I draw the line at skinning. I don’t want to skin and eat a poor animal after shooting it. I think that’s out.”

“You’re an assassin for God’s sake.”

She tilted her head again, giving him that little snippy look she had that was supposed to put him in his place but only made him want to kiss her.

“Nevertheless, there’s a huge difference between a nasty human being and

a defenseless animal that’s just minding its own business.”

“You buy meat in a market.”

“I don’t. I’ve never been in a market. When I’m hunting a target, they don’t ordinarily go into a market.”

“Fine. I’ll do the hunting and fishing. With the boys. And our daughters.”

“You do that. I’ll read a book while you’re gone.” Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to garden. I can grow our vegetables. And I’ll cook.”

“We can share those chores. Cooking, dishes, that sort of thing.”

“Good you said that. Cooking I’m okay with, the rest of it, we do together.”

They were once again at the small clearing where the ranger’s house sat. He didn’t want to stop with their fantasy, but he needed to examine her and record his findings. He’d get that out of the way and then go alone to the remote lab and let Trap tell him whatever needed to be said. The absolute truth because he liked the idea of marrying her. Dying as her husband, as part of a couple who belonged together made sense. He wanted that, and he wanted to give her that. It had started out as a joke to take her mind from their reality, but once spoken, the idea appealed to him. More than appealed.

“You’re on,” he agreed and opened the door for her.

Shylah went ahead of him. He loved to watch her walk. She was tired. He could clearly see her fatigue in the way she carried her body, but she still had that erotic, feminine sway. She peeled off the wet shirt the moment she was inside. He turned her around and instantly saw the rash that spread across her stomach and breasts. It was red, raised bumps and angry looking. He used his phone to take pictures.

He kept all expression off his face as he examined the lymph nodes in her neck, under her mandible, on her arms and chest. Her lymph nodes were swollen, and it was all he could do not to cry. She held very still as he examined her, as if she were holding herself together by a thread. He took her temperature, wanting to get the examination over with as soon as possible. It was high, but just barely, as his was.