Lethal Game

by Christine Feehan

Malichai wanted to know what unexpected things had tripped Amaryllis up before she’d found her way to Marie, but he decided it was best to let that go for another time. She’d talk to him in time and if not, he’d coax it out of her when she was more comfortable sharing. Like him, she compartmentalized her life. He couldn’t blame her when he did the same thing.

  “I’m not a big believer in coincidence. Lorrie and Lexie seem like they might have fluff where their brains are supposed to be, but Linda is always thinking. She wouldn’t have allowed either of her sisters to go somewhere Tag or his friends might go. Lorrie was really afraid of him. Had she continued their relationship, I’m afraid he might have killed her. He doesn’t seem to realize she isn’t his possession. Linda saw that as well.”

  Amaryllis nodded, watching as he pulled on his jeans. “What are you thinking, then, Malichai, because there must be something nagging at you.”

  He dragged on socks and then his boots before looking up at her. “I don’t know. But my weird warning system has never let me down. If it’s going off—and it is—something’s not quite right and we need to figure it out. Make a pot of coffee and I’ll join you as soon as I finish walking around the place.” He glanced at the little device sitting on the bedside table, the jammer that was kept active when he was in the room. He reached over and shut it down, shoved it inside his pocket, making a mental note to sweep his room when they came back again. So far, his room had been bug-free, but he wasn’t taking any chances, now that he knew for certain something big was going on involving the bed-and-breakfast and the magic shop.

  Amaryllis stood up as he came around the bed, still shoving weapons into the hidden loops in his clothing. She came right up to him and put her slender arms around his neck. He loved that, the way her body leaned into his. The way she held him, clearly proprietorial.

  “I am giving you up under protest. I like being with you and if something is wrong, don’t go into action without me. Think of it as me having to stay in practice.”

  She could make his heart jump, and she often did. Right now, it was doing weird little somersaults. As long as his brothers didn’t know, he was okay with that. He wasn’t okay with the razzing he’d get if they ever found out how gone he was over Amaryllis. Or maybe he was—she was definitely worth it.

  “I’m not expecting action. I’m looking for answers,” he assured. “I’m getting worried that you might be a little bloodthirsty.”

  She laughed and his entire body tightened. “Not bloodthirsty. I just like action. I get restless sometimes if I’m cooped up too long.”

  “What do you do then?”

  “I run along the rooftops as fast as I can, jumping from one to the next.”

  He closed his eyes briefly. A couple of the buildings were a good distance apart. “I think I’m going to have to make love to you a few times a day and keep you tired out. That seems the safest bet.”

  She laughed again, turning her face up to his for another kiss. He obliged her because there was no resisting Amaryllis, especially if she wanted kisses. Her mouth tasted like that addicting exotic strawberry, reminding him of her skin. Then he wanted to taste her skin, and that reminded him of her sex. Instantly he needed his mouth between her legs. It was a fascinating cycle that he wanted to explore and keep on exploring.

  Amaryllis pulled back first. “We have to stop if you’re going to figure out what’s bugging you,” she whispered into his ear, immediately blowing it by teasing his earlobe with her tongue and teeth.

  The moment she did that, the flush of dark desire skittered through him, making him very aware of her body so close to his. She wore nothing beneath her yoga pants, and he wore nothing beneath his jeans. Already his hands were turning her body back to the bed, pressing her down with one hand to her back so that she was bent over the bed.

  He yanked down her yoga pants with his free hand and then, keeping her in place, opened his jeans. He was so hard, just circling his shaft with his fist sent an explosion of pleasure bursting through him.

  “God, baby, tell me you’re ready for me.” He gently pushed her legs wider with his boot, and then slipped his hand between her legs to find her hot and slick. His heart pounded hard in time to the pulsing and throbbing in his cock.

  He didn’t wait. He needed to be in her and he pressed the broad head to her entrance. Fire seemed to engulf him. So scorching hot as he pushed deep. She felt like a silken sheath, tight beyond belief, wrapping him in a fiery fist. He threw back his head and let pleasure take him. He just held there for long moments, breathing deeply, absorbing the feeling. Then he began to move, pushing through tight, reluctant folds, forcing his way until he was so deep, he didn’t know where she began and he left off.

  Moving in her was heaven, or what he thought heaven should be. This. Lust and love coming together to create something indescribably beautiful. He gripped her hips, using them to pull back in order to increase the fiery friction as he surged into her. The breath hissed out between his teeth. Fire raced up his spine.

  “You’re so tight, Amaryllis. You’re squeezing me like a vise. And hot. Scorching. Paradise can’t feel as good as you.”

  She gripped the comforter in her fists and pushed back with her hips, her little cries soft, but each one punctuated the movement of his cock as he drove into her. The firestorm surrounded him, flames rolling over his cock, into it, threading through him, burning him clean. It was some kind of ecstasy, that tight grip her sheath had on him, the friction almost unbearable. And then he felt the rising of his seed, climbing, climbing, boiling and seething, needing the explosion.

  “Now, baby, come with me now.”

  She did. Her sheath clamped down so hard he thought he might shatter, but that exquisite friction was there, sliding over him, pumping, massaging, kneading, pulling and, finally, squeezing down on him. Milking him. So hot. Scorching. Searing him through his thick cock as it grew and pushed back, stretching her channel as she tried to clamp down. He erupted, the hot seed coating the walls of her sheath triggering more and more orgasms. He felt each one.

  He bent over her, fighting for air, when he realized why she felt so hot. Why he felt every squeeze of her muscles so intimately. He’d gone without a glove. He hadn’t protected her. Malichai dropped his head on her back with a groan.

  “Damn it, baby, I didn’t wear a glove. I’m clean, I swear I am. I would have gotten that confirmed before I ever went without one. Are you on birth control?” She was a virgin. He doubted it. She’d been one of Whitney’s experiments. Maybe she didn’t even know about birth control. “I wouldn’t mind if you got pregnant, Amaryllis, other than I’d prefer to have some time with you alone, but we’d make it work.”

  “I’m on birth control,” she said. “The minute I got away, I went to a clinic. I was afraid he would haul me back and throw me in with Owen Starks.”

  He stiffened. “Owen Starks?” He repeated the name. “When did you meet Owen Starks?”

  “He was one of Whitney’s top guards. Whitney never went anywhere without him for a while. I think he showed up when I was about seventeen. He was good-looking and some of the girls would flirt with him. At the time, we were training as soldiers. Hand-to-hand combat. Weapons training. There were always new weapons. Bomb making and taking them apart. Any gifts we had we worked on to use in the field. Starks became one of the main trainers.”

  Very slowly, keeping a hand on her back, Malichai pulled out of her. Her body gave him up reluctantly, still clamping down, still holding on, so as he slowly dragged his cock from her, the action sent flames licking up his spine and caused more explosions to go off in her body. He felt every one of them. She made a little sound, catching her breath, while he cleaned off with his T-shirt and then cleaned between her legs.

  “Tell me more about Starks.” It was an order. He’d been a GhostWalker too long and was used to being obeyed. His voice was harsher than he intended.
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  She pulled up her yoga pants and turned to face him, half sitting on the bed. “Is it important? Do you know him?”

  “I know him. I want the information, Amaryllis, anything you can tell me about him and what you were to him in the time you’ve known him. He was declared dead about six years ago. Supposedly he was killed in action, but there was a lot of controversy around his career in the military. Quite a few believed he killed some of those he served with. It shouldn’t surprise me that Whitney would take a man like Starks to work for him, but it still does. He tried for the program and failed.”

  She sat all the way up on the bed and pulled her legs up tailor-fashion. She often did that, even in the dining room, he’d noticed.

  “Starks didn’t seem to pay attention to the girls, although, like I said, they flirted outrageously with him. When it came to training, he was very strict. We learned to listen first time out with him. I didn’t like him at all. I don’t know why. The feeling was so strong, I would have to label it an aversion. I thought he was unnecessarily cruel, especially to the girls who flirted with him. Almost every single training session with him, someone ended up in tears. Often they carried these horrendous bruises.”

  “And you?” He kept his eyes on her face, wanting to read her every expression.

  “I didn’t talk much. I was quiet and I worked hard to learn everything. I practiced with anyone who would practice with me. There were a couple of the guys who were decent. Starks didn’t pay much attention because I did the work and didn’t flirt. He noticed I was good, but that was about it. The better I was, the harsher he got, but I didn’t care because it made me better. I knew not to challenge his ego.”

  Malichai kept his gaze fixed on her face. There was so much more, and she was trying to sound matter-of-fact when there was so much pent-up emotion, she could barely contain it.

  “Douglas Hines, one of the trainers, was nice. He worked with me most of the time. Over the years, I liked partnering with him because he was fast, and I had to be faster if I wasn’t going to get hit. Sometimes we practiced with rubber knives. In the beginning he’d raise welts all over me where he could slip through my guard, but eventually, he couldn’t do that anymore.”

  She rubbed her chin and then stroked three fingers over her throat. Both were nervous gestures. “That was important to tell you. I’m not just rambling. One day Starks came outside where we were working with those practice knives. The rubber ones. I loved those workouts.”

  There were tears in her voice and he wanted to comfort her. He made himself stay where he was. He needed to know everything about Starks she could give him.

  “He was angry with Douglas and told him that training with rubber knives was for pussies and I would never learn anything unless I felt the blade go in. He pulled out his knife and indicated Douglas do the same. They went at it, and it wasn’t a training session anymore. Starks meant to kill him. Douglas knew it too. Starks was the head man in the yard, and there was no one to protest.”

  “Starks always did have to be the best at everything. He liked to show off.” Malichai didn’t like where this was going. The fact that Amaryllis hadn’t flirted with him, had acted as if she barely acknowledged him, would have driven Starks crazy. He had a deep need to be noticed, to always be the one everyone feared or admired. Once his attention was centered on Amaryllis, he would have begun to really see her. Seeing her meant wanting her.

  “When he slipped past Douglas’s guard and sank that knife in, I could see he’d gone for the kill. I tried to fend him off and he hit me hard. I tried to go for the kill myself. I have a poison I can use, but I couldn’t deliver it. I don’t know why. When he hit me, I blacked out.”

  That was the first time Malichai had heard about a poison, but it didn’t surprise him. Bellisia could deliver a poisonous bite, as could Cayenne and Pepper.

  “When I woke up, Douglas was dying, his blood running all over him, the ground and me where I lay next to him. Starks was sitting about six feet from us, just watching Douglas die with me next to him. I tried to help Douglas, and I called for help. A couple of the girls came, but none of the guards approached. They were all afraid of Starks.”

  Malichai’s gut tightened into hard knots. He knew Amaryllis. He’d made it a point to observe her. She was extremely protective. She was fierce. And she was a warrior. He wanted to reach out to her, to stop that young girl from making a terrible mistake, but she’d already made it, he saw it on her face.

  “Douglas died in my arms, his blood all over me. I got up, dusted off my knees, which was ridiculous, considering I was covered in blood and dirt from where I’d fallen when Starks hit me, and I walked over to where Starks was just sitting there watching as if he was at a movie theater. I kicked him right in the face. He wasn’t expecting it and he went over backward.”

  Starks should have been expecting it, Malichai would have been. The man had been watching her, but he hadn’t really figured her out. His ego was probably too big to allow him to see her for what she was.

  “I followed him, kicking and punching. I think I was a little insane. I tried again and again to kill him, to use the poison on him, but I couldn’t deliver the venom. The other guards eventually pulled me off of him. I think they did it to protect me, but I fought them too. In the end, Whitney came out to see what the commotion was about, and he sedated me. After that, my life was a little bit of a nightmare.”

  Malichai could well imagine. The other guards would never make the mistake of laughing or even smirking at Starks, but he would always know they saw a girl beat the crap out of him.

  Amaryllis rubbed the pad of her thumb across her forehead, back and forth, a soothing gesture, but he found it mesmerizing. “There was a photograph. Someone took it with a cell. No one was supposed to have a cell, especially in the yards around us, but one of the guards must have snuck it in.”

  Malichai groaned. “Seriously? What did he do with it? Did he want to get you killed?” He wanted to find the guard and teach him a lesson. Again, it was far too late. The damage was already done.

  “The photograph apparently was printed out and taped to Starks’s locker. I never saw the picture, but it was of me kicking the crap out of him. He was on the ground with his hands up, trying to keep me from kicking his teeth down his throat. He tried to make a joke of it, saying he thought it was funny and he didn’t want to hurt me, but no one believed him.”

  Because it wasn’t true. Malichai might have found it funny to have a girl beat him up, but Starks never would. Never. And he’d never forget. Starks would be fixated on her, completely obsessed. He would want her to know he was superior to her and he would set out to prove it.

  “Your life became somewhat of a nightmare?” he prompted.

  She shrugged. “When we trained, if he was there, he singled me out and I always ended up hurt. Always. He was careful of my face, but certainly not the rest of me. I was always the example. He would pull me out of the lineup and instantly the yard would go eerily quiet because everyone knew he was going to hurt me.”

  “Did you fight back?” He knew she had. Amaryllis didn’t have it in her to surrender to a man like Starks.

  “Every time. That made him very happy and very angry at the same time.”

  “Whitney decided he wanted you for his breeding program?”

  “I’m certain it was Starks’s idea until Whitney found out about my ability to heal. Prior to that, Starks was very insistent. He began telling me Whitney was going to pair us. He’d whisper it to me when we were training. I completed every mission Whitney sent me on, but it didn’t matter how good I was in the field, Starks had Whitney’s ear and he thought it would be a fitting revenge. Then I healed that cut and the girl told on me. So, I knew I had no choice but to escape. And I did it right out from under Starks’s nose too.”

  “All right, baby.” Malichai sighed. They were definitely in trouble.
“Starks is going to be an enemy who will never stop until he’s dead. I think you know that. When I knew him, he always had to have his petty revenge against the smallest perceived infraction, I can imagine how he would feel about you besting him over and over.”

  “I had no choice, Malichai.”

  Her lashes lifted and she gave him that blue-eyed look that tore at his heart. He couldn’t imagine thinking he had her and then losing her. Starks would be insane with the need to find her, especially if Whitney really had paired them.

  “I’m well aware of that, Amaryllis. Do you know if Whitney paired you?”

  She made a face. “He tried. It didn’t work. I was so repulsed by Starks after what he’d done to Douglas, no amount of pheromones was going to work. Whitney found that fascinating, but that was one more strike against me as far as Starks was concerned.”

  “Sometimes Whitney only paired the man so that he was obsessed. Do you know if he included Starks or was it just on your side?”

  “Starks was so fixated on me that I don’t think Whitney really needed to do it on his side, but I’m positive he did anyway. Starks was crazy.”

  She gave her assessment matter-of-factly, but Malichai could see the little telltale nervous gestures. She was afraid of Starks, and he knew she should be. The man was capable of anything, and his ego was enormous. He was arrogant and felt superior to everyone. Malichai couldn’t imagine how he would get along with Whitney, who was a megalomaniac in his opinion, yet he’d managed for years. How?

  “Babe, tell me about the relationship between Whitney and Starks. You said he became Whitney’s head guard. I imagine he traveled with Whitney as well.”

  She nodded. “They would often leave, which was a relief for everyone. No one knew who was worse, Whitney or Starks.”

  “Did you observe them together?”

  “All the time. Whitney rarely went anywhere without Starks.”

  “Did Starks defer to Whitney? Was he subservient in any way?”