A Break in Time

by Michelle Miles

  “Then why are you?” he growled back.

  She covered her face with her hands, surprised by the wet tears on her cheeks. “Because I dreamed it.” Her words muffled against her palms.

  “You dreamed it?” he repeated, sounding startled.

  “Yes.”

  “So did I.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest and her ears, drowning out the sounds of the rain forest. The blood drained from her head, leaving her lightheaded and shaky. He had dreamed it, too? How could they have had the same dream?

  “What did you see?” he asked.

  A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed hard to get the words out. “My mother on the floor of the café.” She squeezed her eyes shut as the memory flooded back. “There were two, maybe three, men that morning. They killed everyone. There was blood everywhere. On the walls, the floor…the kitchen.” She paused, horrified at the amount of detail she remembered.

  “Go on,” he prodded.

  “They were going to kill her, but you got to them first.” Skye’s voice hitched as a sob escaped her. “You…you…pointed the gun at her and…” She couldn’t finish.

  “Pulled the trigger,” Dane finished. “I pulled the trigger.”

  “Is that how it happened?” She opened her eyes, fixed him with a pointed stare.

  “Yes.”

  She crumpled to the ground then, her face in her hands. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. Until her throat was raw and her eyes throbbed. She used her sleeve to wipe away the dampness on her face, sniffling. She sat there a long while, listening to the sounds of the rain forest, feeling the humidity press all around and staring at the canopy of trees. Dane hadn’t moved; he merely stood, waiting for her to finish.

  She at last found her voice. “How could we both have the exact same dream?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Two: Revelations

  “There was someone else in the dream. I’ve never seen her before, but I know her name is Olivia.” She could read in his face he knew her, for his jaw muscles flexed again. “Why don’t you want to tell me who she is?”

  “Because she’s dead.” He turned away from her and walked briskly up the path.

  Stunned, Skye watched him. Dead? Olivia was dead and he refused to talk about it. Then she had been right. Had he killed Olivia in cold blood as he’d killed her parents? Did guilt eat away at him for it? The woman in the dream said she missed him. Skye scrambled to her feet and hurried after him.

  “Was she one of your victims?” Her breath came in pants as she tried to catch him. “Did you kill her, too?”

  He ignored her and kept walking, shoving aside foliage as he went. She struggled to keep up, her lungs burning with the exertion.

  “Dane! I have to know.”

  “No.” He spun around. “I didn’t kill her.”

  A smoldering anger flashed through his eyes. His fists clenched, as though he might strike her. His expression hardened and his mouth tightened in a thin, straight line. Needing to know the truth, she pressed on.

  “Who was she then? Someone important to you? She said she missed you.”

  “Stop it,” he growled. He caught her by the arms and held her tightly. “Just stop it. Do not ever speak to me of her again. I never want to hear her name from your lips.”

  He gave her a hard shake, making her squeak with fear. Her teeth nearly rattled in her head. Realizing what he was doing, he released her. He turned away.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.” Her voice was so soft, she hardly recognized it.

  With his back to her, he turned his head so she could only see his profile and she found herself memorizing it. The strong jaw, the prominent nose, his forehead. How all the curves molded into each other in one long, perfect line. The way his hair spiked on top of his head, especially when he ran his hand through it.

  “Did you kill her?” she asked again. “Was she one of your—”

  “No, Skye.” He leveled his gaze on hers. “But she is dead.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you didn’t kill her.”

  “You’re just going to have to trust me. I’m telling you the truth. Everything I’ve told you from the very beginning has been the truth.”

  “I guess I will have to trust you.”

  True, he had saved her life from Sovold in what she and Dane referred to as the Ice Age. And true, he had promised not to harm her and he hadn’t. So far. But there was still that what-if factor. What if he changed his mind?

  “So who was she?” Skye asked. Her gaze never wavered from his.

  “My wife.”

  “Your wife?” Skye blinked with surprise. “You were married?”

  “Yes. I was a different man then.”

  He paused and she waited, watching his expression, seeing the pain in his face. Whatever happened with his wife hurt him terribly and she could see it now. She swallowed a sudden lump.

  “Dane, you don’t have—” she began.

  “I’m going to tell you everything.” Dane cut her off. “You have to know why because you’ve seen something I can’t explain. You’ve seen her in my dreams, haven’t you?”

  His voice was thick with insinuation. His expression had changed, too, from pain to anger. As if he thought she had intentionally barged in on his personal thoughts, his private dreams.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I don’t know how that happened or why.”

  “Neither do I.” He looked grim, as though he hated the thought of sharing a personal memory with her.

  She bit her lip. “I don’t want to know, Dane,” she said, almost begging as her words spilled out of her. “Really, I don’t.”

  “Oh, I will tell you.”

  As she backed away, ready to sprint, he reached for her, snatching her to him hard. A strangled yelp squeezed from her throat. Her breath accelerated, her chest rose and fell against his. She could even feel the rapid palpitations of his heart.

  “You are a damned exhausting woman. You know that?”

  From the moment his hands connected with her, she was aware of his arousal, his immense need for her. Not only for her understanding, but he needed her physically. He needed to touch her bare skin again, to feel his lips on hers.

  Unable to stand it any longer, she crushed her mouth against his, shattering her worst fears that he had killed the woman he once loved. She gave herself freely to the passion of his kiss, her stomach doing a sharp downward spiral. His lips ravished hers cruelly.

  Her hands pressed against his chest, feeling the strong curves of his pectorals through the uniform shirt given to him by Nyan. She slipped her arms around his neck as his went around her waist and held her against him. She never wanted that moment to end.

  “You want me.” He said it so matter-of-factly she only blinked in response. “You can’t deny that.”

  She shoved him away. “That’s your fantasy, buddy.”

  “Are you sure, doll?” His gaze pierced her before his mouth spread into a devilish smirk. “Stop playing. You enjoyed it as much as I did.”

  “And it sucks that you know it.”

  It took all her self-control not to shove him to the ground right then and there, rip his clothes off and make that fantasy come true. It was no secret to either of them she desired him. She just didn’t want him to know how badly.

  “You want to know the truth, I’ll tell you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to change your mind?”

  “It’s a limited time offer, doll. Better take it while you can get it.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “We could stand here all day and exchange witty banter, but I’d really prefer if we found some air conditioning before we talk.”

  “And if we can’t?”

  “Then I guess you save it for another time.” She flashed a smug smile at her subtle joke.

  “Suit yourself.”

  Truthfully, Skye didn’t want to hear it. Her rule of thumb
with her boyfriends was she never got involved in their past. She didn’t want to know about their exes anymore than she wanted to talk about hers. Especially since her track record wasn’t so good with men. Her high school senior prom date turned out to be gay, after all.

  “Come on.”

  He took her hand once again, allowing their fingers to interlace with ease. A girl could get used to holding hands with the guy she really liked. They started back up the path with Dane leading the way.

  “You changed me, you know.”

  Her brows rose to her hairline. “I did?”

  Dane looked at her over his shoulder, opened his mouth to reply when something whizzed past his face, slicing the air between them. She peered into the bush from where it came when another and another sped by them. Dane lunged, shoving her to the ground, covering her protectively with his own body. Looking up, she saw a short spear lodged in a nearby tree inches away from where she had been standing.

  “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Dane whispered, his breath hot in her ear.

  He was right.

  They could hear footsteps crashing through the underbrush, heading in their direction. A sudden panic welled inside her as an unfriendly someone approached. She couldn’t take much more of this.

  “What are we going to do?” She tried to keep her voice normal, but it wavered a little in her panic.

  “Shhh. Don’t move.”

  How could she? He sprawled on top of her, not that she minded. Her heart throbbed painfully and her breathing increased to a rapid pace. She fought the urge to squirm out from under him, but she knew he would never allow her to move.

  A voice queried a question. Masculine, thick with a strange accent, speaking what sounded like Spanish…but not quite Spanish.

  A response she didn’t understand followed. The other voice spoke rapidly in a hushed tone.

  And then, appearing before them, was a darkly tanned foot wearing a leather sandal attached to a leg with colorful beads around the ankle. She craned her neck to look up at the man who seemed taller than any other human she had ever seen. He towered over them, his head blotting out the sun and his features indiscernible.

  From what Skye could tell, a richly colored material of red and gold wrapped around his hips. A long sash in the same colors crossed his hairless chest and was tossed over his left shoulder. He held a long spear, strange medallions tied around the end at the point. He looked down at them, speaking rapidly in an unfamiliar tongue.

  Someone appeared behind them, prodding Dane in the back with his spear and barking an order in his native language.

  “I think he wants you to get up,” Skye said. “Even though I really don’t want you do to that.”

  Spear Man jabbed him again.

  “Stay put,” he ordered and got to his feet.

  Sitting up, she watched Dane stand nose-to-nose with the native, his hands in a surrendering gesture. The second native pointed his spear in her face, and spoke rapidly and firmly.

  “Uh, Dane, I think this guy wants me to get up, too.”

  “Right,” he said through gritted teeth.

  The native poked her in the shoulder with the pointy spear.

  “Ow! That hurt, you know.” She rose and propped her hands on her hips, glaring at the man.

  She had been right. He towered over her. His dark face was painted with white and red lines around the eyes and down the cheeks. He wore golden armbands, wristbands, a golden choker around his throat and a large golden earring in one ear that stretched out his lobe. He fell to his knees, bowing at her feet. The other native followed suit.

  “What the hell…?” She trailed off.

  “What are they doing?” Dane glanced between the two.

  “Hell if I know.”

  “This seems to be a good sign,” he said. “Maybe we can use it to our advantage.”

  “Maybe.” She placed her hand on the stranger’s shoulder, gave him a slight pat.

  He rose, bowed his head again, then spoke to his companion. The tall one reached for Skye’s hair, fingered her coppery locks between his thumb and forefinger, looking at his companion and speaking quickly, excitedly.

  “Hey, don’t touch me.” She shoved him away.

  Why was it, everywhere they ended up, the men had to lay a hand on her? Not knowing what else to call him, she mentally named this near-giant Tall Man.

  Tall Man dropped his spear, put his palms together in a prayer position and bowed to her, saying the same phrase over and over.

  “Perdoe-me, minha deusa. Perdoe-me.”

  It seemed as though he was asking for her forgiveness for touching her.

  “All right, all right,” Skye grumbled. “I wish I knew what they were saying.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Dane concurred. “They think you’re something special, though.”

  “Apparently.”

  Tall Man picked up his spear and he and his companion urged the two of them to follow. The natives headed through the underbrush. When Skye and Dane failed to go along, Tall Man turned again, speaking to them and waving at them.

  “I guess he wants us to follow him, eh? Shall we see where he leads us?”

  “Why not,” she replied.

  Chapter Three: The Citadel

  They followed Tall Man and his companion through the brush, along what could barely be called a path. Above, the clouds had thickened and turned grayish, threatening rain. She could smell it in the air. The humidity pressed around them. She felt like she was suffocating.

  Every few minutes, Tall Man would turn to make sure they followed. When he did, he would give Skye the most riveting smile with perfect teeth. She was amazed at how well kept his teeth were. Through the brushwood, his gait was sure footed; he knew exactly where they were headed.

  The landscape changed abruptly as they left the jungle behind. They were on top of a vast mountain and now headed up a rocky path. Above them, Skye could see what looked like a village at the apex, with whitewashed buildings surrounded by grassy mountains. The air was thinner as they ascended toward their destination and her lungs ached from the lack of oxygen and the exertion.

  The native people of the village gathered outside their stone huts and stared as they passed. They whispered to one another behind their hands. Children gawked with wide-eyed wonder. Skye moved closer to Dane and grasped his hand—which was quickly becoming second nature to her.

  “I think you’re a celebrity,” he muttered.

  “Maybe they’ve never seen anyone like us before.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong, doll. They aren’t looking at me. They’re interested in you.”

  A wave of discomfort swept through her. She was ready for this to be over and done with. She wanted her life back, to return home.

  By the time they made it through the village, they had a following. Several of the townsfolk had picked up the path and walked at a safe distance behind them. She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder and was stunned to see how many of them there were. And more joined the group the farther into town they went.

  Tall Man led them along the winding stone roads, higher and higher toward the peak. It seemed to be the center of town. Certainly the largest building in the village, the round structure rose upward toward the bright blue sky. Behind it was a spectacular view of a grassy mountain and a white, foaming waterfall that plunged hundreds of feet below.

  As they went through town, she smelled bread baking and rich spices on the wind. She heard the clanging of metal and wondered if there was a smithy in one of the small buildings. Skye picked out several workers with dirt on their faces, tools in their hands. More of the villagers poked their heads out of their homes to see the two strangers. It seemed as if word traveled quickly up the mountainside.

  A wide stairway with hundreds of steps rose up to a yawning, dark doorway. A man in a colorful headdress stood at the top flanked by two others. Long feathers attached to the gold crown atop his head. He wore golden earrings, and seve
ral gold rings around his neck and throat.

  On one side of him, a woman with shiny black hair flowing over her shoulders down to her waist. On the other side, a pale-faced man with thinning hair and black-rimmed glasses, wearing a tweed coat and brown trousers. He looked quite out of place, almost late nineteenth or early twentieth century.

  At the sight of him, Skye’s heart suddenly tumbled in her chest. Hope cascaded through her. Perhaps they had gotten closer to home than they had imagined. Perhaps they were in their correct time, just the incorrect place.

  She felt Dane’s hand squeeze hers. His eyes were locked on the strange man in the tweed jacket.

  “Do you think…?” His words drifted away.

  “I’m afraid to hope,” she whispered.

  Hope was tempting and she wanted it very badly to be the truth. Tall Man led them up the stone stairs while the crowd waited below. She kept her eyes pinned on the trio at the top. Taking the final step, they paused, Skye huffing to catch her breath. Tall Man and the man in the headdress spoke rapidly.

  “He must be their leader,” Dane said so only she could hear.

  She nodded in response. The man in the headdress turned to the pale-faced man, spoke something she couldn’t understand. The pale-faced man stepped forward and gave a slight bow of his head.

  “Good afternoon.” He spoke perfect English with a hint of a British accent. “Welcome to Brazil.”

  “And you are?” Dane asked.

  “My name is Dr. Charles Ridgewood.”

  Ridgewood extended his hand to her in friendship. She took his, thinking he would shake it. Instead, he kissed the back of her hand.

  “Dane Fortune, and this is Skye Ransom.” Dane recaptured her hand, tucked it in his elbow. Skye suppressed a smirk.

  “I’m enchanted.” A smile glinted in Ridgewood’s deep brown eyes. “You’ve caused quite a stir here, my dear.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She peeked at the gathering crowd behind them.

  “She’s got quite a fan club, all right,” Dane said.

  “Yes. It seems they think you are a goddess.” He smiled broadly.

  “Goddess?” Skye echoed.

  Dane stifled a snicker. She gave him a warning glare.