“Not for long,” Neven promised her and bent and sucked her breast into his mouth.
London inhaled sharply, her hips rising automatically. The heel of his hand pressed down on them, his fingers sliding between her pussy lips, to tease her clit with little strokes and touches.
She could not stay still with that sort of stimulation. London gripped the rock harder, writhing.
Neven let her breast go, then moved down her body and settled between her legs, casually separating her thighs and holding them far apart.
London’s heart seemed to halt in its tracks. No, I don’t do that… The protest was there on her lips. She had no chance to make it. Neven bent his head and fastened his mouth on her cleft. His tongue probed, nudging her clit.
London groaned, the sound pulling from deep in her belly. She panted as the pleasure gripped her and squeezed. She couldn’t lie still. It was too sweet. Too delightful.
Neven merely held down her hips and renewed his attack.
Ripples of building pleasure rolled through her, making her writhe. His mouth and his tongue, even his teeth, were orchestrating a medley on her clit. She could feel her orgasm gather. It was a light, silvery thing, about all her body could gather after two such powerful climaxes.
Then Neven pushed his fingers deep inside her pussy, to stroke and tease the channel.
Another pushed into her ass, stretching the muscle.
The sensation of fullness was unexpected and profoundly good. London’s breath hitched and hitched again. Then she came with a scream that seemed to echo off the walls of the cave. The climax was no minor thing. It ground through her with the power of a volcano, shredding every nerve she had.
Her body twitched and her breath bellowed for long minutes after it had passed and she could barely open her eyes as Neven settled next to her, although she could see the pleasure in his eyes and the contented smile.
“I think I forgot how to walk,” London breathed.
“I know what that is like,” Neven said. “The first time you made me come, I thought I had gone blind.”
London looked at him. “It’s so strange, hearing you talk about me in the past tense like that.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he replied. “You’re a jumper.”
She let out a heavy breath. “It’s more than just the jumping, isn’t it?”
“A lot more. It changes you. You will never quite fit into the world the way you used to.” Neven sounded apologetic.
London smiled at him. “Oh, I don’t think that’s nearly the bother you think it is. I never have fit in properly. Not since my parents died. I thought, for a while, with Kristijan…” She shrugged. “Perhaps he was just the overture.”
“If you hadn’t met him, you would not have met me. Everything is connected.” Neven stroked her cheek. “Tired?”
“No. I’m still not sure I can move, yet.” She unclenched her hands from the top of the rock and flexed them.
“There’s no rush. We can take all the time we want here. We just have to return to the moment we left, so that our subjective timeline isn’t interrupted.”
“How do you keep it straight in your head? Do you even know what time we left?”
“There will be a bookmark.” Neven frowned. “You just get used to it. To taking note. To remembering.”
“You’ve been doing this a long while.”
“Since I was eighteen.” He smiled.
London rolled her eyes. “Of course. I taught you when you were eighteen.” It didn’t sound nearly as strange, saying it herself.
His smile broadened, showing his white, even teeth. His eyes danced. “Lessons I have never forgotten.”
“I don’t think I will ever forget, either. They have a way of sticking in the mind, don’t they? Egyptian pyramids, drama and more.”
Neven let his fingers trail over her belly, not quite stroking. “We could sleep here, if you feel the need. I’ve slept here once or twice and it is a restful sleep, with the sound of the waves putting you to sleep. There might not be much chance for peaceful sleep when we get back.” His smile faded.
London sat up. “What is going on with you and Remi?” she asked. “Why do you have to be Kristijan?”
Neven sat up, too. All the good cheer had fled from his face. “You don’t want to know.”
“Kristijan used to tell me that all the time,” she said, as coldness settled in her belly.
“You must trust me in this,” Neven said. “You don’t want to know.”
She opened her mouth to protest and he kissed her, stealing her breath and her words. He held her face in his hands, making her look into his eyes. “When Kristijan told you what he was, what his business was, how did you feel?”
She swallowed. “Sick. Humiliated. A fool.”
He nodded. “That is why I won’t share this with you.”
Horror touched her. “Are you…carrying on his business dealings, Neven?”
His hands dropped from her face. “No!” he breathed. His shock was genuine, she was sure of it. It let her relax. A little.
“If you must know, I’m trying to end one of his projects,” he said. He looked down at his hands. “Remi has convinced me it is not as simple as merely pulling a plug or flicking a switch. There are people who will object to losing their profits from the venture. We have to find a way to close everything up without annoying them.”
London swallowed. “I know the circles that Kristijan moved in. It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
Neven sighed. “It could be. Only, for some inexplicable reason that Remi is keeping to himself, he is helping. He says he is undecided about whether closing it down is a good idea or not. In the meantime, he is not trying to stop me.”
London picked up his hand. “Would you mind…could we go back now? I’ve grown uneasy. I can barely sit still. I feel as if we’ve been away too long already.”
“We haven’t been away for any time at all,” Neven said. He got up and climbed carefully down to the pool. “If you want to go back, we can. There’s always later.” His smile was quick, as he glanced at her.
London could get used to his low grade type of teasing. It was far more subtle and gentle than Remi’s wholesale fusillades across the bows. Kristijan had never teased like this.
London swallowed, her eyes stinging.
Kristijan had never teased. He had never laughed with her. All the little intimacies that she had assumed a couple would develop—the running jokes, the things that just went without saying, the comfort and familiarity of being two against the world, none of those things had she experienced with Kristijan.
And now, Neven was teasing her.
“Everything okay?” he called up to her.
She drew in a breath. Let it out. “Fine,” she said softly and eased her way down the rock.
* * * * *
“When you’re timing it, to keep your personal timeline intact, you have to return to the exact spot from where you left and a bare heart beat later,” Neven told her as they finished dressing. “It takes practice, although I know you’ll figure out how to do it, because you were far more sensitive to the timescape than I am.”
“I didn’t teach you how to keep your timeline intact?” she asked, as she brushed the sand off her feet and put on her shoes.
“You only gave me the basics and taught me how to not get myself slaughtered back in history for knowing too much. I have…” Neven paused from shaking out his coat, frowning. “I’ve added to the repertoire,” he said.
“I think you’re being modest,” London told him. “I think you’ve found more ways to play with time than anyone else who can jump.”
“Possibly,” he said cautiously. “I’ve certainly survived longer than most jumpers. I would like to make sure a lot more of them survive longer than me. Including you.” He shrugged into the coat. “Ready?” he asked. “I don’t want to wear this coat here for longer than I have to. I’m already breaking into a sweat.”
“Can
’t you carry it?” London asked, as she moved over the sand to where he stood.
He wrapped his arm around her. “You go back the way you came. Minimal interruptions, remember?” He jumped.
London could see/feel the timescape this time. She could feel Neven’s delicate searching, looking for exactly the right moment to reinsert them back into the timeline. She waited passively, then felt the ahh… in his mind and the tug down towards reality.
She blinked as the dull, cold day formed around them. Neven’s arm loosened. He sniffed. “Smells like rain,” he said absently, looking around. They were atop the chopping stump, again.
As he spoke, the sky rumbled and the rain begun with the suddenness of a summer storm.
London yelped and leapt down from the stump. Neven caught her hand and pulled her towards the house, his longer legs covering the ground more quickly than she could. Even so, they were damp by the time they clattered into the kitchen, dripping raindrops everywhere.
London pulled her hair out of her eyes. “So much for keeping our clothes dry,” she said softly.
Neven laughed.
“Good, you’re back inside,” Remi said shortly. “We have a visitor, asking for Kristijan and I don’t think she should be kept waiting.”
“Who is it?” Neven asked, pulling the coat off and shaking it out.
Remi’s face was expressionless. “Sofiya Sorokin,” he said shortly.
“Who?” London asked.
Remi was looking at Neven. “Usenko’s first lieutenant,” he said flatly. “Someone ratted us out.”
Chapter Nineteen
Brody found Veris standing at the window. He could have banked money on Veris being there. He had barely moved away from the living room since Elle had told them Aran had been taken.
Taylor was stretched out on the sofa, her hands on her belly and her eyes closed. She wouldn’t be sleeping, of course, although she had learned to meditate—as much as a vampire could meditate—and it helped restore calm.
Brody gripped Veris’ shoulder and turned him. He kept his voice down. “When was the last time you remember seeing Marit or Alannah?”
Veris drew in a big breath and let it out. “Last night, around sunset. Alannah was clattering around. I don’t remember what she was doing. Why?”
“They’re not in their beds. They’re not asleep.”
Veris glanced at Taylor, then back at Brody. “It could be nothing…” he said slowly. Yet he scrubbed at his hair and said, “Alannah was upset about Aran.”
“Marit offered to try and find him, remember?” Brody said. “We shut her down, but if the two of them talked it over, they might have psyched each other into…God knows what.”
Veris squeezed his temples with one hand. “Jesus wept,” he breathed. “She said I promise I won’t jump.” Fear was in his eyes. “I, Brody. She learned law from you. If she and Alannah went looking for him, it wouldn’t be ‘I’, it would be ‘we’.”
Brody flexed and tightened his hands as the fear he could see in Veris’ eyes gripped him. “They have no idea what they’re dealing with. They could… Christ, Veris, they could be anywhere and we have no idea how to find them.”
“They know very well what they’re dealing with,” Taylor said, behind them.
Brody whirled. They had raised their voices too high. “Taylor, we’ll get them back. Somehow.” It was a hollow promise, because right now, he could barely think beyond the progression of steadily more horrifying images in his mind—every asshole and monster throughout history, using his kids for their amusement. He closed his eyes. “Fuck!” he whispered, his heart thudding along unhappily.
“Can you see them on the timescape, Taylor?” Veris asked. His tone was nearly pleading. “Tell me there’s a bookmark for them.”
“I’ve already checked,” Taylor said calmly. Her face was perfectly still. “There’s nothing. Which means I do not go looking for them.” She slid her hands under their elbows, while Brody stared at her, astonished. “They’re both smart. Smarter than us. Marit has been tripping through time since she could toddle, Veris. In all those years she didn’t come to harm. She learned the lessons early. We’ve all been training Alan and Aran since they learned they could jump, too.”
Veris’ face clouded over. “You’re suggesting we do nothing?” he asked, his voice low.
Brody knew that tone. Veris was ready to explode.
“Of course not,” Taylor told him, giving him one of her beautiful smiles, the one that looked as though she was putting her whole heart into it. “I am saying that we continue to work as we have, coordinating Neven and helping him from that end. I don’t know why the girls thought they could do better than us. Maybe Marit did have a bookmark she didn’t share with us because you both panicked at the mention of her even looking for one. Now they’ve decided to look by themselves. We have to let them do that and trust that our training and their experience gets them through.”
“Just…sit here?” Brody breathed, floored.
“There is nothing else we can do,” Taylor said calmly. “They’re beyond our help right now. We can be here for when they do need us, though.”
Veris closed his eyes. “I don’t think I can do that,” he said, his voice strained.
It wasn’t in Veris’ nature to sit and do nothing. The idea didn’t fit any better with Brody, either. “I’ll go mad, just waiting,” Brody admitted.
“Send a text to Neven,” Taylor told them both. “If Marit and Alan do find Aran, then he will be in the best position to help them.” She stretched. “I’m going to take a shower,” she declared.
Brody watched her walk up the stairs, a stew of emotions roiling through him. He glanced at Veris. “How does she do that?” he asked.
Veris shook his head. “It has to be a mother thing.”
Brody considered. “Mothers are protective. No matter what. I think it’s a Taylor thing. She knows exactly how capable our kids are and she’s trusting them.” He raised a brow. “Maybe we should do the same?”
Veris growled. It was one of his angry rumbles. “I’ll trust them until they get their asses back here. Then I’m going to…” He shook his head. “I’ll kill them,” he said flatly.
Brody realized he was smiling. He had heard Veris threaten to kill all three of them before, more than once. When they did come home—not if, but when—Veris would hide his relief with bellows and rants and one of his professor lectures about time…then smother them in weeks of attention and adoration.
Brody looked up at the stairs where Taylor had disappeared and wondered exactly who the tough one was in his family.
* * * * *
“Where is she?” Neven asked Remi, as he moved down the corridor towards the front rooms.
“Your office,” Remi said. “It wasn’t my idea,” he added, even though Neven had not protested.
Behind him, Neven could hear the soft tap of London’s shoes on the tiles. “London, you may want to stay well away from this,” he said over his shoulder.
“Maybe I can help,” she said.
Neven turned and Remi nearly cannoned into him. London halted, her eyes widening with surprise.
“No,” Neven told her. “You can’t be involved.”
“But—”
“The woman is a stone cold killer,” Remi told her. “Do you understand? She’s Usenko’s fixer and she’s good at it. She helped make Usenko the top dog in the Russian Republic. You think I’m bad? She makes me look angelic.”
London seemed to recoil. She stared at Remi, her lips parted, saying nothing.
“Remember how it felt to hear Kristijan tell you the truth?” Neven reminded her.
London’s wonderful eyes shifted, bringing her gaze to him. Then, to his deep relief, she nodded. “I have to wash the salt out of my hair, anyway.” She moved around the two of them and pushed open the swinging door into the dining room. Neven followed her and saw her move to the right, to walk through the dining room and under the arch that gave access
to the wide corridor that led to the bedroom suites. She was going to her room.
Neven breathed out a deep sigh, making it soundless.
Remi crossed his arms. “Salt?” he repeated, his brow lifting.
Neven held still, killing his reaction with sheer will power. Remi was too perceptive and would notice even a microscopic response. Then he said blandly; “Sofiya is in my office?” He walked over to the drawing room. The door to his office was shut as usual. There were two men sitting on the chairs outside the door. One of them was a giant with a deeply overhanging forehead and hands the size of small hubcaps.
“There’s something I have to tell you about Sofiya,” Remi said quickly, walking next to Neven.
“Apart from the fact that she shoots problems dead? I figured that out,” Neven said dryly.
“It’s more complicated than that—” Remi began.
The door to the office opened. A woman in a white suit stepped into the doorway and crossed her arms, so that long fingernails painted dazzling red rested up against the white sleeves. “Kristijan, how delightful.” Her Serbian was distorted and made ugly by a thick Russian accent.
“Sofiya,” Neven acknowledged, his gut tightening. It was game time. Again.
He walked right up to her and waited for her to move out of the way. She was a tall woman, made taller by thick-heeled shoes. Her slenderness was out of proportion to her height. She was all skin and bone, which made her high cheek bones stand out. Her skin, though, was pale. Not Celtic pale, like Brody’s, but sickly pale from lack of sun and decent nutrition.
She had blonde hair with soft waves, falling across the corner of her forehead and coiled and pinned to the back of her head in a way that made Neven think of the starlets in the 1920s, with their pin waves.
Her eyes were the most astonishing thing about her, though. They were brown, the whites a tint of yellow, and no black. Even the iris was brown. It had to be a freak of genetics. The effect was animalistic. It made her look as though she was staring blindly.
Instead of moving out of the way, Sofiya Sorokin ran her hand down Neven’s chest, the fingernail scraping over the silk, which transmitted to his skin. He just barely stopped himself from shuddering.
Kiss Across Worlds (Kiss Across Time Book 7) Page 22
