Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

Around the room little fireflies seemed to dance and then slowly settled while her heart pounded like crazy and she tried desperately to find a way to breathe. Rubin very gently lowered her legs to the bed.

I have to know you’re all right. We got a little out of control, Jonquille.

She had to smile because he used telepathy instead of trying to talk. He wasn’t getting any more air than she was. I’m just fine. Perfect. You are perfect.

He was. Everything about him was perfect.

But I’m not moving. If you think we’re going to jump up and head back to the Fontenots’, you’re going by yourself. I can’t move.

Rubin laughed. She loved his laugh. She knew that not too many people got his laughter, but he gave that to her. He sounded younger. He looked younger. He turned away from her and went to the master bath. She heard water running and wished she had energy enough to move so she could clean up, but that wasn’t happening. Not yet.

Rubin returned with a hot washcloth and towel. Of course he would. He was Rubin. He was already clean, and he gently cleaned her. She didn’t know why she wasn’t embarrassed, but she wasn’t. He was thorough too. Just as he had been when he asked her all sorts of personal questions about sex and birth control. He was frank and uninhibited about his sexual practices. It wasn’t like she could have sexual practices when she might accidentally electrocute someone, but she was careful enough to stay on birth control.

She was a woman alone. If Whitney ever did reacquire her, she didn’t want him to get the chance to use her in his breeding program. In spite of the fact that she was lethal herself, she could be overpowered by sheer numbers, and if she was raped, she didn’t want to have to go to a clinic and then decide what to do. Jonquille was extremely practical and thought about things in advance and tried to prepare for every possibility.

Rubin lifted her into his arms, cradling her close as he lay down in the center of the bed on his back, pulling her over his body so that she sprawled over the top of him like a blanket.

Jonquille laughed, nuzzling his neck. “Do you expect me to fall asleep like this?”

His hand crept slowly, almost seductively, from her bottom, up the curve of her spine to the nape of her neck. “Yes. But don’t count on much sleep, Lightning Bug. Not tonight. I’ve got other plans.”

A shiver of excitement went through her. Anticipation. That particular tone of his was mesmerizing. Compelling. She turned her head and kissed his shoulder. “Plans?”

That hand made the same slow assault on her senses, returning to her bottom, this time lingering on her left cheek. Rubbing. Little lazy circles. Massaging. More circles. There was a comfortable intimacy Rubin established between them, yet it was charged with such sensuality even now, and as sated and limp as she was, she was acutely aware of his body beneath hers and every touch of his strong fingers on her.

“I waited a lifetime for you, Jonquille. Once I found you, I felt like I had to wait even longer. I’m not wasting any time making sure you know who your man is.”

She had no doubts who her man was, but she didn’t mind in the least if he wanted to show her, or reaffirm as many times as possible.

18

Jonquille felt safe with Rubin and Diego. Both men gave off such a low level of energy she had no problem being around them. Being with several men from their unit in close proximity, even out in the open, was quite frankly terrifying. The men were quiet, and weirdly, so were the two boats, as they made their way through the swamp toward the location of the island Sean had inherited from his maternal grandmother.

Jonquille found herself sandwiched between Diego and Rubin. In the boat with them was Ezekiel, clearly the man they deferred to. Mordichai and Malichai were both on board. Malichai had a prosthetic leg, which didn’t seem to slow him down. Malichai was married to a woman named Amaryllis who had opted to stay home and help protect the children with the other women staying back with Nonny. Jonquille could tell the brothers were close and included Diego and Rubin in their family. Ezekiel’s wife, Bellisia, was very small, much the same build as Jonquille, with blue eyes and blond hair. Rubin had informed Jonquille that there were few better—or deadlier—in the water than Bellisia.

Gino Mazza was silent and scary and put out no energy at all unless one counted a black, forbidding kind of darkness like the heralding of death. She knew he was married. She’d met his wife several times in the kitchen with Nonny. Zara loved to cook, and she spent time with Nonny and the other women. She limped when she walked, which wasn’t that often because she was supposed to stay off her feet. Zara seemed the epitome of light, the opposite of Gino.