Storm Front: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 3)

by Jen Greyson

  “The truth. That you were terrible at taking direction, hot-headed, stubborn.” There’s no heat to his words but they still cut. He’s probably trying to get back at me for the clothes.

  “Why agree to it then?” I ask, ashamed at the hurt and anger in my voice.

  “She told me the one thing mattered. The one thing still matters when it comes to you… She told me of your warrior’s heart. And in that… you have never faltered. It is your courage and your bravery has always won me over.” He smiles. “Both times—three, really, because I saw it in you from our first meeting.” He straightens and throws his shoulders back. “Show me and I will trust you.”

  “How? Can’t you give me like a secret word or something?” Why does this have to be so damn hard.

  “If I tell it to you now, I won’t know it back then.”

  “Come on, there’s got to be something.” I hate the pleading in my voice, but convincing him again seems so overwhelming. I’m daunted by the task, one I never thought I’d have to do again. “Something only you would know—a story I could tell would convince you we’re meant to work together.” I throw up my hands and pace. “I can’t convince you every time. I need you to accept me at face value instantly. Like if we went home today knowing what you know right now. I need the you of the past to trust me.”

  He frowns in concentration. “There is one thing. A single possibility. My first commander told me I fought like Hercules. He praised me often on my commitment to precision and power. I trained long and hard in those days. When other men drank and lusted I was on the training grounds, refining my skill, becoming better. I watched my commanders—the good and the bad. From their actions I learned what made men respond to each. That man always noticed. If you tell me he sent you, I would take it at face value and not question.”

  “Well it’s worth a shot. What was his name?”

  “Marcus.”

  “That’s a pretty common name.”

  “Not for me. Find me in the evening. On the training field.” He smiles. “But come prepared, for I will test your story. If Marcus sent you, he would have ensured your battle readiness.”

  “You know I can’t handle a sword.”

  “Show me your lightning. Marcus talked often of the gods and their goddesses. He coveted their power—worshipped it, wanted it. I followed my own path, mimicking the men I admired, but if you’re one of Marcus’s goddesses, you have a fighting chance of convincing me.”

  I sigh and step closer, lifting my hands and threading them through the hair at his nape.

  He enfolds me in his big arms and squeezes me tight. His lips feather across my forehead, down my jaw, then he teases my lips open and claims my mouth. I cling to him, needing one moment of passion to tide me over for the ridiculing and antagonizing I have coming. I memorize the taste of him—the crisp hint of the sea mingling with the depth of the stone and earth beneath us and dusting his body. Our tongues tangle and I store the feel of his kiss, the heat of his breath as it flows into my own lungs.

  He deepens the kiss and digs his fingers into my body, pulling me close until I can feel his need. I press my hips into his and we ride the kiss into the entrance of our passion. When I’m drowning in him, he lifts his head and kisses me softly. “Just in case you don’t remember me.”

  I smile and gently press my lips to his. “I’m not the one who keeps forgetting you.”

  Ilif clears his throat. “Evy. It’s time.”

  I close my eyes and sigh though I know he’s right. I can’t keep stalling. If we’re to do it this way, it has to happen now.

  “Meet me at Papi’s house,” I tell him, not stepping out of the circle of Constantine’s arms yet. I need one more minute… one more. “I’ll give you the books and then you can come find me later.”

  Ilif nods and bows to Constantine, then vanishes, giving us the courtesy of time alone, which surprises me since that’s not a typical response from him, but I’ll take it. I’ll take every single second I have left with this man. I turn and face him, my eyes downcast.

  He reaches for me and neither of us quite knows what to say. We’ve been here before, on the eve of goodbyes, and we’re still no good at them. “Trust I will know you,” he says and my soul cries out at the thought he might not. “My heart always knows you.” His fingers cup my face and he stares intently into my eyes. “No matter the time, no matter the place. It always knows you, which is why I struggle so much when my mind tells me it’s not possible.”

  “I don’t understand why we have to keep doing this… why we have to find each other over and over again.”

  His hands slide down my waist and cup my hips, searing my skin with his touch. “Better to cross centuries multiple times to find each other than to spend them all apart, no?”

  I sigh and rest my cheek against his chest. “No,” I whisper. “No, it isn’t. I want us to be together. Why can’t we?”

  “Because you have work to do.”

  I grimace. “That doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “Being a warrior is never easy. This life does not come with comforts. It does not come with ease. Perhaps that’s why we choose it.”

  “I wouldn’t choose this.”

  He chuckles softly. “Yes you would. A warrior knows no other way. You would choose this life every time. And from what I know of your own time, you did long before you became a rider. And I choose you… any way I can get you. Even if it means crossing centuries and having to fall in love with you over and over and over again.” He presses light kisses against the exposed skin of my collarbone.

  I hear what he’s saying and the falling in love is full of heat and fun, but there’s also comfort in the after-love too. The long, slow simmer of a man who already knows I’m his—and he is mine. Dangerous thoughts creep in. What if he doesn’t… What if there’s one time he chooses someone other than me?

  I spin the thoughts away like a broken bottle on the cement and I push my fears aside, unwilling to let them rob us of this final goodbye. A goodbye to the man I know, the man who’s fallen in love with me twice, the man I hope I can convince it’s okay to trust me once more, and the warrior who will offer me a greater feat if he’ll let me step onto his training field as an equal.

  I tip my face up and let my gaze roam across his face until I could draw every detail from memory. I kiss his jaw, remembering the press of his chin against my skin, the scratch of his stubble, the scent of him. My fingers trace his bare back, exploring the curves and indentions between the muscles. I press my palms against his spine, needing the heat of it branded against my skin.

  His fingers play at the buttons at my back. “Much as I dislike the men’s fashion of this time, I despise the women’s. Remove these bindings.” He plucks a button and flicks it across the room, then does it with the next one, quickly working his way up until the fabric sighs and gives way, exposing me to my nipples. He lowers his lips to the swell of my breasts and kisses the tops, then squeezes them together, dragging his stubbled cheek across my cleavage until I moan and my head drops back. His hands find their way inside the front of the dress and he grabs fistfuls of fabric and yanks, shredding the material in half.

  I gasp. “I can’t believe you did that!”

  His mouth crashes into mine and I let him destroy the rest. I hurriedly step from the petticoats, then bend over to unlace the high-heeled boots.

  “Leave them.”

  I glance up, butt in the air, breast hanging naked and unashamed. Lust and need shimmers in his eyes and I straighten with a seductive smile. He reaches for me, fingers outstretched and I eagerly return to him. We move together with the familiarity of a single body. His hands fit the curves of my ass and he lifts me so I can wrap my legs around him. Our curves and angles were cleaved from the same lodestone and now we fit together like we’ve never been apart—like we never will be again. He was made for me, and I for him. There will never be another man who fills my body and my soul like this one.

  The tho
ught steals my breath and I don’t want to lose him. I press a kiss to his mouth and hungrily tug his lower lip between my teeth and suckle it. He pinches me hard and I let go, then he thrusts his tongue inside me and I open wide, needing him with an unquenchable thirst.

  I tighten my thighs against his waist and push my hands between us, fumbling with his pants and hating him in modern clothing as much as he did. They come undone and I shove them down over his hips and gasp as our skin touches. Each time is like the first and my breath comes in great breaths. I want him so bad and yet I want—I need this to last.

  Because it might be our last time together.

  We do not know what comes next for us, if I’ll find him again—this him—or if I’ll see the younger him who doesn’t know me, we’ll fix things, and then I’ll return to my own time, never to have any him again. His heart might know me, but if it’s dead and buried thousands of years in my past, pays me nothing. I want this version, this flesh and blood and loving me version. I have to go, I should have left already, but I can’t… not yet. Not yet.

  The heels of my boots dig into his skin but he holds me tight against his nakedness. I shift and he rocks his hips upward. I match him, drawing him home and imprinting us both so there’s no question I can recall the feel of our bodies together. A memory is a terrible substitute for the fullness of this man inside me, but I may be faced with long, lonely nights ahead.

  I curl my fingers into his hair and grip his shoulder, rocking against him and I do my best to block the ominous tick of the second hand counting down my departure. If this is the final chance these versions of ourselves are together, the last time I know him like this, then we have but this one moment to make these promises of forever with our bodies.

  And my truth is his as well. There’s no promise the next time he sees me I won’t be twenty years older… we know less than nothing about what our future holds.

  I cling to this version of him I love—so strong, so mature, so bold, so confident, so… mine.

  We come together hard and fast, lips and teeth raking against skin and mouths. His fingers dig into my flesh, and mine into his. I want to stop time but it’s moving quicker with every stroke, every kiss.

  He is always my greatest weakness, the part of me I cannot live without and I’m terrified not only to do this part of my mission without him, but of starting over. As the time slips away, the pressure of my orgasm builds until I can no longer hold back the end of our loving. His fingers tighten and he holds me as his own release comes. I want to cry out and beg him not to stop. It can’t be over, not yet. Not yet. Tears sting my eyes but I blink them away and kiss every part of him I can reach.

  I sag against him and his arms tremble. His lips are gentle as he kisses me. “I love you, woman. You have been, and will always be, mine.”

  My heart leaps in my chest and I want so badly to let him carry me back to anywhere in time we can be alone together forever. Hide someplace where I can tell everything to wait, to slow down, to go away. I don’t want to be without him.

  “It’s time for you to go,” he whispers against my skin.

  A sob clogs my throat. “I’m scared.”

  “That makes you a warrior, too. Warriors always fear the dawn, the only difference is they do not allow their fears to keep them from what they know they must. You can do this. I’ve never known you to fail.” He sets me down gently and we dress in our old clothes, stealing dozens of kisses while we prolong the inevitable. I pull on my normal uniform of tee and jeans, and he’s comfortably back in his tunic. “I suppose I need to take you home, don’t I?”

  He smiles and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “One last time, my goddess. One last time.” He tugs me close and drops his lips to mine. I ring us with lightning and take him to his home and a new dawn. Already the day is filled with the clash and fury of men training outside. I cup his face. “I love you and I’ll see you soon.” I vanish before the tears fall to my cheeks.

  Papi’s house is quiet and I wander to the office where Ilif is talking with my parents. “Ah, there she is,” Ilif says.

  I hide the tears and pull the box of books down. “Have you talked about these already?”

  “No,” Papi says. “We were waiting on you.”

  I sniff and wipe my nose on my sleeve.

  “You okay, mija?”

  I nod. “I took Constantine home.”

  Papi stands and hugs me. “Ilif told me the plan. I know you can do this. Do you want me to go?”

  I shake my head and sniff again. “No, the fewer of us in danger, the better. I’ll do what I need and come home with Tiana as soon as I can.”

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I will be. It’s hard.”

  He hugs me and kisses my temple. “I’m sorry I got us into this.”

  “It’s my fault—and I don’t regret it. I let Penya get in my head, but we’ll be fine. I can do this.” I inhale deeply and own it. “I’ll get Tiana back safe.”

  Mami’s face crumples as tears streak her cheeks. Concerned, Papi hugs her and draws her from the room so Ilif and I can talk. “This is the big one I was talking about.” I hand him the leather-bound book.

  He pales and curls his fingers into his palm like he’s afraid to touch it, afraid it will disappear if he does. “I can’t believe this still exists.”

  “What is it?”

  “Similar to the version I kept in the lab in the very beginning—a hand-written account of all the alterations, but this is fascinating because it’s from a rider’s perspective, so it offers things I did not capture, things I did not know to ask.” He flips the pages, smiling and tapping the handwriting as if in fond remembrance of the alteration and the rider.

  “You knew all of these?” It’s still confusing to me how he moved between generations of riders while living only a single lifetime, but the last thing I can endure right now is a time travel lesson.

  “Every one. It was a fantastic program until Penya’s interference. It will be again.”

  I take out the pamphlets and fan them. “These are the others.” I show him the worn, tattered one Constantine and I used when we were figuring out the colors. “This is the only one I’ve played with so far. We figured out almost all the colors, red, yellow, green…”

  “Fascinating.” He takes one and flips to the middle. “Your disregard for rules and safety is quite helpful. I had no idea…”

  I look through the other tiny books—ones I didn’t have time to read before. There’s nothing as intriguing as the colors and when I get a chance to sit down and read them from the first page, giving the attention they deserve, I’m sure I’ll find a million tidbits to make me command the lightning better, but not today. It would be a bold assumption to think the Constantine I’m about to go see would willingly work on any of this with me. I need to stick to the basics. “You can take these, but promise to bring them back.”

  “Of course, of course.” He stacks them neatly. “Your plan is to go find him in Spain?”

  “Yeah. Unless you’ve come up with a new bright idea. I’m open to anything other than trying to convince him I’m not a goddamn spy again.” I groan. “I’m not looking forward to conversation.”

  “You don’t trust his advice of swaying his younger self?”

  “It may keep him from killing me on sight, but our starts have alway been rocky. We’ve never had an easy one. He’s always thought I was a spy or sorceress or anything but me. I mean, it’s a pretty bold story I tell, but with this insider-information, he’s not the most trusting guy right off the bat, you know?”

  “Give him credit,” Ilif says. “That you’ve convinced him twice says much about his character.”

  “Yeah, but was the older Constantine. The young one? Not my biggest fan.”

  “Perhaps.”

  I sigh. “Guess I better go.”

  Ilif reaches out, places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I know this has been difficult for you, Evy, with Tiana at Penya’s me
rcy, but we will fix this—With no harm coming to Tiana, no harm coming to any member of your family. I vow it.”

  I smile gently, shocked into submission at this reserved-not-a-dick display from Ilif. There’s no way he can know those things for sure and we’ve been here too many times before for any of us to believe that. But, Ilif’s never been good at empathy and I give him credit for trying. “Thanks. You’re right and we know this is one area Penya won’t have figured out. I trust you to use these,” I tap the stack of pamphlets, “To fix the machines and find Tiana as soon as you can. Take Papi, go get her, bring her home safe, then come find me and let me know because if I get the chance, I'm taking Penya out.”

  He nods solemnly. “I will work tirelessly on this. I know what I need is in here. I know it’s the part I’ve been missing. I will not fail you.”

  I nod. Neither of us can fail.

  I find Papi and Mami and hug them.

  “Be safe, mija.”

  “You too, Papi. I told Ilif to come get you when he finds Tiana. If he can’t, I’ll be ready on the other end. We’ll bring her home.” I squeeze him tight. “We’ll bring her home.”

  Mami holds her clasped hands beneath her chin and though her lower lips trembles, she does her best not to cry as I ball my lightning and head to Spain.

  Sunset kisses my little Spanish town, lighting up the tile rooftops and turning the hillside to molten gold. I landed above the docks, at the edge of a neighborhood climbs the low hill in uniform streets. Hotels—or whatever they’re called in this time—and bars cluster in this part, along with a simple store, and a garishly decorated building across the street that’s probably the local whorehouse. When I found Constantine here the first time, he was at the docks and they were unloading a bunch of stuff—supplies for the complex, I’ll bet. But the docks are empty, so I won’t find him there tonight.