Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

“Look out the window before those birds go away. There’s thirteen of the coolest-looking birds I’ve ever seen eating figs off those branches.”

“I cut those branches last night and twisted them together. I wanted an arbor over the door to the lab, so I got a few things done last night.”

“You should have woken me up, Draden.”

“You weren’t feeling good and I wanted you to rest. How are you feeling now?”

“Much better.”

He stuck his head back out, his gaze drifting over her. “Your color looks better.”

“The rash is better too. At least it was when I went into the shower. The heat brought it out again, but nowhere near what it was when I went to bed. It’s still a little itchy, but my eyes aren’t burning. I think that must have been from all the crying.” She hesitated, but it had to be said. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I want to see the rash.”

“Later. Shower now, inspection later. And look at the birds, tell me if you know what they are.”

“You’re more of a wildlife expert than I am.” He disappeared again. There was silence and then he whistled softly. “Those are helmeted hornbills, or something like that. They’re critically endangered. If I’m right, they generally stay up in the canopy. I cut down all these fig branches and they’ve come for the figs. From what I understand, and I’m quoting Malichai here, usually they stay in pairs. And, my beautiful bride, they bring good luck.”

“Why would so many of them be here?”

“They have to be juveniles. The female is sealed into a nest built into the hollow of a tree. Only a tiny hole remains so the male can feed her while she incubates the eggs. Wouldn’t mind sealing you up somewhere Whitney can never find you.”

“Ha ha ha. Very funny.” Sarcasm dripped, but she was laughing. Laughing when she knew a virus was eating her up inside. How did he do that? Make her life better than it ever had been just with his presence? Just by the way he looked at her? Maybe those birds were a good-luck symbol after all. If they weren’t, Draden was.

Before anything, she wrote the story of Draden and the dragons. It was fun to draw again. She wasn’t nearly as skilled as she wanted to be, but she could create illustrations for his story. She didn’t have colored pencils, but she knew that wouldn’t matter to him—the gift itself was hopefully magical to him.

Shylah went to the refrigerator and peered inside. Joe had brought them all kinds of supplies. She wanted to make a really good breakfast for Draden. One he would remember. What had he said his mother made him on their special Sundays? She made pancakes with their special crest. It was in the form of a shield, with two dragons facing each other and words like integrity, bravery and courage. She could do that. She had some art skills.

What else had his mother made for him? Bacon and eggs. That seemed like a lot of food, but if that was what he ate with his mother on Sundays, then they would have that for breakfast. She wanted to bring him memories of his happiest days to make the day special for him. More importantly, she wanted to give him a sense of his mother celebrating his wedding day with him.

He wanted her to stay in the cabin while he worked outside, and putting together a wedding gift was something she could do. She had a good imagination, and she’d read enough stories to write one about dragons and white knights. She could illustrate it as well. She would do her best to make him feel as if his mother was with them.

She worked quickly to have as much done as possible so when he emerged from the shower, toweling his hair dry and coming toward her, she pointed to the bed. “Dress please. It’s later than I thought. I have a few things I want to do in here.”

He sent her his cocky grin, the one that sent a shiver of excitement sliding down her spine. She couldn’t help the answering smile. They might not have a single tomorrow, but they had this—their wedding day. It didn’t matter if it was legal or not, she would mean every vow she took … “Vows. There’s something in traditional wedding vows I’m going to object to, isn’t there?”

She narrowed her eyes at him when he looked innocent. She didn’t trust that expression on his face for one minute.

“Everyone exchanges vows in a marriage ceremony, sweetheart.”

He turned away from her but not before she saw he was fighting laughter. Definitely the vows. “I’m going to write my own vows.” She declared it as she began shaping a shield out of some thin metal strips she’d found. She’d washed the strips over and over, but they were perfect, thin enough to bend into the shapes she needed. She wasn’t clever like his mother, cutting it after the pancake was made. She needed a mold, even one of her own making.

She’d already put on coffee and the aroma mixed with the smell of the bacon and eggs she was frying. “You can set the table,” she called over his shoulder as she worked on the pancakes.

“I’m an old-fashioned kind of man, Shylah,” he protested as he pulled the two plates off the rack and put them on the table with silverware. He poured both of them a glass of orange juice and then himself a cup of coffee. “Those ceremonial vows have been around for hundreds of years.” He looked far too earnest to be believable.

Clearly, she should have been researching marriage vows. She flashed him a look meant to intimidate him, but he only grinned at her. That grin sent a flutter of need through her sex and a shiver of excitement down her spine. The man did it for her. He didn’t have to do much more than smirk and she was lost. She shook her head, unable to keep from smiling, and turned back to finishing the pancakes. She’d warmed up the syrup Joe had sent, hoping that’s what one did with maple syrup. She’d never had it before, but she’d tasted it and it was good. Sweet, but good.

She put the eggs and bacon on the table in front of him and then carried the pancakes, butter and syrup over. She added the small little story about two fiery dragons willing to sacrifice everything to save those they loved. Strangely, her heart was pounding. What if he didn’t like that she’d copied his mother? What if he didn’t understand making his pancakes into a shield was meant as a gift for their wedding day? She didn’t have much to give him and this was the only way she could think of that might include his mother in their wedding.

Holding her breath, she put the plate of pancakes right in front of him and then put the warm syrup and butter next to his coffee. She could barely force herself to look at him, but she did. His eyes were on the stack of shields with the two dragons and the words carved into them. She’d made shallow indentations, and some were better than others. The metal strips had been used for the shield and dragons, although truthfully, her dragons didn’t come out as well as she would have liked. The words were hand done.

His face had gone pure stone. He didn’t say a word, just stared down at the pancakes for what seemed an eternity. Then swallowed hard. Blinked several times and finally, slowly, very slowly, lifted his gaze to hers. “Shylah.” He breathed her name. Barely above a whisper.

“You like it.” She made it a statement because he clearly did. She leaned down and brushed a kiss on his temple. “I wanted her here with us today, and I couldn’t think of any other way to give that to you.”

She turned to make her way around the small table to her chair, but Draden wrapped his arm around her waist holding her there beside him and turned, so he was facing out away from the table. He tugged until she was between his thighs and he could press his head against her stomach, both arms circling her waist. She wrapped her arms around his head, emotion choking her. The intensity of love she had for Draden was overwhelming.

Shylah held him, the man who was always so strong. So confident and sure. The man she’d fallen so hard for and didn’t even know when it happened or how. Tr

emors ran through him, so fine she barely felt them, but because it was Draden and she registered all things Draden, she felt them. She stroked caresses through his hair, feeling her own eyes burn. They were one step closer to being together permanently, and one step closer to death.

Finally, he lifted his head, his eyes staring into hers. There was liquid turning that dark blue into a fathomless sea. There was also stark, raw love looking back at her. Even though she had never experienced that kind of deep, intense emotion from a man, she recognized it and her heart turned over. The burn of tears in her eyes was nearly overwhelming. She had to blink rapidly.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I can’t imagine a better gift.” He reached up to capture the nape of her neck, applying pressure so she had to bend down. “Mine will be in the closet, so no peeking.”

His hands framed her face, his touch tender. His mouth took hers, and instantly the fire between them flared hot and bright. In contrast to the gentle way he cradled her face, his mouth was rough, demanding, a takeover. She couldn’t think when he was kissing her over and over. Devouring her. There was only feeling, the arcing electricity that jumped between them, the spread of heat that rushed through her bloodstream, the melting that made her feel boneless. His mouth was pure fire and there was nothing better.

When he broke the kisses, his gaze moved over her face and then he pressed his forehead against hers. “In case I haven’t said so, I’m so in love with you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” She was astonished she managed to get the words out when her body had spiraled completely out of control. She wanted him with every breath she drew.