Shadow Game (GhostWalkers, #1)(7)

Lily pressed her fingers to her temple and for just a moment, Ryland caught the impression of throbbing pain. His face darkened, gray eyes narrowing. "Come here." He had an actual physical reaction to her being in pain. The muscles in his belly knotted, hard and aching. Everything protective and male in him rose up and flooded him with an overwhelming need to ease her discomfort.

Her enormous blue eyes instantly became wary. "I don't touch people."

"Because you don't want to know what they're really like inside, do you? You feel it too." He was horrified to think her father may have experimented on her too. How long have you been telepathic? More than that, he didn't want to think about never touching her. Never feeling her skin beneath his fingers, her mouth crushed to his. The image was so vivid he could almost taste her. Even her hair begged to be touched, a thick mass of shiny silk just asking for his fingers to toss away the rest of the pins and free it for his inspection.

Lily shrugged easily, but a faint blush stole along her high cheekbones. All of my life. And yes, it can be uncomfortable knowing other people's darkest secrets. I've learned to live within certain boundaries. Maybe my father became interested in psychic phenomena because he wished to help me. For whatever reason, I can assure you, it had nothing to do with personal financial gain. She let out a slow breath. "How terrible for you, to lose any of your men. You must be very close. I hope I can find a way to help all of you."

Ryland sensed her sincerity. He was suspicious of her father in spite of her protests. Is Dr. Whitney psychic? He knew he'd been broadcasting his sexual fantasies a little too strongly but she was unshaken, handling the intensity of the chemistry between them easily. And he knew the chemistry was on both sides. He had a sudden desire to really shake her up, get past her cool demeanor just once and see if fire burned beneath the ice. It was a hell of a thing in the middle of the mess he was in.

Lily shook her head as she answered him. We've conducted many experiments and have connected telepathically a few times under extreme conditions, but it was sustained completely on my side. I must have inherited the talent through my mother.

"When you touch him, can you read him?" Ryland asked curiously in a low voice. He decided men were not all that far from the caves. His attraction to her was raw and hot and beyond any experience he'd ever had. He was unable to control his body's reaction to her. And she knew it. Unlike Ryland, she appeared to be cool and unaffected, while he was shaken to his very core. She carried on their conversation as if he weren't a firestorm burning out of control. As if his blood weren't boiling and his body hard as rock and in desperate need. As if she didn't even notice.

"Rarely. He is one of those people who has natural barriers. I think it's because he believes so strongly in psychic talent, whereas most people don't. Being aware of it all the time, he's probably built up a natural wall. I've found many people have barriers to varying degrees. Some seem impossible to get past and others are flimsy. What about you? Have you found the same thing? You're a very strong telepath."

"Come here to me."

Her cool blue gaze drifted over him. Dismissed him. "I don't think so, Captain Miller, I have far too much work to do."

"You're being a coward." He said it softly, his hungry gaze on her face.

She lifted her chin at him and gave him her haughty princess look. "I don't have time for your little games, Captain Miller. Whatever you think is going on here, is not."

His gaze dropped to her mouth. She had a perfect mouth. "Yes it is."

"It was interesting meeting you," Lily said and turned from him, walking without haste away from him. As cool as ever.

Ryland didn't protest, instead watched her leave him without a single backward glance. He willed her to look back, but she didn't. And she didn't replace the glass barrier around his cage, leaving it for the guards.





Two

THE sea was angry. Waves rose up, cresting high, a boiling cauldron of dark rage. White foam was left behind on the cliffs as the water receded, only to return, reaching ever higher. Reaching with hunger and fury, with deadly intent. The dark, fathomless waters spread, a dark eye seeking. Hunting. Turning toward her.

Lily wrenched herself awake, fighting for air. Her lungs burned. She pressed the button to bring the window down. Slightly disoriented, she told herself it was a dream, nothing but a dream. Cool air rushed in and she inhaled deeply. She noticed with relief that they were nearly to the house, already on the estate property. "John, would you mind stopping the car? I feel like walking." She managed to keep her voice steady, in spite of the way her heart pounded in alarm. She detested the nightmares that so often plagued her sleep.

Lily had wanted to dream of Captain Ryland Miller, but she'd dreamt of death and violence. Of voices calling to her, of death beckoning with a bony finger.

The chauffeur glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "You're wearing high heels, Miss Lily," he pointed out. "Are you ill?"

She could see her reflected image. Pale, eyes too big for her face, dark circles. She looked like hell. Her chin lifted. "I don't mind the heels, John. I need the exercise." She needed to get the remnants of the nightmare out of her mind. The oppressive feeling of danger, of being hunted, was still accelerating her heart rate. Lily tried to appear normal, avoiding John's gaze in the mirror. He had known her all of her life, and he was already concerned with the shadows in her eyes.