The rock spun out of his hand so fast, she heard it buzz through the air. It skimmed across the water, hop after hop like a leapfrog racing across the water. It went on and on until it had crossed the lake and had hopped onto the opposite shore. “Well,” he mused softly, a masculine taunt in his voice, “I would say that about wraps things up. Twenty-two skips all the way to the other side.” He sounded very complacent. “I believe you get to be my slave and brush my hair for me at each rising.”
Francesca shook her head. “What I believe is, you rigged this wager. You did something to win.”
“It is called practice. I have spent much time skipping rocks across the lake.”
Francesca laughed softly. “You are not telling the truth, Gabriel. I don’t believe you ever skipped a rock in your life until now. You tricked me.”
“You think?” He asked it innocently. Too innocently.
“You know you did. Just to win a silly bet. I can’t believe you.”
He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, making her heart leap wildly. “It was not just a silly bet, honey, it was a way to get you to brush my hair. No one has ever done such a thing for me and I think I crave attention.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose again and grinned at her almost boyishly. “I asked Lucian to do so once and he threatened to beat me to a bloody pulp.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Some things are just not worth it, you know.
Francesca shook her head over the vehemence of that command, but she felt very precious to him. Cherished.
“You are cherished. Now do something women are supposed to do, something I will not worry about.”
“Look who’s talking!” She tried to sound indignant, but he was making her laugh with his nonsense.
“It is not nonsense. These are commands from your lifemate, and you should listen and obey.” He sounded very arrogant as only Gabriel could.
“You’re showing your age again. You awoke in the twenty-first century. Women no longer listen and obey, worse luck for you. I have work to do, and you are in some place very musty and smelling of wet dirt. What are you doing?”
“Performing secret masculine rituals.”
Lucian attempted a wan smile, although he did not open his eyes. “You are the miracle my brother has named you in his thoughts.”
“Has he named me a miracle?” Even her voice was soothing and tranquil to Gabriel’s ears. He wanted to touch her, bask forever in her beauty, in her serenity. After the chaos of a bleak, gray world filled with violence, she was a miracle.
“Yes, and for once, he was right.” There was an edge of weariness to the beautiful pitch of Lucian’s voice and it alarmed Gabriel. He had never heard his invincible twin sound so utterly drained of strength.
“I am right at all times,” Gabriel corrected, moving at once to his brother’s side. “It is a peculiar phenomenon Lucian finds difficult to live with, but all the same . . .”
Lucian opened his eyes to regard his brother with an icy stare clearly meant to intimidate. “Francesca, my dear sister, you have tied yourself to one who has a much inflated opinion of himself. I do not remember a time when he was right about anything.”
Gabriel moved to the couch, seating himself beside his brother. “Do not listen to him, my love, he practices his intimidating stare in the mirror on a daily basis. He thinks to silence me with his glare.
Are you attempting to distract me from my task with your wanton thoughts?” There was a curling caress in Gabriel’s voice, brushing at the walls of her mind, flooding her body with heat and excitement.
“Wanton thoughts? You need a checkup, my boy. Your fantasy world seems to be growing larger with each passing day. I wanted you home to take out the trash.
I love you, Francesca,” Gabriel told her solemnly. “I cannot express in words what you are to me.”
She smiled up at him. “You do a fairly good job expressing yourself.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Fairly good?”
“I think your ego is already far too large. I am not about to call you the greatest lover in the world.”
His hand cupped her soft breast, his thumb stroking small caresses over her taut nipple. “But you would if it were not for fear of my ego?
The GhostWalker Creed
We are the GhostWalkers, we live in the shadows
The sea, the earth, and the air are our domain
No fallen comrade will be left behind
We are loyalty and honor bound
We are invisible to our enemies
and we destroy them where we find them
We believe in justice and we protect our country
and those unable to protect themselves
What goes unseen, unheard, and unknown
are Ghostwalkers
There is honor in the shadows and it is us
We move in complete silence whether in jungle or desert
We walk among our enemy unseen and unheard
Striking without sound and scatter to the winds
before they have knowledge of our existence
We gather information and wait with endless patience
for that perfect moment to deliver swift justice
We are both merciful and merciless
We are relentless and implacable in our resolve
We are the GhostWalkers and the night is ours
I see you have no need of a sword.”
“Very difficult, these days, to get them through security,” she pointed out without changing expression.
“You’re extremely accurate with that weapon.”
“With all weapons. My father was an exacting man.”
“You’re a very dangerous woman, Azami Yoshiie.” Sam meant it as an admiring compliment.
One eyebrow raised. Her mouth curved and she flashed a heart-stopping smile. “You have no idea how dangerous.” She said his own words right back to him and he believed her.
“And you’re as adept with a sword as you are with your other weapons?” he asked curiously.
“More so,” she admitted with no trace of bragging—simply stating a fact. “I said so, didn’t I?”
Sam turned on his heel and strode toward her purposefully. “I’m about to kiss you, Ms. Yoshiie. I’m fully aware I’m breaching every single international law of etiquette there is, and you might, rightfully, stick that knife of yours in my gut, but right at this moment I don’t particularly give a damn.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move. He’d known she wouldn’t. She was every bit as courageous as any member of his team. She would stand her ground.
Thorn moistened her lips. “It might be your heart,” she warned truthfully.
“Still, I have no choice here. I really don’t. So pull the damn thing out and be ready.”
She felt her body go liquid with heat, a frightening reaction to a woman of absolute control. “If you’re going to do it, you’d best make it really good, because it very well might be the last thing you ever do. I have no idea how I’ll react. I’ve never actually kissed anyone before.
Azami shuddered, her lips trembling, and then she consumed him as aggressively and as honestly as he did her. He felt her inside of his mind, running like lava through his veins, wrapping around his heart and filling his very bones with her.
“This is madness,” she whispered against his mouth when they both came up for air. Her dark eyes searched his face.
Sam didn’t have any answers. He knew she was right. They might be on opposite sides in a deadly war, yet he couldn’t let her go. She fit with him. The world around them was out of sync, not the two of them.
“I know,” he admitted as he rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes.
“What are we going to do now?”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “I really expected you to kill me so I wouldn’t have to figure that part out.”
She blinked, her black fan of thick silky lashes fluttering as wildly as her heart. She moistened her lips. “You’re not getting off that easily.”
Sam watched the dawning smile, the way her soft mouth curved and the warmth spread to her dark eyes with absolute fascination. “Well. Damn.
We are a traditional family in many ways,” she replied enigmatically, avoiding a lie. She wasn’t above lying to serve her mission, but not to Sam, not if she could help it.
His eyes warmed. “So we’re back to you giving me instructions on how to properly court you. Do I ask your brother’s permission?”
He was stealing her heart with his sincerity. She shook her head. “I am not a woman who would be practical in your life, Sam. You need a home and family . . .”
He laughed, interrupting her carefully chosen words. The sound was pure masculine amusement, sending a curling heat through her and making her forget everything she was going to say.
“I’m a soldier, Azami. That’s who I am. What I am. My woman will be my home—my family. Beyond that, who knows? I believe you’re that woman.
You belong with me, Azami. Your family will be my family. My family—the GhostWalkers—will be yours.”
“You’re a very dangerous man, Sam Johnson,” she whispered. “You stand there, tempting me with your pretty words of a future together, the devil in his blue jeans, so good-looking you’re impossible to resist. I don’t know why I can’t say no to you.”
His grin widened. His arms slid around her, pulling her tight against him. He didn’t want so much as a breath between them. “That will stand me in good stead in the future.” He bent his head once more to the temptation of her angelic mouth.
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