Murder Game

by Christine Feehan

  "No, baby, you didn't," he agreed softly and stood up in one easy motion, flinging her over his shoulder, her head draping down his back. He took her through to the bathroom, his face grim, a vise gripping his heart. As soon as he had the water temperature right, he stood her struggling body on the floor and began to strip her.

  Tansy tore at her clothes, desperate to remove the thick coating on her skin and hair. It was under her fingernails and in her eyes. She ripped at the material of her clothes, never wanting to see them again. In the shower, the moment he placed the washcloth in her hand, she began to scrub, hot tears pouring down her face, mingling with the water raining down on her. She was so cold, her body shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering until she was afraid they'd chip or shatter. She reached for the hot water tap, but Kadan's hand caught her wrist.

  You'll burn yourself. It's gone now, Tansy. You're clean.

  There he was. In her mind, protecting her. The relief was overwhelming. I couldn't find you. I thought you . . . She trailed off, unsure where she was or what she was doing. She was so confused she reached for him again, not understanding what was happening to her.

  I'm right here, Tansy. His voice was calm, mesmerizing, soft and low, filling her mind with warmth. He seemed an anchor, very steady and strong when she was so confused.

  Tansy became aware of the water pouring down on her. Of her naked body hurting, of her hand scrubbing at her skin, causing abrasions, nearly taking off the top layer. Startled, frightened, feeling disoriented, she knew this had happened before. She'd stood in a shower, tearing the skin from her body. Her parents had wrapped her in blankets and taken her to a hospital, where she'd spent weeks locked up for her own protection. She was lost again, trapped inside her own mind with such evil beings the world would never comprehend their behavior, and they would never let her go.

  No! Damn you, no! Kadan dragged her into his arms, holding her tight. You aren't lost. You aren't with them. You're here. With me. Look at me, Tansy. He caught her shoulders, shaking her gently, staring down into her eyes, determined to bring her back to him. "Look at me now." His fingers bit deep enough to cause pain, to override the trance and drag her back to reality.

  Tansy knew she was reeling back and forth between her hypnotic state and actual time. She concentrated on the bite of pain in her shoulders. She felt each individual finger digging into her flesh, nearly to the bone. Recognizing Kadan's touch brought her a little more into the present. She grabbed at that, at his warmth and the solidness of him.

  "Look at me."

  She heard that note distinctly--the edge to his voice, the absolute authority and command that often annoyed her, yet now was her lifeline. She obeyed him, because one always obeyed Kadan when he used that tone. She struggled to look beyond the veil coating her eyes, the one that imprisoned her in her own mind, so that she could comply with Kadan's demand. It took strength and determination, but she managed to raise her gaze to his.

  Immediately his eyes locked with hers. Kadan's eyes blazing with sheer force. Her breath hitched in her lungs and she choked, but didn't look away. The water poured down on her. She could feel the heat and sting of it on her raw skin. Vapor curled around them, and it was real, from the water temperature and not in her mind. He stood there, a warrior of old, fully clothed and soaking wet, his blue eyes so dark they were midnight blue, his mouth set in grim lines, his fingers still digging into her shoulders, connecting her with reality.

  "Are you back with me, baby?"

  His voice. She wanted to melt into a little puddle at his feet the moment she heard that soft, velvet voice caress her, stroke her body, slip inside her to wrap around every cold spot and warm her. She didn't dare speak. If she continued crying, she'd never stop, and speaking would bring another flood of tears. She knew what had happened. She couldn't hide it from him. She'd been standing on the brink of madness and he'd pulled her back from the edge.

  She nearly crumbled, humiliated and ashamed, wanting to tear her gaze from his, but he refused to release her, stepping forward to close the gap between them, still looking down at her, still commanding her gaze. One hand slid up her shoulder to the nape of her neck, sliding around her throat to tip up her chin with his thumb.

  "Say it, Tansy. Say you're with me."

  She swallowed, knowing he felt the movement in the palm of his hand. "I'm with you."

  "You're mine. You belong here, with me. Say it."

  She touched her tongue to her lips. They stood there, water pouring around them, her clothes torn and strewn on the floor, her skin practically scrubbed off, her mind damaged almost beyond repair, and he wanted . . .

  His hand closed tighter around her throat. He gave her a small shake. "Say it."

  "I belong here, with you." She wanted to belong with him, but he was so strong and she was so falling apart. Her mind was shattered, the pieces scattered everywhere. She had the mad desire to look around for them, but his gaze continued to command hers, refusing to allow her look away from him.

  "Who do you belong to, Tansy? I want you to say that you're mine. Say it out loud so that you know it. So that you believe it. I'm not letting you go. I refuse absolutely to give you up. Not to someone else, not to your parents and certainly not to a bunch of murderers. Who do you belong to?"

  She was lost in his strength. Lost in his eyes. "You. I belong to you." She barely whispered the words, her throat clogging.

  He still held her gaze, refusing to release her. "And who do I belong to?"

  She blinked. Warmth poured into her. She was aware of him filling her mind, pushing out every ugly thing that had been there. He was there, slamming the door closed on the voices, building a brick wall across it. Kadan. Of course. She felt a ghost of a smile, of hope. "Me. You're mine and you belong to me."

  He crushed her to him, so tight it drove the breath from her, nearly cracking her ribs, but she only wrapped her arms around him and held on. He buried his face in the soft hollow of her shoulder, and it was impossible to tell if the water from the shower soaked into her skin or if his face was wet with tears. He didn't move for a long time. When he did, his hands were gentle.

  "Let's get you out of here." He reached up and turned off the water, then pulled a towel around her. "The others should be checking in soon, and I want to get a hot cup of tea into you."

  She stayed still, allowing him to rub the water very gently from her skin. He seemed to need it even more than she did, his hands sliding over her, the roughened calluses feeling good in spite of the abrasions on her arms. Her hand throbbed, and when she looked down, she saw that it was bruised and swollen, but she didn't remember what had happened and was afraid to ask.

  "I have to tell you the details or I could leave something important out."

  The towel halted movement abruptly, just below her breasts. He looked at her, his face more grim than ever. "Fuck that, Tansy. This is ended right here."

  His crude and immediate reaction made her want to smile all the more. Inside her, where he couldn't see, light burst through her, driving out more of the ugliness. He was like a breath of fresh air sweeping through her.

  She caught his face in her hands and kissed his strong jaw, nibbled her way from his scar to the corner of his mouth and teased at his sensual lower lip, tugging with her teeth. "Why didn't you want me this morning?" She couldn't keep the hurt out of her voice. "Why didn't you make love to me? Was it this? The things in my head? The damage? Or was it the fact that my father's involved with Whitney?"

  Kadan's head came up and his eyes blazed down at her, hot and hungry, filled with burning lust and something else that made her go soft inside. "I was being nice, giving you time."

  She frowned at him. "Time for what? One moment you were lying next to me and I could hear your breathing change and feel you hard against me, and then you just rolled over like you couldn't stand being next to me."

  "Couldn't stand being next to you?" He echoed her, his gaze narrowing.

  His hand snake
d out and caught the nape of her neck, dragging her against him, mashing her breasts against his wet chest. He fastened his mouth to hers, a brutal, almost angry kiss, devouring her, staking claim to her mouth while his hand slid possessively down the long curve of her back to her hip. He ground his body hard against hers. "Don't fucking ever tell me I don't want you," he snapped, eyes blazing.

  "But you . . ."

  "Never doubt that I want you every minute of every day. Night and day. I'm always hungry for you." He tossed his wet shirt aside. "If I had my way, you'd just walk around naked waiting for me to bury myself in you." He peeled the wet jeans down the columns of his thighs and kicked them way, and his shaft sprang out, hard and thick and so ready for her he was already leaking little pearl droplets from the broad, flared head.

  "Kadan." His name came out in a breathy little moan that was half fear, half desire. She backed up at his sudden aggression, but he just followed her, stalking her across the room until the wall was against her back and she had nowhere to go. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and held up one hand.

  He ignored it and caught her up, his strength enormous, lifting her naked body and taking her back to the bed, uncaring that they both were wet and soaking the sheets as he positioned her at the edge of the mattress, her legs over his shoulders so that she was entirely open to him.

  "Don't tell me I don't want you." This time he growled it, the sound rumbling in his throat. "I fucking want you all the time. Just like this. You understand me? Just like this."

  There were no kisses, no foreplay; he buried himself deep, hard, and fast, pushing through the tight folds like a battering ram taking him home. He said with his body everything he couldn't say aloud. Every stroke was hard and deep, his hips frantic, plunging into her over and over, driving her up fast, taking her breath, forcing her higher and higher as he claimed her, as he made her his.

  He let himself lose control, wild with primitive need, the desire to show her the truth. This was where he belonged, in her. That she could question his desire for her was shocking to him, and he took her with an animalistic pleasure, riding her with heat until it felt like flames were licking up his legs and over his buttocks and into his groin. She was hot and tight and felt like a silken fist gripping him, squeezing and strangling until he thought his head might explode from the sheer pleasure.

  When she was gasping and thrashing beneath him, he leaned forward, applying more pressure to her hard, sensitive bud, more intense friction as he pistoned into her. He kept bending until his mouth found her nipple. He flicked his tongue twice and then bit down gently. She screamed, her body imploding around his, melting and gripping his with fierce need until he emptied himself into her, filling her with hot seed, collapsing over the top of her, a little shocked at the fury of his body taking hers when he thought of her as fragile.

  He could feel the rippling of her body, the aftershocks shaking her as he moved in more gentle strokes, hating leaving the haven of her body. He waited until he could breathe again before he looked at her, half-expecting her to be angry with him, but she cradled his head, her hands in his hair, stroking caresses over him. Accepting him. Accepting his dominant nature. Just accepting him, and that was more humbling, more frightening than all the guns in the world aimed at him.

  "I have to touch you." His admission came out rough. A demand instead of the way he'd wanted it to sound. He wanted to share with her his own weakness, give her something of himself that mattered. He let his breath out and tried again. "I need to touch you."

  "I love when you touch me, Kadan." She pushed back his hair, her touch gentle.

  Kadan shook his head, straightening, stepping back. "No. I don't mean now. I mean all the time. I need the contact with you." He shoved his hand through his hair. "Damn it. This isn't coming out the way I want it to."

  Tansy slowly lowered her feet to the floor and sat up. "Tell me." She threw back the wealth of long hair over one shoulder in a sexy slide.

  Her breasts drew his immediate attention, jutting out at him invitingly. He couldn't stop himself from leaning down to suckle for a moment. The craving was so strong it shook him. He stepped back, shaking his head, wanting her to understand.

  "I need my hands on you. I can't tell you why, only that I have to know you're all right with me touching you anytime, anywhere. In my head, I have to know you're going to accept me, want me touching you or to have my mouth on you or your mouth on me." His hand slipped over his shaft, already semi-hard. "That you're going to want me inside of you, a hundred times a day. The thought is going to be there that if I really needed to, you would find a way with me no matter what's going on around us."

  "I'm not certain why you think that's such a bad thing, Kadan."

  His eyes darkened more. "You think you need me more than I need you. You think I'm stronger and that I'll grow tired of your dependence. I'm in your head. I know what you're thinking, but you aren't really seeing me, Tansy. I want you to see me." He let his breath out in a little rush. "You're home for me. You and your body. You're home."

  "All right." She lifted her gaze to his, to make sure he knew she meant it. "I'm absolutely all right with you touching me. I love your hands on me. I especially love your mouth on me, and if you want to be inside me, say the word and I'm there. Just try not to throw me on the kitchen table in front of everyone and we'll be fine."

  The knotted muscles in Kadan's stomach unraveled and he could breathe freely again. He hadn't scared the hell out of her, but then, Tansy didn't scare all that easy. She stood up to killers and she willingly faced hell and madness to track murderers. She wasn't a shrinking violet, and if any woman could handle his needs, he was betting his heart it would be Tansy.

  "The kitchen table is fine, but no audience. I've got that."

  A slow smile tugged at her mouth. "I'm glad you made that distinction."

  "I can exercise discipline when necessary."

  Tansy laughed, and the sound was music to him. Kadan pulled her up and kissed her thoroughly on her mouth, just because the sound of her laughter sent warmth careening through the ice in his veins.

  "Come on, baby." He gave her bare bottom a swat and then rubbed caresses into it when she yelped. "Let's find you some clothes before the others get here."

  She looked at the mess in the bed and sighed. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

  "I'd walk through hell barefoot for you, honey, so a little shower is no problem." His heart would never beat the same, but if that was the price of bringing her back from the brink of madness, he'd accept it.

  "You said something about a cup of tea. Would you mind making me one while I clean up?" She didn't want him in the shower while she retrieved her torn clothes; it would just be too humiliating. He might have thought his dark secret was a match for losing one's mind, but she didn't think so, and she needed a few minutes to pull herself back together.

  His gaze slid over her, assessing her pale face. "Is your head still hurting?"

  She sidestepped the question. "I'm much better. I really would love a cup of tea."

  He could feel her will pushing at him. He didn't want to leave her. She looked very pale. There were red patches, scratches, and bruising marring her skin. Her hair was wet and dark, sliding down her back in a long tail, still dripping a little water onto the floor. He could see her thighs wet with his seed. The vise seized his heart again and he turned away, emotions too intense when he was so unfamiliar with them.

  "Tea it is," he said gruffly and yanked jeans out of his pack.

  Tansy padded barefoot into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Haunted eyes stared back at her. She was a mess. She lifted her swollen hand and stared down at the mark embedded in her skin. It was beginning to fade, but it told her volumes. She had come too close this time. She'd been lucky that Kadan had fought for her. Her mind was still healing from too many battles with violent energy, and she needed to be more careful if she was going to survive intact.

  She thre
w her torn clothes away and took another shower, washing her hair and rinsing the abrasions on her body. She'd done that to herself, nearly taking her skin off. She couldn't think about it too much, because the sensation of blood coating her skin crawled over her the moment she looked too hard at her body. Rubbing her familiar, soothing lotion into the scratches helped some, and she braided her long hair to get it out of the way before dressing in jeans. She didn't bother with a bra, but just pulled on a dark-colored T-shirt before stripping the bed and throwing wet sheets into the washing machine.

  She stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching him. He was an amazing specimen of a man, heavily muscled and quiet on his feet, a tapered waist and a great butt. He was too rough to be called handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but he was striking, compelling, a man one paid immediate attention to.

  He knew she was there, she could tell he did. There was always something remote about him when she first came into a room, but then he gentled, the glacier thawing so that he sent her a warm smile over his shoulder.

  "I've got your tea. I put a little honey in it. It's good for you."

  "You're lucky I like it with honey," she said and sat in the chair he pulled out for her.

  His gaze slid over her, clearly saying he didn't give a damn if she liked it or not. He would have poured it down her throat if he thought she needed it. She made a face at him as she wrapped her palms around the warmth of the mug. Her hand was very sore and she flexed her fingers.

  "We have to find another way to open my hand when you want me to drop whatever object I'm handling."

  He shot her another piercing look. "It's a moot point because you're not doing it again."

  She forced back her protest and took a sip of the tea, allowing the liquid to warm her before answering. "I know it must have been frightening for you to see me like that, but we can't stop now. I know with what I got on Frog you should be able to find him. He has some kind of water business on the side. Fishing. Whale watching. Taking people down in a shark cage, who knows, but it's the ocean and the business belongs to him. He loves to be underwater. I think the cylinder was a scuba tank."