Lethal Game (GhostWalkers 16)

Her fingers idly slid through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Malichai, do you really want me to marry you? As in the real thing? A forever kind of thing?”

No one had ever really wanted her, not for herself, her own sake. Whitney had wanted to conduct his experiments on her, even as a child. She didn’t have a sisterhood, because Whitney had separated the girls, afraid they would be loyal to one another, not to him. He was a monster. There was no being loyal to him. He might have been her only parent figure, but she had known, early on, that something was very wrong with him. Some of the other girls hadn’t figured it out for a long time and she felt bad for them. They had needed a parent. She might have needed one, but she had come to the conclusion, very early, that Whitney was not that person.

Malichai lifted his head and pressed kisses over her belly. So many. Each found its way inside her. His lips were warm and soft, yet so firm, sliding over her skin like living flames. His teeth nipped, stinging deliciously, and then his tongue stroked, easing that little ache that seemed to trigger more explosions inside her.

“Forever is what I’m asking of you, Amaryllis. I want you to come home with me, marry me, stay with me no matter what happens. To do that, you’re going to have to trust me.” He rested his chin on her belly, his eyes that peculiar shade of Florentine gold. When his eyes were that color, his gaze seemed to burn his name right into her bones, branding her his.

“I trust you.” She thought she did . . . She did . . . It was difficult.

“You’re getting there,” he said. “I expect, after Whitney, trusting anyone would be hard, but trusting a man you barely know would be next to impossible.”

“Not impossible. I watched you all the time, Malichai.” She had. Every move he made. Every word he’d said. If there was a stalker, it wasn’t Malichai. It had been her. From the moment he’d offered to fix the dishwasher, inserting himself into Marie’s and Jacy’s lives, she’d observed him, needing to protect her friends from possible trouble.

She knew how he moved. How he turned his head. What he looked like when he took a breath. His smile. God. His smile. How could anyone resist his smile? It came slowly and then lit those golden eyes. Sometimes his eyes seemed to be the color of whiskey, then a deeper amber, and finally, finally, her favorite, that Florentine gold. She loved that burn as the flames licked over her skin and went bone deep. That was when she felt the closest to him.

“Are you beginning to think I’m trustworthy?”

He smiled at her and her heart seemed to melt while her stomach did that slow somersault that always made her go damp and needy. Her hand found his hair as he lay his cheek on her belly again. She liked the feel of the scratchy shadow on his jaw. It was sexy. Sensual. A burn that was real and had that same effect of setting off a reaction in her body. This time, she wanted to touch him. Explore his body. Only she couldn’t move. She was too exhausted. She liked just lying there feeling sated and happy.

“Amaryllis?” He turned his head to nip her firm skin.

She jumped and then laughed. She’d never had anyone to share an evening like this with. Both lay naked under the stars, the cool night breeze fanning their overheated bodies. Talking quietly together. Was that what couples did? Was it small things that wove those relationships tighter? Made them stronger? She didn’t know, but she loved being with Malichai just like this. Talking softly to him. Getting his reassurance. Giving him the same.

“I trusted you with my body, Malichai. And I’m letting you steal my heart, so I’d have to say you’re in there. I definitely have reached a point where I trust you.”

“Enough to go home with me?” he pressed.

“I said I would. As long as I’m not leaving Marie and Jacy in a bad way, I’ll go.”

“And you’ll marry me?”

She found herself laughing just for the sheer joy of being with him. “I said I would.”

“You didn’t sound like you meant it.”

“I meant it. You just want to hear me say it over and over.”

“That too.”

They both laughed. She liked the way they sounded together. Almost as if they were creating music together.

“And you really do want children, Amaryllis? I know we sort of talked about this, but it wasn’t like you knew I was asking because it mattered to me.”

She stilled. She loved Jacy, but she wasn’t Jacy’s mother. “You know I never had a mother, Malichai.”