Deadly Game (GhostWalkers, #5)(91)

CHAPTER 16




Long after the sensation of energy flowing through their merged minds faded, Mari lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tears leaked out of her eyes, but she couldn’t make the effort to wipe them away. She heard someone outside her door removing Brett’s body, but no one spoke to her. It was just as well. She didn’t think she had the ability to answer.

Once, she felt a flutter in her mind and recognized Cami’s touch, but she didn’t have the strength to answer, even though she knew she must be causing the other women distress. They would have felt her fears. And they certainly would have felt the swell of psychic energy—anyone psychic would have felt that. There was no way to contain that kind of power.

Her mind felt drained, her body as heavy as lead. She couldn’t imagine what Ken felt like, but it had to be worse. Her head pounded with one of the worst, most disorienting headaches she’d ever experienced, and using telepathy and other psychic talents often caused them. Her heart beat too hard and fast and she was dizzy and sick.

She visualized Ken lying on the floor somewhere in the large complex, surrounded by enemies, vulnerable to attack, and sweat beaded on her body. She could barely breathe with needing to know he was alive, well and safe. She couldn’t touch his mind, and she was certain that if he could have touched hers to reassure her, he would have. She could only lie there, terrified for him, imagining the worst with no way to help him.

No one could expend that amount of energy and not have tremendous physical repercussions. He had given everything he was to save her. She heard herself sob. Her chest heaved. It shocked her that she would be lying on her cot sobbing. Not tiny tears, but weeping out loud for everyone to hear. She never did that. Never. She was a soldier, trained in survival. You never, never, gave the enemy ammunition against you, and you certainly never gave them the satisfaction of messing with your emotions.

All of her training seemed to be gone in that instant, leaving her with no control. She needed to know he was safe. How in the world could their connection have grown so strong that it was no longer just about sex? She thought she could have moments in her life that would make the rest of it all bearable, but being with Ken Norton had changed everything. She was changed. He had shown her life could be different, that there could be hope for her, she could have dreams.

For a good two hours she lay in the dark, wondering if he was alive. For the first time in her life, she prayed. Whitney had taught them to believe only in science and that people who believed in a higher power were people who needed a crutch. There was no such thing as God, or a savior, or even a way of life that was about anything other than discipline and duty. She’d been indoctrinated since she was a baby into the belief that those who had mercy and compassion were soft—sheep, people waiting for someone with the intelligence and power to guide them.

For most of her life, she’d thought herself a failure because she didn’t strictly adhere to Whitney’s teachings. She loved her sisters, and most of what she did was out of a desire to protect them and stay with them—not her tremendous sense of duty. She’d never believed in anything but her sisters, but now, just in case, she prayed. And then, as if someone really had listened to her plea—there was no sound, nothing to warn her—she nearly jumped out of her skin when the door slid open and a man slipped through.

“Ken?” She croaked his name, still unable to lift her pounding head from the pillow. It was him, his shoulders wide, his arms like steel sliding around her, gathering her close. She turned her tear-wet face against his chest. He collapsed on the bed, and she realized he was trembling with weakness. “How did you manage to get here? I can’t even move.”

“You don’t have to move; I’m just going to join you. My head feels like it’s about to explode.” He stretched out onto the bed beside her, hands running over her body to assure himself she was in one piece. “Your courage terrifies me.” In truth she humbled him. To endure the things she’d endured her entire life, to stand there and face Sean and what he meant to do to her, to give herself up so fully to Ken, a man she knew to be every bit as dangerous—maybe more—it was almost more than he could comprehend.

He suddenly stiffened. “Oh, God, baby, you’re crying. You going to break my heart. He’s gone now. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

He wrapped his body protectively around hers, feeling her tremors, the tear-wet face against his chest. His fingers tunneled in her thick hair as he dragged her as close as he could get her, trying to shield her from any further harm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I tried to get here as fast as possible. They put you through hell and I wasn’t here.”

He couldn’t breathe with her crying. His chest felt tight, his throat raw, and panic rose. “Stop now.” His hands stroked caresses in her hair. He rained kisses over her face and licked at the tears in an effort to stop them. “I tried. I swear I tried.”

“You were here, Ken, you were; you saved me when I didn’t think it was possible.” Now that he was with her, alive and well, she should have been able to stop crying, but somehow, the floodgates opened and she was worse, alternating between hiccupping and sobbing, clinging to him like a child. Mari knew she would be ashamed in the morning, but the cover of darkness gave her the courage to be honest. “I was so afraid for you.”