CHRISTINE FEEHAN PREDATORY GAME PDF

The reigning queen of paranormal romance”(Publishers Weekly) returns to the world of the Ghostwalkers, men and women invisible to their enemies. Read “Predatory Game” by Christine Feehan with Rakuten Kobo. “The reigning queen of paranormal romance”(Publishers Weekly) returns to the world of the. Read Predatory Game read free novels online from your Mobile, Pc. Predatory Game is a Fantasy novel by Christine Feehan.

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What Jess senses in Saber is a kindred spirit, a lost soul desperate for sanctuary. He offers her a home, job, and a haven where she can safely reveal the secrets that shadow her. But danger follows her, too. Now, the riddles of both their pasts are about to collide, shattering the promise of their future with the ultimate betrayal. He appears to be making a new life for himself, writing songs and living quietly. He does his physical therapy and looks innocent and gentle in his wheel chair.

Saber Winter answers an ad for the radio station, the perfect night job for someone on the run. She gets a lucky break renting the upstairs of radio station owner Jess Calhoun’s, home where she can work also as a part time housekeeper.

He spends most of his time locked in his private, off-limits office or doing physical therapy. She’s small and fragile looking, almost child-like and appears in need of protection.

Ghostwalker series

Who would ever suspect that two deadly predators live side by side in the same house? February 26, Number of Pages: Chapter 1 jump down below Chapter 1 The lights from oncoming cars hurt his eyes and seemed to pierce right through his skull, stabbing at his brain until he wanted to scream. He quickly tuned feean radio station until the soft, sexy voice of the Night Siren flooded the car.

It was taped, but it helped. His vision tunneled, so that everything took on a dream-like quality. Buildings flashed by, cars appeared as streaks of light rather than solid matter.

Throwing an impatient glance at the whore seated beside him, he felt the terrible pounding in his head that had just begun to ease, return. In the dark she looked a little like the woman he needed. If she kept her mouth shut, he could pretend. Tempted to tell her she was going to hell very soon, he forced a slight smile instead.

What difference does it make if we drive around for a little bit? He slapped at her hand. He kept his eye on the car he was following. He knew what he had to do. He had a job and he was damned good at it. The whore was such a good cover, and gave him such an anticipation of the pleasure to come later. Damn Whitney for his interference. The doctor had threatened to send someone else again. The Doctor thought he was so superior, so intelligent and was worried— worried —about the situation deteriorating.

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What a crock of bullshit. There was no situation, nothing was deteriorating. He could handle surveillance on a GhostWalker any day of the week. Whitney thought his precious GhostWalkers were super soldiers to be revered. GhostWalkers were genetic mutations, aberrations, abominations, not the fucking miracles Whitney purported them to be. The entire lot of them should be wiped from the face of the earth, and he was the man to do it.

They were government experiments that should have been scrapped long before they were ever let loose on the world. He saw himself as the guardian, the lone man standing between the mutants and the humans. He should be revered. What do I call you? He wanted to slap the little whore. To pound his fists into her face until there was nothing there but bloody pulp. To take her head between his hands and hear a satisfying crack just to shut her up, but that was for later. If she kept her mouth shut he could fantasize that she was the Night Siren.

He just had to get rid of the GhostWalkers once and for all. He had other plans for her. Let her just go to work on him while he took care of business. It would keep her mouth and hands occupied. He could look at her skin and hair and everything would be all right. It was going to be a long night tonight and at least he could look forward to later. He pulled over as well and waited while the whore worked on him, the rush beginning to flood his veins like a drug.

One dark eyebrow shot up in disbelief. One hundred and fifty dollars, not that I have any idea what you spent it on. Your favorite restaurant is a truck stop.

Unusual eyes, beautiful and haunting.

He had noticed her voice first—on the radio—the Night Siren—everyone called her. It seemed a husky whisper of pure sensual promise.

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She looked so innocent, and the combination of sexy and innocent was just too hard to resist. But she was proving to be difficult and damn it all, what did she really have to brag about? She was skinny, looking like a lost waif, nothing to be all haughty and uptight about. In fact, she should be grateful for his attention. As far as he predatoory concerned, she was nothing but a tease. She shrugged in a curiously feminine gesture. She needed a real man to put her in her place—and he was just the man to do it.

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Saber forced a smile. She had nothing to lose—well almost nothing.

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Usually by now he was doing predattory lot of touching, loving watching the woman squirm. Loving the power he had over them. He expected her to cry and plead for him not to leave her there, but instead, perfect little white teeth gleamed at him like bright pearls, making his stomach clench. Crhistine looked so smug Saber wanted to slap his boyish good looks.

Fury swept through him. He leaned out to warn her. Not a good idea to stay here. Sex with a scrawny thing like you is no Fourth of July. She talked down to him like a princess to a peasant and made him feel like preatory under her shoe. Worst jerk you ever dated. He had no idea who—or what he was dealing with. He thought he could force her into sleeping with him, by threatening to dump her in a bad part of town?

She wondered if his plan actually had worked for him before. The idea made her fingers itch to get at him. She held onto her cool and stared him down. Swearing furiously, Larry revved the motor cchristine, laying a trail of rubber, screeched away, leaving her standing in the middle of an empty street. Saber stamped her foot, as she glared at the disappearing tail lights.

Weary ffehan death of pretending. She was never going to fit in, not in a million years. Raking a hand through the mass of thick, blue-black hair curls spilling in unruly confusion around her face, she took a long, slow look around. Drawing a deep breath, she muttered under her breath. There are probably rats down here. This is not good, Saber, not good at all.

You should have kicked the hell out of him and stolen his car. Next time, if there ever was a next time that she was stupid enough to go on a date, she would take her own car and she would do the dumping. A forty-five minute wait for a cab.

Bravado would only carry so far. She was not going to wait forty-five minutes in the dark surrounded by rats. How incompetent of the taxi service not to have planned their resources better. Saber kicked the side of the booth and nearly broke her toes. Howling, jumping around like an idiot, she vowed eternal revenge on Larry. She should have stayed in the car and faced him down instead of letting him drive off. He was a worm crawling his way across the earth, but he was no monster.