Deadly Game

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. Man. 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. Man, 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 to 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, he 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. Man, I'm not going to take a chance on hurting you. I'm not a good man.'