Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

He held her for another minute, as if he knew she clung to him because her legs were unsteady, and her knees were wobbly. Eventually she took a deep breath and made it to the chair opposite. It took effort to slide into it with dignity instead of just plopping into it before she fell.

“Taste them before you get too excited.” She needed to find a way to bring down the intensity of emotion filling the room. “I followed the recipe on the package Joe sent. They might not be edible.”

“It really wouldn’t matter to me one way or the other. Shylah, do you realize no one has ever done anything like this for me? No one. Not since she died. I’ve never received a present in my life, and certainly not one like this.”

She smiled at him, feeling shy. She’d been so afraid she was stepping on a wonderful memory. She watched him take a bite and then he was smiling and indicating for her to eat.

She was expecting the pancakes and syrup to taste like cardboard, but they actually tasted really good—good enough that they might be a favorite if she lived long enough to have more than one meal of them.

“It’s weird, Draden, but I don’t feel sick at all this morning. Not like last night.”

“And the rash isn’t worse? It didn’t spread?”

She shook her head. “No, it faded. It almost looks like it’s just under the skin, and it’s definitely not burning like it did last night.”

Something moved across his face. Hope? She couldn’t tell. Maybe they both needed hope. The virus could take longer to incubate than either of them thought, but if that was the case, how had it killed an entire village so quickly? No one had escaped that they could see. That meant it had to bring its victims down fast.

“I’ll take blood samples, our temperatures and pictures of the rash to send to Trap. He shares with the others working to deconstruct the virus. I talked to Trap last night. Well, not Trap. He grunts a lot and ignores me. I talked with Wyatt. They think they’re close. With the notes Whitney’s three virologists left behind in the computer, they had a jump start on it.”

She took a bite of the bacon and eggs and chewed, watching his face. Draden was easily the handsomest man she’d ever seen. It was difficult to imagine him in the service, particularly the GhostWalker program. He had rugged good looks, so it wasn’t that, but he belonged on a poster hanging on the wall, not in an Indonesian forest waiting to die.

She looked down at the small stack of pancakes on her plate with the two dragons on them. Draden and Shylah. In her mind, those mythical creatures represented the two of them and the fire between them. When they had to, they could do battle, but when they weren’t committed to a fight, they were together, the shared fire between them.

Draden got her laughing before the end of breakfast and she didn’t even know how. He did it so easily, telling her funny stories of Trap and Cayenne. How they were both so antisocial, yet so devoted to each other. He talked about Nonny and the other members of his team. He made them each so alive and vivid, she felt as if she knew them and could recognize the individuals without an introduction.

She told him of her escapades with Bellisia, Zara, stories of deliberate defiance and pranks, sometimes on Whitney. Zara thought up most of the mischief, but it was Bellisia and Shylah who carried it out. She loved watching him laugh.

“You have to tell me about these traditional marriage vows, Draden.” She wanted to share whatever he was up to with her “sisters.” She planned on leaving them a letter and she wanted it to be funny and upbeat.

Draden sent her another mischievous grin. “There’s a little line that says you will honor and obey me.”

She blinked, her lashes hiding her eyes for moment while she thought that over. “Is that true? Did women say that to their husbands?”

He nodded. “I’m teasing you, Shylah, I don’t expect obedience. Honor maybe, but you’re independent and you think for yourself.”

“Do you think the words really meant that a woman had to obey her husband?”

“I don’t know what other people’s interpretation is, but for me, you should just be you. Say what’s in your heart. That will be enough for me.”

She loved him all the more for that, for the sincerity in his voice. He had been teasing her, but he made it clear hearing her vow to obey him wasn’t at all what he wanted. She wasn’t going to have a single regret for her decision to marry him.

When they finished, they did the dishes together and then he photographed the rash, frowning as he did so. “I can’t believe it’s faded this quickly. It looks more like an allergic reaction than a reaction to the virus. You were lying in grass and then on the roof. The roof was made of some kind of leaves. It’s possible you were having an allergy attack, Shylah, not showing early stage symptoms of the virus.”

She shook her head. “Trap told you I was infected.”

He ignored that, his frown deepening as his fingers moved over her lymph nodes. “A little swollen, but nothing like last night. You ate.”

“I was very hungry when I woke up this morning,” she confirmed.

“You still have a slight fever.”

He took her blood efficiently and then his own. He inspected the site where the dart had entered his thigh. It was clean. No redness. “Do you have a headache?”

She shook her head. “What about you?”

“It’s definitely better. I thought my head might fall off a couple of days there, but it’s hurting a lot less. More like a regular nagging headache than my head is about to explode.”

“You had a concussion, Doc.” She couldn’t stop the grin. “I don’t have a fancy degree with a million letters surrounding my name, but I did a better diagnosis than you.”

She didn’t want to let herself hope, but it was impossible not to have that sudden flare. She didn’t look at him, but kept her gaze fixed on what he was doing. He was very thorough in taking mouth swabs and blood. He was meticulous in documenting exactly what their temperatures were and adding pictures of her rash and the entry site on his leg. He was painstakingly scrupulous about everything, unhurried, taking the time to double-check everything.

“I have no idea what’s going on, my beautiful little perfect peony, but those birds did bring us good luck. Maybe there’s something to that little whispered rumor after all.” Using the satellite Azami Yoshiie had made available to them, he sent off the data to Joe and Trap and then put the samples away, so he could give them to Joe when he arrived. “Stay inside while I get things ready outside,” Draden cautioned.

For some reason his comment about getting things ready outside wiped out the terror at the thought of infection and the small flare of hope this morning’s findings had given her, replacing it with thoughts of their wedding. Of marrying Draden. Her heart beat overtime all over again, and she nodded. “I’ve done my flyaway hair as best I could and unfortunately, jeans are all I have. No makeup either.” She touched her mouth a little self-consciously.

“I’ve taken care of that. Joe’s bringing a dress and makeup and my wedding gift to you. I’ll get it to you immediately.”

Her heart jumped at the possibility. “A dress? As in a wedding dress?”

“A more traditional dress for a Buddhist wedding. You’re going to love it, Shylah. I sent Joe several examples and let them choose which one. I think he was consulting Bellisia and Zara. You’ll have a beautiful dress.” He made a little grimace. “They’re also sending me a traditional outfit as well. I thought if we were doing the ceremony, we should do it right.”

She hugged herself, happy that Bellisia and Zara had contributed in some way, however small. She wasn’t going to let anything mar this day. Not one single thing. “I love the idea. I know we have to do this ceremony, but how do we make it legal?”

“There will be a civil one as well and Joe will take care of that end of it. He made me the promise, and Joe never lets anything stop him when he wants something. He’ll make certain it’s legal.”