Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

“Just tell me,” she said.

“Not here.” The little room reeked of the three scientists and what they’d done. He didn’t want to confess to her there, where their evil lingered.

She was the one who held out her hand, signaling to him that she was willing to hear him out, just as he knew she would. He enclosed those delicate fingers in his much larger hand, needing the connection. Even when he’d asked her to stay if they both lived, she hadn’t answered him.

They walked together across the clearing, back into the forest along the trail leading to the ranger’s hut. “We needed those files, Shylah. I would have sold my soul for them.”

“I’m aware of that.” She glanced up at the sky and then looked to the trees. “The birds are usually very vocal this time of day.”

“Soldiers surrounding us.”

It was after noon and should have been bright and sunny. The early morning had held promise, but already the oppressive heat had come and with it, dark, ominous clouds. They moved overhead with the building wind.

“Obviously, but it could be the weather,” she commented. She didn’t push him to get started on his explanation. He was certain most women would.

“A storm is coming in. According to Malichai, who likes to give us all kinds of trivial facts about weather when we’re on a helicopter and can’t get off, Indonesia has frequent storms, but they aren’t nearly as intense as those in some other countries.”

She sent him a tantalizing smile, one that held a hint of laughter, but also something deeper. “Good to know.”

Her smile did something to his insides. He’d been tense. His gut in knots. That one, brief smile tied them together. It felt like an intimacy between them. That smile was his alone and he knew that.

He was falling deeper with every minute in her company. Trap and Wyatt. They had to save her. He knew others were working to find a vaccine or at least a therapy to aid the two of them, but he counted on his fellow GhostWalkers. Trap was renowned in the field, Wyatt, a close second. At least he knew the two tenacious GhostWalkers wouldn’t stop trying.

They approached the ranger’s hut as they always did, very cautiously. She checked the webs, he checked their surroundings. Nothing had been touched. Once inside, she headed for the small shower. It was mostly cold water, but after hunting killers all night through the forest, he knew she always showered, cold water or not. He stood at the window and watched the storm coming in.

Just as in the swamp he called home, it was warm—almost hot, yet it was growing dark, and in the distance, he heard the first roll of thunder. Drops of rain fell through the canopy, turning the leaves of the trees a beautiful silver. They hit the roof, drumming loudly, and he knew the drops were probably warmer than the water pouring over Shylah’s body.

The moment the thought came to him, he tried to push it away. The image of her naked, all soft skin and nothing else, just a few feet from him, was difficult to get out of his mind. They couldn’t go there until she knew everything she needed to know about his past.

Still, she had those breasts. Full. Round. High. When they lay in bed, his hand had cupped the undersides and his thumb had grazed her nipple. She had the kind of nipples he could play with for hours and never get tired of. He wondered how sensitive she’d be when his mouth was on her. His tongue. His teeth.

If you don’t intend to do anything about it, stop thinking about putting your mouth on me. That’s hard to ignore.

He spun around. She stood just outside the shower, wearing a tank top and jeans. She dried her hair with a towel, but the water had dripped down the tank, or she hadn’t dried her body properly, because he could see through the material and she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Seriously, woman? You’re tempting enough.”

“We might die anytime, Draden. It might be the only time I have to be with you.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“I don’t necessarily want to help you.”

“We have things to talk about before we ever go there.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Are they things that would make me not want to have wild, crazy sex with you in the middle of a thunderstorm?”

“Most likely.”

She gave a little sigh. “Maybe we should postpone you telling me.”

“Maybe you should behave yourself.”

“I thought all men jumped at the chance when they’re offered sex.”

“I’m looking for more than just sex from you, so we’re doing this right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, go take a shower and then we’ll talk.”

He studied her face. He wasn’t certain he trusted her to behave. “I’m taking my shower, but when I come out, we’re talking.”

“There’s all kinds of ways to talk, just in case you didn’t know,” she muttered, sounding rebellious.

He was set on having her for the rest of his life, no matter how long or little that was, but he could see, if she agreed, he was going to have his hands full. He took the towel from her and stalked into the little shower that made him have to stoop over to get any water on his head.

11

Shylah stood at the window, listening to the sound of the water, knowing it was falling on Draden’s naked body. He’d been as close to a perfect gentleman as he could possibly have been. She knew he was attracted and that the chemistry between them was explosive. They both had tried to respect the fact that they were in a bad place and not complicate that with sex.

When he kissed her, she couldn’t think. Her brain just shut off. She hadn’t known it could be like that. In her wildest imagination, she hadn’t considered that the attraction between a man and a woman could be so fierce. They had so many things stacked against them, and now he had some deep, dark secret that Whitney, of all people, knew.

She had to respect the fact that Draden was determined to tell her before he touched her, because he believed whatever that secret was, it would change her mind about him. If he was a traitor, a spy for Whitney, that could change her mind, but she knew that wasn’t it. Draden’s loyalty was 100 percent to his team. The GhostWalkers were his family. She heard that in his voice every time he talked about them. That was impossible to fake.

Rain hit the roof harder, drumming so loudly it nearly drowned out the sound of the shower, or he’d turned it off. She remained staring out the window at the tops of the trees as they swayed back and forth in the wind. Dancing. It was beautiful. A little primitive. The air was hot and humid. Sultry. Her body seemed to have caught some of the intensity of the storm. She felt a little wild and out of sorts. Edgy. On the verge of something big.

She felt different when she was with Draden. She’d learned to live in the present a long time ago, to enjoy every moment she had. Time was a luxury, something she knew she could run out of very quickly, so she made sure each minute counted for something. She allowed herself to experience every emotion. When she was happy, she wanted to recognize that. When she was sad, she let herself be sorrowful. Now, she didn’t know what she was. It was impossible to recognize the feelings both emotionally and physically because she’d never had them. But she liked feeling the way she was.

She’d been around men, but no one had ever made her feel the way he did. When he looked at her, she grew hot. Needy. Hungry for him. Each time his fingers brushed her skin, her body reacted, every nerve ending on fire. And when he kissed her, the world fell away and there was only his taste and his heat. The flames pouring into her and down her throat, spreading like a wildfire. He was addicting without even trying.

Shylah loved to look at him. Just look at him. She could do that all day. He was the epitome of male perfection. Rugged, without being too contrived. Jaw-droppingly handsome without being so beautiful he bordered on feminine. When he smiled, he took her breath away, those strong white teeth showing the perfection of his smile.

She wanted his touch on her skin. His mouth on her breasts. She wanted him inside her, sharing her skin. Mak