Kiss Across Blades

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  “How is it possible? If Remi is me, from another world, it means Remi is two centuries old!”

  Neven nodded. “He is. There is a thing…a type of power, which gives some people the gift of longevity if they reach out to take it. It comes at a price, yet Remi chose that path.” He paused. “So did I.”

  “And Lucienne?” Denis’ voice was strained.

  “She is purely human,” Neven assured him. “In part, because she is human and a woman, she is the only one of us who can travel through time. Without her, we cannot return.”

  Denis licked his lips. “I begin to understand the complexities which have been frustrating you. Remi is the way he is not simply because of a different life than mine, but because he has lived so much longer. Yes?”

  “Yes, but that is not all that changed him.”

  “This gift of longevity?” Denis guessed.

  “It is not a gift. No one who choses it thinks of it as a good thing. It is, instead, an alternative to death.”

  “Remi died…” Denis breathed.

  Neven felt a touch of nervousness. He was skirting close to revealing Denis’ own future.

  Denis did not pursue that path, though. He stirred and shifted the conversation. “You and Remi have been together for a long time?”

  “It is a complicated answer,” Neven replied. “Remi was with another version of myself for many years. I have been with him and Lucienne for only a few.”

  “Yet you are as bound to each other as if you were married, yes?”

  “We have a son.”

  Denis’ expression grew warm. Delight touched his face. “Another son!”

  “Jason,” Neven added.

  “A good, strong name,” Denis said approvingly. “How old is he?”

  “He is two and a half.” And Neven waited for the next, obvious question.

  Denis frowned. “That means one of you is not the father…”

  “Remi and I do not make that distinction. We are both Jason’s fathers.” Neven let himself smile. “Jason is fractious and stubborn, especially when he has a tooth coming in. Remi can soothe him at those times, while I merely vex him more.”

  Denis looked pleased. “Jason is yours by blood and Remi’s by practice. It seems…fitting.” He paused. “Reasoning tells me you do not like me very much, either, Neven of the future.”

  Neven held himself still. “Why would you say that?”

  “You are with Remi. Remi is so very different from me. Reason says that if you choose to be with a man like him, you would not choose to be with me…ergo, you do not like me.”

  Neven shook his head. “It isn’t that simple. Even in these last few minutes, my admiration for you has grown. You have an uncommon ability to accept standards and values which do not match your own. You can grasp concepts like time travel and mirror worlds and the far future. For a man of your time, that is a remarkable thing.”

  “Still, I disappoint you because I am not more like him.”

  Neven said as gently as he could, “I must accept your standards and values, too. It is something we learn to adjust to as quickly as possible, when we pass through time.”

  “Remi is not a practiced traveler?” Denis asked dryly.

  Neven laughed. The laugh came from nowhere, surprising him. “He is new to it, yes.”

  Denis grinned, and it was pure Remi, full of devilment. “If he is as stubborn as I, learning might take a while.”

  “He is very stubborn.”

  “If he is me, but from a mirror world, Remi must have fathered Aimée, Edgard and Micheline, in that world. What happened to them? Did they move through time as he has?”

  Neven’s amusement evaporated.

  Denis’ expression sobered. “They did not…” he breathed.

  Despite his better sense screaming at him to stay silent, Neven said, “They died, when they were the age they are now.”

  Denis absorbed the revelation calmly. “That is why he asked to see them as soon as you arrived. Poor Remi,” he said softly. “To have lived that long without them.” He sighed. “Perhaps that is why he prefers instinct to reason. It is easier to ignore one’s feelings, that way.”

  Neven felt the jolt down to his toes.

  London’s thrashing and kicking rolled her onto her back. Stones dug into her flesh through the coat. She barely noticed them, for Carole walked toward her with a long knife in her hand. Her expression was implacable.

  This really was happening. It wasn’t a drill, a scenario set up for her to practice with. It was real. She could die in the next few minutes.

  Calm down. Neven’s voice.

  Consider your options. Remi’s voice.

  London stopped kicking. At the pace Carole was walking across the ten feet which separated them, London had only a few seconds to decide what to do.

  She flexed her arms and legs, testing the ropes. They had no give in them at all. She wouldn’t be able to force them undone or unravel them, not in a few seconds.

  So.

  Do something else.

  What else was there? She was limited by the ropes and time was running out.

  Unbidden, an image popped into her mind. She had never seen Neven’s last moments in the timeline where he had been born. He had described them, though, while lying between her and Remi and shuddering in reaction. He had been tied and submerged in water, and as helpless as she. His time had run out, too. Yet he had jumped out of there.

  Why had she not jumped out of here hours ago?

  Where would she jump to?

  Carole reached London’s feet. London reared back and kicked at her with as much power as she could, to give herself time. Where could she jump to? She didn’t know anywhere in this time and place.

  Although she had closely examined the empty room in the old house.

  London flexed and kicked as Carole reached past her boots with the knife. As she flexed, she reached out mentally for the room, the one place she knew well. Even though she couldn’t jump, she could flex…

  The room formed around her, as cold as before. The window was still locked, the door barred. She was trapped in here. Worse, she was still bound by the ropes.

  London had never been so glad to see such a depressing place before. She relaxed and wept with sheer relief.

  Carole stared at the empty floor, her heart working far too hard.

  “Impossible,” she breathed.

  Yet she had seen it with her own eyes. The whore had been there, bound like a sheep and helpless. Then, abruptly, she was gone.

  Carole thrust her knife into the air where the whore had laid, to see if she had merely made herself invisible.

  The point thrust against the rock floor. The blade bent, threatening to snap in two.

  Carole screamed her frustration, her throat and jaw straining with the expression. She whirled and snatched up her hat and cloak and rammed the knife into the scabbard on her hip. She would not allow this…this insult to lie.

  She would find the witch, kill her where Denis would see it, then kill Denis, too.

  And she knew exactly where the witch would be, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Without going into more detail, Neven told Denis he did not require food and did not wish for company that evening but preferred to wait for Remi’s return.

  Denis opened one of the other doors in the apartment, to reveal a wide bed. “Carole rarely uses it,” he explained. “And you have had a long day. Be welcome.”

  Neven did not bother with even more explanations about his nature. He merely thanked Denis for his thoughtfulness.

  Denis went downstairs to help prepare the early supper his household took and to eat with his children.

  Neven explored the room with some curiosity. It was undeniably a woman’s room, yet bare of many luxuries. A case of books stood in one corner. Neven examined it with interest. What a person kept on their bookshelf was often revealing.

  He was surprised to find a copy of Machiavelli’s The Prince, i
n Italian. That the father of Republicanism would be sitting on the shelf of a stout Royalist was a telling, discordant note. It perhaps explained why Carole had gravitated toward Brusard. A love of power for its own sake, perhaps.

  Neven plucked The Prince from the shelf and settled on the bed to read and wait for Remi. He heard Denis return with the children and the nurse. Heard the children being settled for the night. The nurse turning in herself, then snoring soundly. Denis also retired early and shortly after that, the apartment was still.

  All through the house, Neven could hear the same soft, warm stillness which came from humans sleeping, their lowered body temperatures still warming the surrounding air. He usually waited through nights like this, listening to London sleep beside him.

  The bed seemed empty, now.

  Shortly before midnight, when the full moon was beaming through the window once more, Remi returned. He glided through the door without a sound and moved over to the bed. Peace was in his eyes and a glowing heat which Neven recognized.

  He put the book down. “You fed well,” he judged, his body stirring in response to the heat in Remi’s eyes. Remi would be hot to the touch and almost vibrating with energy…

  Remi climbed onto the bed and moved close to Neven’s side. “I did,” he agreed, his voice low.

  Neven wasn’t sure who kissed who. It didn’t matter, anyway. The decision was mutual. Their mouths met and their tongues tangled. Remi’s heat radiated against Neven, stirring him to a powerful arousal. When Remi tugged at the buttons on his trousers, Neven merely shrugged the jacket off to give him better access.

  Their mouths met again.

  A soft, alarming thump sounded through the wall of the bedroom, coming from the adjoining room, which was Denis’ private sitting room.

  Then a soft groan, in London’s musical voice.

  “London!” Neven said, tearing his mouth from Remi’s.

  Remi leapt to the floor, full of energy, while Neven had to fasten at least one button. They surged from the bedroom and Remi thrust open the door.

  London laid on the floor, trussed in thick ropes. Her eyes fluttered open. “Damn, I made it…” she whispered and closed her eyes once more.

  “Get the ropes off!” Neven hissed, trying to keep his voice down so no one else was disturbed.

  Remi yanked the knife from his boot and dropped to the floor beside London and sawed at the knot against her belly. Neven’s knife sat on the cupboard beside the bed, next door. He tugged at the knot between her ankles, using his full strength to unravel it. The fibers tore and separated, and the rope groaned, then the knot loosened. He pulled it undone and unraveled the yards of rope which had been wound around her legs.

  Both sets of rope thudded softly as they were dumped to one side. Remi lifted London into a sitting position and brushed her hair from her face. Her arms hung uselessly, one hand lifeless on her lap, as Remi peppered her face with kisses, then kissed her properly.

  London tried to raise her hand. Neven could see her make the effort, although her arm barely twitched. She made another soft groan.

  He moved up alongside her and scooped her up. “Leave her be, Remi. She needs to rest.”

  “So tired…” London murmured in confirmation.

  Remi bounded to his feet. “Food!” he declared. “I will find some.” And he raced away.

  Neven carried London into their borrowed room and laid her on the bed. He discovered the layer beneath her dress was ripped. The dress was grubby. The coat was wrinkled and damp.

  He eased the coat from her shoulders and tossed it away. There was no corset to loosen, though.

  Then, because he could not help himself, he settled on the bed beside her, close enough to feel her body heat. He touched her cheek. “You found a way to jump back here. Well done.”

  London’s eyes fluttered open. “It took me hours to find the courage. I couldn’t remember the room. Only the chair…so that’s what I built in my mind.” A tear squeezed from the corner of her eye. “I ache. Everywhere.”

  “I have no doubt.” He stroked her face. “Sleep if you want.”

  Her eyes closed. Her head rolled slackly. She had fallen asleep instantly.

  Neven didn’t mind at all.

  He closed his eyes and let himself experience all the terror and fear he had been suppressing for the last twenty hours. He let it escape and drift away.

  She had come back to them.

  London blinked awake between one moment and the next. There was no slow drift toward awareness. She was awake and alert and knew exactly where she was—lying between Remi and Neven.

  Remi sat up on one elbow in the dark and rested his fingers lightly on her belly. “You’re awake.” He sounded pleased.

  “Yes!” she whispered, matching his soft tone. “And I feel…wonderful!” Her body was tingling with awareness and energy. “I don’t ache anymore.”

  Neven, on her other side, said, “Remi gave you some of his blood. Not enough to turn you. As he has just fed, the blood was more than restorative.” He rolled over on his side to look at her. His smile was small. “A reward for a champion.”

  London laughed and smothered it with her hand. She wanted to protest that she wasn’t a champion. She had fumbled through the last day, when anyone with a bit more sense and experience would have figured out to jump her way out of trouble at the first opportunity. Only, she had got herself out of trouble. Remi and Neven hadn’t had to come to find her and get her out.

  She had survived. Veris would be pleased.

  Remi and Neven certainly looked pleased.

  London sat up—and didn’t have to use her hands to lift herself up, either. She was brimming with strength. Tingling with it. “God, I feel so great!” She realized she was naked when the covers flopped onto her legs and she sensed the coolness of the room. And she was clean.

  Her cheeks heated. “You bathed me?” she breathed.

  Remi’s smile was heated. “We took care of you. What were we supposed to do, my love? Put you into a clean bed covered in mud and heaven knows what?”

  London pushed the covers aside with her knees and then her feet. “Good. It will save time. Come here.” She knelt on the sheet and gripped the front of Neven’s shirt and hauled on it. She felt as though she might, with a bit more effort, actually lift him up from the mattress. Was this how vampires always felt? As if they could nudge the globe itself out of orbit if they really wanted to?

  Neven helped her by swinging his legs around and rising to his knees, so he was facing her. His eyes narrowed. “And what do you have in mind, hmm?”

  London kissed him, giving him her full concentration, pouring all of her energy and will into the kiss.

  Then she turned and gripped Remi’s shirt and tried to haul him up to her level, too. It was taking too long. She bent and kissed him while still bringing him up on his knees.

  He chuckled as she kissed him, a breathy sound which ended in a soft groan, as she tried to express the feelings whooshing through her right then. She was on fire, her nerves crackling with potential.

  Neven didn’t wait for her to turn back to him. He slid his hands around her, one on her belly, one on the back of her hips. That hand swiftly slipped down to cup her buttocks. His fingers teased the valley between them, making nerves hiss with pleasure.

  London gave a little gasp, releasing Remi’s mouth. He also didn’t wait. He shuffled toward her. His hand tangled with Neven’s on her belly, while the other stroked her back, down low along the curve beneath her waist, where she was very sensitive.

  They seemed to understand her impatience and her need. Remi’s hand swept up to her breast and his fingers circled it, leaving the nipple starkly erect and aching for his touch.

  And in response, the flesh between her thighs heated and throbbed.

  London let her head roll back and just enjoyed the attention. It wasn’t nearly enough, although it was delightful, all the same. She let them stroke and tease, never touching anything vital
, not her nipples nor her nether regions. It was a teasing of a different sort. She withstood it only for a few minutes, the tingling in her body growing by degrees until she was shuddering with the need to be touched properly.

  Rather than ask, London took direct action. She pulled Neven’s voluminous linen shirt from his trousers, then up and over his head. He shrugged off the shirt quickly, so he could return his hands to her body.

  London didn’t give him the chance. She swiftly unbuttoned the buttons on one side of his trousers and let the front flap fall aside. The trousers sank around his hips. He was naked beneath and his cock peeped above the opening, the tip already dark with blood, flaring and throbbing.

  London stroked the tip with her finger, making Neven hiss at the touch. His hand paused in its stroking.

  Smiling, she turned her attention to Remi and did the same to him. First, the shirt, then the buttons. She pushed the trousers down his hips until his cock jutted forward, thick and rigid. She gave the shaft a single swipe with her finger, letting her fingertip trip over the head with a light touch.

  “Your turn,” she told them. Her voice was low and thick with lust.

  Neven’s gaze shifted to Remi. Remi swore. “We’re being played.” He looked at her. “That’s not now this goes.”

  London smiled. “No? It’s how it is going right now.”

  “Right,” Neven said, his tone determined. He jumped off the high bed and tore off the rest of his clothes. “Turnabout is fair play. Remi, move your ass. Let’s show her what happens when she teases.”

  “Because you can tease and I cannot?” London asked sweetly, as Remi also stepped to the floor and stripped furiously.

  Both of them returned to the bed, all flesh and muscle and heated intention.

  London shivered as they kneeled beside her once more.

  “You’d best hold on to something, my sweet.” Remi’s voice was dangerous low.

  London barely had time to reach back and grasp the top of the bed frame before they attacked in concert. Four hands played a melody upon her body. They were everywhere at once, it seemed. And this time neither man gently teased. They squeezed and tugged at her nipples, caressed the curves of each breast and slid down to tease the fold of flesh at the top of her thighs, where her nerves always rippled and made her shudder. The base of her belly, where the skin was so very sensitive. And lower still, all the way down to her knees, where they rested against the sheet.