Roam (Roam Series, Book One)

by Kimberly Adams

  I felt my temper taking over as he tightened his grip on my waist. “It was necessary.”

  “It must have cost you a fortune. Unless he’s a fraud and I find out I’m blind.”

  He moved closer to me, and I focused on the delicious heaviness of his arm across my stomach.

  I’m getting used to his arms around me.

  “You won’t be blind. And I have money, Roam. It’s not all… honest, but it’s necessary,” he repeated.

  I sighed, struggling with nausea as the narcotics began to wear off. “My lungs feel… better,” I realized, taking a deep breath for the first time in what felt like years.

  “You had oxygen and Albuterol. Your lungs need to recover after…” He avoided the word drowning, but it was hanging in the air. I took another deep breath.

  “When do we go?” I asked, inching closer to him and rolling more fully to my side. He flattened his palm against the small of my back, tucking me against the length of his body.

  I should have backed away, but with my eyes masked, I was uninhibited by reasoning. He was so much larger than Logan, broad-shouldered, and strong. Pressed against him wearing only his t-shirt, my pulse quickened, and my breath hitched in my throat.

  “Tomorrow. How’s your head?” His hand splayed over my lower back, and his other hand slid between the pillow and my cheek.

  His thumb brushed my lips.

  “It doesn’t hurt.” I turned into his palm, sighing. “West, my eyes… you corrected my vision because our physical bodies will travel, right?”

  “I think so, but I can’t be sure. I’m taking all precautions.”

  “But… how can I be pregnant if…” I trailed off, grateful for the mask covering my eyes.

  “If you’re a virgin?” he finished, and I knew that my cheeks and chest must have flushed to a burning crimson.

  “Yes.”

  “Troy doesn’t care if you’re pregnant. He wants to kill you either way.”

  “But the only way to fulfill the prophecy… is for our child to be born.”

  He sighed deeply, brushing his thumb over my lips again. “We’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “How will our baby save the world?” I asked, my lips moving against his thumb.

  Even without being able to see him, I knew that he wanted to kiss me. I felt the pull of our fate, of our souls, and exhaled against his lips. “I don’t know. I’ve wondered that for centuries.” His voice clipped, and I understood this tone.

  He’s resisting.

  With the mask firmly in place, I reached for his shoulders. Once I found his chest, I smoothed my hand over his bare arm, touching the fabric near his shoulder. The nape of his neck was warm, and I shoved my fingers into his hair.

  “Roam.” He caught my hand, and I sensed his internal struggle.

  “I’m sorry. West, I’m sorry,” I hurried, trying to pull away. He held me firmly, his commanding voice echoing between us.

  “I promised that I wouldn’t touch you… in that way. But Roam, we don’t have options. Not anymore. I am going to touch you, and I need you to process that.”

  I stiffened in his arms, and he held me before I could back away.

  “Not right now, baby,” he assured me. Tucking my head against his chest, he moved to press a kiss to my forehead. “Just rest,” he whispered, brushing his palm over my neck.

  I processed his words. We don’t have options.

  Somewhere, in some other dimension or world or life, I was going to make love with West. The thought was both exciting and terrifying at the same time. The dreams made me want him, and the circumstances made me trust him…

  But Logan…

  “What about… Laurel?” I whispered, unable to hide my insecurities.

  I couldn’t see his face, but I felt him tense. “Laurel is dead, Roam.”

  “What?” I gripped the back of his neck, wishing that I could see his eyes. “When?”

  “Troy killed her. In 2003.”

  “And Violet?” My voice barely registered a whisper.

  “She doesn’t know me. She was placed in a foster home at the age of eight.” He sounded matter-of-fact, but his body pressed against me and I could feel his muscles tighten.

  This is difficult for him, I realized, threading my fingers through his hair again. This time, he didn’t move to stop me. “What does she look like?”

  He sighed, resting his chin against my forehead. “She has my eyes. And her hair is blond… and so curly. She’s beautiful.”

  I tried to imagine a girl, slightly older than myself, as West’s daughter. The notion seemed ludicrous given how young he looked. “And you want to save the world… for her?”

  I didn’t want him to stop talking. For whatever the reason, he was finally opening up to me, and I needed him to tell me everything. I needed to understand him. “I wasted a lot of the past thirty years resenting you, trying to hate you. But now that I’ve finally found you… you’re different in this life, Roam. Everything is different. Some part of my soul, of my mind, remembers you. Like this. With this face.”

  Every self-conscious bone in my body relaxed, and I couldn’t hide my smile. “This me?”

  “Yes, baby. This you.” He pulled me even closer. “I’m right back where I’ve always been.”

  “Where is that?” I asked softly, my eyelids heavy.

  He pressed his lips to my forehead, saying nothing more.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The dreamless sleep came just when I needed it most. Music lulled me awake as I opened my eyes to blackness, the mask still covering my eyes. I remembered the surgery and pulled the elastic band of the mask over my head, blinking.

  My eyes focused and I marveled as every angle of the room that came into focus. For the first time since I was six years old, the world around me was clear, my eyesight unaided by glasses or contacts.

  West opened the door to the bathroom, wearing nothing but jeans. They hung from his hips in the best way possible, and the clarity of his broad chest, ripped abdomen, and muscled V that disappeared into his waistline left me speechless.

  My mouth fell open, and I exhaled sharply. “Are your… abs… immortal, too, or do you work out?”

  A smile crept over his lips as my words registered. “You were still sleeping when I went to shower. Hold on,” he said. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he grabbed a white t-shirt to pull over his head quickly. His hair was still damp, and I could tell that he’d just shaved his face.

  “You wear that outfit a lot,” I said, knotting the bedspread in my fingers as I turned to face him. “In my dreams.”

  “Jeans and a t-shirt? It’s easy and has worked for years.” He bent over to cup my face in his hands, gazing intently into my eyes. “How do they feel? Any burning?”

  “They feel fine,” I admitted, suppressing an excited smile. “A little pressure, maybe. But I can see… everything.”

  “And your chest? Your lungs?”

  “So much better.”

  “Your head?”

  “I wish… that it wasn’t thinking so much,” I admitted, tucking my dark hair behind my ear. “I’m so scared. I know the worst is yet to come.” My ear was scabbed with dried blood, and I shivered, remembering Troy’s teeth sinking into my skin.

  He raised an eyebrow, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. “You died, baby. It can’t get much worse than that.”

  “Yeah.” I looked around, spotting my jeans and peasant top neatly folded at the foot of the bed. He followed my gaze.

  “I washed those for you. Get dressed. Logan is packed and on his way, and we need to go to your house, pack, and grab your passport.”

  He released my face, and I reached for my clothes. “What about Morgan and my dad?”

  He was rummaging through the closet, pulling a backpack out from the bottom. “We’ll worry about them we get back.”

  “If,” I corrected, standing tentatively. His t-shirt reached to just below my hips. My hair was
a serious mess, falling in waves over my shoulders. “They’ll call the police, West.”

  “I know.” He continued packing, not looking my way.

  Shaking my head, I grabbed my clothes. “It doesn’t matter, right? All that matters are the numbers. Getting my numbers to change on Troy’s arm.”

  “Yes. Ours will change, too. Ours locate you. Yours locate Logan.”

  I cringed, remembering the burning pain in my arm. “Is there any way to turn off this flaming GPS thing?”

  “Nothing pleasant,” he said absently. “And you wouldn’t want that. You need to know where your enemy is.”

  I thought of Logan, suddenly remembering him sitting next to me on the bus on the first day of kindergarten. I had been nervous and started to cry, and Logan had held his backpack up to block me from the rest of the children so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed.

  “Logan is not my enemy.” I walked to the bathroom to pull on my clean clothes, stiffening when I realized that he’d washed my bra and panties.

  “We’ll talk about Logan,” he replied from the bedroom, and I sensed an end to that topic. Scowling, I gathered my hair over one shoulder.

  “What is this music?” I called, grateful that he’d left an unopened package of toothbrushes on the sink.

  “This music?” He knocked once before pushing the door open, and I paused, the toothbrush still in my mouth. “This is Duran Duran.”

  “Who?” I mouthed, shielding his view of my frothy lips with my hand.

  “Early nineties. “Ordinary World.””

  “I’ve never heard it.” Bending over to the sink, I rinsed quickly. “I don’t know a lot of nineties music.”

  “I finally have something to teach you.”

  He’d closed the distance between us, and I gasped as his hand slid around my waist from behind.

  I watched him in the mirror, unable to tear my eyes off his face. There was no fighting the effect of his touch on me, and I gave up, no longer trying to resist the way my body responded to him.

  “To… teach me?” I managed shakily.

  “How’s your ear?” he asked, gathering my hair and pulling it more firmly to one side.

  His mouth was so close to my neck. Through the mirror, I met his eyes, swallowing hard as his fingertips traced along my throat. “Better,” I whispered, unable to resist the longing that pooled in my stomach. Every part of my body seemed to come alive all at once, and I leaned against him, closing my eyes.

  We both froze at the sound of the doorbell.

  He backed away, removing his arm from my waist. “That’s Logan. Come on.”

  I followed him to the stairs, trying to admire the interior of his home and not his broad shoulders. The dark oak continued throughout the house, and the staircase led to a landing that overlooked the central living area of the home. The wall behind us was made of gray stone, and below, a kitchen with a counter bar opened into a living room with vaulted ceilings.

  Two large, wooden fans moved the air around inside comfortably. “This house is beautiful,” I murmured, taking in every detail with perfect vision. “It’s like a cabin… but huge, and modern.”

  “Thank you. I built it.”

  I widened my eyes, seeing everything in an entirely new light. His words were matter-of-fact, not an ounce of pride. Amazed, I gripped the railing.

  “You’re very talented, West.” Blinking, I realized that my eyes did burn a little, and I struggled to moisten them.

  “Thank you,” he repeated. “Roam, listen to me.” He turned to me on the bottom step, his hands gripping my forearms. “Do not trust Logan. You can love him, but you cannot trust him.”

  “Okay,” I replied, too quickly, as anxiety coursed through my veins. My eyes filled with tears, burning with relief.

  The doorbell rang again, and I moved past him to open the door. Logan reached for me, and I fell into his arms, tucking my face into his neck.

  His familiar warmth, combined with the scent of his skin, calmed my erratic nerves. What in the world am I doing? When I’m with West, I lose my mind.

  Or my soul.

  Neither one of us spoke for long moments. West went to the kitchen, and I heard rustling in the refrigerator. When I pulled from Logan’s arms, I realized immediately that his eyes were bloodshot and swollen. “Roam? Are you okay? How do you feel?” he asked urgently.

  “I’m okay… just kind of… in shock. I’ve had a lot more time to process this than you have. How are you dealing with all of this?” I asked, reaching for his arm. The coordinates were darker against his tanned skin, and he made no effort to hide them under his short-sleeved Green Day t-shirt.

  “Cam, I want to kill this guy. I know we can’t kill him, if he’s immortal… but I can bring him real fucking close.” The vehemence in his voice frightened me. I’d never heard him so angry before, and I knew that he tried not to curse around me unless he was pushed past the limits of his temper.

  “Logan,” I began gently, lifting my eyes to his. “Did you dream last night?”

  His eyes flickered to the kitchen, and I turned.

  West was listening to us, standing at the counter.

  “I can’t remember.” His easy tone held an unmistakable pause that I’d come to recognize since we were kids.

  He’s lying.

  “Did you dream… about me?”

  Logan shrugged. “I always dream about you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He ignored me, glancing at his watch. “If the flight’s at noon, then we have to get out of here and get her stuff,” he said to West.

  “We’re leaving as soon as she eats.” West lowered a plate to the counter with buttered white toast, and then poured me a glass of orange juice. “Don’t argue, just eat. I need to talk to Logan anyway.”

  I stiffened at his authoritative tone, finally nodding as my stomach rumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d eaten. “Okay… but please don’t go far,” I managed softly, my voice breaking at the end of my plea.

  West touched my chin again, tilting my face to his. “I’m not leaving you, Roam. We’ll be right in the dining room.”

  I nodded, settling on the stool at the counter. I tried to eavesdrop while nibbling on the toast, but their hushed, accelerated words were too difficult to catch from the other room. Music played over the speakers on the ceiling through a wireless system that extended upstairs.

  I ate as much of the toast as I could, rinsing the plate in the sink before wandering into the dining room. They both turned my way.

  “Well?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest to keep from wringing my hands.

  “Logan and I agree. We need to split up, making Troy believe Logan and I are enemies. If he’s watching us, he’ll either follow you to try to kill you, or he’ll go after Logan, to gain an ally. Either way, he’ll leave your families alone.”

  Logan moved to my side. “We’ll meet in St. Petersburg.”

  “What about my dad?” I asked, shaking my head. “He-”

  West cut in before I could protest. “Logan’s going make it look like the two of you ran away together… on a romantic whim.”

  “A romantic what? No way will my dad believe that,” I cried, laughing almost tearfully. “Logan?” I turned to look up at his familiar brown eyes.

  “He’s telling your dad that you’re pregnant.” West’s concise explanation left me reeling, and I dropped my arms to my side, my mouth falling open.

  “Pregnant? Logan, you can’t do that to him-”

  “We can’t have a manhunt of police and FBI chasing us, Cam,” Logan replied, reaching for my hand, but I took a step backward.

  “You think my dad won’t try to find us?” I looked back and forth between the two of them, unable to decide if I was irritated or terrified. “Did you stop to think about my dad? He’ll be heartbroken… and worried out of his mind, Logan!”

  “He’ll be alive,” West snapped, grabbing his keys. “We’re done here, Roam.�
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  My fists clenched, and I narrowed my tearful gaze. “Tell him that we ran away, but do not tell him that I’m pregnant. It would crush him to think that I took off with his… grandchild.” I struggled with more burgeoning tears. “I’ll write him a letter in the car.”

  West stormed past me, hurriedly packing his laptop into his backpack. “Roam, your father’s feelings are not a concern right now. You need to get it together.”

  Stunned, my blood boiled, and I dug my fingernails into my palms. “Get it together?”

  “Yes!” He turned to me too quickly, and I stumbled backward. He caught me, his arm around my back, and I struggled to hold my ground and not let my overwhelming lust for him take over my logic. “Get your shit together. Listen to what I say and do it. That is what we agreed.”

  I turned to Logan, my heart dropping.

  He’d sworn to protect Logan as long as I cooperated.

  Without question.

  Logan was a shade of purple that I didn’t think was humanly possible, and he looked ready to punch West in the face.

  “Logan… no, he’s… he’s right.” I forced a calming breath, shrugging out of West’s grip. “I have to stop breaking down. I have to focus on what matters. Tell him… that I’m pregnant and we’re… eloping. He’s just traditional enough to believe that.”

  “Good. Car.” West pointed out the window at Logan’s Camry. “This is where we say goodbye, for now. Logan, do you have the phone that I gave you?”

  He nodded, refusing to speak.

  “Wait… where is my phone?” It occurred to me then that I hadn’t had my phone since we had left the high school.

  “Gone. iPhones can be tracked.” West slung his backpack over his shoulder, and I nearly stomped my foot.

  “You threw away my iPhone?!” Shrieky. I didn’t care. My phone represented my freedom, freedom that was increasingly diminishing as the moments ticked by.

  West ignored me. “Say goodbye,” he repeated, nodding toward Logan.