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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“Ha ha ha. Very funny.” Sarcasm dripped, but she was laughing. Laughing when she knew a virus was eating her up inside. How did he do that? Make her life better than it ever had been just with his presence? Just by the way he looked at her? Maybe those birds were a good-luck symbol after all. If they weren’t, Draden was.

Before anything, she wrote the story of Draden and the dragons. It was fun to draw again. She wasn’t nearly as skilled as she wanted to be, but she could create illustrations for his story. She didn’t have colored pencils, but she knew that wouldn’t matter to him—the gift itself was hopefully magical to him.

Shylah went to the refrigerator and peered inside. Joe had brought them all kinds of supplies. She wanted to make a really good breakfast for Draden. One he would remember. What had he said his mother made him on their special Sundays? She made pancakes with their special crest. It was in the form of a shield, with two dragons facing each other and words like integrity, bravery and courage. She could do that. She had some art skills.

What else had his mother made for him? Bacon and eggs. That seemed like a lot of food, but if that was what he ate with his mother on Sundays, then they would have that for breakfast. She wanted to bring him memories of his happiest days to make the day special for him. More importantly, she wanted to give him a sense of his mother celebrating his wedding day with him.

He wanted her to stay in the cabin while he worked outside, and putting together a wedding gift was something she could do. She had a good imagination, and she’d read enough stories to write one about dragons and white knights. She could illustrate it as well. She would do her best to make him feel as if his mother was with them.

She worked quickly to have as much done as possible so when he emerged from the shower, toweling his hair dry and coming toward her, she pointed to the bed. “Dress please. It’s later than I thought. I have a few things I want to do in here.”

He sent her his cocky grin, the one that sent a shiver of excitement sliding down her spine. She couldn’t help the answering smile. They might not have a single tomorrow, but they had this—their wedding day. It didn’t matter if it was legal or not, she would mean every vow she took … “Vows. There’s something in traditional wedding vows I’m going to object to, isn’t there?”

She narrowed her eyes at him when he looked innocent. She didn’t trust that expression on his face for one minute.

“Everyone exchanges vows in a marriage ceremony, sweetheart.”

He turned away from her but not before she saw he was fighting laughter. Definitely the vows. “I’m going to write my own vows.” She declared it as she began shaping a shield out of some thin metal strips she’d found. She’d washed the strips over and over, but they were perfect, thin enough to bend into the shapes she needed. She wasn’t clever like his mother, cutting it after the pancake was made. She needed a mold, even one of her own making.

She’d already put on coffee and the aroma mixed with the smell of the bacon and eggs she was frying. “You can set the table,” she called over his shoulder as she worked on the pancakes.

“I’m an old-fashioned kind of man, Shylah,” he protested as he pulled the two plates off the rack and put them on the table with silverware. He poured both of them a glass of orange juice and then himself a cup of coffee. “Those ceremonial vows have been around for hundreds of years.” He looked far too earnest to be believable.

Clearly, she should have been researching marriage vows. She flashed him a look meant to intimidate him, but he only grinned at her. That grin sent a flutter of need through her sex and a shiver of excitement down her spine. The man did it for her. He didn’t have to do much more than smirk and she was lost. She shook her head, unable to keep from smiling, and turned back to finishing the pancakes. She’d warmed up the syrup Joe had sent, hoping that’s what one did with maple syrup. She’d never had it before, but she’d tasted it and it was good. Sweet, but good.

She put the eggs and bacon on the table in front of him and then carried the pancakes, butter and syrup over. She added the small little story about two fiery dragons willing to sacrifice everything to save those they loved. Strangely, her heart was pounding. What if he didn’t like that she’d copied his mother? What if he didn’t understand making his pancakes into a shield was meant as a gift for their wedding day? She didn’t have much to give him and this was the only way she could think of that might include his mother in their wedding.


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