Deadly Game (GhostWalkers, #5)(78)

Ken could feel her nervousness and her reluctance to continue their conversation. All right, baby, do whatever you have to do and contact me when you’re alone again.

Mari didn’t reply, but she was grateful that he let her know he was going to be within her mind’s reach. She snapped her fingers. “At least get me another gown, Sean. I’m not walking in front of you half-naked.”

Sean muttered something under his breath, but jerked another gown from a shelf under the table and tossed it to her.

Mari caught it and shrugged into it, wrapping it around her back. She never once glanced up at Whitney, but she could feel him there, watching every move she made. She made herself walk out of the room with her shoulders straight and her chin up. Whitney hadn’t broken her, thanks to Ken, not even when she’d been at her most vulnerable. She resisted throwing Whitney a triumphant smirk, because he’d retaliate with something else and she didn’t have the time to devote to their usual battle. Let him put her lack of resistance down to being shot.

She would have given anything to be able to read his mind. Did he think being a prisoner had been a terrible experience? Did he think Ken had forced himself on her? The evidence on her body certainly might substantiate that theory. Whitney knew Ken was paired with her—that she would be sexually attracted to him—but that didn’t mean she necessarily had given in to the temptation.

She knew Whitney. The question would eat away at him. If he even had any doubt at all, he wouldn’t be able to let go of it until he knew the answer. It was one of his greatest weaknesses and she often used it against him. He needed answers. If she could pose a simple question, it would drive him insane until he figured out the answer. And he would want to know—no, need to know—if Ken had forced himself on her.

Sean paced along behind her and she could feel his temper smoldering. He had seen every mark on her body. She kept walking, back ramrod straight, until she reached her own room. It was small, a cell really, with a heavy steel door.

“Did he hurt you?” Sean glanced at the camera in the hallway and turned, so that when he spoke, it was impossible to see his mouth move.

“I’m not going to discuss it with you, Sean. You weren’t concerned before; there’s no need to be now,” she said, deliberately stiff, standing in the doorway. She hoped Whitney was listening or watching. If he’d primed Sean to get information, she wasn’t giving anything away.

“I know you’re angry with me . . .”

“You think? You’ve been an ass. What’s wrong with you anyway?”

A buzzer sounded and Sean grimaced. “We’ll have to talk about this later. You need to get in your room. It’s lockdown.”

She stood there, hating that he had turned on them all. He’d been one of them, trained with them, been a good friend. “What did Whitney do to you? What’s he doing to the other men? It’s him, isn’t it? He’s still experimenting and using you all as guinea pigs too.”

“Move back, Mari,” Sean insisted, raising his gun slightly, the smallest of warnings, but it was there. He kept a safe distance from her, watching her with wary eyes that would never miss so much as a twitch of her body.

Marigold took a step back, deliberately reluctant, never taking her gaze from Sean. He had always been one of the best at everything. There were no mistakes with Sean, none of the small breaches that would allow the possibility of exploiting weakness. Sean never let down his guard, and he was enhanced, every bit as strong and well trained as she was. More important, he was psychically enhanced. She’d tested his mind repeatedly and his shields were strong—impossible to penetrate. Going up against Sean was a losing proposition, but she didn’t mind taunting him. Again she stopped, just out of the doorway, daring him to take action.

She was so angry with him for giving in, for allowing Whitney to use him when he saw what it did to the others—and she was certain she was right. Whitney had to be raising the testosterone levels in the men, doing something to make them more aggressive.

Sean shook his head. “You always have to push it, don’t you?”

“Would you want to live like a prisoner your entire life?” She waved her hand to encompass the entire compound, watching the way his gaze jumped to the graceful movement. “I’ll bet no one tells you when to go to bed at night, or what books you can read. There’s not a camera in your room, is there, Sean?”

He stepped closer. “Get in your room. Lockdown’s in three minutes.” Even as he moved, he inhaled deeply.

Her heart jumped. She saw the flare of heat in his eyes. Adrenaline surged and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “You let them pair us.” It was an accusation, her voice strangled, a shimmering fission of fear slidding down her spine. Why hadn’t she suspected? It hadn’t occurred to her that Sean would ever volunteer for the breeding program—not when he knew all the women objected strenuously and were forced to cooperate.

“You’re the best choice, Mari,” he said, tone practical even when his eyes moved over her possessively. “You’re a strong psychic and so am I. Our children would be extraordinary.” He lowered his voice and turned away from the camera so there was no possibility of lipreading. “I’ve always been attracted to you, ever since I first saw you, and you aren’t an anchor and I am. I doubt any of the other men could handle your abilities. I don’t think Whitney has a clue what you can or can’t do.”