by Kristie Cook
“I don’t think …” He paused. Licked his lips. And as he did, his gaze dropped to my mouth. “Damn it, Asia. I brought the book over as an excuse. I can’t … I can’t stop thinking about you … and your lips … and that accidental kiss that wasn’t really an accident.”
He slowly lifted his eyes back to mine, where they held for a long moment. Then he crossed the space between us, slid his muscular arms around me, and pulled me against his hard body as his mouth crashed down on mine. And I was powerless to stop him. My resolve vanished as soon as he admitted what I’d already felt—the kiss before hadn’t been an accident. I’d wanted it. I’d wanted to feel it again. And here he was, kissing me again like I’d never been kissed before. As though he felt the same deep need I did, from our very cores. As though we could only be satisfied if we devoured the other.
His lips moved perfectly with mine, as if they were made for each other. Our mouths parted at the same time and our tongues intertwined, completely in sync. His hands skated up and down my back, sending wave after wave of chills over my skin. One pushed underneath my hair and cradled the back of my neck. His fingers curled into my locks and tugged my head backwards, tipping my mouth at a better angle for the kiss that was making my knees weak.
My own hands slid up his bare chest, over his broad shoulders, and up along his neck until I could rub the stubble dusting his chin and jaw. I clasped his face in both hands and pulled him even closer. I swore everywhere our skin touched singed with the heat of a million suns. But it was a warmth I wanted, ached for, needed like my lungs needed air. His lips, his tongue, his skin against mine filled a well within me that I’d never realized had been empty until now. I felt more alive than I had in months, and the way he was giving and taking, feeding me while feeding himself, I had a feeling I did the same for him.
As the kiss deepened, it also became more urgent. A driving lust for more. My legs began to tremble, both from the intensity and from standing on my toes. Brock’s hands clamped on my waist, and he effortlessly lifted me to sit on the counter so he wouldn’t have to bend down and I wouldn’t have to reach so high. My butt landed on something—the book—and I pushed it away before bringing both arms around Brock’s neck. His hands gripped my knees, scorching the bare skin, and he spread my legs so he could step between them. I fought the urge to wrap them around his waist and let them hang instead.
Sensing my need to keep things above the belt, his hands moved to my shoulders, clutching them for a moment as though he was afraid if he let go, I might disappear. Then they slid to my back, one up into my hair while the other trailed lightly up and down my spine, sending a shiver through my heated body. Our mouths remained locked as we devoured each other as though our souls had been starving for this connection. I moaned into Brock’s mouth, and he growled in return, before nipping my bottom lip and breaking the kiss. He pressed his forehead against mine, and his hand slid from the back of my head to cradle my face.
“Your mouth is like a life force,” he whispered as his thumb swept over my lips.
Chapter 9
Now
My fingers on one hand skimmed over my lips, remembering the feeling of Brock’s doing the same, as the pads on my other hand skated over the words on the journal’s page. Words I hadn’t written. I could only figure Brock had somehow added them to the story I’d begun writing in the Book, because they obviously came from his memory:
“Her mouth tasted like cherries and mint, but the longer we kissed, the more she tasted like heaven. Like the single answer to everything I ever needed. Not that she was the solution to every problem. But somehow, kissing Asia and holding her in my arms, feeling her small body pressed against mine, made me believe I could take on any problem in the world, hers and mine, and come out triumphant. Made me feel that together we could take on anything.
“But maybe that was false hope from the heat of the moment.”
Something tickled the tip of my nose and not until I swiped at it did I realize it was a tear. More were streaming down my cheeks. My chest felt tight as it tried to contain the sob that was already building toward my throat, pushing upward, making my breasts heave and forcing a choking sound from my mouth. At last, I could no longer hold back. I cried for Brock and me, for us now and for us then. I cried for his words and his doubts. I didn’t know if the uncertainty came from what he felt then or what he felt now as he reflected on our story, knowing what came next … and after that … and until now, as we remained Separated across worlds.
What had come next was Hope knocking on my door, baby Connor on her hip. She and her husband had a dinner that night, which, of course, I’d known about, and she needed to hand off Connor to Brock. He sweetly cuddled the tiny baby in his strong arms that only moments ago had been embracing me, and with little more than an apology to me, ran off for the house, leaving me confused and uncertain of where we stood. And knowing we shouldn’t have stood anywhere. Regardless of him being the very type I’d vowed to stay away from, he had also been my boss’s son. A disaster waiting to happen, I’d thought, and I’d lose my job and home in the process. I didn’t know then how much worse it would be.
But I was getting ahead of myself. Of our story. I needed to relish in the good parts, not let the bad ones bring the Darkness faster. It would come soon enough.
We had some happy times. They felt insignificant now, but they’d existed. Like reading Jacey’s journal together.
See, a while after Brock had left that night and I’d been locking the front door, I noticed the brown leather book still sitting on the counter, where I’d pushed it to the edge. Somehow, the clasp had fallen open. Of course, I knew now that I must have touched the metal lock while Brock and I had been melded together at the mouths, but at the time, the book became even more of an enigma.
I scrubbed at my wet cheeks and sank into the memory of texting him immediately and how he’d been just as excited as I’d been to find out what was inside and to whom it belonged. He made me promise, though, to wait for him before opening the mysterious book. I hadn’t known until this moment, feeling it from him now, that he’d felt bad for having to push me to the side. Knowing what I did now, though, I couldn’t blame him one bit. In fact, I would have been disappointed if he’d done anything else.
Before losing myself again in writing our story, I stroked my fingertips over the script on the page—Brock’s script, where he’d somehow added that part about our kiss. When I did, I could almost, almost feel his presence. Not anything physical like his hand touching mine or anything, but in my soul. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling. Brock, I silently called out. The slightest sensation rippled through me, like the lightest breeze, there and gone again before I could even be sure I felt it.
A knock at the door jarred me back to reality.
Jeric stood on the other side, one hand clasping the back of his neck and the other shoved into his jeans pocket. His blue eyes pierced into mine for a moment, then he looked away, at a point over my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
I glanced down the hall at the window at the end, which was black. I’d had the curtains pulled closed over my window, blocking out the sun, and hadn’t realized night had fallen.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said as I wrapped my arms around my midsection. “As fine as can be expected.”
He nodded, but his gaze still stayed away from my face. He almost seemed to be looking for something.
“Have you found anything in the Book?” he asked, and I realized that was probably what he searched for. He hadn’t even tried to mask the hope in his voice.
I swallowed, not wanting to tell him. “What had been in there before … Jacey’s story, your drawings, everything … it had all apparently washed out.”
Jeric’s sharp eyes finally came back to me, and his brows pushed together
as his mouth pressed into a scowl. Although I relished being able to read Brock’s words, my heart hurt and my eyes stung for Jeric and Leni and what they’d lost. The pages may have held the memories of what had been written on them before, but without any idea of how to bring them back, the words and pictures may as well have been gone forever.
“That fucking sucks. I, uh, I thought …” He paused, looked away again, then back at me, and lifted a shoulder in a sort of shrug. “I’ve been wandering the entire manor all day, feeling lost. I keep finding myself back at your door without even realizing I’d taken the steps to get here. It’s like a pull. I’d hoped … I thought maybe it was the Book. Or something you found in it. I was trying to give you time and space to go through it, but here I am … again.”
The pain etched into his eyes—the same agony filling my soul—had me stepping to the side and inviting him in. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Jeric hesitated for a long moment. I was sure he felt as strange as I did being here, in my room, without Brock or Leni serving as a buffer. Jeric was hot, but he wasn’t my type. In fact, the only type I had any more was Brock. Even though I struggled to understand exactly what we had together, I knew I’d never want anyone else. I also knew Jeric completely loved Leni. They were the definition of soul mates, the embodiment of Twin Flames. Always had been. I certainly didn’t have to worry about him trying anything.
I strode past Jeric and over to the bed. I picked up the Book of Phoenix, held open to the page I’d been reading, and handed it to him. He glanced down, then back up at me.
“I thought you said everything had been washed away,” he said.
“Right. I started writing in it, though. About how Brock and I met, since it’d never been recorded, as far as I know.”
Jeric’s eyes tightened slightly.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just … uh … I’ve been getting what I can only call visions. Of how you and Brock met.”
My breath caught. “That’s wonderful!”
His brows rose.
“It confirms what I’ve been thinking. Look here.” I pointed to the page. “That’s Brock’s handwriting. Like he’s adding to my story. Like he can feel it, too!”
Jeric studied the page closer. “This just started appearing?”
I gave him a small smile. “Yeah. And that’s not all. I swear, I kind of … I sometimes think I can feel him, Jeric.” I pressed my fisted hand against my chest, over my heart. “I feel him almost like a ghost in my soul. But more than that … more than a memory. It’s almost like the Book’s trying to connect us through more than just words.”
“Like a bridge across worlds?” he asked, his voice full of hope.
“Maybe. I mean, Nathayden was able to feel Bex, right? Or see her or something. I don’t remember exactly what he said and his messages are gone now, but he knew she had red hair and blue eyes. He knew she’d been reading it. And he was able to communicate with us. So maybe …” I paused and sighed, then muttered, “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”
Jeric sat on the bed, his gaze focused on the Book as he ran his fingers over the outside cover. “It makes sense, though. If I’m getting your story without reading it … Brock’s able to add to it … Nathayden had felt something from us and sent us messages in return … Leni thinks we gave the Book powers in a past life. We just have to try to remember them.”
He turned back to the page where I’d left off, his finger holding the spot the whole time. He closed his eyes, like I had before, and skimmed his fingertips slowly over the paper. Several beats of my heart passed before a slow smile began to spread over his face, revealing his dimples that made him look more boyish and less intimidating. With his eyes still closed, he pressed his palm against the page and lifted his other hand to his chest.
“I feel her,” he said, his voice more of a croak than anything. “Barely, but I do. She’s alive, at least.”
Chapter 10
Leni. Jeric’s voice calling out my name swirled through me, and for a moment, I thought I could actually feel him again, his soul a part of mine. Leni!
Jeric! I called back to him, reaching for him with everything inside me. I’m coming, babe! I’m coming home.
I didn’t know if he heard or felt me, or if I really heard or felt him. The sensation could have been no more than the Gate pulling me in and spitting me back out. The sound of his voice wishful thinking, like the mirage of an oasis in the middle of a desert. Regardless, I lost it all as soon as I landed in another body of water.
Unable to breathe, I jerked the helmet off of me, not thinking or caring that the air of this new place could possibly kill me. It didn’t. The water wasn’t acidic like it had been on Erde, either. It was a small, murky lake, and I’d landed waist-deep not too far from shore. The sun beat down from high in the sky, where bodies fell from and splashed into the water around me. Bex, then Hayden, then Brock.
Why had we fallen from the sky again, like we had when we arrived at Erde? Why hadn’t we emerged from an underwater Gate? I’d thought last time had been because we’d used the Book of Phoenix to transport us directly to where Nathayden was—that the Book had used or even created a portal. But this time we’d gone through an actual Gate on Erde. Shouldn’t it have spit us out through the other side? No lights of a Gate shone under the water, though. Did each Gate work differently? I’d never thought to ask, and no one had ever mentioned this, but it seemed pretty plausible now.
A massive form blotted out the light of the sun before I had a chance to say anything, and we all looked up. We weren’t the only ones to have passed through the Gate.
“Run!” Hayden yelled as soon as he tugged his own helmet off.
We sprinted for the shore, nearly there when an enormous wave of water almost knocked us down and the beast bellowed behind us. I looked over my shoulder at the gozzard that had followed us, its elephant-like trunk raised, sniffing the unfamiliar air. Nothing else seemed to have come through with it, thank God for small miracles. But bringing the monster from Erde to this new world, whatever it was, was bad enough. A look around as we continued running across the marsh made me think we’d made it back to Earth … and brought a freakin’ gozzard with us. But wouldn’t I feel Jeric if we were on Earth? Maybe we just weren’t close enough to each other.
We ran into the green jungle surrounding the lake, where near darkness immediately engulfed us, the pounding of the gozzard’s footsteps behind us as it chased after. Chirps, buzzes, and hums filled the air, as well as the sound of dripping water on leaves. Our feet squelched in the muddy jungle floor as we trudged across it, and the putrid smell of rotting potatoes forced me to take quick, shallow breaths so I wouldn’t gag. We clipped through the light-dappled jungle as quickly as possible, each of us taking turns in stumbling over a root or rock and pushing hanging vines out of our way. I tried hard not to think about the gigantic spider webs we passed … or the creatures that made them … but I couldn’t help my hand from continuously swiping at the back of my neck, feeling creepy-crawlies all over me when there were none. Except for mosquitoes the size of birds that I swatted on my arms.
The air was thick and heavy with humid heat, and I’d started to shed the acid-eaten jacket I wore that was now nothing more than a membrane clinging to my body, but Brock stopped me.
“That thin material could be all that’s keeping those mosquitoes from sucking every ounce of your blood,” he said as he waved his hand in the air and smacked one away.
“Good point,” I muttered, and I left the jacket on although sweat poured from my scalp and down my back.
My legs felt like tree trunks, as heavy as a gozzard’s, when we finally broke through the edge of the jungle and halted in our tracks. Night had fallen, and the low, almost full moon reflected off the water in front of us. A sea. Waves beat at the shor
e that stretched to our right and left as far as we could see.
We each bent over, bracing ourselves with our hands on our knees, and tried to catch our breaths. We’d lost the gozzard a long time ago, but kept moving to put as much distance between it and us as possible. Now we were trapped between the raging sea and the jungle with the monster and who knew what other creatures. We hadn’t seen any but certainly had heard them.
“Is this … Earth?” Hayden panted.
“Possibly,” Bex said. “Like the Amazon or something?”
“It’s hard to say,” I said. “I thought I’d feel Jeric as soon as we came through, but if I really did, which I’m not so sure, it was only for a moment.”
“I felt Asia,” Brock said, and my heart leapt as I spun to look at him. “I swear I feel her every now and then, but …” He paused and frowned. “I could easily be lying to myself.”
I shook my head, not letting him lose hope. “Maybe we’re just not close enough to feel them.”
“Do you have any idea where we are then?” Hayden asked. “Or do we need to find shelter for the night?”
I wracked my brain to remember all of the Gates’ locations on Earth. I knew there were two in the U.S. and one in every other continent except Antarctica, but I didn’t know if that even mattered.
“We could be in South America or Africa,” I suggested, based on the jungle. “I don’t know if we actually exited through a real Gate, so we could be anywhere in the tropics.”
“Maybe even Australia?” Bex suggested.
Brock shook his head. “I don’t think there are any jungles like that in Australia. Nowhere I’ve been, anyway.”
“But this does look like a place on Earth?” Hayden tried to confirm. “Are we near civilization?”
