Murder Game

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tansy managed a small catnap and woke up with Kadan lying beside her, one arm slung around her waist. She turned her head to find him wide awake, staring at her face. She blinked and smiled up at him. "What are you doing?"

"Watching you breathe."

Her smile widened. His hand was beneath the shirt, fingers splayed wide, rubbing small caresses over the smooth skin of her belly. She wasn't certain he was even aware he did so. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I can't make love to you again; we're going to have company soon. So, no. This is just perfect doing this."

"Watching me breathe?" He was robbing her of her breath, just the way he was looking at her with those eyes and that intensity. She was drowning.

He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. "That's it. Just watching you breathe. It's a great pastime."

"I would imagine it to be very boring."

He shook his head solemnly. "No. I like guarding you. When you start to have nightmares, you frown and I kiss you and you go all peaceful for me. Your breasts rise and fall, and if I put my hand right here," he flexed his fingers on her stomach, "I can feel your muscles bunching every time I stroke your skin. You're so damned soft."

She rolled over to look up at him. "You're so different when you're like this. Which is the real you?"

He framed her face with both hands and kissed her tenderly, so gentle he stole her heart. "I don't know, Tansy. Both. Neither. You've shaken me, shaken everything I knew about myself. I'm not a gentle man. I don't know how to talk to women. I don't even know what I'm doing right now, but I don't want to stop." The admission was given in a low voice, torn from him against his will.

Her heart clenched. She didn't read minds-that wasn't her gift, or curse. She read objects, and that was different. She could stop the input by wearing gloves and distancing herself. What was Kadan's life like? He saw blood and death. He killed. He fought alongside other men who killed or died. And he knew their thoughts. Their hopes and dreams. Their dirty secrets. His mind had to find a way to protect him. The coldness that he believed made him a killing machine was his mind's way of protecting him, a shield so the man didn't have to feel too much, although she was fairly certain he wasn't aware of it. There was no other choice or he would have been right alongside her in that mental hospital.

"Why did you choose the military? Why did you choose law enforcement? It must be hell, Kadan, all those killers and victims, all those battles you have to fight."

"What else for someone like me? Killing is what I do best. I've always known that."

She shook her head, locking her gaze with his. "Loving is what you do best."

A slow smile tugged at his mouth. "You're a fucking miracle."

"And you're going to have to clean up your mouth before you meet my parents." She rolled out from under him and sat up, pushing at her long hair to get it off her face.

There was a long silence. When she glanced over her shoulder, Kadan was already up, padding across the floor to the bathroom. She had sensed more than heard him. He moved like a mountain lion, all rippling muscle and silence.

He turned back, his face set in grim lines. "Your parents can clean up a few things before I do. They've got a few questions to answer."

"Look, Kadan, before everyone gets here and you decide to share with them your conspiracy theories on my parents, I want to tell you a story."

His mouth hardened into a cruel line, but he didn't say anything.

Tansy sighed. "When I was a little girl, I couldn't go to a regular school, or to a grocery store. I really couldn't do much of anything. My parents built me a play yard, basically from scratch, getting brand-new supplies. Even then, sometimes, I could get impressions from people handling the swings or bars. But I wanted a bike. A bicycle represented freedom to me. I wanted one so bad and I was willing to wear gloves all the time as long as I could just have a bike. You can imagine how my parents must have felt not being able to touch or feed me or even tuck me in at night without both of us wearing gloves. I hated the gloves, and so did they."

He tried not to ache for that little girl, but she was already in his head. He had no sympathy for her parents. Maybe his friends were right and ice water really did flow in his veins, because he wanted to gather her up and comfort her, and put a bullet in her parents' heads. Bastards. They hadn't stopped Whitney, and they had to have known what he was doing-or at least suspected something. Money was a motivating factor for a lot of people. Don and Sharon Meadows made big bucks with defense contracts, but maybe that wasn't enough for them.

"There you are with that face, all grim and forbidding. My father made all the parts for a bicycle wearing gloves the entire time. Then he put the bike together and they gave it to me. No one had ever touched it." Tears burned behind her eyes and clogged her throat so that she had to clear it, remembering that moment when he'd wheeled the bike out of a closet and her parents had stood there, big smiles on their faces, telling her she didn't have to wear gloves to ride it.

"What parents do that, Kadan? He spent so much time on it. Anyone else would have been okay with my wearing gloves, but he made certain I didn't have to whenever I rode that bike, because he knew I hated them so much. They love me." She didn't know if she was pleading for it to be true, or pleading with him to believe her. "I know they do, Kadan, because I've always felt it. The only time I ever felt abandoned was when Whitney came around."

Abandoned was an interesting word to use. Kadan studied her face. She looked fragile. She wasn't. She was strong-incredibly strong, or she couldn't do the things she did. Bathe in blood to track killers. No one did that unless they were strong, but to him, she looked vulnerable and maybe a little lost.

Don't make me choose between you and my parents.

Kadan reached down and tugged her to her feet, drawing her into his arms. He wasn't a man who liked to retreat, but for her, for now, on this, he would. "Of course, they love you, Tansy. How could they not?" He trailed kisses from her temple to the corner of her mouth, until he felt the tension ease from her body and she grew soft and pliant against him.

"Your clothes should be ready." His voice was gruff. "Get dressed before our company comes." There was no choice. It was black-and-white. Her parents were either betraying their daughter, in which case they were both fucked, or something else he didn't know about was going on and they were going to tell him.

Tansy found her clothes folded neatly on top of the dryer. She pulled on underwear and jeans and a thin tank before wandering back into the dining room to study the game pieces. She considered going into the war room, but she didn't want the victims' impressions to override the killers'. She needed to know the killers, to figure them out so she could get one step ahead of them and stop them. And there was something that bothered her…

"What?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin, twisting around to find Kadan behind her. She let out her breath. "Don't sneak up on me like that. Especially not when I'm trying to pick up impressions. You scared me."

He took her wrist, his finger sliding over her frantic pulse. "I'm sorry, baby, I can't help the way I walk, but you're not supposed to be doing this anymore. I thought we agreed."

She rolled her eyes but didn't pull her hand away. He was stroking her inner wrist, his touch both soothing and sexy at the same time. "Is that what you call it? I think it was more a decree at the time, but of course, you couldn't have been serious."

"I rarely am anything but serious."

That was probably true. Tansy gave an exaggerated sigh. "I came here to give you information on the killings."

He tugged her hand to his mouth, his eyes watching hers. "Your mission has changed."

She took back her hand. "My mission is the same. You can't find them all by yourself and you know it." Her frown came back as her gaze flicked to the ivory figurines. They were beautiful, yet each represented a killer. "There's something important here, really important, that I'm missing. I have to figure it out, Kadan, because without it…" She trailed off, looking more distressed than ever.

Kadan touched her mind, trying to make sense of her jumbled thoughts. Her mind was racing, analyzing and discarding data, chooses pieces to put together and then breaking them apart again. Tansy had a high-speed, complex computer for a brain when it came to murder. It was no wonder the police departments who had used her had written such confusing reports. She got the job done, but it was impossible to follow her train of thought, her jumps from one conclusion to the next, or even her uncanny ability to ferret out and identify the threads of the case that really mattered.

Her mind wouldn't let go once it started. That revelation sent a wave of apprehension through him. She wasn't going to let go of it, not because she was being stubborn, but because she couldn't. It didn't matter how much he ordered her, or even if he took her away from the evidence; she couldn't back off now until the killers were caught. That had never been mentioned in the reports on her he'd studied. Not that he would have done anything different even if he'd had the information. He hadn't met her, hadn't known what she would become to him in such a short time. In some ways, Tansy was a lot like him. Once started on a mission, he found it nearly impossible to back off. Her mind was programmed the same way.

He could feel the pressure tugging at her relentlessly. An escaping thread in a larger tapestry she tried desperately to unravel to find the other end. He took a breath, let it out, breathing for both of them as he rested his chin on top of her head.

"I'm sorry I got you into this, babe." His hands slid up and down her arms in a soothing motion, but he was soothing himself, not her, and he knew it. Damn, emotions were difficult to deal with.

She waved away his apology. "Let's just go after another one right now. Maybe I can figure out what's bothering me. There are two different…"

Again she trailed off and he got the same impressions in her mind: a chaotic whirl, too much data triggering her alarm buttons, but nothing tangible she could grab with both hands.

Kadan glanced at his watch. "We've only got about two hours and then we'll have company. You're going to be hitting the headache just about the time they arrive."

She shrugged off his warning and reached for another of the ivory pieces.

"Damn it, Tansy." He caught her wrist and all but yanked her to the table's edge. "Put on the fuc-" He made an effort to stop himself. "Gloves. Just get them on."

She pulled on the gloves and, without pause, reached for the snake. The figurine was very detailed, the long body coiled and covered in a pattern of scales, the head up, mouth wide open to show curved fangs. Even the eyes seemed to blaze with defiance and a menacing threat. The tongue was long and forked. When her fingers curled around the game piece, the oil poured into her mind, a fast torrent, carrying malice and glee. This one liked to see pain. Where Frog wanted his victims to acknowledge his existence, his power, this one simply fed off the pain of others. And it mattered little to him if his prey were an animal, a child, a woman or man. He just needed the pain and the screams.

The breath slammed out of her lungs as the thick, bloody mud rushed into her mind, and for a moment she couldn't remember how to breathe properly. There was the terrifying sensation of being dragged under, of gasping, desperate for air, pulling in filthy, oily muck instead, so that it filled every corner of her mind and packed her lungs so solid there was no hope of breathing. She was drowning-drowning-and she wouldn't be able to get back. It happened too fast; her quarry was too strong.

She felt a mouth move against hers. Feel me, baby. I'm with you. Warm breath pushed into her lungs. She inhaled, took air in to push out some of the thick goo coating her insides. Another breath. He can't have you. I'll breathe for both of us.

She could do this! She accepted another stream of air, shuddering with effort, forcing it into her lungs, concentrating on pushing past that first wave of violent energy that threatened to consume her mind. Snake couldn't have her because she had her own personal guardian angel. Kadan Montague was the strongest man she'd ever known. And he was on her side-not only on it, but at it, breathing in and out, sharing air with her.

She found him there in her mind, and a tiny part of her held tight to him while she allowed the familiar expansion to push her own spirit out, to make room for the beast pouring into her, threatening to devour her.

He was eager for the kill. Couldn't wait. He wanted them alive, lasting a long time while he hurt them. The places he'd been where he'd discovered appreciation of his talents were long gone, but now he could have fun again. This cool opportunity brought back memories of the tunnel in Vietnam where he'd trapped the two farmers. They'd lasted two days. Glorious fun. Both were babbling when he ended them-and he almost hadn't. He'd been so tempted to leave their raw, bloody bodies for the rats to find, but he hadn't, and he'd thought of that ever since. Maybe this time-and he'd set up a camera where no one would find it just so he could go back later and watch them being devoured alive. Such fun. The pleas were starting, growing stronger, although Tansy tried to keep the victims away for just a little longer.

She needed to escape the snake and look for the other one, the master behind the puppets. All powerful killers, tied to strings. He pulled-they danced. The masculine whisper grew stronger. She found the thread, faint but there. The master. She had him now. She was an elite tracker and he wouldn't escape no matter how subtle he was. She blocked out the surge of oily sludge that was Snake spilling around her and kept on track. This was what-or who-had been eluding her. Elation filled her as she targeted the thread.

A hint of satisfied amusement. No one ever would know. Genius surrounded him. Psychics, all of them, but they didn't suspect, didn't have a clue. It was his orchestra, his play, and he was the maestro conducting his performers to play their instruments with such flair. He fed the egos and raked in the cash. Millions, with millions more to be made. Untraceable millions and all for him.

Tansy struggled to stay on the thread. It was so faint, so subtle alongside Snake's violent need for pain. The victims grew louder, as they always did, demanding she recognize them. See them. Give them justice. She shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the wailing. The accusations. The oily muck swirled with enjoyment, building to a crescendo. Ah, just give me all night with these three. Not as strong as the ones in the tunnel, but I don't have as long. He would let the rats feast and he'd come back later to see his handiwork and enjoy the entertainment. Screams. Pleading. Begging. Tansy shook her head again, stretching for that subtle thread. The master didn't kill, so the violence edged him out, but he was there, imprinted in the ivory. Seeing it. Part of it. That subtle weave of influence feeding the killers at each site. She just had to keep pulling at the thread to unravel the mystery.

She knew him now, knew she'd seen this trail before, so light she'd missed it in the first two murder scenes, but he'd been there. How was it that he was with each one? Had he been on the West Coast too? Was he present? Was he…

She felt Kadan's sudden alertness, his warning system roaring in full-blown alarm. Icy fingers of fear crept down her spine. Something moved-something alive in the midst of all the blood, in the midst of all the victims. Something that was bloated and shadowy like a giant spider at the center of a web. She drew back as the shadow turned, and she knew it was as aware of her as she was of it. Terror poured into her as it-he-blinked his eyes and looked at her. For one instant there was a flicker of astonishment followed by grudging respect, almost camaraderie. He wasn't afraid. She got the impression of smug amusement.

Hello, beautiful. Who do we have here?

Everything in her froze. She couldn't move or speak, paralyzed by the knowledge that she was leaving just as many tracks as he was. The puppet master. And he could stalk her just as she pursued him.

You're a dead man. Kadan's voice was low, a whip of menace, startling both Tansy and the puppet master.

Tansy felt Kadan's hand on hers, prying her fingers open, ripping the ivory snake from them and flooding her mind with his ownership, his strength and his resolve Kadan, the killer, icy cold and without mercy, delivering a fact, not a warning, even as he shielded her.

She felt the startled fear of the carver of the ivory figures, quickly masked. And then all awareness was gone. The puppet master had snapped the thread and was gone from her mind.

Kadan dug his fingers into Tansy's upper arms. She still had that faraway opaque look. She was pale, icy cold, her body trembling. Fear rolled off her in waves.

"It's all right, baby. I'm right here. You're safe."

She shook her head. "I'm not. He saw me."

Kadan drew her into his body, his arms tight around her. "We saw him. We can find him, Tansy. No one even knew he existed. Hell, if I hadn't been there with you, I might not have believed it."

He spoke aloud in a cool, calm voice, mostly to bring her wholly back to him.

"I've never run into anyone who can do what I do. He's a tracker."

Kadan was already aware of that and the ramifications of it. Whoever had realized she was on his trail was going to have to go on the offensive and hunt her. Kadan had felt the man's shock and then the sudden interest in Tansy. The puppet master had recognized female and a bright shining light. She didn't have violent energy, but she was a magnet for it. Kadan didn't want her to know how disturbed he was over finding the puppet master, as Tansy had dubbed him.

"Yes he appears to be a tracker." He hadn't known they existed until he'd found Tansy and realized exactly what she could do. He kept his tone mild, realizing she was really afraid.

"Not just a tracker, Kadan," she corrected, "An elite tracker. I left footprints all over those scenes. If he accesses them, he'll find me there."

"It will be a faint trail, probably thinner than the one he left behind. In any case, he won't be able to identify you any more than we can him."

The puppet master had been all too curious about her, all too aware of her as being his equal. That would arouse his fascination, and that was the last thing Kadan wanted.

"Come on, baby, let this go for this evening. We have to plan a rescue." He needed to divert her attention to give himself time to think about the best way to protect her.

She shook her head. "I have to give you details before I'm all the way back."

Her response unraveled the knots in his belly. It hadn't been as bad this time. The short times she was slipping her exercises in, even a few minutes at a time, seemed to be helping. Their connection grew stronger with each time he shared her mind, and she was turning to him more and more without realizing it, allowing him to strengthen her barriers while she worked. It offered her a little more protection to lessen the adverse affects of both the killer and the victims on her unprotected brain.

Tansy took a deep breath and pushed down the fear that threatened to choke her. She would never forget that chilling moment when the puppet turned his head and looked right into her mind. Kadan had no concept of what an elite tracker could do. She wasn't at the top of her game. She'd burned out, fried her abilities, but the voices of the killers amused the puppet master. He ignored the victims. They were nothing to him, nuisances only.

"Tansy?" Kadan prompted. "You've done enough tonight. All the detectives working on these cases, the FBI task force-no one has found a link to this man. This is a huge break."

"We know he exists, but we have no idea of his identity or how he fits in yet. Let me go over everything. The snake enjoys inflicting pain. He's been in Vietnam, but not during the war. I got the impression of tunnels in a cane field." She shuddered. "He did terrible things to the farmers. A man and his son. He remembered the details very vividly."

"Don't," Kadan said. The details were in her mind, just as vivid. Every cut, every sadistic torture the bastard snake had conceived of-Tansy had it in her mind now. Kadan was already trying to push the memories behind the door for her, trying to protect her from the stubborn streak that kept her pursuing evil killers when it cost her so much.

Tansy visibly made an effort to stay focused on him, to keep the voices from scraping her mind raw. "The camera is really important to him, but he worries it will be found. He's a long way from it and has to go back to retrieve it." Her brows drew together as she tried to bring the details into sharper images. "Have your team look up, a good distance away. He camouflaged the camera so it looks like an old piece of machinery and could easily be overlooked. He worked on it a long time, and he made the metal to wrap it in. If you find it, I should get some very good impressions of him, maybe even somewhat of a description."

His fingers tightened. "That's good, baby. Now let it go so we can combat the headache before it starts." It was already swelling in her head, rolling through her like a wave. She'd used her talent too often and too close together and her mind was raw. Now she was just scraping over old wounds. Even he could hear the whispers of the victims, when the previous times he had only heard the killers.

She shook her head and he gritted his teeth, shoving down the urge to shake her hard and force her out of the half-hypnotic trance.

"The other one is the important one-the puppet master. I see him surrounded by paper. And a desk. He doesn't want anyone to notice him. He prides himself on blending into the background. He's very nondescript and strives to keep it that way, although he has a bit of a problem hiding his…" She touched her eyes. "He wears tinted contacts to keep people from seeing."

That sheen in her eyes, blue to violet and then a shimmering silver or opaque. Sign of a tracker. He'd never seen it or heard of it before, but now he knew what he was looking for, now he knew what that peculiar shine really was.

"He's very clever. He's surrounded by killers, by…" She frowned again. "I feel Whitney's taint on him. He knows Whitney. They're connected somehow, but I can't see it. Papers. That's all I'm getting. There's money. Lots of money, but…" She shook her head. "Whitney doesn't know. His killers don't know. He's the boss, but none of them know."

She blinked at Kadan, unable to comprehend the rush of images and impressions, shivering with cold, fighting hard to keep the voices at bay. "What does that mean?"

Kadan brushed back her hair and leaned into her, taking possession of her soft, trembling lips. "It doesn't matter, honey, come back to me." His voice was a velvet-soft lure, stroking and caressing along her skin, teasing at her nerves until she was wholly aware of him-just him.

She made a little sound in her throat, distress pouring into his mind, and she stepped into his arms. It was the first real move she'd made for comfort, and he tightened his hold around her, caging her in with a protective gesture. Lips skimming her hair and temples, he murmured soft, soothing words, uncaring what they were, only wanting to push out evil and fill her with warmth.

She buried her face against his chest. She didn't make a sound; there was no outward sobbing, but in her mind, he could hear quiet weeping, and when he lifted her chin, there were tears tracking down her face. He bent his head and licked at them, following the tracks to the corner of her mouth.

Kadan lifted her. "You're going to spend a lot of time in bed if you keep this up."

She didn't smile, just circled his neck with her arms and let him carry her without protest back to his bedroom. He undressed her, careful not to jar her, when he could feel the pain pounding in her head. He found the headache pills and gave her one with a glass of water, then stretched out again beside her, fully dressed, after snapping off the light.

"You don't have to stay," Tansy protested. "I'll be all right. The dark helps."

"I'm staying, baby. I have to chase the nightmares if any are stupid enough to visit you tonight. Go to sleep." He flipped her onto her side, her back to him, curving his body around hers, one hand sliding beneath her shirt, palm locked over her rib cage. His breath was warm and rhythmic on the nape of her neck. He couldn't resist curling his ringers into a fist and allowing his knuckles to run along the underside of her breasts with gentle caresses.

Tansy found his touch soothed and relaxed her, easing all the tension out of her when it should have done just the opposite. Maybe because she'd spent her life without skin-to-skin contract, the tactile feeling of the pads of his fingers, the brush of knuckles, or the heat of his palm took the tightness from her muscles and melted her body.

She floated on a sea of pain, the waves crashing in her head, voices rising and sinking, the whispers loud and then soft, but instead of fighting it, curling up in the fetal position and enduring hours, or even days, of agony, she drifted also on a tide of warmth and security, feeling Kadan riding out the pain with her.

His breathing steadied her own. The stroke of his knuckles distracted her from the pounding in her temples. If the pain threatened to overwhelm her, he leaned in and brushed kisses along the nape of her neck, and then tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. She was caught between pain and pleasure, drifting… drifting… until finally the pain began to ebb and she slipped into sleep.

Kadan dozed for a while, waking every now and then when she moved. He cuddled her and whispered until she settled down. He closed his eyes briefly again, drifting a little himself, continuing to stroke her soft skin, the undersides of her breasts and down her flat belly. She didn't ever think of stopping trying to track the killers. Not once. He monitored her thoughts carefully, and once she'd started on the their trails, no matter what she saw or how loud the voices called to her, even now, with the direct threat of an elite tracker, she was scared, but there was no thought of stopping.

He let his breath out slowly, his belly tight with knots, everything in him protesting her choice, when he'd been the one to draw her into the mess in the first place. And now someone had her parents. The bodyguard had been a plant, probably Whitney's, and he most likely was a GhostWalker. He was too cool, staying with the parents, living in their home, side by side, watching Tansy… And what had her father said when her mother had screamed? His voice wasn't surprised by what the bodyguard had done. In fact, he'd sounded for a moment as if he was still in charge.

Kadan rubbed strands of her silky hair between his fingers. She'd been in danger the entire time, and hadn't known it. She couldn't read thoughts, only objects, and wearing gloves had prevented her from seeing the danger. If she'd sensed that any of them felt guilt, she would have never connected the emotion to her. She believed in them. All of them. Even the bodyguard.

Fredrickson's betrayal had hurt her. Kadan had felt the piercing pain knifing through her heart. The protest in her mind. Sadly, it was Fredrickson's betrayal that had shaken her steadfast belief in her parents' love. She hadn't said anything to Kadan, and he tried not to let that bother him, when she should be sharing everything, but part of him didn't blame her. He wasn't sympathetic to her parents in the least.

Fredrickson had been around the Meadows family for years. Tansy believed him to be more than a friend, part of her family. She trusted him almost as much as she did her parents, and he'd made her mother scream in pain. Kadan replayed the sound in his head. He was sound-sensitive, and few things got past him, even over the phone. The sound had been genuine, but then the bastard part of him knew he could hurt an ally just for the necessary effect. And it brought results. If Kadan hadn't stopped her. Tansy would have delivered herself into their waiting hands. As her father had said she would.

If Whitney had planted Fredrickson into the Meadows' home to keep an eye on Tansy, why didn't her father know? Or had he known? Had there been a break in trust? If so, why hadn't Whitney simply killed Don Meadows? And why hadn't Meadows turned him in for the childhood experiments? Kadan turned the pieces of the puzzle over and over in his mind, but nothing fit. The moment he realized all the thinking in the world wasn't going to solve anything, he turned to the problem at hand. Tansy.

She was so unexpected. The man she called the puppet master was going to come after her. Kadan knew it with an absolute certainty. There had been shock, of course; an elite tracker was the last thing the man had expected. He must have been very shaken, although he recovered fast. There had been respect, and that made sense. Few could do what Tansy did, walk in blood and death and the filth of a killer's mind, hear the screams and pleas of victims dying, and emerge intact as she tracked the killer to his lair. Yeah, the puppet master would feel respect, but it would be more than that.

No one wanted to be truly alone. Tansy had taught him that. He'd walked the path his entire life, thinking he wanted it. He hadn't felt lonely. He'd chosen his path and kept to it, was comfortable with the way things were. And then he'd met her and he knew he never wanted to be alone again. Tansy might just be able to put up with his dominant, cold-as-ice personality and the raw need that only increased his craving for her. She had to be able to, because he wasn't going back.

And now the puppet master knew he wasn't alone. He had a companion who could tread the same minds if she chose. Tansy had noticed the smug amusement, but she hadn't caught the flair of male interest, the scent of sex. There was intrigue. Finally, someone to share his quiet genius with. Someone who would appreciate him for his camouflage. She would know what it took to control killers, to manipulate everyone around him and not get caught. The puppet master hadn't been alone for those few moments, and he wouldn't want to go back.

Kadan frowned as he buried his face in the thick mass of her hair. The puppet master wouldn't be able to stop himself any more than Kadan could. The tracker would think about it first, but she wouldn't leave his mind, any more than Tansy could get the killers out of hers. He would obsess about her. Fantasize. Want to show her he was stronger and could beat her at her own game. He'd want to show off, because finally, there was someone who truly could understand and see him. The puppet master wouldn't be able to resist that lure. In the end, self-preservation, discipline, and common sense would go, and he would begin to hunt her.

Kadan inhaled sharply, drawing Tansy's scent into his lungs. His. Talk about obsession. He could go from not feeling a damned thing to-this. Need. Hunger. His hands shaking with the desire to touch her. His mouth hungry for the taste of cinnamon and sex. He skimmed the pads of his fingers down Tansy's bare midriff, careful to keep the bristles velvet-soft, moving in the direction that prevented sticking. She liked the sensation, arching toward him even in her sleep. She was very responsive sexually, her body ripe for his with a few touches. She seemed just as starved for skin-to-skin contact as he was. When one had had a lifetime of emptiness, perhaps overindulgence and feasting were the only cure.

He glanced at his watch. They had a little time left, not much. He wanted to bring her back to the surface, replacing pain with something altogether different. He caught the sheet in his fist and pulled it inch by inch down her body to reveal the long expanse of skin. When the sheet pooled at her feet, he rolled her onto her back so he could drink in the sight of her. He'd never get tired of looking at her, never tire of touching her, or making her scream with pleasure.

His hands were big, calloused and rough, dark against her skin from so many years spent outdoors in the weather. The contrast between his hard body and her soft one gave him a monster of a hard-on, but now wasn't the time. He was going to indulge himself, but this time, it was all for her-okay, maybe not all.

He bent his head to her and licked at her soft belly the way a cat licked at cream. She tasted faintly of peaches. He inhaled her scent again just because it gave him so much pleasure, a unique mixture of cinnamon and other spices that went straight to his groin. He flicked his tongue over her, tracing her ribs and then teasing the undersides of her breasts.

Tansy moaned softly. He felt her fingers move in his hair.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was a mixture of sexy and drowsy, playing along his nerve endings, so that every muscle tightened and electricity arced over his skin.

He teased his way up the outside slope of her breast, swirled around her nipple, and then bit down gently. A broken cry escaped her throat. She tugged at his hair.

"I'm not awake yet." If it was meant as a protest, it failed miserably; excitement edged her voice.

"You don't have to be." He drew her breast into his mouth, suckling strongly. She was evidently very sensitive, because she arched into him, nearly coming off the bed.

Tansy closed her eyes, allowing the sensations to roll over and into her. His voice was pure velvet, brushing at the insides of her thighs until she was shaking with arousal. His knee roughly pushed apart her legs, allowing him better access as he kissed his way back down her belly, making her stomach muscles bunch with need.

He was fully clothed, the denim rubbing roughly against her skin, and there was something very decadent and forbidden at being totally naked, held open beneath a fully clothed man. His hands went to her thighs, pushing them even wider as he dipped his head low. His hair brushed against her inner thighs, making her jump and shiver. The shadow along his jaw scraped, sending flames dancing over her skin.

He bit at her inner thighs, his tongue bathing the tiny stings. Her hips bucked and she tried to pull his head away, squirming, moaning, rather shocked at her body's uninhibited reaction to him. His breath hissed out at being denied, and he caught both wrists in one hand and pinned them against her belly, raising his head an inch to look at her with dangerous eyes.

"Lie still."

"I can't." Her head tossed on the pillow. "It's too much." His weight pinned her down while his shoulders kept her legs spread apart, her silken sheath open to him.

He didn't bother to contradict her, but simply lowered his head again, taking long, slow licks, lapping at the spicy cream her body rewarded him with. Her hips continued to jerk and buck, as she writhed beneath his relentless tongue.

He took her over the edge in minutes, enjoying every moment of her soft body melting beneath him. He loved the look on her face, the shocked delight as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Kadan laid his head on her tummy, his arm slung around her waist, feeling the aftershocks gently rock her while he touched her mind. He'd driven out the demons, slammed the door closed on the voices, and left, in the place of cold and evil, something altogether different. There was a feeling of warmth, of love even. He winced away from the word, but it was out there now, in his mind. Love. What was it and how had such an emotion twisted its way into his heart and mind.

He pressed kisses from her belly to her breasts. "It isn't about the heart, Tansy, it's all about the soul."

She brushed the hair from his forehead with gentle fingers. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you don't. It's just as well. I'm the tough guy, remember?"

He pushed up, but Tansy caught his arm. "Are you all right? Tell me if something is wrong." He'd just sent her rocketing to the moon, and now he was already slipping away from her into a remote, distant man she could barely read, and he knew it bothered her. He hated separating himself, but he had to get her parents to safety before deciding if they should live or die.

"Everything is right, baby. I just wasn't ready for the way I feel about you, but I'm getting there." He'd accepted that she was his world. That didn't mean he was comfortable with it yet.