Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

Will I love it? Feel intense gratitude? Need to show you that gratitude by allowing you to do whatever you want with the cake and champagne?

He hadn’t thought of that. His cock hardened into what felt like titanium. I believe you will love it that much.

She pulled back first, her lips curving into that quirky smile. “Bring it on, Draden. I’ve never had presents, and you’ve already given me more than I could possibly deserve, but I can’t wait to see what you’ve gotten for me for our wedding.”

He opened the door to the closet without another word. He wanted to see the look on her face when she opened it. “Sit on the bed, sweetheart.”

Shylah looked up at his face and then walked over to the bed in her high heels. He watched her walk away from him, her very firm and shapely ass moving suggestively. His heart thudded. His woman. She was going to kill him with her long-legged, ass-swaying, very elegant stride. Who would ever suspect she was lethal as hell?

She sank onto the bed and crossed her legs, swinging one foot while she looked at him expectantly.

16

Shylah pressed her lips together, more excited than she wanted to be. She didn’t want Draden to ever think she wanted gifts from him. She didn’t need them. The day had been—extraordinary. She had never, in her wildest imagination, ever considered that a man would look at her with an expression of adoration and love the way Draden looked at her. She couldn’t have dreamt in a million years the way it felt to have him touching her body, his hands, mouth and cock so worshipping, sending the most amazing sensations rushing through her body.

She wanted to experience that same feeling with him over and over. She knew there was so much more, and she couldn’t conceive of it, but she was more than willing to follow him wherever he led for as much time as they had together. And she was still hoping there would be a lifetime’s worth. She didn’t feel sick in the least. Tired, but that was to be expected with the way they had come together. Nothing would make her happier than to live a long, long life with the man she loved.

She gave a little shiver of delight and hugged herself tightly, eyes glued on the gorgeous man at her side. Hers. Husband. Forever. They had tied their lives together in a way that meant she would never be alone. They belonged together, to each other, and had a bond for all the world to know. It was wondrous. Almost unbelievable. Like champagne bubbles, but in her soul. She felt—effervescent. And so in love.

Draden stretched to retrieve the package from the shelf in the closet. Muscles rippled beneath the smooth expanse of skin. Defined muscles. He was totally ripped, front and back. Every muscle could have been carved out of stone. He had to have been born with the kind of body that naturally built and maintained muscles easily. Even with his continual training, genetics had to play a part.

“I like looking at you,” she confessed as he turned toward her. The box in his hand was enormous and looked heavy. It didn’t make sense that her heart was pounding, but it was. She touched her tongue to her upper lip, moistening it. She really couldn’t imagine what he’d gotten her.

Draden put the box on the bed and stepped back. She didn’t look at the present, she was too caught up in the expression on his face. He really liked giving her things. He was excited and a little anxious. She ran the pads of her fingers down his thigh. The one the MSS had darted. The swelling was down, as was the redness.

“Draden.” She breathed his name. “Look at this.” Her fingers stroked over the entry site. “It looks far better than it did yesterday. You heal fast.”

His eyes remained on her face, almost as if he were afraid to look, to believe, but eventually his gaze flicked down to his thigh. She heard his swift intake of breath.

“Maybe Trap wasn’t giving us a line of crap, Shylah. Maybe we have a chance. A real one. We gave him our blood. He’ll be able to tell if we’re still fighting it off or if it’s replicating too fast.”

She reached for the present, not looking at him. “If we do manage that kind of a miracle, will you regret marrying me? You can always ask them not file with the registry.” She kept her voice strictly neutral.

“I meant every damn word of my vows, woman. If you’re thinking of walking away from me, you can think again.”

She glanced up at him, hearing the underlying hint of anger in his voice. She realized immediately how she’d sounded. She was insecure, but he really had to be. His birth mother had sold him. The woman he’d called mother had died. He’d withheld his trust from just about everyone else until she came along.

Shylah sent him a tentative smile. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I was going to remind you what I do for a living.” She frowned suddenly. “What do you think the private sector pays for assassins?” Her hands paused on the wrapping paper and she looked up at him.

Those incredible blue eyes of his were darker than ever. “You plan on staying with me?”

He clearly wanted her to say it straight out. She felt like he was holding himself in.

“Of course I plan to stay with you. Don’t be a blockhead. I’m just as nervous as you are. I’ve never been in a relationship, but I love you more than life. I’m in all the way.”

He studied her face for what seemed forever. The expression on his face was so blatantly loving that she felt heat rising, spreading through her body. She loved that he would let himself be so vulnerable with her. “Did you just call me a blockhead?”

She pressed her lips together to stop a smile. “Sort of. Maybe. You kind of deserved it for already doubting me.”

“You were doubting first.”

Damn. He had her there. She had started it. Instead of confirming her culpability, she began to carefully remove the wrapping paper from the box.

“Shylah.”

She heaved a sigh but didn’t look up. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit I might have started the entire boneheaded conversation. What did you say about once it was over, it was over?”

“That was when I screwed up, not you.”

She laughed because she couldn’t help it. “You’re so crazy. I can’t get the box open. Whoever sealed it didn’t want what’s inside to see the light of day.” She frowned up at him. “It isn’t Whitney’s head on a platter or anything ghastly like that, is it?”

“I should have thought of that.” He caught up a knife from under the pillow and slid it carefully around the top of the box.

The contents were wrapped in Bubble Wrap and packed carefully in foam. She eased the first big piece out, glancing up at his face. His breath hitched. Hers did as well. Whatever he’d gotten her meant a lot to him. He hadn’t just had Joe pick something out. This was specific, from Draden to her.

Very slowly, her heart beating far too fast, she began to take the layers of Bubble Wrap from the object. Blue peeked out at her. Gold. It was shaped almost like a vase, but had golden feet and two scrolled golden handles. Then all air was trapped in her lungs and she could barely breathe as the last of the Bubble Wrap dropped away to reveal the Russian tea set warmer. It was exquisite, covered in blue peonies and gold.

The samovar was metal, but painted in exotic, bright colors. There was the traditional body base and chimney, the tap and key, which were gold as were the rings and vents and the drip bowl. It was beautiful beyond measure. The fact that he had found it for her, this exact replica, was astounding and made her want to weep with joy.

“How?” The tea set looked exactly like the one in the picture she had in her phone, the one she’d watched a family use to celebrate the birth of a child.

His smile started in his eyes, a warm rich color of navy blue enveloping her with love. The corners of his eyes crinkled and then his mouth curved. Her heart clenched hard in her chest, so hard she pressed her hand there, watching his white teeth flash at her and the lines in his face soften so that he almost looked boyish. This smile was reserved for her alone and it was full-blown, wide, bright and heart-stopping in its joy.

“When it comes to you, Shylah, I’m magic.”