Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(109)

He moved unerringly through the house, his footsteps utterly silent. In his ears, his heart thundered. Roared. The jackhammers were back, driving deep into his skull with every step he took. The scent of blood was heavy, mingling with Cayenne’s fragrance. That sent the rage swirling a notch higher. The blood scent nearly obliterated Cayenne’s beautiful exotic natural perfume just as the bullets had almost taken her from him.


Nonny stood in the door of his old bedroom, but after taking one look at his face, she reached inside the room, caught Malichai’s arm and tugged. Malichai filled the doorway, opened his mouth and closed it, reading Trap’s darkened face and the lines carved deep. Both stepped outside the room and aside, allowing him to brush past them. They wisely closed the door, leaving him alone with her.


Cayenne was in his bed – the bed he’d lain in for four long months. He’d dreamt of her being in that bed. Fantasized about her being there. Jacked off thinking about her and what he’d do to her – all in that bed. Now she was sitting up in the damn, f*cking bed, smiling up at him as if nothing had happened. As if she didn’t have a care in the world. All around her was the aftermath of her surgery. The empty bags of fluid and blood. Her bloody clothes shredded and on the floor. More blood – all hers – saturating the cloths they’d used to try to stem it.


“What the f*ck do you think you were doing?” The words hissed out of his mouth. Low. Lethal. It felt like an explosion in his chest. His chest hurt more than any injury in his life had ever hurt him, and he’d had plenty.


Cayenne frowned at him. She studied his face for a long time. He remained still, just inside the door, every muscle locked in place.


“Are you angry with me, Trap?”


She sounded shocked. Innocent. As if she didn’t know she was his entire world and she’d nearly allowed a bullet to take her from him. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled.


“What the f*ck do you think, Cayenne?” He bit the words out, enunciating each. His breath came fast, as if he was running through the swamp again, running to keep those soldiers off of her.


Trap leapt across the room and yanked up the thin tee she was wearing. One of his old ones he’d carelessly left behind when he’d packed to move to his new home. Packed to move wherever the hell Cayenne was, because even then, he knew she was home.


“Hell yes, I’m angry. Have you looked at your body? That bruise covers your entire chest. Both breasts.” He yanked the covers down to expose her legs. “Your thigh. You could have been killed.”


She touched her tongue to her top lip. Then outlined her bottom lip. He wanted to lean down and bite that full lower lip and if she kept it up, that was exactly what she was going to get. Hard. He was going to bite that lip hard and leave his mark on her.


“Trap.” Cayenne said his name gently. “I’m perfectly fine. If I hadn’t covered Nonny like I did, they would have killed her. They weren’t only coming after me. I feel things and their energy hit me before the bullet was fired. I had a much better chance of survival than Nonny.”


He crouched beside the bed, his face inches from her. “You f*cking don’t get to take that chance. Your life isn’t yours anymore. You need to get this right now, Cayenne. I’m not f*cking around with you. You belong to somebody. That somebody is me. You gave yourself to me. You let me believe I could f*cking live again, not just exist. Not walk around like a f*cking zombie. I could live. You did that. That gives you responsibility to keep yourself alive. Not throw your ass in front of bullets because you think you’re f*cking invincible. You’re not.”


“Trap.” She whispered his name, reached out to touch his face.


He couldn’t bear her touch. Not right then. He would shatter into a million pieces if she touched him. He batted her hand away.


“Don’t try to sweet talk your way out of this. If you didn’t have bruises all over you, I’d bend you over the bed and use a f*cking strap on you. You wouldn’t sit comfortably for a couple of weeks and maybe you’d think about what a f*ckup this was every time you tried.”


She touched her tongue to her upper lip and then moistened her full lower lip with her tongue. He was up abruptly, pacing away from her, fury riding him so hard he shook with it. She just sat there, looking innocent. Not comprehending the enormity of what she’d done. Not understanding what she was to him. Not feeling the same way.


“I have to get out of here. I’ll be back to get you in a little while.”


“I’m going with you.” Cayenne flung the covers all the way from her body and swung her legs off the bed to the floor.


“You’re not.” He glanced over his shoulder and nearly froze. Every muscle locked in place. Her face was set in stubborn lines. That beautiful face, heart-shaped, her silken skin inviting touch. Eyes large, a vibrant green framed with impossibly long, thick, black lashes. Straight nose and that exotic, perfect mouth. Her chin was up in a line that challenged any man.


“I am.”


The roaring in his head increased. “You don’t have one f*cking ounce of self-preservation in you, do you?”


She narrowed her eyes at him. Lifted one hand to the mass of dark hair falling around her face, down her back and pooling on the sheets. Her hand actually shook, and the vulnerability there on her face and in that action caused his heart to seize in his chest.