Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)(19)
He tugged a curl a little bit too hard in punishment, then rubbed the spot soothingly when she squealed. “Because I write number one hits all the time and not one of them has ever been rap.”
“Egotistical maniac,” she accused. “Not everyone has to listen to your music.”
“That’s true, baby, I don’t care if the entire world stops listening.” His lips brushed her hair again. “Except for you. Not only are you required to listen, but you’re required to like it.” He gave the order gruffly.
She laughed softly, relaxing against him. “So sing to me.”
There was a long silence. Jess cleared his throat. “Say, what?”
“Sing. You know. Ooh baby, baby, dum de dum. Sing.”
“I don’t sing, I write. Music and lyrics. Write, Saber. And I sell them to other artists. I work for the navy. I don’t have a band.”
“Why is that, Jess? You’re obviously independently wealthy, you have a reputation as a songwriter, yet you’re still in the military. You’re in a wheelchair.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“You know what I mean. Why are you still in?”
“Who said I was?”
“I’ve lived here ten months. I know you’re doing some kind of job for them. Or am I not supposed to know?”
“You’re not supposed to know.”
She settled deeper into his chest, looking up at him with humor in her eyes. “Fine then. I’ll be ignorant. Sing to me, Jesse. If I can’t have the light on, and we can’t discuss how utterly stupid it is for you to stay in the military, then you can at least sing.”
“Is this what I have to look forward to the rest of my life?” he asked, bunching her hair in his hands.
“A fate worse than death,” Saber agreed drowsily.
At least she hadn’t demanded to know what he meant. Jess mentally shook his head. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes like that. Saber didn’t stay in one place very long and lately she had become restless, looking over her shoulder. Was she getting ready to leave? She had said she wasn’t running anymore. He couldn’t take the chance of making her more nervous, because he damned well wasn’t going to let her go, and he was finding out every single one of her secrets whether she liked it or not.
“Jesse.” Saber sounded petulant.
He eased back against the pillows, Saber’s head on his chest. “A song, huh?” Jess sighed heavily. “You’re so high maintenance.”
“Quit stalling,” she murmured.
Jess closed his eyes and allowed the feel of her satin skin, the clean feminine scent of her to seep into him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sang Saber her song. The one he wrote for her, the one that beat in his heart, his head, every time he looked at her or thought of her. A slow, dreamy ballad.
She moves like an artist, graceful and free
Like the paint on a canvas that flows easily
Oh, but those haunting eyes
They make me realize
The depths of my emotions stirring inside
She’s the woman I dream of
A child at play
Crusading for others, in her own special way
When I think that it’s over, it’s only begun
When I look in her eyes…
Oh, but those haunting eyes
They make me realize
The depths of my emotions stirring inside
Like the flight of the butterfly in gentle breeze
Her delicate features are so clear to see
She’s a woman, a warrior who never gives up
Oh, but my elusive butterfly
She makes me realize
The depths of my emotions stirring inside
Jess felt her tears on his chest as his voice faded. His hands tightened possessively, one in her hair, one around her waist. He didn’t need words, her tears were enough. Did she feel the deep emotions stirring in him? Did she realize he was baring his soul to her? He allowed her to hide, not wanting to push her when she was so vulnerable.
Saber drifted off into a fitful sleep. He waited until her breathing was slow and even before he reached over the side of the bed and found the knife. Very carefully he slid it by the tip into the small pouch on his chair. He could examine it in the morning, lift any prints, find out if anyone other than Saber had handled that military issue knife.
He held her most of the night, sometimes sleeping, more often than not simply lying awake, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. Her fever abated somewhere close to dawn, and regretfully, Jess eased himself from her side, knowing she wouldn’t be happy if she woke to find him in her bed, reminding her of her tears and their shared emotional night. She wouldn’t know how to handle it, and with her so close to running, he wasn’t about to take any chances.
Subject Wynter arrived early. I doubled the dose we first agreed on in order to infect her. Her system is much more resistant than believed. Will find a way to get more blood from her to work with. She continues to move away from her training with each day. I believe you are correct in insisting on isolation and daily training. The longer she goes without exercising her skills, the more rapid her decline. Subject Calhoun has had visitors frequently. Lily Whitney and Eric Lambert visit him on a regular basis but almost never when Wynter is at the house. Lily is under heavy guard during the time that she’s with Calhoun, so snatching her would be next to impossible. We will see how Wynter fights off the infection and whether Calhoun calls for medical care.