Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(142)

“I’m going to tear out your heart, bitch,” Bobby screamed, bucking wildly. The branch creaked ominously. “What the hell are you anyway?”


She smiled up at him. “In some circles I’m known as the black widow.”


The two men gasped and rocked hard, bundled in their cocoons.


Trap came up behind her, his eyes as cold as ice as he surveyed her handiwork. He loomed over her, close. The heat of his body warmed her cool skin. She leaned back into him as his arms came around her.


“They like to kidnap people, honey,” she said softly. “Apparently your aunt wasn’t their only victim. They were easy though. Really easy. Made noise, weren’t in the least bit stealthy. Wyatt’s girls could have taken them.” She raised her eyes to the wriggling bodies. “The girls are toddlers, and they would have killed you both.” There was contempt in her voice and no mercy. She had none for them.


Trap was silent, staring at the two men who had helped to change the course of his life. He didn’t say a word to them because he had nothing to say. His uncles cursed and demanded, but as time stretched out and he continued to remain silent, their fear began to mount to terror – so much so that it was tangible.


“Drop the first one, baby,” he said, after watching the two men wear themselves out with struggling against their bonds. “Just looking at them makes me sick.”


She didn’t hesitate, but yanked Bobby’s anchor line. He fell hard, feet first, to the ground, broke through the thin crust, the force of his fall taking him all the way to his chest. Mud covered the silk and splashed up, thick and nasty, smearing his face. Water leached to the surface, and his eyes widened with terror.


“Trap. Get me out of this.” Bobby didn’t have the use of his hands. Entirely helpless, the water and mud sucked at his body, slowly pulling him deeper. “Trap. Come on, get me out.”


Richard had stopped moving, staring at his brother with horrified eyes as more water seeped to the surface and Bobby slipped deeper until his shoulders were mostly in the mud and the water splashed up his neck and into his mouth.


“Richard,” he called. “Do something.”


“Richard has a little problem of his own,” Cayenne said. “I don’t think he’s going to be thinking too much about helping you, Bobby.”


She cut the anchor on Richard’s silk casing, and he dropped like a stone, much as his brother had. He went into the thick, greedy mud up to his waist. Water leaked all around and took him down at a much more rapid speed than his brother. The two men stared at each other in utter horror. Helpless. Like their victims. They were unable to do anything at all – the water kept rising, and the mud continued to suck them deeper.


Trap watched without changing expression as first their chins went under and then their mouths. Noses went next. Eyes disappeared. Eventually even the top of their heads vanished beneath the surface. An alligator bellowed again, and another one answered. The barred owl gave its low, mournful hoot.


“Funny to think, after all this time, they’re really gone out of my life and with no real fuss. Just gone. Done.” Trap tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I expected to feel something.”


“Like what?”


“Remorse. Triumph. I don’t know. That what we were doing was wrong, but I was going to do it anyway.” He nuzzled his chin through the silk of her hair. “I don’t feel it was wrong. I feel good. Like I can breathe easy for the first time in years.”


She tipped her head up and looked at him over her shoulder. “Let’s go home, honey. I want a bath. A long one. Maybe a soak in the hot tub with you. I haven’t tried that yet.”


He dropped his arms from around her waist so he could thread his fingers through hers. They turned back to their house, walking close, hand in hand. Neither looked back. Neither thought about the two men who had died hard, sucking mud and water into their lungs.


“I’m all for that, baby, but I would like a repeat performance with those silks of yours. That was so f*cking hot.”


She laughed softly. “I told you you’d like my ideas.”


“You were right.” Trap brought his wife’s hand up to his mouth, turned it over and kissed her wrist. “I’m man enough to admit that, babe.”


“Oh, no, look.” She held out her arm – the one she deliberately snagged on brush. There was a faint red line about two inches long. “I got a scratch. I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?”


She laughed again, the sound like music, mingling with the rhythm of the swamp at night. Trap’s heart jerked hard in his chest. His cock did the same. He found himself smiling and happy – actually at peace – contented as they made their way home.


DARK PROMISES

Keep reading for an excerpt from

the next exciting Carpathian novel

by Christine Feehan

Dark Promises

Available March 2016

from Piatkus!


“Joie, can you believe this night?” Gabrielle Sanders stared out the window at the stars scattered across the sky. The night was almost a navy blue with so many stars overhead it would be impossible to count them. The moon was rising, a beautiful half crescent of shining light. “It’s perfection. Everything I dreamt of.”