Toxic Game Read online Christine Feehan (GhostWalkers #15)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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Wyatt flashed a grin. “Now he’s in for it. I can’t wait to tell Nonny what he just said. Not only is it sexist, but he’s just insulted my grand-mere.”

“I didn’t. She doesn’t gossip.”

“She would tell you that women don’t gossip any more than men do. She’s been to the Huracan Club and she’s known Delmar Thibodeaux all her life. He’s the biggest gossip in the bayou or swamp. Probably in all of Louisiana,” Wyatt said.

Trap scowled and shook his head. “You can add your name to that list,” he muttered as he turned back to his work.

Wyatt laughed, and Draden felt lighter just listening to it. Wyatt had the Fontenot laugh, the one Nonny had. It was genuine and invited others to join in.

“I’ll let you go, but think about having Ezekiel move everyone to a safer place,” Draden said.

“We’ve got everything in place in the swamp to get them if they come close to our territory,” Wyatt said. “We’ve got the home court advantage there. A stranger shows up out there, we know about it almost immediately. Zeke’ll get them, Draden. You concentrate on fighting this thing and having a good day with your woman.”

“Will do.” Draden ended the call and sat for a long time listening to the night sounds and letting peace steal into him.

He had a lot to do to make the wedding special for his bride. The remote lab was going to need a complete makeover, and he’d start there. He was still going to have to get blood from Shylah, but he didn’t intend to allow her into the lab until their marriage ceremony. He’d take it in the ranger cabin, freeze it there, and then hand it off to Joe. Having made his plans, he got to work.

14

Shylah woke to the sounds of birds. It sounded like dozens of them right outside the cabin. There were lilting sounds, whistles and a strange call that sounded like “took, took,” as if the birds were tattling on one another. Each seemed to be vying for who could be the loudest complainer. After the strange call, the birds would erupt into maniacal laughter. She lay listening to it, wondering what kind of bird made sounds like that.

Draden was wrapped around her, his body close to hers, one arm circling her waist. She remained relaxed, enjoying the way he felt, his hands large, taking in her bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. His fingers were spread wide, as if to get the largest expanse possible. She didn’t know if that were true, but she loved that it felt that way.

There was something amazing about being with Draden. In part it was the way he made her feel about herself. She was always very aware of her attributes. She didn’t need Whitney’s validation in order to feel good or bad about herself. She didn’t have that kind of nature. She’d always felt bad for Zara, who could have used even one compliment from the man. Or Bellisia, who didn’t think she was attractive because Whitney had told her so practically from birth.

Shylah had no idea why she was so self-possessed, but she was grateful. She had no trouble making up her mind to defy Whitney and take whatever punishment he doled out. Through it all, she had quietly accepted that one day he would ask her to go after someone she didn’t think deserved it and she’d have to end her life by allowing one of his viruses to kill her. Because she’d always known that was how her life would end, she hadn’t been as horrified when Draden had first told her he was infected. The way the virus killed was horrific, but there was always a bullet, and she was pragmatic about that.

Now, having met Draden, she knew what love for a man really was. She loved Bellisia and Zara, but it had never occurred to her that she would meet and fall in love with a man. It wasn’t in the realm of possibility for her. Now, at the end of her life, he was there with her. He was strong, a rock really, for her to lean on when she needed it.

She’d never had a breakdown before. That had been scary, to cry without the ability to stop it. Crying on Draden should have been humiliating, but it had been comforting. He didn’t seem to look down on her at all for that slip. She was determined it wouldn’t happen again.

Slowly, reluctantly, she began to slide out from under his arm. At once that relaxed, heavy arm tensed, and he pulled her back against him and nuzzled the nape of her neck with his mouth. His breath was warm, teasing strands of hair, teasing nerve endings.

“Where are you going?” His voice was a sleepy protest.



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