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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Holding her breath, she put the plate of pancakes right in front of him and then put the warm syrup and butter next to his coffee. She could barely force herself to look at him, but she did. His eyes were on the stack of shields with the two dragons and the words carved into them. She’d made shallow indentations, and some were better than others. The metal strips had been used for the shield and dragons, although truthfully, her dragons didn’t come out as well as she would have liked. The words were hand done.

His face had gone pure stone. He didn’t say a word, just stared down at the pancakes for what seemed an eternity. Then swallowed hard. Blinked several times and finally, slowly, very slowly, lifted his gaze to hers. “Shylah.” He breathed her name. Barely above a whisper.

“You like it.” She made it a statement because he clearly did. She leaned down and brushed a kiss on his temple. “I wanted her here with us today, and I couldn’t think of any other way to give that to you.”

She turned to make her way around the small table to her chair, but Draden wrapped his arm around her waist holding her there beside him and turned, so he was facing out away from the table. He tugged until she was between his thighs and he could press his head against her stomach, both arms circling her waist. She wrapped her arms around his head, emotion choking her. The intensity of love she had for Draden was overwhelming.

Shylah held him, the man who was always so strong. So confident and sure. The man she’d fallen so hard for and didn’t even know when it happened or how. Tremors ran through him, so fine she barely felt them, but because it was Draden and she registered all things Draden, she felt them. She stroked caresses through his hair, feeling her own eyes burn. They were one step closer to being together permanently, and one step closer to death.

Finally, he lifted his head, his eyes staring into hers. There was liquid turning that dark blue into a fathomless sea. There was also stark, raw love looking back at her. Even though she had never experienced that kind of deep, intense emotion from a man, she recognized it and her heart turned over. The burn of tears in her eyes was nearly overwhelming. She had to blink rapidly.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I can’t imagine a better gift.” He reached up to capture the nape of her neck, applying pressure so she had to bend down. “Mine will be in the closet, so no peeking.”

His hands framed her face, his touch tender. His mouth took hers, and instantly the fire between them flared hot and bright. In contrast to the gentle way he cradled her face, his mouth was rough, demanding, a takeover. She couldn’t think when he was kissing her over and over. Devouring her. There was only feeling, the arcing electricity that jumped between them, the spread of heat that rushed through her bloodstream, the melting that made her feel boneless. His mouth was pure fire and there was nothing better.

When he broke the kisses, his gaze moved over her face and then he pressed his forehead against hers. “In case I haven’t said so, I’m so in love with you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” She was astonished she managed to get the words out when her body had spiraled completely out of control. She wanted him with every breath she drew.

He held her for another minute, as if he knew she clung to him because her legs were unsteady, and her knees were wobbly. Eventually she took a deep breath and made it to the chair opposite. It took effort to slide into it with dignity instead of just plopping into it before she fell.

“Taste them before you get too excited.” She needed to find a way to bring down the intensity of emotion filling the room. “I followed the recipe on the package Joe sent. They might not be edible.”

“It really wouldn’t matter to me one way or the other. Shylah, do you realize no one has ever done anything like this for me? No one. Not since she died. I’ve never received a present in my life, and certainly not one like this.”

She smiled at him, feeling shy. She’d been so afraid she was stepping on a wonderful memory. She watched him take a bite and then he was smiling and indicating for her to eat.

She was expecting the pancakes and syrup to taste like cardboard, but they actually tasted really good—good enough that they might be a favorite if she lived long enough to have more than one meal of them.

“It’s weird, Draden, but I don’t feel sick at all this morning. Not like last night.”



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