Deadly Game (GhostWalkers, #5)(37)

She attacked, using her mind, applying pressure to the brake, wrenching the steering wheel from the driver and opening the door in front of her. Using enhanced strength, she dove out, hands in front of her, as if springing off a board, prepared to break her fall in an aikido roll, even as she changed the color of her skin to match her surroundings.

She heard the squeal of the brakes as the driver tried to recover and stop. There was a burst of male voices swearing, but she had already landed, camouflaged by the thick foliage, smashing through a bush, the branches tearing up her hands and arms, as she rolled, trying to protect her leg.





CHAPTER 7




Fury swept through Ken. She had done it deliberately, exposing her breasts to every man there. Damn her to hell for that. Ken didn’t wait for Neil to get the Escalade under control; he dove out after her, breaking his fall the same way, rolling over leaves and fallen branches along the wet ground to lie still, staring up at the night sky. They were in a heavily wooded area. He could hear a stream running off to his left.

Now you’ve really pissed me off. I could strangle you for that. You didn’t need to give them all a show.

He was afraid for her. She had a broken hand and leg. She had no weapons and no clothes. And he just might be angrier over the gripping fear for her than for her exposing herself to all the men. What if she had hit one of the trees and broken her neck? It could easily have happened. He couldn’t imagine finding her dead body. Answer me, damn you.

Was that him? That near panic when he was always so cool under fire. He didn’t mind dying, he never had, so it made it easy to run the covert missions all over the world, but this was something altogether different. She had gotten under his skin. He tried to tell himself it was simply Whitney’s experiment and that once she was gone, Jack and Briony would be safe and things would be back to normal, but that didn’t stop the panic inside of him. Fear had blossomed into full-blown terror for her. She couldn’t be dead.

The ground shifted slightly beneath his feet, trees and bushes trembling. He rose to his feet and tried to breathe normally. Mari. I need to know you’re alive. He should have been humiliated and ashamed that there was pleading in his voice, but he wasn’t. He was telling a simple truth. He needed. It was that simple and it made no sense. If it was simply physical attraction between them—as powerful and as potent as it was—why would he be feeling such terror that she might be dead?

Of course she wouldn’t answer him. He was the enemy. He had to be logical, get past the fear and use his brain. He was far more experienced than she was. He had to go on the premise she was alive. He could track her. Every person shed skin cells, and his sense of smell was phenomenal, thanks to Whitney’s genetic enhancing, but there were other, far easier ways than walking around in the dark sniffing the ground. It mattered little if she had been trained since birth; he had years of hard battles beneath his belt, but most of all, Jack and Ken had been using their psychic abilities long before Whitney’s experiments, and both were strong talents. With the enrichments, they were able to do things Whitney would kill to know about.

He sank down onto the leaf-covered floor, sinking into the cool, damp earth, drawing his legs tailor fashion and resting his hands on his knees. He let his mind expand to take in the world around him, soaring free, becoming powerful. Mari, come to me. You have no choice. Come to me. You feel me. I’m inside of you. All around you. Come to me. You need me. You have to be with me. There isn’t a choice for us. Come to me. It became a litany, a mantra, broadcasting the command over and over, oblivious to the men who came and went as they searched for their lost prisoner.

Ken concentrated on Marigold, building the picture of her in his mind. He knew the feel of her satin skin, the lush curves and sexy body. He knew every detail: the injuries on her body, the way her mouth was full and promising, the heavy lashes that curled and framed her large eyes. Come to me now. Hurry, Mari. You need to come to me. You can find me. We’re one, in the same skin; we need to be together. Most of all, he’d been inside her mind, knew it on a more intimate level. She couldn’t shield herself from him, or ignore him.

His mind shifted, drawing her, calling repeatedly. Her skin would be shades of green and black and tan, blending in with the leaves and bushes around them. She wouldn’t be able to stand with her broken leg, so she would crawl, a sensuous slide through the cover, her bare breasts swaying gently, invitingly. He imagined sweeping his hand down the curve of her bare bottom as she moved toward him like a jungle cat, creeping through the foliage to make her way to him.

There was no sound, but he opened his eyes, knowing she was there. The first sight of her took his breath away. He’d never seen anything more sensual. She crawled toward him, her body perfect in the night, flowing muscle and curves begging for attention. His body flared into life, a savage, painful reaction, his cock near bursting, pulsing with urgency. He had a primitive urge to yank down his jeans and mount her like an animal, rough and dominant, branding her his.

She lifted her face, and he could see tears tracking down her cheeks. There were several scratches on her shoulders and across her left breast. His heart turned over, the sensation strange and very shocking. She kept coming to him, a mixture of defiance and submission in her eyes. She dragged her leg behind her, but managed to crawl almost into his lap.

“Is this what you want? Someone mindlessly obeying you? Is that what you need to get you off?” Her arms circled his neck before he could stop her, and her mouth found his almost desperately.