Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

“Stop staring at me and come eat. The table’s set and dinner is ready. Zara used to fix this recipe, so I know it tastes delicious.”

He took the pot from her and ladled up the soup into the bowls already set on the small table. He lit the candle she’d put there. The storm was long gone, and night was falling, the birds calling to one another one last time and the cicadas and other insects took up the jarring symphony. Frogs took up the chorus, so the surrounding forest was filled with sound.

“What religion are you, Draden?”

She was looking down at her soup, cooling off a spoonful by blowing on it. She still had an appetite and he was grateful for that. Still, he had a sense of urgency. Now, it was important to him that they marry, that she carried his name when she went. That he was there with her to the very end. He liked being her man. No. It was much more than that.

He had always shied away from feelings, preferring to keep himself closed off rather than put himself out there where he could be destroyed emotionally. With Shylah, everything was so different. He could say anything to her. She understood and accepted him even when he told her the worst of himself. He was comfortable with her. She could take care of herself, but he felt protective of her.

“Draden?”

He sent her a grin and then took a bite of the soup to keep from having to answer her question.

She made a face at him. “Seriously? Whitney conducts illegal and immoral experiments every single day. He uses children for those experiments. He doesn’t believe in a hereafter. He certainly didn’t want us to believe we were worth anything to anyone. He had us study religion, but only as a means to understand the anger and fanaticism that brought nations to the brink of war, or war itself.”

“I can see that.”

She played with the soup in her bowl, swirling the liquid around with her spoon. “I leaned toward the simplicity of Buddhism. The teachings made sense to me, but I certainly didn’t have the opportunity to explore the teachings with anyone who was in the religion. What about you?” she challenged again.

“I never got involved in any religion,” he admitted. “Living on the street, I certainly went to my share of churches, but it was because they fed the homeless or allowed us to sleep in their churches during storms or on extremely cold nights.”

He shrugged and took another bite, this time the taste getting through to him. “This is good, woman. I might have to let you do all the cooking.”

“I only know how to cook a couple of things, other than the rations, but I’m certain Whitney would send them to us if we wanted them. It might be better than killing and skinning an animal. What kind of animal, by the way, and don’t you dare say a rabbit.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “You sound so belligerent, like you’re going to get a gun and shoot and skin me just for even suggesting hunting. Who knew you were so squeamish?”

Her head went up and her eyes blazed fire at him. “I am not squeamish. It isn’t that. If I had to hunt for food for you, me or our children, trust me, honey, that animal would have to go down. My point is, it isn’t my thing and I don’t need to do it.”

“No hunting. I’m on board with that. Are you the same about fishing?”

“How long does it take to catch a fish?”

“You had to have laid hours in the grass watching that village.”

The soup was delicious, and he was making headway on it. She hadn’t eaten that much. She took small spoonsful. She hadn’t yet eaten any of the vegetables out of the bowl that he could see.

“It isn’t the same thing. That was work. Isn’t fishing considered recreation?”

“It’s work. It’s manly fishing, bringing home dinner.”

“I’ll try it, but only because it matters to you.”

“Damn straight it does. Our daughters have to see their mom is tough. It’s not like you can take them on a hunt with you for your job.” He hit his forehead with his hand and the action, while supposed to be funny, sent pain jangling through his body.

“What was that for?”

“I forgot. What are we going to do when our kids have parents’ day at the school?”

“What’s that?”

“They take their parents and proudly tell the rest of the class what their jobs are. Can you imagine? This is my mother. She kills people. This is my dad. He’s a doctor, but mostly he blows things up and silently creeps up on guards and slits their throats.”

She laughed. “I guess we’ll have to work on that one.”

“Buddhism it is,” Draden said decisively, ignoring the fact that Buddhism was synonymous with peace and their professions were the exact opposite. “We’ll study that religion quickly tonight and then have the ceremony tomorrow. We can put that together while we’re in bed and send for whatever we need in the morning. Joe can bring it to us.”

“You really are serious. You want to get married.”

“Don’t you?” He leaned across the table, capturing her gaze. “I want to marry you more than anything. Do you feel the same way?”

“I don’t know the first thing about it, but I know I love you and if this is what you want, then we’ll do it.”

She said it so casually, as if it weren’t a monumental gift. No one had ever told him they loved him, not since the woman he called mother had died of cancer. Even that seemed a brief period of time. Eliza had taught him there was such a thing as love. Shylah, Bellisia and Zara had taught one another.

He reached across the table and took her hand, his thumb sliding over her bare ring finger. “I want to give you the world, Shylah, because you deserve it. I want my ring on your finger and my name with yours. I’ve only told one other woman I loved her, and she deserved to be called mother. She would have loved you and taken you in as a daughter. I think Nonny will do that when she meets you.”

“I truly wish I had the chance to meet both of them,” Shylah said. “I’m so happy that you were able to actually meet Zara and Bellisia. They’re my family. At least I know they’re taken care of.”

He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it and then leaned over to blow out the candle. “I’ll do the dishes, sweetheart. It’s only fair when you did the cooking.”

“I’m not opposed. I’ll go look up what a Buddhist ceremony entails, and we can design one. But really, Draden, you can’t just pick a religion.”

“What are they going to do to us? If we don’t make it, I don’t think they’re going to follow us to our graves to reprimand us.”

She laughed and helped him clear the table. He didn’t make a big deal over the fact that she’d barely eate

n when the soup had been so delicious. She’d been eating the nasty rations Whitney had sent with her, but now that they had decent food, she wasn’t hungry. That alarmed him. He deliberately dropped back a step to watch her walk to the sink. Her shoulders were down, and she seemed to be hunching just a little.

His little peony would never complain. No matter how bad it got, she wouldn’t say anything to him unless she thought it was needed for Trap and the others to find a vaccine for those left behind. She would forever remind him of that classic flower. She had no rival with her elegant beauty and that unforgettable, delicate scent.

“Are you still hurting, Shylah?”

She sent him a quick smile. “I’m doing fine, Draden, considering what we’re expecting. Just a little off. Are you certain you don’t want me to do the dishes while you shower? I don’t mind.”

She wouldn’t, because like the flower, she was dependable. She would stand with him for as long as he wanted her. Draden was an intelligent man. Even if he’d met her under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have taken him long to realize he would want this one woman at his side for the rest of his lifetime and beyond.

“Lie down, sweetheart. I’ll be quick. We can plan our ceremony.”

She flashed another smile at him and went straight to the bed. He cleared the rest of the table watching her without seemingly doing so. She flopped down on the mattress without her usual grace and instead of sitting up to wait for him as she’d done since they’d been thrown together, she curled up into the fetal position and closed her eyes. His heart jerked hard in his chest, rebelling. Knots tightened in his belly. There was no getting around the fact that Shylah, for the first time in her life, wasn’t feeling good.

He took his time with the dishes and his shower, wanting her to fall asleep. When he finally went to bed and eased in beside her, she rolled over and wrapped her body around his, practically sprawling over top of him. She seemed even warmer than earlier, but he told himself that was because the air was still muggy from the storm.

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