Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

“Did you ever look up the flower?” He took his first bite and nearly choked. “Woman. Are you fucking trying to kill me? Why didn’t you warn me?”

She burst out laughing. “Don’t be such a baby. I did warn you, and you deserve it for calling me Peony. And you already asked me that.”

He watched her eat two spoonsful of the thick broth. He was going to have to suck it up and eat the disgusting stuff because she wasn’t besting him, not over food. “I didn’t call you peony as in your name. I called you ‘my peony’ as in the flower.” It bothered him that he’d repeated himself. He didn’t do things like that, but his brain felt chaotic.

She rolled her eyes at him, and his heart did a weird stuttering thing. She was potent. Beautiful. Lethal. Funny.

“Shit, Shylah, we’ve got to figure this virus crap out. I figured I’d kill as many of those bastards as possible, record what I could for Wyatt and Trap and then put a bullet in my head. Along comes this woman that I didn’t think was a possibility in my life and we’re both supposed to fucking die, which isn’t happening by the way. What kind of crap is that?” His head was throbbing, and his body felt hot. Fatigue ate at him and every muscle hurt. She sat there looking unaffected.

She was amazing as far as he was concerned, everything he ever could have wanted in a woman, and he barely knew her. She’d been taken by Whitney as an infant and been experimented on. He’d raised her as a soldier and a piece of property, yet she retained such incredible kindness and compassion. She loved her friends, embracing them as deeply as possible, as if they were siblings.

He had every advantage. Hard times maybe, but he’d created his own isolation and hell. He had teammates who accepted him for who he was. He had freedom and money and gifts. She wanted to live life to the fullest whenever she could, to experience every moment. He’d read that in her mind, yet he’d been the opposite, nearly throwing every opportunity away.

“You do know that the only reason you’re feeling that way is because of the extreme circumstances. We’re both going to die.” She regarded him over the bowl. “Seriously, Draden, we’re attracted to each other because we’re in this mess together.”

“I haven’t accepted that we’re going to die. I’m a fighter, Shylah. I’ll fight until there’s no reasonable way I can get out of knowing it’s over.”

“Keep eating. You might want it over.” She shot him a little grin.

His heart did that strange stuttering thing again. Looking her in the eye, he ate a spoonful of the mixture. It was hot. Wet. Tasted like …

“Vomit?” Shylah suggested. “We took a vote once and included Whitney’s supersoldiers. Vomit won, although quite a few other colorful suggestions were written in.”

He could imagine her laughing with her sisters over the idea of a poll on the field rations Whitney sent them out with. She knew how to have fun in the worst circumstances.

“Yeah, I’m voting for that,” Draden agreed, but doggedly ate the stuff. They needed their strength and if Whitney’d had some nutritionist concoct the crap, it probably did its job.

“If we get a chance to use the satellite, I’ll get word back to Whitney to send someone after the three I’m hunting, because they need to die.”

“I’ll double the odds in our favor by alerting the GhostWalkers. If you’re right and we’re a target, all of the teams need to know. One of them is located in San Francisco. That would be a disaster.”

“I know you’re going back to the village the MSS have taken over and that you intend to kill more of them. I’m going with you.” She took his bowl along with hers over to the sink.

He liked the way she moved. She was quiet. An asset hunting prey, especially in the forest. “I’m going to have to find out if they have any more of the virus. They managed to shoot me with a dart. I can’t assume that was all they had. They wouldn’t need much.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. Just that little movement, a turn of her head, her hair sliding around her shoulders, falling in waves now that it was dry, the profile of her face, with her long lashes and straight little nose—that was all it took. She might think it was because they both were going to die, but he knew better, and he knew he’d been robbed of the greatest gift he could have had.

“I’m going with you. If they get you, Draden …”

“They won’t.”

“We don’t get to take a chance on something like this. This virus has the potential of doing as much damage in the world as Ebola or Marburg. You know that.”

She was right. Damn it. He didn’t have to like it, but she was definitely right. “I’m going to have to take a prisoner and interrogate them, sweetheart. It won’t be pretty. For one thing, I’m in a fucking foul mood and for another, we just plain don’t have the time to be nice about it.” If his body was anything to go by, he might not even have the time for that.

“I’m aware of that. I know some things are necessary.”

“Not for you. I can live with what I have to do. You can’t live with interrogation.”

Her laughter slipped out again. “Draden, we’re not going to live. You don’t have to worry so much about that.”

“Indulge me then, Shylah. I don’t want to die with you looking at me as if I’m a monster. You can stay back and if something goes wrong, you’ll be there to protect me.”

“I can do that.”

That simple. Who knew he would find a woman who would be a perfect partner; when he asked for something important to him, she gave it to him. “Just how lethal are you? Bellisia can kill with just one bite. I think Zara has venom under her fingernails. You must be able to kill without a gun or knife.”

“I excel with both.” She rinsed the bowls and set them out to dry, turning toward him and resting her hip against the sink. “I’m not too bad in hand-to-hand either.”

“Are you bragging?”

She flashed another grin. “Just letting my partner know he doesn’t have to worry about looking out for me. And yes, Whitney gave me an extra we

apon or two. I’m good in trees. I have a healthy dose of cat in me.” Her eyes met his. “I can see the same in you.”

He nodded. “Most of us do.”

“I also have the Hadronyche formidabilis venom in me. Another tree dweller, but much smaller than a cat.”

“A spider?” Draden guessed.

“Right the first time. The northern tree funnel-web spider. Whitney got a little creative with the venom.”

“And I put my hands on you.”

“I wasn’t about to kill you after I saved you. And by that time, I knew we were both infected. I figured you might have to shoot me.”

He winced at the thought. She was the last person in the world he wanted to kill. “Do you have control of the venom?”

She nodded. “I work at things until I get them right. I can make my eyebrows dance.”

She showed him, raising first one and then the other over and over, a little smile on her face. He wanted to kiss her. The desire hit him unexpectedly hard.

“That took practice,” she said. “I won’t tell you all the other things I’ve practiced, but I will say, I have great tongue control.” She gave him an impish grin and sauntered out to the front porch to check his clothes.

Draden stared after her. In the short time he’d spent with her, while the hemorrhagic virus was busy replicating itself in his body, slowly killing him, he’d felt more alive than he’d ever been. She’d even managed to bring his heart to life. She was magnificent. Women like that shouldn’t die of some man-made weapon just because the designers were pissed at someone. That wasn’t going to happen. He could figure it out.

He stared at the door knowing he should get his ass up, that she was doing all the work, but he was exhausted. He didn’t want to close his eyes, because they only had so much time. If he didn’t do anything else, he wanted to save her. He also wanted to spend every minute he could in her company. He still believed he had a good chance of saving her, but then, for his own sanity, he had to believe that. He doubted that he would live through this given the injection they’d given him, but as long as he could save her, he could accept that he had to go out in a violent, horrific way as atonement for his sins.