Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(93)

“The kitchen table is fine, but no audience. I’ve got that.”

A slow smile tugged at her mouth. “I’m glad you made that distinction.”

“I can exercise discipline when necessary.”

Tansy laughed, and the sound was music to him. Kadan pulled her up and kissed her thoroughly on her mouth, just because the sound of her laughter sent warmth careening through the ice in his veins.

“Come on, baby.” He gave her bare bottom a swat and then rubbed caresses into it when she yelped. “Let’s find you some clothes before the others get here.”

She looked at the mess in the bed and sighed. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“I’d walk through hell barefoot for you, honey, so a little shower is no problem.” His heart would never beat the same, but if that was the price of bringing her back from the brink of madness, he’d accept it.

“You said something about a cup of tea. Would you mind making me one while I clean up?” She didn’t want him in the shower while she retrieved her torn clothes; it would just be too humiliating. He might have thought his dark secret was a match for losing one’s mind, but she didn’t think so, and she needed a few minutes to pull herself back together.

His gaze slid over her, assessing her pale face. “Is your head still hurting?”

She sidestepped the question. “I’m much better. I really would love a cup of tea.”

He could feel her will pushing at him. He didn’t want to leave her. She looked very pale. There were red patches, scratches, and bruising marring her skin. Her hair was wet and dark, sliding down her back in a long tail, still dripping a little water onto the floor. He could see her thighs wet with his seed. The vise seized his heart again and he turned away, emotions too intense when he was so unfamiliar with them.

“Tea it is,” he said gruffly and yanked jeans out of his pack.

Tansy padded barefoot into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Haunted eyes stared back at her. She was a mess. She lifted her swollen hand and stared down at the mark embedded in her skin. It was beginning to fade, but it told her volumes. She had come too close this time. She’d been lucky that Kadan had fought for her. Her mind was still healing from too many battles with violent energy, and she needed to be more careful if she was going to survive intact.

She threw her torn clothes away and took another shower, washing her hair and rinsing the abrasions on her body. She’d done that to herself, nearly taking her skin off. She couldn’t think about it too much, because the sensation of blood coating her skin crawled over her the moment she looked too hard at her body. Rubbing her familiar, soothing lotion into the scratches helped some, and she braided her long hair to get it out of the way before dressing in jeans. She didn’t bother with a bra, but just pulled on a dark-colored T-shirt before stripping the bed and throwing wet sheets into the washing machine.

She stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching him. He was an amazing specimen of a man, heavily muscled and quiet on his feet, a tapered waist and a great butt. He was too rough to be called handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but he was striking, compelling, a man one paid immediate attention to.

He knew she was there, she could tell he did. There was always something remote about him when she first came into a room, but then he gentled, the glacier thawing so that he sent her a warm smile over his shoulder.

“I’ve got your tea. I put a little honey in it. It’s good for you.”

“You’re lucky I like it with honey,” she said and sat in the chair he pulled out for her.

His gaze slid over her, clearly saying he didn’t give a damn if she liked it or not. He would have poured it down her throat if he thought she needed it. She made a face at him as she wrapped her palms around the warmth of the mug. Her hand was very sore and she flexed her fingers.

“We have to find another way to open my hand when you want me to drop whatever object I’m handling.”

He shot her another piercing look. “It’s a moot point because you’re not doing it again.”

She forced back her protest and took a sip of the tea, allowing the liquid to warm her before answering. “I know it must have been frightening for you to see me like that, but we can’t stop now. I know with what I got on Frog you should be able to find him. He has some kind of water business on the side. Fishing. Whale watching. Taking people down in a shark cage, who knows, but it’s the ocean and the business belongs to him. He loves to be underwater. I think the cylinder was a scuba tank.”

“You just won’t stop, will you?” There was warning in his voice.

Tansy met his glittering eyes, not flinching from the arctic chill in his stare. “No, absolutely I won’t, not after seeing these men. They aren’t going to stop, Kadan, and the police aren’t going to find them. They’ve had all this evidence, and yet no one can find a print, or a motive, or anything but the game pieces. You didn’t even know there were eight players before I started helping you.”

“Your sanity isn’t worth it to me.”

She held his gaze, refusing to back down. “It is to me. If I can save one life—prevent a child, a parent, anyone at all from suffering at their hands, you bet it’s worth it to me. You’re willing to trade your life for your country; well I’ve got this talent no one else seems to have, and whether it’s a gift from God or a mutation, I don’t know, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. I choose . . .” She looked him right in the eye. “I choose to use it to stop killers. For me, the sun may rise and set with you, you may rule me in the bedroom and every other place, but not in this. In this, I say when I stop, not you.”