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There was sincerity in his voice. If he was lying to her, then he was the best actor in the world. He was just . . . too good. Too amazing. Too everything. She sat there, shaking her head. Not even realizing she was doing it. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, wishing she was good enough for this man.

She glanced down at the book he had lying in plain sight on his end table. Toxic Game. Her stomach did a slow flip. Her heart actually stuttered. She didn’t believe for a minute that it was his favorite book or that he’d read the dog-eared copy before he’d teased her about it, but he’d sent away for it and read it because she liked it. What man did that?

“Malichai.” She said his name softly, wanting to cry. There was no hope for them. None. She had to go. He had to get out of there. The cops would find out she didn’t exist, and Whitney had ears and eyes everywhere. He wouldn’t be safe. She hadn’t thought about that—that Malichai wouldn’t be safe. She had to persuade him to go. If she couldn’t . . . she would have no choice but to stay and protect him. That leg was so messed up. How had everything gotten to this point so fast? That was Whitney. He could ruin lives so quickly, so easily, and never think anything of it.

“The more time we spent together the more I was certain you were one of Whitney’s orphans, but you have a powerful shield. That’s rare, you know. Only a very few GhostWalkers have that talent. And your healing ability . . . if Whitney found out about that one, he’d take you apart just to learn how it works. Is that why you ran? He found out you were a psychic healer?”

If she hadn’t been falling for him before, she would be now. The compassion in his voice. The understanding on his face. In the year she had been at Marie’s bed-and-breakfast, she had watched all kinds of men come through, and just as she’d studied the guards, she’d carefully observed the various men. None of them had appealed to her the way Malichai did. He was simply extraordinary.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was so honest. She nodded slowly. “Yes. It was an accident. I never would have allowed him to see, especially once I knew about his idiot breeding program. A couple of the other girls were eager to show Whitney the things they could do, and I couldn’t stop them. Nothing I said made them stop.”

She dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her suddenly throbbing temples. Those girls. They just wouldn’t hear that Whitney didn’t love them and have their best interests at heart. They were so certain if they just did everything he wanted, he would give them the world someday. Amaryllis had no idea what he promised them, but they always sold the other girls out by telling Whitney everything they said or did.

“How did he find out about your healing gift? Was it the time you were fourteen?”

She shook her head. That voice of his. Who could possibly resist it? She sighed and forced herself to look at him. Just because those girls were ninnies didn’t mean she should have left them there, although she still had no idea what else she could have done. What would Malichai have done? He was probably strong enough to carry them out on his shoulders.

“One of the girls cut herself with a knife. It was really deep, and she was bleeding too much, too fast. I didn’t think, I just . . . stopped it. She told him. She told him everything. I knew immediately I was going to have to escape the minute I saw the way he was looking at me. He hadn’t even called me in to ask me a single question yet. It was just that look on his face.” She pressed her hand to her stomach, remembering. “The moment he knew I could heal, everything changed. He wanted my babies—that became the most important thing in the world to him. And there was a soldier who just wouldn’t leave me alone. The moment he found out I was being put into that program, he asked Whitney to pair me with him.”

Her eyes met Malichai’s there in the dark and a chill went down her spine. Her sweet Malichai had a dark side to him. A very lethal side. There was no getting around it. He didn’t like the idea of another man insisting Whitney give her to him. He didn’t move at all. He was so still he seemed part of the shadows, but his eyes were as cold as ice yet alive with ice-cold flames. She’d never seen anything so frightening or so charismatic in her life.


Tags: Christine Feehan GhostWalkers Paranormal