Christine Feehan

by Deadly Game

  Mari, we have to protect her until we know for sure.

  She wouldn’t listen to that caressing voice, so velvet soft and playing through her body like a musical instrument. Not again—never again. Her throat felt raw and her eyes burned, but she stared up at Ken defiantly. Let him try to defeat her. Nobody, not even Whitney, with all his humiliations and his tricks, had defeated her.

  Wouldn’t you want Briony protected?

  I don’t want you to say her name. She’s dead to me. She’s not my sister. My sisters are back at the compound waiting for me, and believe me, I’ll get back to them. There is no Briony. It was a trick, a fairly vicious one at that. I accepted her death a long time ago.

  He wasn’t going to use her sister to hurt her. She had to put everything out of her head except her desire to escape. If she didn’t do it soon, before they arrived at their destination, it would be nearly impossible. They were going to a fortress; she’d heard Ken say so.

  Ken knew better than to touch her, and yet, even without touching her, he knew what she was thinking. He was catching images, emotions, impressions she wouldn’t want him aware of. Something is happening that I don’t understand, Jack. I know what she’s thinking and I don’t have physical contact. And she can do the same with me. It isn’t perfect, but we’re picking up the gist of it as if there’s some sort of silent transmitter between us. Do you have something similar with Briony?

  Jack shook his head and shifted his weight slightly, leaving his gun in an easier position to pull out should he need it.

  Mari shut out everything around her. The swaying vehicle. The pain. The fuzziness in her brain. The men. It was hardest to block out the image of Ken and the mask that was his face. Those eyes that always stared directly into hers. She forced her thoughts down a long, dark tunnel, bringing in waves of water to wash away random thoughts. She needed to focus on only one thing. The steering wheel. It was her only chance. She planned out every step carefully and then locked on to the wheel.

  She couldn’t actually see it, so she built the image in her mind. She could see it clearly, feel it in her hands, hard and smooth, ready to do her bidding. She tested it just once, a very small little movement to the right. The vehicle jerked to the right and then was back on track, running smoothly down the road. It wasn’t a freeway, more of a back road. And that meant there would be foliage.

  “Would you mind opening a window? I can’t breathe.” Not too pitiful, just the right balance of neediness and defiance. She didn’t dare look at any of them; they were too skilled, so she kept her face averted, her fingers gripping the sheet.

  Logan hit the button to bring in the night air. She inhaled, taking in the scents of the evening. Trees for certain. Lots of them. Grass. Animals. Oh, yeah, if they were heading for a city, they were taking the back road in. She could so deal with that!

  Whatever you’re thinking, Mari, don’t.

  She wasn’t going to talk telepathically to him again. It was a shade too intimate for her liking. She had to find a way to break the mesmerizing sexual web he’d trapped her in. “I have no way of knowing this isn’t one of Whitney’s traps. He loves to play with people’s minds.”

  “How so?”

  “He knows what I think about his breeding program. It’s common knowledge the other women are following my lead and resisting. It would be just like him to pair me with you, use my own body against me, to punish me, to force me to do his bidding.” She glanced at him, when she knew it was a bad idea. The night hid the mask covering his beautiful face, leaving him looking too handsome with his brilliant eyes. His eyes were like jewels, diamond hard and so intriguing. One moment so cold she felt burned by their touch, the next alive with some hidden pain she wanted to soothe away.

  “I haven’t seen Whitney in a couple of years and he certainly isn’t pulling my strings.” I know you’re upset about Briony, Mari, but if you really care about your sister, you would want to know she was getting the best protection we can give her.

  She wouldn’t be swayed by his looks or his voice. She concentrated on the road, utilizing every bit of information the air would provide. There was only the dim light from the moon, partially obscured by clouds. There were no sounds to indicate farms or ranches, or even the occasional house. She didn’t even know what state she was in. She couldn’t smell the ocean, so they had to be inland.

  She focused on the brake, building the shape and feel of it in her mind, the cables and the way it worked. She tapped, just for a moment, and the car lurched and ran smooth. It was just a fraction of a second, barely noticeable, but she heard a man’s voice, coming from the driver’s seat, swearing. She immediately filled her mind with other things, puzzling out whether Whitney had paid these men to trick her.

  It had to be a trap. She remembered Whitney, the last time she’d seen him, furious because not only the women were upset and uncooperative, but some of the men had become reluctant. He had locked them in their rooms, refusing to allow them to interact, blaming Mari for the mutiny. He had promised her retaliation if she didn’t do as he wanted. She thought sending Brett had been what he meant, but evidently she was wrong. It was no wonder it had been so easy to convince her unit to allow her to go along to plead their case to Senator Freeman. Whitney had to have virtually orchestrated everything. And that meant these men were his men and her “sisters” back at the compound were in danger.

  “Talk to me, Mari.”

  Her plan had to be carried out with precision and without hesitation. They had made the mistake of not securing her. To keep Ken off balance and from reading her plan, she kept images of Brett in her mind. Brett bent over her. Brett touching her. Brett tying her down to keep her from fighting him.

  Ken clenched his teeth, a muscle ticking along his jaw. His fingers curled into fists. His eyes glittered in the night, twin swords of steel piercing through her body, seeing far more than she wanted him to see. He knew she was deliberately taunting him.

  You’re playing with fire, Mari.

  He bit the words out between clenched teeth, the sound stabbing at the walls of her mind. Mari turned her face away from him, all too aware he could see clearly in the dark. She stared at the door straight across from her. The vehicle was slowing for a turn. She groaned and pushed herself up, leaning forward to clutch at her leg. The sheet slipped down, exposing her breasts. The men froze, staring at her. Ken growled deep in his throat, adding to their immobility. It gave her the precious second she needed.

  She attacked, using her mind, applying pressure to the brake, wrenching the steering wheel from the driver and opening the door in front of her. Using enhanced strength, she dove out, hands in front of her, as if springing off a board, prepared to break her fall in an aikido roll, even as she changed the color of her skin to match her surroundings.

  She heard the squeal of the brakes as the driver tried to recover and stop. There was a burst of male voices swearing, but she had already landed, camouflaged by the thick foliage, smashing through a bush, the branches tearing up her hands and arms, as she rolled, trying to protect her leg.

  CHAPTER 7

  Fury swept through Ken. She had done it deliberately, exposing her breasts to every man there. Damn her to hell for that. Ken didn’t wait for Neil to get the Escalade under control; he dove out after her, breaking his fall the same way, rolling over leaves and fallen branches along the wet ground to lie still, staring up at the night sky. They were in a heavily wooded area. He could hear a stream running off to his left.

  Now you’ve really pissed me off. I could strangle you for that. You didn’t need to give them all a show.

  He was afraid for her. She had a broken hand and leg. She had no weapons and no clothes. And he just might be angrier over the gripping fear for her than for her exposing herself to all the men. What if she had hit one of the trees and broken her neck? It could easily have happened. He couldn’t imagine finding her dead body. Answer me, damn you.

  Was that him? That near panic when he w
as always so cool under fire. He didn’t mind dying, he never had, so it made it easy to run the covert missions all over the world, but this was something altogether different. She had gotten under his skin. He tried to tell himself it was simply Whitney’s experiment and that once she was gone, Jack and Briony would be safe and things would be back to normal, but that didn’t stop the panic inside of him. Fear had blossomed into full-blown terror for her. She couldn’t be dead.

  The ground shifted slightly beneath his feet, trees and bushes trembling. He rose to his feet and tried to breathe normally. Mari. I need to know you’re alive. He should have been humiliated and ashamed that there was pleading in his voice, but he wasn’t. He was telling a simple truth. He needed. It was that simple and it made no sense. If it was simply physical attraction between them—as powerful and as potent as it was—why would he be feeling such terror that she might be dead?

  Of course she wouldn’t answer him. He was the enemy. He had to be logical, get past the fear and use his brain. He was far more experienced than she was. He had to go on the premise she was alive. He could track her. Every person shed skin cells, and his sense of smell was phenomenal, thanks to Whitney’s genetic enhancing, but there were other, far easier ways than walking around in the dark sniffing the ground. It mattered little if she had been trained since birth; he had years of hard battles beneath his belt, but most of all, Jack and Ken had been using their psychic abilities long before Whitney’s experiments, and both were strong talents. With the enrichments, they were able to do things Whitney would kill to know about.

  He sank down onto the leaf-covered floor, sinking into the cool, damp earth, drawing his legs tailor fashion and resting his hands on his knees. He let his mind expand to take in the world around him, soaring free, becoming powerful. Mari, come to me. You have no choice. Come to me. You feel me. I’m inside of you. All around you. Come to me. You need me. You have to be with me. There isn’t a choice for us. Come to me. It became a litany, a mantra, broadcasting the command over and over, oblivious to the men who came and went as they searched for their lost prisoner.

  Ken concentrated on Marigold, building the picture of her in his mind. He knew the feel of her satin skin, the lush curves and sexy body. He knew every detail: the injuries on her body, the way her mouth was full and promising, the heavy lashes that curled and framed her large eyes. Come to me now. Hurry, Mari. You need to come to me. You can find me. We’re one, in the same skin; we need to be together. Most of all, he’d been inside her mind, knew it on a more intimate level. She couldn’t shield herself from him, or ignore him.

  His mind shifted, drawing her, calling repeatedly. Her skin would be shades of green and black and tan, blending in with the leaves and bushes around them. She wouldn’t be able to stand with her broken leg, so she would crawl, a sensuous slide through the cover, her bare breasts swaying gently, invitingly. He imagined sweeping his hand down the curve of her bare bottom as she moved toward him like a jungle cat, creeping through the foliage to make her way to him.

  There was no sound, but he opened his eyes, knowing she was there. The first sight of her took his breath away. He’d never seen anything more sensual. She crawled toward him, her body perfect in the night, flowing muscle and curves begging for attention. His body flared into life, a savage, painful reaction, his cock near bursting, pulsing with urgency. He had a primitive urge to yank down his jeans and mount her like an animal, rough and dominant, branding her his.

  She lifted her face, and he could see tears tracking down her cheeks. There were several scratches on her shoulders and across her left breast. His heart turned over, the sensation strange and very shocking. She kept coming to him, a mixture of defiance and submission in her eyes. She dragged her leg behind her, but managed to crawl almost into his lap.

  “Is this what you want? Someone mindlessly obeying you? Is that what you need to get you off?” Her arms circled his neck before he could stop her, and her mouth found his almost desperately.

  He wanted her submissive, but not due to his mind control. His fantasies were sexual domination, not taking away her identity or her free will. If she was submissive, he needed her to want to give herself to him, to trust him that much, but the moment her mouth found his, the volcano inside him nearly exploded.

  It had been so long since he’d been able to feel pleasure. He had thought sex lost to him. His arms came up around her body to bring her in close to him, so he could feel her breasts pressing into his chest. He took command of the kiss, one fist in her thick blond hair, forcing her head back while he explored her mouth, his tongue dueling with hers, taking possession, not giving her a chance to do anything but respond.

  He swore an electric current ran through his body and sent fire racing through his bloodstream. For a moment he couldn’t think one coherent thought, only feel his raging hard-on, the shock of his body more alive than it had ever been. Her body moved against his like hot silk, her mouth warm and moist and perfect, her lips sensual. His teeth tugged at her full bottom lip, fingers biting into her skin. He wanted her, right there, right then. Nothing could come between them. He needed this more than he needed to breathe.

  Her tears registered; a soft sob cut through the heat of hot lust and brought him up short. He felt her face, the tracks of her tears, felt the drops on his neck. Abruptly he jerked away from her, breathing heavily, trying to regain his sanity. “What the fuck have I done?” he asked softly. “I’m sorry, Mari.” He knew he was a bastard, but not this—never this—and not with her.

  When had his commanding call turned sexual, and why? Why would he do something like that, knowing how powerful the chemistry between them already was? He couldn’t remember changing the command, forcing sexual compliance. Had he done that? What kind of a man was he? “I swear to you, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  He wiped the tears from her face. “It will never happen again. I was calling you to me, bringing you back, not trying to make you accept me sexually.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tugged it over hers, settling the warmth around her, giving her protection and him a measure of relief. She was so beautiful, and he was destroying any chance that she could ever think well of him.

  “You were punishing me.” Another sob escaped, although she struggled to hold it back. “Because the other men saw me naked. You were punishing me.”

  Had he done that? He shook his head. “No. I was calling you to me.” Could he really be that despicable? He didn’t trust himself with her anymore. He couldn’t be around her. She wasn’t safe and never would be again. Damn his father. Damn Whitney. Mostly just damn Ken Norton to hell.

  Jack! It was a sharp command, something he rarely did with his brother, always allowing Jack to take the lead, but this time was different. This time, Mari was involved, and he wasn’t going to take any more chances with her. What if I hadn’t stopped? His body still shuddered with need. His hands wouldn’t let her go, needing to keep contact with her. If there was a hell, he was already in it.

  Jack burst through the brush, gun in hand. He took in Mari’s tear-streaked face, her sobs, and Ken’s horrified mask. “What the hell happened here?”

  “Find her a pair of jeans. If they’re too big, they’ll slide over that lightweight thing the doc put on her leg.” Ken tried to distance himself from what he’d done. There was no taking it back, no changing it. The monster lived and breathed, was alive and well and clawing for supremacy. I nearly raped her, Jack.

  She looks willing enough to me.

  Shut the fuck up and take care of this. We had a deal. We made a pact. It was all well and good when you thought it was you. You made me promise to put a fuckin’ bullet in your head, but now that it’s me, you threaten her instead of taking care of me.

  Jack gave him a hard look and stepped forward, deliberately close, so close Mari’s body was up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as if he might lift her away from Ken, all the while watching his brother carefully. When nothing happened, h
e buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply.

  Ken went very still, his silver eyes never leaving his brother’s face.

  “Does my sister know you’re a pervert? Get the hell off of me. You’re not sharing me.” Mari’s outrage lessened the stream of tears.

  “If you’re such a jealous bastard, why aren’t you tearing my head off, Ken?” Jack demanded, ignoring Mari’s comment as he stepped away from her. “The old man would have pulled his gun and shot us both.”

  “Get her the jeans and then get her the hell out of here.”

  Mari held her breath. He was leaving her with the others. She should be happy, thrilled, but instead she was terrified. “No.” She shook her head, said it softly, a plea she couldn’t stop. “No, you have to stay with me.”

  He framed her face with both hands. “I can’t. You have to understand. I don’t trust myself with you.”

  “It’s all right. It is. I threw myself at you. I feel the connection the same as you do. It wasn’t just you.”

  His thumbs brushed at the tearstains almost tenderly. “You didn’t throw yourself at me and you know it. Mari, I’m not going to take a chance on hurting you. I’m not a good man.”

  “Like hell you aren’t, Ken,” Jack interrupted. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve never treated a woman with disrespect in your life.”

  Ken flashed his brother a warning look, and muttering a curse, Jack swung around to call in the others and to find a pair of jeans for Mari.

  Careful of Mari’s leg, Ken lifted her into his lap, holding her close to comfort her, rocking her gently back and forth. “I’m sorry, honey, I really am. I drew you to me, but it wasn’t supposed to be about sex.” He didn’t know what happened, couldn’t remember changing the command. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing deep to try to quiet the storm of need and the roar of self-hatred.