Christine Feehan: Murder Game

As the extent of what had been done to the volunteers became apparent, Kadan had hoped he'd been one of the ones who escaped this particular hell. But he knew. His body knew. He tried to breathe away the monstrous hard-on that came out of nowhere. He pushed down the aggression as testosterone flooded his body with burning lust and a savage desire to possess. He'd never thought to ask any of the others what it was like, or even if all of their symptoms were the same, but he felt aggressive, dangerous, almost brutal, a primitive response preprogrammed into him.

Breathing deeply, he grabbed a handful of dirt, closing his fingers around it hard, as if squeezing the life from someone's throat. And where was the cat? He had to make certain the animal wasn't about to leap on her.

Once more he lifted the binoculars, breath catching in his lungs as she came back into focus. Even the way she wrung out her hair was sensuous, tipping her head to one side, the long, golden strands rippling like silk as her hands squeezed the thick skein. Water beaded and ran from full breasts to belly and down to the vee at the junction of her legs. Her legs were slender, her butt firm as she waded toward the edge of the pool, the water lapping at her thighs. His tongue moistened his suddenly dry lips. He would have given anything to lick the droplets of water from her skin.

Reluctantly he moved the binoculars from his fantasy vision to scan the surrounding forest and mountains. Nothing. He shifted his direction, quartering the area, looking high, from branches to boulders. The mountain lion had to be there somewhere, invisible to his sight, maybe, but not to his gut.

There was no camp close by that he could see, but it had to be there. He turned his attention back to the woman. This must be Tansy Meadows. She looked almost as if swimming in the pool and napping and sunning were a daily ritual, and if so, she wouldn't be hiking too far from her home ground.

There was no doubt in his mind that she owned his body, and that meant she had to be one of the lost girls Whitney had experimented on. The demented doctor had taken infants from orphanages from all over the world and performed experiments on them. A few lucky ones had been adopted out. Kadan had her background information memorized. Her parents had adopted her when she was five years old. She had severe problems in school and other social settings. She'd worked with the police from the age of thirteen, tracking killers and kidnap victims with amazing accuracy. He should have known she was too accurate. He should have known her psychic abilities were enhanced.

Kadan took another long look around in an effort to spot the mountain lion. If it was there, the animal was well camouflaged. Every area he thought would be the perfect place from which to ambush her seemed serene and peaceful. He swung the glasses back to the natural basin.

She stepped from the shimmering emerald water, moving with grace and something else, something so seductive and innocent at the same time that his body screamed at him with urgent demand. His breath caught in his throat as she lifted her slender arms toward the sun, the action thrusting her breasts upward, the darker nipples erect from the cold. Kadan could feel the taste of her in his mouth. He took a slow, deep breath to calm the surging excitement, the exultation. His body, his mind, his very soul said she was the one. He was looking at his mate.

God help him, he didn't want to think that way-not now-not in the middle of such a huge crisis. He needed to be sane, to keep his mind and body under control. And he needed to use this woman, be ruthless if necessary. He swore softly under his breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as he kept the glasses trained on her.

She lathered her body with lotion, every stroke of her hand making his body throb and jerk in need, and then she stretched out, facedown, on the flat surface of the rock, her body an offering in the afternoon sun. Her bottom was curved, well muscled, joining the long expanse of her shapely legs. It was impossible, even with the field glasses, to see her facial features; she was turned away from him, her face in the shadows. His imagination could not provide a face to go with her sensual body or the erotic way she moved. He watched her for a long while, until her breathing became slow and even and he knew she slept.

She was sound asleep and a mountain lion had stalked her all the way down the trail to the basin. It was hidden somewhere above her, maybe watching. Again he scanned the surrounding area, appalled that she lay naked and exposed, where any hunter or wild animal might come across her. Fury burned in his belly, low and mean, and for a moment, the ground around him trembled. He clamped down on his temper and forced air through his lungs as he sifted through every possible place the cougar could hide. He'd trained at the elite sniper school, taken the test of finding fifty objects hidden at multiple distances, and he'd spotted every one, but the cat remained hidden.

He lowered the glasses. He'd been too long without sleep. He'd traveled to ten foreign countries in two weeks, working on forming a collective pool of multinational anti-terrorist information for an elite assassination squad. The team would live in the shadows, travel to the kill zone, destroy all targets, and fade away before anyone ever knew they were in the area. Each member would be totally anonymous so there could be no retaliation against families. Each member would be a GhostWalker, able to get in and out of a target zone like a shadow.

Kadan had been assigned the task and was pulling his team together when he was abruptly called home and given another mission-and this one was too important to mess up. He was known for his coolness under fire, his absolute calm in any crisis, his ability to lead his team and undertake any mission, find a way to carry it out and get his team home again, no matter the odds. He sighed. He didn't feel cool or calm now, he felt edgy and mean. He was grateful his fellow GhostWalkers weren't around to witness his struggle.

Deliberately slowing his breathing, he took another drink from his camel pack. He was going to have to climb down to the rocks below and find a way to convince her to join him, because in the end, she didn't really have any more of a choice than he did. He had a feeling it wasn't going to be easy or pleasant, but completing the mission was necessary. And he had the feeling that if this woman had been given up for adoption years earlier by Whitney, she probably hadn't been chemically matched with him, which, quite frankly, was going to make things one hell of a mess. Whitney had kept her DNA and had programmed him, but not her.

He'd thought the task was going to be heartbreaking and difficult enough just convincing and perhaps forcing Tansy to partner him in his investigation, but now, with the added threat of the physical pull between them, the mission had become daunting. She had suffered a breakdown, and by all accounts, it had been real. He'd read the report carefully, as well as all her medical records. She'd spent weeks in a hospital and months in seclusion with her parents. She'd been fractured, shattered by her last case, her mind splintering and refusing to relinquish the evil voices of the killers she'd tracked, or the screams of their victims. He was going to have to ask her to let other, more powerful and vicious voices in. On top of that, he was going to have to somehow explain that he was paired with her.

Kadan found himself unable to tear his eyes from her. The longer he watched her, the tighter and more urgently his body made demands. He had never experienced such sexual hunger. It seemed to fill every cell of his body, invade his brain, squeeze his body in a vise until jackhammers were ripping through him, driving out every civilized thought. He had to get some kind of handle on the link between them or he would destroy any chance he had with her.