Kiss Across Worlds (Kiss Across Time Book 7)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Remi smiled. “Oh, but you are Kristijan.”

  “I don’t fuck men.”

  “Not yet.” Remi wasn’t trying to move his hand at all. His smile didn’t change, either. He was sure of himself.

  “Most likely not ever,” Neven corrected. “I don’t find this arousing.” Which was true.

  “That’s because you’re human and your thinking is channeled. Kristijan thought as you did, once. He thought pleasure was a preset response.”

  Neven’s heart was thudding. “You’re going to shove this down my throat whether I wish it or not? There’s a name for that.”

  Remi tugged at his hand. “Can I have my wrist back for a moment? Don’t worry, your virgin ass is safe for now.”

  Neven let him go. Remi tossed back the covers, which let Neven confirm that he was, indeed, naked. His cock was semi-firm, laying against his hip. It was thick, even in that partially flaccid state.

  Remi’s gaze wandered over Neven’s exposed body. “You’re exactly like him,” he murmured. “Only, not so fresh. There’s experience in your face, that was missing in his…” He touched Neven’s cheek and slid his finger down to his jaw. “The stories those years and experiences tell…it’s compelling.”

  Neven did not react to Remi’s touch, although his heart stirred as he watched Remi examine him. If Remi and Kristijan had been lovers for decades, then what was it doing to Remi now to lie next to someone who looked so exactly alike and be told he could not touch him?

  “I’m sorry,” Neven said, keeping his voice gentle. “I know this must be hard for you. I feel nothing.”

  Remi’s jaw flexed. “You’re either lying, or ignorant,” he said heavily.

  “I’m not lying.”

  Remi nodded. “You wouldn’t lie. Not you.” He pressed down on Neven’s shoulder, pinning him to the mattress, bent over him and kissed him. It was a fast movement, designed to catch Neven by surprise and it worked.

  Neven sucked in a quick breath as Remi’s lips pressed against him. He tried to flex upward and dislodge Remi, only the vampire was too strong. He was heavy, too, his body holding down Neven’s other shoulder.

  Neven had learned it was useless trying to out-fight a vampire. Even the weakest of them was far stronger than he could ever aspire to be as a human. It was pointless fighting Remi. He grew still and waited until Remi let him go.

  Remi lifted his mouth from Neven’s. “You don’t resist me.”

  “You like to force the issue, then?”

  Remi smiled. “I like it any way you want, if you’re the one I’m doing it to.” He trailed his hand down Neven’s chest, his knuckles tracing a line from his shoulder to his belly. He turned his hand over and drew his fingers over Neven’s stomach, low down.

  “And if I don’t like it?” Neven asked.

  “You do. You just won’t admit it for some reason that must be mired in your human state.” His fingers moved lower and Neven’s muscles quivered under the touch. “See?” Remi added, sounding pleased.

  “A breeze could cause that same reaction,” Neven pointed out. “I’m sensitive there.”

  “I know.” Remi stroked his flesh, following the line from his hip to the crease of his leg. Neven’s nerves zapped and tingled in response. He was very sensitive there and he could feel his balls growing heavier and heated. He was responding, anyway. Damn it, Remi was going to pull a reaction out of him no matter what he said.

  Neven closed his eyes. “Just hurry up, will you? I want to sleep.”

  “Oh, no…I have no intention of hurrying,” Remi said. His voice was thick, almost hoarse.

  Neven cracked one eye open.

  The look on Remi’s face was astonishing. It was a mix of hedonistic pleasure and an intense emotion that Neven couldn’t name, except that pain was part of it. It wasn’t purely pain. Sadness was tearing through the man.

  Neven forgot what Remi was trying to do to him. He stared at his face, trying to understand, instead.

  When Remi’s hand curled around his stiffening cock, Neven barely felt any shock. Nor distaste. Remi had thought him homophobic. It wasn’t why he felt no desire for the man, though. He had never been aroused by a male before, despite witnessing many male-male relationships that proved they could be rich and rewarding.

  Only, Remi was demonstrating that Neven could be stirred.

  Neven closed his eyes again. His arousal was building…of course it was, for his cock was being stroked in the most expert and knowing fashion. Kristijan had clearly enjoyed slow, hard strokes, too, for Remi was letting the side of his hand tug at the head of Neven’s cock with each tight movement.

  Neven heard himself groan.

  “Yes. Come for me,” Remi whispered, as he increased the speed of his hand.

  Neven gripped the edge of the bed, squeezing it. It was too late to stop this, even if he had the willpower to do so. His climax gathered and leapt.

  As he stiffened with the power of it, Remi bit him. The silvery spike of pain in Neven’s neck was almost immediately wiped away by a wave of pleasure so intense, it stole his thoughts, his hearing and his sight, while his heart seemed to hang suspended upon the pleasure, like a boat upon stormy seas.

  He could feel his back lifting off the sheet as his hips jerked in frantic response. He had heard of the power of vampire bites, before. This was the first time he’d experienced it for himself. Only a little more of this powerful sweetness and he thought the top of his head might explode with the pressure.

  Everything throbbed, even his eyes.

  Neven struggled to recover his ragged breath and restore his senses. He grew aware of Remi, still lying next to him. He wore a pleased expression.

  “You never bit Kristijan, did you?” Neven asked him, his voice raw.

  The pleasure in Remi’s eyes faded. He drew back.

  “You know exactly who I am. You aren’t confused. You know I am not your lover,” Neven concluded. “Get out of my bed.”

  Remi scowled. “This is my bed, too.”

  “You don’t need it. I do, because I am not Kristijan. Go on. Get out.” Neven pushed at him. Remi was stronger—much stronger—yet he weighed about the same as any grown man, human or vampire. Neven had more than enough strength to move that much mass around. He shoved. Hard.

  Remi slid across the silky sheets and just barely got his feet around in time to hit the floor, before he spilled over the edge. He stood, glaring.

  “Lock the door behind you,” Neven told him, reaching for the sheet and pulling it up over him. He turned over, deliberately putting his back to Remi.

  The vampire stood for a long moment, saying nothing. Neven kept his eyes closed and remained still. Despite that, Remi could probably hear his heart was still racing and his breath was still too fast.

  Remi left. Neven heard the door shut quietly and after a second, the lock turn.

  He reached out and turned off the bedside lamp and let the dark take him. Even so, it was still long while before he fell asleep. His body felt used and depleted, yet his mind was now a wild beast, exploding with thoughts and worries and speculation.

  Remi would not orchestrate such a physical victory over him again, he decided. He might have forced a response from Neven this time, yet every instinct he had said that to give in again would be setting up a habit that it would be next to impossible to retract, later.

  Despite the decision, he recalled the pure power of his climax, threaded with vampire aphrodisiac and the touch of Remi’s hand on his cock—it had felt just like the hand of a familiar lover.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gathering around the firepit to roast anything that could be held on a stick had become a favorite family activity, to the point where everyone assumed that Sunday night would be spent that way.

  Marit found herself sitting on the brick shelf just after sundown, with no clear memory of having decided she would attend. Such was the power of habit. Only, this was not the standard gathering. Usually firepit evenings were noisy, r
elaxing and fun. Tonight was not.

  The brick bench built into the side of the slope in the lawn where it ran down to the beach was a deep U shape, nearly a full circle, surrounding the firepit. In summer, curved cushions made to fit the bench protected the back of knees from the rough edges of the bricks. As the year cooled down, the cushions were stored for the winter. Everyone brought a cushion with them from the house, instead.

  Marit had brought the cushion from the rocking chair in the corner of the kitchen. Alannah had a pillow that usually lived on her bed. Brody had swept up all three cushions from one of the sofas in the family room and he, Veris and Taylor were using them.

  A space existed between Brody’s left flank and where Alannah sat. It wasn’t big enough for another person. Alannah clearly couldn’t bring herself to sit any closer, because that wasn’t where she usually sat. Aran always sat between Brody and Alan.

  The not-quite-closed space was a silent shout. Marit found her gaze pulled back there, as her tongue would continue to explore a hole in her teeth because it felt strange. The reminder of Aran extinguished any hope of enjoying the evening.

  Marit stared at the flames and didn’t try to contribute to the desultory conversation. She didn’t have the heart to put together witty comebacks.

  It seemed that no one else did, either, for the conversation kept stuttering into silence, that the crackle and pop of the fire only partially hid.

  Her mother stirred, pulling her cardigan in around her more firmly, although it was too mild a night for a vampire to notice any chill at all. Brody and Veris were in shirt sleeves. Far was wearing the sleeveless shirt he preferred and the leather pants that looked almost as old and scuffed as he. He was scowling at the fire, his arms crossed, as he leaned back against the solid brick wall behind him.

  “Why can’t we just jump over and get him?” Taylor asked. She said it as if she was continuing a conversation, except no one had breathed Aran’s name since Alan had lit the fire. In fact, no one had spoken about Aran since Neven had gone back to Serbia.

  Despite that, none of them sitting around the fire looked puzzled by her mother’s question. It was as if everyone had been following the unspoken conversation up to this point with perfect understanding.

  “Because of the timeline,” Veris said. His tone had no inflection in it at all. It was as if his argument was purely theoretical.

  “Yet you’re trying to change the timeline anyway,” Alan pointed out. “Why would jumping there and taking him make any difference?”

  “You have to ask that?” Veris said, turning his head to look at her behind Brody’s back, for Brody was leaning forward, his forearms on his knees, a pensive look on his face, lit by the orange flames, that made his eyes black shadows. “We’re talking about a single change, a pivotal one. That’s all. If we shit all over the timeline because it is expendable, the gods only know what the consequences would be.”

  “Aran understands that, too,” Brody said, also glancing at her. “He knows we can’t just rescue him.”

  “If you didn’t know the future, if you didn’t know what was at stake, that’s exactly what you would do,” Taylor said. “We all would break our necks getting him back, so what difference does it make?”

  Neither of her fathers said anything. Veris let out a breath that made his chest rise and fall heavily.

  Taylor thudded her fist against her knee. “I want my son back!”

  Veris sat up and picked up Taylor’s hand. He held it in both of his. “I know,” he said softly. “So does Neven. You saw how he’s driving himself to make that happen. We’re doing everything we can for now.”

  “We’re waiting,” Alan said. “That’s not doing anything.”

  “You know it’s not that simple, ‘lanna,” Athair said quietly. “I want him back, too. Only, I know that rushing in there and loping off heads to get to him—as good as that would feel—it wouldn’t help. It might make things much, much worse.”

  “But—”

  “No,” Brody said shortly. Flatly. “No buts.” He reached and picked up Alannah’s elbow. “Come here. C’mon.” He gripped the pillow and pulled her around closer to him. The pillow dragged and Marit heard fabric snag against the bricks and tear.

  Athair put his arm around Alan and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Ask Marit about time loops, honey. She’ll explain that you don’t want to suffer through a bad one. They’re not fun at all.”

  Marit flinched. She knew exactly what time loop Brody was thinking about. “I watched Mom kill herself,” she said quietly. “I got to see it twice.”

  Alannah sighed.

  “It’s Aran who is out there, though,” Taylor said, her voice strained. “We just sit and wait, even for him?”

  Veris shook her hand. “Very well,” he said softly. “Let’s go and get him. Where, exactly, should we go?”

  Taylor pressed her lips together and didn’t answer.

  “There are no bookmarks, are there?” Veris said. He sounded wise and tired, at the same time. “Marit?”

  Marit didn’t reach out to sample the timescape. She already knew the answer. “There is nothing. Not even a microblip. The three of you stay right here.”

  “See?” Veris said. He didn’t sound even a little bit happy that he had been correct.

  Marit took in a breath that seemed to sear its way down to her lungs. It made her tremble. “I didn’t look at my timelines, though,” she said slowly.

  “You mean, you could go and get him?” Alan breathed, happiness make her eyes glow.

  “Why not?” Marit asked. “It’s not like Mom and Far and Athair have to solve everything themselves. We’re both taller than Mom now—”

  “You will not move from this house, do you hear me?” Veris shouted, as Brody growled a wordless denial and her mother covered her mouth with her hand.

  Veris let go of Taylor and got to his feet. Marit wondered if he was trying to intimidate her with his height and breadth. His oldest instincts tended to surge to the surface when he was upset.

  And he was upset. He flexed and tightened his fingers into fists, over and over, making the muscles in his arms work hard. “Give me your word,” he said, his voice low. “Neither of you will try to do anything to get Aran back. Promise me.”

  Marit shifted her gaze around the three of them, then to Alannah’s white face and the raw hope in her eyes. She looked at Veris, knowing he was the one she needed to convince. “I won’t jump to Serbia to look for Aran,” she said, making each word clear.

  “You promise your father,” Taylor said urgently. “Say it.” She was trembling, her eyes huge.

  Marit nodded. “I promise,” she said softly.

  Veris sat down again and pulled Taylor into his arms. He was breathing hard.

  Brody wouldn’t stop staring at her and because his eyes were in shadows, she couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking.

  Marit tried to look as troubled and upset as Alan and her mother did. She tried to pretend that her helplessness was driving her just as mad as it was everyone else, so that Brody would stop watching her.

  Was he suspicious, after all?

  * * * * *

  Breakfast was an afterthought in a house with two vampires and no humans to cater to on a regular basis. Neven found himself in the neat, pristine kitchen the next morning, not long after dawn, scrabbling in cupboards and the big industrial fridge, looking for something to eat.

  As the few humans in Veris’, Brody’s and Taylor’s house tended to scavenge as they needed calories, too, it almost felt normal to be putting together a meal with whatever he found that was edible.

  This morning, it would be an vegetable omelet and toast, all washed down with plenty of coffee. He needed the caffeine. His sleep had been broken and fitful. He had dozed after kicking Remi out. In between, his thoughts had circled around and around the problem of finding Aran. Where the hell was the siding that Remi had mentioned? And how could he get a retinue of the hardest men
in Eastern Europe and a whole village that depended upon them to agree to dismantle a deal that would set everyone up for life? He couldn’t bulldoze everyone into agreeing. He couldn’t break the deal without their cooperation—for leaders had been murdered for less. He knew himself well enough to know he could never force anyone to do something they didn’t want to do. Extortion was Kristijan’s specialty, not his.

  As dawn was beginning in the east, the mess of thoughts and drifting sub-conscious meanderings of his mind coupled up in a way that had made him roll onto his back and draw in a sharp breath, fully awake, as he considered the wild idea that had occurred to him.

  That was why he was in the kitchen at dawn, mulling over the middle-of-the-night idea to see if it looked as insane by light of day.

  He needed base figures. He needed to work things out. He needed a computer. Only one computer existed in the house, that he was aware of. It was in Kristijan’s big office.

  He took his coffee through to the office and paused just inside the door, for Remi was sitting at the desk, with a mess of papers in front of him, a pencil in his hand and a frown pulling his brows together.

  “This is where you spend your nights, then?” Neven asked, ignoring the little jump in his pulse.

  Remi’s frown didn’t shift. “I normally spend my nights fucking Kristijan. As you won’t sully yourself with the touch of a vampire and a man, I’m forced to sit here, instead.”

  Neven ignored the jibe. He didn’t have time to be drawn into useless debates about his scruples and preferences. “It looks as though you have most of the data I need right there on the desk already. That will speed things up.”

  Remi looked down at the wide desktop, with its paper confetti. “There’s not much that will kill a vampire. Keeping two sets of books must surely be one of them.”

  Neven raised a brow, as he headed over to the side desk where a recent model computer sat and fired it up. “I guess that official and unofficial bookkeeping is part of the life, isn’t it? I prefer to sleep at night.”

  “You didn’t do much of that last night, though, did you?” Remi said.