Triquetra

by Marguerite Labbe

  “Yeah, but I didn’t come here to talk about that. I came to ask you about your tattoos.”

  “My tattoos?” I glanced down at my bare chest and the designs that symbolized my life. I’d had them for so long they were as natural to me as thinking. “What about them?”

  “They are a link to your past.”

  It wasn’t a question, though what he was trying to get at, I didn’t know. “That’s one way of looking at it. In truth, the tattoos are meant to provide a link for the future. But in the long run, they have failed. Except for me, there is no one left alive who remembers the Picts. Even then my knowledge is imperfect. The group racial memory, the sum of my people, was never passed down to me. I was taken before I could do the ritual with one of my elders.”

  “Really? That’s kinda interesting. What about that one?” Tony pointed to the outline of a creature on my right shoulder. “What does that one make you think of?”

  I stared at the tattoo in confusion, my fingers brushing over the lines that didn’t belong there. Memory came to me. An alligator, jaws snapping dangerously close. The air was green, the scent of lush growing and rotting death, the song of a swamp and all its myriad creatures closing in around me.

  This was not the land I’d grown up in. Those were not my hands on a boat hook beating off the gator or my own voice shouting a string of vicious curses. “Jake! Holy shit! Will ya look at him?” Someone shouted behind me. A crawfish trap hurtled past my shoulder and struck the gator right on its snout.

  Before I could question the oddity of the memory, Tony drew me out by pointing to another tattoo on my right chest, a broad smile on his face. “And that one? What does it bring to mind?”

  The image of a man appeared before me, so much bigger than I. Joyous terror filled me as he swung me up high in the air, catching me in large hands before I fell. A trucker hat was perched on his head and his eyes were a light, twinkling blue. “A’gin! A’gin, Daddy!” I demanded.

  The memories moved quicker. Police talking to a fair-haired woman whose eyes were red from weeping. The same man in a casket, his skin gray and cold, and me straining up on my toes to peer inside, my jaw clenching tight as someone murmured, “Jake, come sit with me” in the background.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, pulling myself out of the memories.

  “You will,” Tony promised and pointed to another tattoo. “What about the triquetra? What’s it mean?”

  “It’s the balance of body, mind, and soul.”

  “No, Kristair. What does it mean to you?”

  My soul mate, the other half of my heart. That made even less sense than any of the other tattoos. I had not found someone like that for me, though I’d searched over the long years of my life. I’d had hope once or twice, but that had been so long ago and now it didn’t matter.

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Yes, I am. Just think about it.” A faint smile touched his face. “I owe him. Look, tell Jake that he made an awesome touchdown in his last game. Saved Pittsburgh’s ass.” He shook his head. “How come I’m not surprised?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  As the memories, which didn’t belong to me, continued to roll through my mind, I realized I knew this man as intimately as I knew myself. Jake, Jacob Corvin, mo chroí, m’anam, mo shaol, mo ghrá. Only the memories belonged to him alone. I had no personal memory of him. How could that be?

  How could I feel so much for someone and not remember?

  Tony gave me another one of his impish smiles. “You’ve got it now. I knew you’d get this far on your own, but for the rest, I’m afraid you’ll need help.” Before I could ask what he meant, he touched my forehead. “Remember.”

  My memory came back in a tidal wave of emotion and sensation. Jacob. They’d blocked me from him again and taken away my choice. I straightened in fury as Nerissa appeared beside me. “What have you done?” she said to Tony.

  I turned to her, gathering my will, my fury, until it blazed through me. I unburied the wish that I’d hidden in the back of my mind and formed the one single thought that would change everything for me, for the good or the bad.

  “Kristair, don’t!”

  “It’s too late.” I gave her a tight smile, thought of Jacob and where I wished to be. “I am human.”

  Epilogue

  “DUDE, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody dodge and run like you do.”

  I turned and grinned at Frode Williams, another running back from Ohio State. “Thanks, but you beat me in the weight reps and Quirnio kicked both of our asses in the broad jump.”

  At least I could be sure that it was all me in the contests and not some souped-up version of me. If I didn’t make it, I’d at least have my pride intact. Still, I was pretty damn stoked about my scores.

  “Want to grab a beer?” Frode gestured to the hotel bar where a number of other guys were already headed.

  “Sure.” The idea of going back to an empty hotel room was too unappealing even if it did call to me. It wasn’t too late. A couple beers wouldn’t slow me down in the morning.

  All the stools around the bar were taken up by other college hopefuls and the pool room off to the side teemed with players. The click and clack of balls smacking each other filled the air. We found a little table crowded in the back and gestured for the waitress.

  Frode studied the notes he’d made of individual scores, a line forming between his brows. “Looking at this stuff drives me nuts, but I can’t seem to stop myself.” He took several large swallows of his beer. “What do you think?” He pushed the paper toward me.

  I shook my head, ignoring the notes, and pulled out my planner. “I’d rather go with my gut.” I crossed out today’s date. Sixty-two more days until draft day. Sixty-two more days for Kristair to show up. I’d had a few more dreams about him, but nothing like the one I’d shared with Kayla and Steve. It was beginning to wear on my patience.

  “What does your gut tell you?” Frode asked.

  “That I have nothing to worry about. Neither should you.” I’d never been accused of being humble. It was more than that, though. I’d poured out everything I had in the drills today. It was the best I could do and it was damn good. Now, all I could do was wait. Frode, I bet, was going to obsess over every Web site report until he had an answer one way or another.

  Me, I kinda wanted to check out the tests for the linemen tomorrow. It would at least keep me occupied. I shut the planner and took a sip of my own beer.

  “I’ve never met a guy with a planner before, except for maybe my dad.”

  “Yeah, the guy I was with, am with, he’s obsessed with organization. Rubbed off on me, I guess.” I set my beer aside and pushed my chair back, too restless to stay still. I’d thought I was in the mood for hanging, but I just wanted to be back in my room. I’d take a shower, maybe see what movies were available and just relax.

  My room called to me.

  “Hey, don’t leave yet.” Disappointment flashed across Frode’s face. “You haven’t finished your beer.”

  “I guess I’m just more bushed than I thought I was.” I laid some money on the table to cover my drink. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

  “Want to get together for a workout in the morning?”

  I paused, studied the expression on Frode’s face, and then smiled and shook my head. “I’m taken. Practically married.” There was a time when I would’ve taken Frode on his unspoken offer and nailed that ass if for no other reason than to release the tension of the day. I smiled again to ease the sting. “See ya.”

  I made idle chat as some of the other guys stopped me on my way out, not paying too much attention to what I was saying. Mostly congratulations, or good luck, or what my opinion was on the meets today. Eventually, I made it out the door and breathed a sigh of relief as I got onto the elevator.

  My room called me with a siren’s song, its pull getting more potent as I walked down the hallway. The day must have taken more out of me than I
’d realized. Forget the movie. I’d get naked, lose myself in a few memories, and then let them carry me until morning.

  As I went to unlock the door, I knew, somehow I just knew, who was waiting for me on the other side. A tremor shook me so hard I almost dropped the key card. Holding my breath, I opened the door, my heart twisting once, hard, as my eyes immediately went to the bed.

  Kristair lay in the center, naked, his long legs drawn up and tucked in close to his body, his forehead touching his knees and his arms clasped around them. His chest rose and with each indrawn breath and fell again. And even though it had been several months since I felt his heart beat inside his chest, I knew it was beating for him now.

  Really beating like someone who lived.

  My throat was so tight that my chest ached. And as much as I wanted to sprint over to the bed, all the power and speed I’d shown earlier in the day for the coaches had deserted me. Instead, I stumbled over to him and fell down on the bed.

  He was here. Somehow, he was here and he was breathing, really breathing, not just going through the motions so he could talk. Kristair stirred, his head turning toward me, and his long, sooty lashes fluttered open. After a moment, his dazed eyes focused on me and a slow, brilliant smile crossed his lips, lighting my life with its promise.

  “Kristair.”

  For Jamie Labbe, friend and sister, seek joy.

  Chapter 1

  SOFT WHIMPERS of distress and the breeze from the fan blowing across my bare skin drew me out of sleep. I opened bleary eyes and glanced at the window. Pink and pearly gray stained the sky, bleaching the dark indigo away from the horizon. I groaned, burying my face in the pillow, and only another mumbled sound of fear had me biting back the vicious curse I’d almost let slip out.

  Four months of waking up at the butt crack of dawn. It was enough to drive a man nuts. Morning and I had never been on the best of terms.

  Kristair had stolen the covers again, leaving me buck-assed naked. He’d wrapped them around him like a cocoon and curled up in a tight ball in the middle of our bed, completely covered in blankets and sheets. He was either going to suffocate or roast. Still, I knew, Kristair would’ve burrowed even deeper if he could, anything to escape the morning sun and the dreams it brought.

  We’d tried blackout curtains, and they’d worked like a charm until Kristair took them down again. He’d said he’d never adjust if we kept them up. And while he might have had a point, I argued he should give himself some time to become used to dreaming again, along with all the other abrupt changes of being mortal. But there was one thing I could say about my lover: he made stubbornness into an art form. Not that I could talk, to be honest.

  Kristair struggled as I peeled away the covers, his hands fisting in a death grip in the folds. Still, he didn’t wake up when I tugged them free. I’d never met anyone who could sleep as heavily as he did. I drew the blankets around us again, and when I pressed against his back, slipping my arm around his waist, he quieted some and nestled into me with a soft sigh. Closing my eyes, I nuzzled the nape of his neck, breathing in the scent of him.

  It was still early; we could get a few more hours of sleep. I curled my body around his, closing my eyes, and then Kristair trembled, tossing his head restlessly, and I knew it was a hopeless cause.

  If only I could have slipped into his mind. I’d have soothed away every fear he had, especially the ones he refused to name, pretending instead that they didn’t exist. We might not have had our mental connection anymore, I might not have been able to hear his every thought, but no one knew Kristair like I did, not even himself. He was locking too much away, and one day it was all going to come bursting out. I just hoped to god I was there for him when it happened.

  I kissed his shoulder and slid my hand down his warm hip. Four months and it was still a wonder to me to feel the heat in his skin when he didn’t have to think about using blood he’d fed on to put it there. Or listening to his heartbeat and his steady breathing. He was my miracle. He had given up everything because he loved me, and that was a sacrifice I refused to take for granted.

  Kristair murmured when I rolled him onto his back, limbs heavy with sleep, but he didn’t stir, not even when I nudged his thighs apart and settled my weight over him. I wished the camera were near. I would have taken a dozen naughty photos of him and made my own shrine. His skin held a golden vitality in the early morning sun. His lashes curved and shadowed his deep-set eyes, and lord, he looked just fucking bitable.

  I kissed along his jaw, rubbing my lips against the rough growth of his morning beard until they tingled. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. No more bad dreams, not this morning,” I whispered.

  His lips parted when I kissed their warm softness, and the tension began easing from his body as his subconscious began to switch from fear to pleasure. This was becoming my new favorite morning ritual. After all, if I was going to be up, I might as well be all the way up.

  Kristair’s cock stirred against my thigh, and I smiled, breaking the kiss, rubbing my lips against his own. “Come on, sleepy head. If I’m awake, you’re damn well going to be awake too,” I murmured, dragging my tongue down his throat and giving it a little bite. “I could cover you in marks and you wouldn’t know it until you went to take a shower,” I teased, imagining what he’d have to say about that.

  I tugged the blankets away from us again, pulling back enough to look down at him. Damn, he was beautiful. I knew he always said that about me, but he needed to take a hard look in the mirror. Long, lean limbs with just the right amount of muscle, dark golden skin, his chest and arms covered in blue tattoos that matched mine. His brow had furrowed, making little lines and accenting the ruggedness of his features. His chin tapered to a point, and his nose was strong and prominent, and damned if he wasn’t just perfect.

  Kristair tried turning on his side, reaching for the covers, but I had him pinned, and as I pulled his hands away from his goal, another idea struck me. Leaning over to the nightstand, I grabbed the lube and a cream-colored silken scarf I kept intending on using. Kristair always distracted me away from the idea. Well, he wouldn’t be able to do that now.

  “Oh love, you’re in so much trouble now.” I snickered, rubbing my lips against his jaw. “You sure you don’t want to wake up before I have my wicked way with you?”

  Kristair muttered something intelligible and buried his face in my neck. I wished it were a sign he was waking and not that he was seeking comfort, but the distress in his tone told me he was still caught up in his nightmare. It made me ache inside to see this strong man with naked fear on his face, to feel him tremble.

  I lashed his wrists to the headboard and took a moment to admire my handiwork. The cream silk emphasized his skin tone, and lord, there was something sexy about a strong man helpless. Making a mental note to remember to put the camera on the nightstand for the next time, I turned my full attention to my bound lover.

  Dragging my mouth down his throat, I kissed the steady pulse there, remembering those days in the hotel when I’d woken up to find him cold and unresponsive. Now he sighed and arched his throat, turning his head to the side.

  “Jacob,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile, and his cock throbbed against my thigh.

  He was almost awake, and I wanted to be inside him when he realized what was happening. I lubed my cock and slid my arm under his knee, spreading him wider as I began to push inside him, groaning from his welcoming heat. Long, pure black lashes opened, framing his dark eyes, revealing the lingering fear and growing desire.

  Kristair’s lips were so damn soft and inviting as they parted in confusion, and I kissed him, surging deeper into his body as he groaned, until his heat completely surrounded my cock. I stayed there, releasing his leg, tongue tangling lazily with my lover’s.

  I wanted to whisper in his mind as I made love to him, and since I couldn’t, I broke the kiss and smiled down at him. “Good morning.”

  “Jacob… what…?” Kristair twiste
d his head back to look up at his bound hands, his knees rising up instinctively to cradle my hips, sleep still hazing his eyes. My lover had many sterling qualities and significant advantages over me in most things, but being quick to react upon first waking up wasn’t one of them.

  “If you have to ask, then I’m doing it wrong,” I teased, circling my hips until his breath caught and a tremor rippled through him.

  “I’m sorry I woke you.” Kristair wrapped his hands around a slat on the bed and levered himself up to kiss me. “Untie me and I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

  I snickered and eased out of him before thrusting hard, savoring his gasp as his eyes darkened to midnight. “No way that’s gonna happen. That would be reasonable and I’m not a reasonable man, especially at this time of the morning. Consider this my payback.”

  I leaned over him and gave his nipple a stinging bite. Kristair groaned, arching against me, his long legs coming up to wrap around my waist. Both of us sighed with pleasure as I surged into him deeper. “And now that I have you tied up and helpless, the last thing on my mind is letting you go.”

  “You are a wicked man,” Kristair replied, a smile tugging his lips.

  “Yeah, but you love me.” I winked at him as he laughed, all trace of fear gone from his expression now.

  “That I do.” Kristair’s eyes glinted as he levered himself up again, his lips teasing my jaw and then down to my neck. He clenched around my cock, making me gasp, his tongue tracing around the pulse in my throat. “I love hearing you breathless even more.”

  Tied up my lover might have been, but he certainly wasn’t helpless anymore. Fuck, he made me weak when he feasted on my throat like that, teeth scraping, mouth sucking, and the memory of how it had felt when he fed turning my bones to water.

  Two could play at that game. I pulled back out of reach of his mouth, grinning as a small pout crossed his lips before he banished it. He’d have kicked my ass if I told him he’d pouted and would’ve denied it to his last breath. “Brat,” he growled, clenching again.