Shadow Game (GhostWalkers, #1)(16)

"No, thank you, I'm perfectly fine." Lily continued to stare into Ryland Miller's eyes. Challenging him. Accusing him. Seeing him.

His fingers still circled her wrist like a vise, yet his thumb feathered over her rapidly beating pulse, to soothe her. He said nothing, only continued to look at her.

Tell me. Can you do that?

What do you think?

She studied him for a long while, her gaze penetrating beyond his mask, seeing the predator prowling just below the surface. I think you can.

Maybe. Maybe it's possible if the person was already filled with malice and capable of killing, wanted to kill, it's possible I could manipulate them to do so.

I felt your dislike of him. You believed he put you here, that he was responsible for killing the men in your unit.

I'm not going to deny that, it would be a lie. But you're touching me. Read me, Lily. Did I have anything to do with your father's death?

Her blue eyes drifted over his face, returned to his glittering gray ones. Am I supposed to believe you can't hide your true nature from me? I see only what you want me to see.

I'm not shedding tears over his death, I'll give you that, but I did not order anyone to kill him.

"Peter Whitney was my father and I loved him. I'm crying over him." And she was, deep inside where no one could see. She felt alone. Bereft. Vulnerable.

His thumb stroked again, sent heat curling through her, sent her pulse skittering. I would be a fool to kill the one man who might save our lives. Aloud he murmured to her softly, "I'm sorry he's missing, Lily, sorry for your loss." His other hand moved up to slide over her hair, lingering just long enough to steal the breath from her lungs. You left me alone. I couldn't comfort you. I felt you, Lily, your sorrow, but I couldn't comfort you. You knew I was there when it happened, I knew the truth. There was never a need to cut off contact with me. You needed me, and damn it, Lily, I needed you. You should have talked to me. I understand the need to stay away, but you should have talked to me.

She didn't want to acknowledge that, the implication of his words. She didn't need any more complications in her life. She didn't need or want Ryland Miller. She concentrated on gathering information. How were you there with us? My father had no telepathic ability, how could you connect with him? How could you break my connection with him?

I connected through you, of course. Your distress was so strong you touched me, even here in this prison designed to keep me from touching other minds.

Her heart jumped. His answer suggested a connection between them. A strong connection. She struggled to understand. Lily stared at him for a long moment, feeling her way, trying to see beyond his mask to the man beneath it. She studied him critically. He wasn't particularly tall, but he had wide shoulders and a muscular build. His hair was thick and so black it was nearly blue. His eyes were ice cold, the color of steel. Merciless. Slashing. Eyes so cold they burned. His jaw was strong, his sculpted mouth tempting. He moved with fluid grace, power and coordination, a hint of danger. He was pure magic to her, he had been from the moment she had laid eyes on him. And she didn't trust something so instant and so strong.

When Colonel Higgens was here before with my father, could you read him? Was he involved in my father's death?

Every muscle in Ryland's body went taut under her inspection. Her gaze was direct, assessing, speculative. It was so Lily. Being in her head gave him the advantage of knowing her far more intimately. Her brain processed information at rapid rates of speed, but when it came to something personal, she was much more cautious, taking her time before deciding on a course of action. He wanted to crush the silk of her sable hair in his large hands, to bury his face in the fragrant strands and inhale her. She smelled fresh, like a bed of roses. Her hair glinted with lights—glossy, so shiny, even with the blue lights, he was captivated.

Higgens made no secret of his dislike of your father. They didn't agree on anything. I can pick up his emotions when he's broadcasting anger but he never gets close enough for me to touch. And he's careful to keep his possessions out of my reach. I didn't detect any plots against your father.

Her eyes were almost too large for her face, thick-lashed and incredibly blue, unexpected with her dark hair. And her mouth… He had spent far too much time fantasizing over her mouth.

Lily took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His gaze was unexpectedly hot. Hungry. Devouring her. And his thoughts had suddenly turned to erotic fantasies. She tried to ignore it, tried not to let it affect her. Her gaze shifted momentarily to the surveillance cameras. "I'm taking over his research. You have to be patient. I'm not my father and I have to backtrack to catch up." She said it for the benefit of the cameras, and the ever-present watching eyes. "I'm coming into this cold." Her wrist was hot where his thumb had caressed it. "Stop looking at me that way, it isn't helping." She paced away from the cage and then turned back to face him almost resolutely.

Ryland watched with interest as she looked at him coolly. She had been rattled for a moment, but just that fast she recovered, turning into a cool, haughty ice princess. He wanted very much to shake her up again. "I can't help what I feel when I'm around you." He pitched his voice low, a husky invitation to hot sex and wild times.

Lily blinked. Color tinted her cheeks but she met his gaze steadily. He had to give her that. She was courageous.