Samurai Game (23 page)

“Men tend to be very proprietary over their women, Azami. I’m quite happy being the only man you ever know intimately. In any case, I know enough for both of us. Trust me, honey, we have nothing to worry about in that department.”

She gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re so certain, Sam.”

He leaned into her, framing her face with his hands. Her face looked so small against the largeness of his hands. “Once in a great while, Azami, believe me, not very often, a miracle happens, a gift comes along. I’m a man who deals in death on a nearly daily basis. I put my life on the line and don’t expect to come back every time I go out. You’re my gift, Azami, my personal miracle. Maybe it happened too fast for you and you need time to catch your breath, and I’ll give you whatever time you need; just don’t say no and shut the door on us.”

It was as much of a plea as a man like him could manage. She had the face of an angel with her eyes and full lips and all that soft skin.

“I should, Sam. For you, I should; but I won’t.”

The relief was tremendous. He hadn’t realized just how tense he’d grown. He knew the intense physical attraction wasn’t one-sided, he could see her desire growing in her eyes and feel it in her kiss and melting body. Still, she was extremely disciplined and slow to trust. He felt privileged that, through their mind link, she’d given that trust to him.

Sam brushed his mouth over hers and straightened, smiling. “I just have to figure out a way to keep your brothers from taking off my head when I ask for your hand. It’s not like a soldier has a lot of prospects. They might think I’m after you for your money.”

“They would be more understanding of that reason for such an offer—a business transaction. They will have far less ability to understand you wanting me as a wife for other reasons.”

Again he couldn’t detect bitterness or even a bid for sympathy; Azami was simply stating a fact as she saw it. “They’ll have to get used to it,” Sam said.

“We do not ever show affection in public,” Azami cautioned. “I don’t want you to be offended if I don’t show how I feel.”

His eyebrow rose. “Are you afraid I might grab you in front of the world and kiss you like crazy?”

She nodded solemnly. “It isn’t done.”

His grin went wider. “It’s done. We just have to pick our spots. We both have the ability to transport from one area to another. I think if I’m desperate, I’ll just give you the sign and we’ll exit fast and return before they notice we’re gone.”

Azami looked at him as if she didn’t quite know what to think. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck, drawing her closer to him. He found that bemused, confused look adorable, but he was fairly certain a warrior woman wouldn’t find that description appealing, so he wisely kissed her instead of commenting out loud.

She gave herself up to his kiss, her tongue dancing with his, her slender arms creeping up around his neck.

Open your mind to mine,
he whispered in the much more intimate form of communication.
I need to feel you inside of me, and I need to be inside of you.

He might not be able to have her physically, not yet. Instinctively he knew she wasn’t ready to give him her body. The intimacy of telepathic communication would have to be enough. He prayed it would be enough and give him the strength to do right by her.

There was a moment of hesitation and his heart went still. His mouth moved coaxingly against hers, a gentle, tender assault to entice her. Her mind opened and warmth poured into him. Her strength, the vulnerability she hid from the world. She filled all the cold, dark places in him, lighting him, illuminating the darker shadows and instantly removing every vestige of loneliness.

When we’re like this, Azami, welded together, you can know more about me than any other human being will know living a lifetime with me.
He caressed the silk of her hair, his palm cradling her head.
I won’t ever go anywhere. I’ll be with you, just like this. See who I really am inside. Judge me on my character, not on whether or not Whitney has done something to pair us.

He knew that was her primary worry. When she entered into his mind, strong and courageous, that doubt was there as well. Azami didn’t try to hide it from him, nor did she pretend she felt comfortable with her body or with him seeing her flaws. To him they weren’t flaws, nor would they ever be.

Sam . . .

She kissed him with exquisite gentleness until his heart stuttered and his body threatened to burst through the material of his jeans. She brushed the pads of her fingers so lightly over his skin, shaping his shoulders and the muscles of his arms. The touch was barely there, yet he felt it as if she was branded into his bones.

How could it possibly work? You’re here. I’m in Japan. We both have a job.

But she wanted him. She wanted to give herself to him and in a way, she already had. It was impossible to be in her mind and not know her. She had committed to him the moment she’d revealed her body to him. She’d allowed him to share her mind and memories. He hadn’t betrayed her trust by searching her mind for how she’d assassinated Whitney’s three flunkies, although she didn’t try to hide anything from him. He knew she was going after Whitney and how could he blame her?

Sam folded her closer.
It’s going to work because there is no one else for me. I never thought I’d have a woman of my own.
He really hadn’t.

He lifted his head slowly, waiting for her long lashes to lift. He loved those soft twin crescents, impossibly long and feathery, fluttering against her high cheekbones right before she opened her dark eyes to meet his gaze. He loved the sensation of his heart dropping the moment their gazes met and knew she would always affect him like this—just this way—his body so aware of her, his mind filled with her so there would never be room for anyone else.

Okay, then. You can risk your life and ask my brothers’ permission.

She didn’t sound quite as positive as he would have liked. He nuzzled her nose, kissed both eyes and the corner of her mouth.

“Tell me, Azami,” he coaxed. “I don’t believe in secrets. My woman will know what’s happening in my life and I need to know about hers. I don’t want hurt feelings between us. If you have concerns, we need to address them.”

She lifted her chin. “I have a mission to accomplish. It’s a matter of honor. I can’t stop until it’s done. I’m not unrealistic. I’m aware I probably will not be the one to kill him, but I have made it my duty to cut him off from the aid that lends him legitimacy.”

“I understand, Azami. I do. I’m a soldier. In any case, if you’re trying to bring down Whitney, you’ve got allies right here. Four teams of GhostWalkers are dedicated to finding him and destroying him.”

“He’s got powerful friends,” she warned.

“Believe me, honey, we’re very aware of that.”

She suddenly smiled. “You call me by your American name. Honey. We do not use this term in my country. I like it, but it seems strange.”

“It’s a term of endearment meant for a girlfriend or spouse,” he explained.

She took a breath, stepped back, and spread her hands. “He called me Thorn. Whitney. He said I wasn’t a flower, but only a thorn and there was nothing he could do to change that, no matter how hard he tried.”

Another revelation. She was very still. Holding herself. Waiting. Sam took a breath, wanting to make certain he said the right thing. When they’d met, he’d asked her what her name meant. He smiled at her, taking one step to close the gap she’d put between them, his hand cupping her chin, forcing her head up.

His heart did a curious somersault looking into the courage in her eyes. He would always see her this way, his Azami, facing the worst, expecting the worst, yet not flinching, but looking him right in the eye. He was a man who lived a life of duty, choosing honor and danger, although he had many choices. He had degrees and offers, but he was driven to be a soldier, to defend his country and the people in it. He had never thought to find a woman who could understand him, or admire his choices. He could see both in her eyes.

“You are Azami, the very heart of the thistle. The flower of the thistle. Whitney has no place here, nor can he stand between us. He’s nothing to us, honey. Do you have any idea what we are together? What kind of strength we’ll have united? Whitney can never defeat us, or break us. He wanted to create pairs of soldiers to be dropped into enemy territory, carry out missions without aid from the outside, and escape unseen before anyone ever knew they were there. We’re that perfect pair and he never even saw it. He is
not
invincible. He created the GhostWalkers—and you’re one of us, whether he knew it or not. And we’ll be his downfall.”

He knew she loved her family, but how could she ever feel she belonged, with her strange psychic gifts, her tortured past, scarred body, and white hair? Just as he never quite belonged anywhere until he became a GhostWalker.

“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.

CHAPTER 9

K
issing Azami was as close to paradise as he was ever going to get, and Sam allowed himself to get lost in her, but he was a soldier—a GhostWalker—and there was always that part of him that never rested. He felt the whisper of energy rather than heard footsteps, but he knew they were about to have company. Reluctantly he lifted his head and saw the same regretful knowledge in her eyes. He would never have to worry that his woman wouldn’t see danger coming. Her hand had already dropped to the dagger she carried inside the loop of her intricate belt. It was unseen, but he’d felt it the moment he’d pulled her tight against him.

Sam stepped slightly in front of Azami, an instinctive move, not to protect her from danger—he knew by the energy field that Ian McGillicuddy was coming down the hall to check on him. All the members of his team had taken turns dropping in, but he wasn’t certain if she wanted to be seen with him or if she wanted the chance to disappear.

Her hand slid over his bare back, the lightest of touches as she tended to do, but he felt the wave of warmth she poured into his mind.

I am not ashamed of being with you, Sam.

Sam found himself smiling like an idiot as Ian pushed open the door. The Irishman stopped abruptly when he saw Sam standing, his jeans carelessly buttoned, shirt off, exposing his wounded abdomen and bare chest. Sam knew instantly that Ian was aware of Azami by the way he inhaled and frowned, confusion in his eyes.

“You can’t be in here.” Ian stated it as a fact.

Sam sank back onto the bed. He was definitely growing stronger, but standing could be troublesome on shaky legs. The pain of his wound had definitely receded. “Why not?” he asked a little belligerently.

“She can’t; it’s impossible. I was standing guard at her door.” Ian’s gaze met Azami’s. “To protect you of course.”

“Of course, because there are so many enemies creeping around your halls,” Azami said, her voice soft and pleasant, a musical quality lending innocence and sweetness.

Ian’s frown deepened as if he was puzzled. She certainly couldn’t have meant that the way it came out, anyone listening would be certain of it. “Just what are you two doing in here anyway?” he asked, suspicion lending his tone a dark melodrama. He even wiggled his eyebrows like a villain.

Sam kept a straight face with difficulty. Ian was a large man with red hair and freckles. He didn’t look in the least bit mean or threatening, even when he tried.

“Azami was just telling me how when she left her room to inquire after my health, there was a giant man with carroty hair snoring in the hallway beside her door.”

“There was no way to get past me,” Ian insisted.

Sam grinned at him. “Are you saying you
did
fall asleep on the job, then?”

“Hell no.”
Ian scowled at him. “I was wide awake and she didn’t slip past me.”

“You say,” Sam pointed out, his tone mocking as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back casually, pleased he could tease his friend. “Still, she’s here and that proves you were looking the other way or sleeping, just like that time in Indonesia when we parachuted in and you fell asleep on the way down. I believe that time you got tangled in a very large tree right in the center of the enemies’ camp.”

Azami’s lashes fluttered, drawing Sam’s attention. He almost reached out to her, wanting to hold her hand, but she’d mentioned a couple of times she didn’t show affection in public.

“You fell asleep while parachuting?” she asked, clearly uncertain whether or not they were joking.