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Once in his room, he went through the door leading to the bathroom he shared with Craig Williams. Craig was meticulously clean and Malichai appreciated that about him. He locked that side of the bathroom and ran his woman—his fiancée—a bath. She leaned against the door, watching him, those blue eyes fixed on his face. The laughter had faded and she looked very serious.

“What is it, baby?” He kept his voice gentle, afraid she might be considering reneging on her word now that the beauty of the orgasms had faded. He might have to handle the next few minutes with extreme care.

“You are an amazing man, Malichai, and I can’t believe you chose me. When did you know? Because you seem to have been set on this path from the very beginning.”

This could be dangerous ground since Whitney was known for pairing couples. “I knew when I first laid eyes on you. I observed the way you were with Marie and Jacy—the way you worked, letting Marie have so much extra time with her daughter even though it meant you worked long hours. I couldn’t help but see how protective you were of them, and I wanted that for myself, for my children, for Wyatt’s children and Trap’s. For all of them living in the compound near us. I know that sounds selfish, but hell, baby, you’re like this fresh summer breeze that can move mountains when you go from breeze to hurricane force winds. Not to mention, I find you damned sexy. Who wouldn’t want that?”

She gave him a small smile. “From time to time, I’m going to have to ask you that question again. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just that I think you’re this extraordinary man and having you choose me—maybe fall in love with me—want me as the mother of your children . . .” She shook her head. “That’s almost too incredible to believe.”

“That’s Whitney feeding you bullshit, baby.” He crossed the short distance between them and pulled her into his arms, uncaring that the blanket fell to the ground. He kissed her. Hard. Meaning it. Wanting her to feel everything he felt for her. He’d gone from physical attraction to love in a very short time for a very good reason, and she was in his arms, her mouth moving under his.11Malichai lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Amaryllis cuddled close to his body. He hadn’t been a man who ever slept with a woman close. Or at all. It wasn’t his thing, until right then. He needed her close to him. When she’d gotten up and said she was going back to her room, he hadn’t been able to stand the idea of the two of them apart.

But still . . . there was something nagging at him. It just wouldn’t leave him alone. His brain refused to shut down, alarms whispering, looping through his mind over and over. The warnings weren’t loud, just a soft background noise that refused to be quiet. Something was wrong. Something was off and he needed to figure it out. He knew it wasn’t immediate, no one was threatening them, but once he felt this kind of warning, he knew it was only a matter of time before trouble was on his doorstep. He also needed to tell Amaryllis what they had learned from interrogating Henry Shevfield. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Malichai?” Amaryllis’s voice was soft, a barely there sound, as if instinctively, she was aware of the need for silence. “Can’t you sleep?”

He stroked a caress over her hair, trying not to get lost in the feel of silk. Her head was against his bare chest and the slide of silk over his skin sent hot blood rushing to his groin. He’d been enjoying the sensation, liking that his woman, even in her sleep, could arouse his body the way she did, but there was that whisper in his mind that something wasn’t right. Something was off. Maybe he just needed to have that difficult talk with her he didn’t want to have. He knew better, but it was one more thing . . .

“I can go back to my room,” she offered. “You’re not used to sleeping with anyone.” There was a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

“Go back to sleep, baby. I think I’m just going to take a quick walk around the house and make certain everything is quiet.” She wasn’t getting out of sleeping with him, no matter how hard she tried.

She wrapped her arm around his hips. “Talk to me, honey. What’s got you uneasy?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Something’s nagging at me—” He broke off, because what was it? Something silly, really. “How did Tag know Lorrie was here? Those women were actually very smart covering their tracks the way they did. They gave up their place, renting it out so they don’t lose anything, and couch surfed, so they didn’t leave a trail. This was the first time they paid for a place to stay. Maybe he had someone watching for credit card activity, but that seems a little over his head.”


Tags: Christine Feehan GhostWalkers Paranormal