FLASH (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 15)

by Samantha Leal

  The evening was cloudy and yet the atmosphere was bright and full of energy. The locals gathered on the beach to welcome in the spring and the great fire blazed away into the cold night air. Andrea and Elizabeth had gone out alone. Alex had not been in the mood for celebration and was sulking at home.

  The fire warmed them and the blaze lit up their features like a red mask. The auburn and gold weave of the young girl’s hair glinted in the fiery light and her cheeks glowed with the heat. She looked so happy and so pretty; what would happen to the young Elizabeth if they returned home? Would this young girl still have a full life in front of her?

  Trying to hold back the tears she looked around at Elizabeth. She had found Tom and the two were feeding the fire with driftwood. Despite the heat, a shiver ran through Andrea and she pulled the cloak tightly around her arms to keep out the cold. A dry twig crackled and sent a spark shooting high up into the heavens. She followed it with her eyes, the amber fragment lifting in the breeze and out of sight. As she looked up, the clouds parted for a second to reveal the moon hanging full and heavy in its orbit. Her heart beat at the sight, as if seeing it for the first time; the old and timeless moon that had waxed and waned across the centuries.

  A soft hand clasped her shoulder. The touch and feel of a man she had missed for so long. It was Alex.

  "Andrea."

  She turned to face him, her heart beating fast.

  Burying her head into his chest she let the tears fall freely for the first time in months.

  He held her close for a long while as they both stood and watched the fire burn into the dark firmament.

  For a moment he was silent, it was difficult to find the words.

  "I've seen Geraldine."

  At first she thought she had misheard and that he had been referring to the girl.

  "You mean Elizabeth?"

  He shook his head "No, I saw Geraldine, my Grandmother."

  8.

  The last few months had been a horrible nightmare for Alex and one that he could not awaken from. He had changed from a happy go lucky and outgoing young guy to a resentful and solemn shadow of his former self.

  Never quite accepting that he was living in the 17th century, he had isolated himself from the rest of his family and the people around him. He even looked different, older, the face of a man haunted by life. The face he saw in the distorted mirror looked like his but he knew that it wasn't. It was like looking at a non-identical twin, the same but not the same. Alex couldn't quite put his finger on it.

  The only good thing to salvage from all of this was that his body was extremely fit and toned. His old routine of three runs a week had kept him lean but not particularly muscular. He now found he had a six pack and biceps, and that he had several scars on his normally smooth skin. The wound in his side had been deep, and at night he woke from nightmares where he fought in bloody and physical battles. Strange memories kept filtering through his mind, but he tried not to think about them, pushed them back, fought against anything he could to keep a hold of his own true identity.

  Alex had been walking near to the Abbey when a shrouded figure had caught his eye. He had got to know everybody and everything on the tiny Island, the movements and natural rhythms of daily life. Anyone new was generally regarded with mistrust, and in the case of Alex that mistrust was doubled. Stepping out into the night air he had walked carefully across the track and was soon in the Abbey grounds. No one was there. Perhaps whoever it was had gone inside, and he stepped cautiously through the Abbey doorway.

  He had never been a believer or a regular church goer, the occasional weddings and funerals but then only when really necessary. Back home the Abbey was merely his place of work, a tourist attraction, but even he couldn't deny the spirituality of the place. One thing that he had quickly realized was that he would need to revisit all of his former cynicism about the supernatural. As a student he had been a staunch atheist and laughed at anyone with differing views, now he could see just what an arrogant fool he must have sounded.

  Walking across the stone floor his footsteps echoed in the hallowed air. Of course it wasn't his Abbey, the one that he knew back in the real world was of a much more recent build. The newer Abbey was built on a greater and grander scale and was much more austere, yet he had to admit that if there was a God or supreme deity, then this place was certainly nearer to it. There was something about the architecture and rude fittings that was both primitive and honest. If there was a God, then he certainly dwelt here.

  As he stood looking up at the Saints depicted in the windows, he had the sudden sensation that someone was standing behind him, watching him, yet there was no sound. Turning around he could see the shrouded figure approaching.

  A sudden calmness gathered around him, a sense of familiarity. The figure stopped a little way off in front of him and spoke his name.

  "Alex."

  There was no mistaking that voice; it was his beloved grandmother, Geraldine.

  All was shadowy beyond the veil but he had no doubt who it was. The air was filled with her personality, her brightness and zest for life, and almost immediately his spirits were raised.

  She approached him slowly, reaching out until he was sobbing gently in her arms.

  "There, there, Alex. All will be well."

  Once again he was a child of 6 or 7 years, being comforted after some mishap; a graze to the knee or a fall from his bicycle. His grandmother had always been there for him; until recently.

  "I don't understand Gran? There is so much that I don't understand. I don't belong here and I just want to go home."

  "There is so much more than you or I will ever know or understand Alex."

  "But it doesn't seem real that I can be here, that this is possible. Am I ill; is all of this a bad dream?"

  "All I can tell you is that this is a reality and that you are actually living in the 17th century Alex. How it happened and why, I don't really understand, but I do know that Time weaves together the past, the present and the future and keeps the status quo, the equilibrium. Why do you think that the Universe is constantly expanding? It's because the past is real and never disappears, but each day it gets larger and larger. There has been some shift, some rent in the fabric that normally keeps the past and the present on two distinct planes. For everything there is a reason, and you and Andrea are that reason. Something has threatened the status quo and the balance needs to be restored. If not, who can only guess at the consequences? We are all pawns Alex."

  "But why me, and why Andrea?"

  The figure paused before continuing.

  "Because you are the guardians of the runes, and like your ancestors that came before, it must be your line that continues to thrive and lead the way. There are dark forces that are at work here that would harm the ones you love. You must be strong Alex and keep Andrea and all that are yours safe and secure. You need to be strong and ready for what is to come. It won't be easy."

  "But what and when? If I don't understand then how can I help?"

  "You know more than you allow yourself Alex. You have been fighting against your ancestors ever since you arrived here and now you need to stop. It was them that sent me to you, to help you understand your role in all of this. They are watching you."

  Alex quickly looked around the Abbey and shivered; it was as if a hundred beady eyes watched him silently out of the shadows.

  "There will be a battle and that much I do know. It will take place in the near future but I cannot give a date. But you will know, if you allow yourself to accept and relax, then you will sense the change approaching and can prepare. Now go to Andrea and your daughter and be with them, they cannot manage this without you.”

  9.

  It was good to feel his arms wrapped around her again. The winter had been too long and his silence and detachment had made it seem longer; and definitely colder.

  They walked home hand in hand as Elizabeth ran ahead, full of the excitement of the evening and her head full of stori
es.

  She was soon fast asleep in her own chamber and Andrea and Alex sat by the open fire as Alex poured mead into two silver goblets. The atmosphere between the two had been relaxed, but had now become suddenly awkward and they almost felt shy of each other.

  He handed her a cup.

  "I would rather have a pint any day. I'm not too sure about this mead stuff that the monks make. It's pretty awful and it tastes like medicine, but I suppose it hits the spot?"

  She smiled.

  "I know what you mean. I could kill for a large glass of Malbec - now if we were over in France and not Scotland then maybe even in 1654 we could have had a decent drink. I know what you mean about this stuff. The bitter herbs and honey are a funny mix."

  She screwed her face up as she sipped the dark liquid.

  Stepping over to stand behind her, he put his hands onto her shoulders and started to massage them.

  "I'm sorry Andrea. The way I've behaved over the last few months is unforgivable."

  "But understandable all the same Alex. I'm not sure that many people would have coped to suddenly finding that they had been transported back in time to the 1600’s."

  "But you did, and your grandmother before you."

  She looked into the flames; it had been a while since she had thought about her grandmother Betty. She had been the one to start all of this and Andrea wondered how she had felt on that day, the first time she had found herself in a different time.

  "I felt just as bewildered as you did. The one thing that kept me going was Alexhander MacDonald. I fell in love. After that, the time and place was of little consequence. As long as we were together nothing else mattered."

  She looked sadly into the fire.

  "Do you miss him?"

  “What do you mean? You are him. Well, almost."

  Alex frowned. "But I'm not am I, not really; like you’re not really Andra. I keep having these memories, things that must have happened to Alexhander, but I'm not him. I'm Alex."

  "Alexhander was your ancestor. I can't explain it either but it is almost as if I can feel Andra's presence around me, like a ghost, but on the inside."

  She looked at Alex and he was deep in thought.

  "A penny for them?"

  He struggled to speak, his voice thick with emotion.

  "I just wonder whether it is really me that you love or Alexhander."

  Andrea stood up and put her arms around him.

  "Oh Alex, you are a funny one. How can you be jealous of a man that has been dead for nearly 500 years? I did fall in love with Alexhander, he was a good and true man, and you are the same. Maybe we do embody our ancestors; something remains of us in the next generation after we are gone? Geraldine always talked about the cycle of life and death, birth and rebirth. The true reincarnation of the soul."

  He smiled and held her tightly. He didn't really understand; how could he?

  Her body was soft and warm and soon his lips found hers. It had been too long.

  Her lips felt the same, soft and submissive against his. Her body too, molding against his, the soft contours fitted easily against his muscular frame.

  It had been way too long and the months of longing and yearning bubbled to the surface as he greedily grabbed at her and pulled her to him. There was nothing he could do to alter the situation, but whatever was due to come, then it would be better if they faced it together. His hands squeezed her soft buttocks; not as firm as the ones he loved to fondle back in the future, but this was a softer and more mature Andrea and he loved how she felt in his arms. He could feel her passion start to rise as she pushed herself into him.

  It had been a long time since she had been enveloped against his strong and muscular body; the flatness and firmness of his abdomen; his muscular shoulders and chest where she could lay her head and feel as if nothing could harm her.

  Pulling her down onto the floor beside the fire they lay side by side; time did not matter here. Alexhander and Andra; Alex and Andrea; it was of no consequence; the two entwined and all was one.

  He could not stop looking at her in the fire’s glow. It was almost as if he had forgotten how beautiful she was. Her brown eyes flickered with the flames reflection sparkling in their depths. Her hair was long and loose and curling around her shoulders and he wound a stray curl around his fingers. Despite the few silver strands she still looked like a young girl and he stroked her cheek tenderly. His passion ran high, but he did not want to rush this moment and he let his fingers trace the delicate lines of her face and neck and down onto her breast. Alex had become used to the medieval clothing and although at first he had felt ridiculous, he had now found a freedom and a certain masculinity that had seemed lost in the modern world of jeans and trainers. He thought that he cut quite a dash in the leggings and breeches he wore on a daily basis. It was the same for Andrea. He loved the feminine lines of the gowns that she wore, the ones that accentuated the breasts without being too revealing; something both modest and girlish about them.

  He pulled on the fastening at the bosom of her gown. It laced downwards like a corset and his fingers tingled with anticipation as the material quickly loosened, freed from its constraints. Her breasts spread out of their tight confinements, the soft, white flesh spilling over the material like fresh, warm dough.

  His hands cupped the ample mounds and he could feel her heart start to beat more quickly. He soon found the hard and erect nipple and pulled down the material to expose the bare breasts that lay quivering in time to her quickening breath.

  Leaning over her frame, he buried his head against her softness and breathed in her gentle perfume; the tender and lingering scent of lavender and rosemary, fresh and so much more of a turn on than the expensive and manufactured perfumes of the modern day. It did not hide her own natural scent but rather enhanced it; a mix of soft musk and a primitive, almost earthy smell.

  Andrea moved beneath his weight, his tongue causing her to squirm as he sucked and licked at her breasts. They had not been close for months; he locked in a ridiculous reality that he could not come to terms with. Wherever Geraldine was, she must have known and had come back to save them from that most difficult of all evils; themselves.

  His cock was aching to push inside her soft flesh and he pressed his groin against her and moaned gently. Releasing his weight he pulled the gown over her stomach and hips and over her legs until she lay in the white cotton of her underclothes. He could have ripped the garment from her body straight away; he had never been so aroused. The sight of the pretty white cotton layer brought out a feeling that was both protective and sexual at the same time. Lifting the hem of the garment he pulled it high above her thighs, revealing the dark triangular mound between her legs. She did not wear any panties and the sight almost made him cum. Parting her legs with his hands, his fingers strayed to the softness of her thighs. She was already damp, aroused by his intimate touch. His fingers slipped easily into her wetness, probing into her depths as she arched her body towards him.

  His tongue found her clitoris and she almost shouted out in pleasure, as he lightly licked over the firm, pink, sensitive bud.

  He could hold back no longer and standing up he pulled down his breeches and leggings, his manhood erect and jumping from its constraints in one swift movement.

  Andrea watched him and gasped at his naked form, she had almost forgotten how big he was and she felt an ache between her legs as she yearned for him to take her.

  Soon he was pressing between her legs, the head of his cock pushing against her, seeking her soft and inviting opening.

  With one thrust he was inside of her and he felt the soft body go rigid beneath him. Alex had never felt so alive, as he plunged every inch deep inside, until her body was flush against his, and she lay totally impaled by his magnificent cock.

  Andrea could feel his length inside of her; throbbing and twitching as he ached to release his pent up emotion.

  His eyes were like slits as she looked up at him, he seemed barely conscio
us as he started to thrust against her, forcing his full length into her, watching her own pleasure rise with his, until they were both lost in their passion.

  Afterwards they slept deeply by the fire, locked in each other’s arms and safe within their own love; if only for a short while.

  10.

  The days, weeks and months that followed passed quietly by. Alex managed to find a routine in the strange terrain of his ancestors and slowly he too settled into a rhythm with the land. He watched the sunsets and the day breaks with a new wonder that had been lost in the modern world, and felt his own body change and react to the seasons.

  It was only once summer had almost passed that he awoke one morning with a start. He had dreamt that a small black bird was trapped in their room and in its panic had flown into the walls. Crashing its tiny frame again and again against the unforgiving stonework, blood and feathers smeared across the surface until the tiny creature finally fell lifeless onto the floor. Alex had gone over to pick up the poor dead thing but as he approached he had seen the tiny beadlike eye open and look at him before flying into his face like a great black claw to peck at his eyes. He had awoken at that moment, his heart racing and a bead of sweat running from his forehead.

  Andrea murmured quietly but slept on as Alex silently moved from the bed and over to the window. Something was not right; he could sense it. The summer was just starting to lose her fade and the late August roses looked blousy and out of place in the still of the morning; an old face not looking so bright in the cold light of day. The sea looked cold and glassy and an eastern wind was starting to rob the trees of their leaves.

  He could hear the wind whistling under the eaves and down the chimney and out through the fireplace. It seemed to be whispering to him, warning him.