Ripples Through Time

by Ripples Through Time (lit)

  She hadn’t been prepared for this, or the cold that followed. She hadn’t been prepared to not give a damn about taking a human life.

  She was changed in that moment, but never more determined.

  The books waited for her, as did Nicolai. Somewhere, he waited for her.

  She was changed, but not damned.

  Rather, she felt she had the strength to save him, even if it meant bargaining herself.

  Chapter 21

  Present Day

  Remembering death was a strange sensation.

  The act of being dead was something Nicholas had never considered. The gap that fell between the moments Octavia sank her fangs into his throat and clawing out of his coffin was filled with blackness and granted little need for speculation. There was no telling glance of the afterlife, no puffy white clouds or hellish screams of eternal damnation. There was nothing but the awareness of falling and rising again.

  His mind was all a tangle of colors, visions, images. It contained things he knew, things he’d always known, and things he couldn’t believe his mind had kept from him. He saw her, of course…but then, he’d always seen her. Ever since infancy, it seemed his mind was a shrine for Ravenna, for his Raven, even if he hadn’t known her. He hadn’t known anything, really…only a part of him had. A part of him, a very real part, had wanted her, wanted something he didn’t know and couldn’t remember, before he’d known what wanting meant. That confused part of him had spent a century unknowingly turning over every rock in his path in search of her, though he hadn’t realized it at the time. Every time he caught a whiff of something which smelled like her, his head would whip up, and his eyes would scour the scene before him, trying to pinpoint the source and trying to figure out for what he searched in the first place. Looking for something that elapsed his memory had been hard enough, and rationalizing it hadn’t come any easier. Still, his breath always caught when he saw girls of her height and stature, with her hair or eyes. He would blink at them in wonder, then dismiss them just as quickly. He didn’t know what he wanted to find, he couldn’t remember that he’d lost anything at all, and that didn’t matter because for years it remained lost.

  That was, until he came here and saw her at Club Intensity.

  His Raven. He’d found her. His search had ended the night he first laid eyes on her. His double-takes at other girls had ended that night. The demon had centered its sights on Raven.

  Only he’d been fool enough to think it was because she was One of the Few.

  He hadn’t recognized her. Not the way he should have.

  She was here because he was here. He was here because of a deal she’d made.

  It felt overwhelming. The past century and a half of his life had only been so because she’d wished it. The lot of it—getting the stuffing kicked out of him at school, watching his father and sister fall into poor health, and his never-ending obsession with the Few. Every time he heard the word, his heart clenched and his still-veins rushed with the promise of something he couldn’t name. All he’d known was how important it was that he get to the Few, as many as possible. Meeting Raven had only intensified the hunger. He’d needed to see her, touch her, take in her face. He’d needed to see if she was something—if she was the one for whom he searched, even if he’d had no idea how or why…

  At night she was there, always. Caressing his face, whispering sweetly into his ear, and promising things he never remembered upon awakening.

  Not until he arrived here and found her again.

  He hadn’t remembered her. Christ, why hadn’t he remembered her?

  He felt infinitely stuck in a T.S Eliot poem, grasping a peach in one hand and demanding if he dared disturb the universe.

  Only he hadn’t. Raven had. Raven had disturbed the universe to rescue him from Hell, from the place he hadn’t remembered until his fang sliced her tongue and her blood ran into his mouth.

  Raven had sacrificed herself to save him. She’d made a trade.

  And he hadn’t remembered the woman he loved beyond recognition or understanding. Not only had he not remembered her, he’d turned himself heads and tails over a woman he couldn’t fathom touching now. Not when he remembered what he’d had, what he’d always had without knowing it.

  He didn’t begrudge Octavia for anything. It seemed she’d known from the beginning—known in her special way that guaranteed a certain amount of understanding when events around her began to unfold, but similarly kept her from voicing her secret knowledge. He couldn’t hate her now, not for the century of not loving him, not for her numerous affairs, not for regarding him more as a favored son than a lover. He couldn’t hate her.

  He hated himself.

  He’d touched someone else. He’d had perfection in his Raven and he’d fallen so far from it that he didn’t know if he could ever be clean.

  Raven had given up everything for him, and he hadn’t remembered her. Her precious lips had graced his, and he’d shoved her aside. She’d wept crystal tears and whispered a thousand apologies, begging him for forgiveness he hadn’t known to grant.

  He’d lived a century-and-a-half wanting to belong, and not knowing he did already. All he had to do was wait. He would have waited. Years, decades, millennia, all of it would be worth it just to feel like he was a part of something.

  The demon now wailed, mourning something he couldn’t name. While the rest of his mind overran with conflicting memories, he felt nothing beyond golden understanding. He’d died at Raven’s side, watching as she wept for him, begging him to never leave her. Her eyes were the last he remembered of that life before whatever was left of him was banished to the special Hell reserved for demons.

  Raven had done everything to save him.

  Just as he would have done for her. God, if he’d watched Raven die, he would have torn apart this and every world between them to get her back.

  She’d begged him for forgiveness on her birthday. Begged him.

  He was the one who had made her watch him die. Whatever came after—the years of emptiness, enduring rejection after rejection—the lot of it would never make up for what he’d made her suffer.

  His thoughts finally cleared. He felt he could see at last.

  It didn’t mean the years behind him were down the pisser, but it certainly put things in perspective. Now, knowing what he did about himself, he felt completely whole at last. As though the life he’d lived these last decades was Nicolai: Abridged. He was a vampire older than time now.

  He’d seen and tasted worse fates than many could imagine. For once, he felt in control. It didn’t matter how moon-eyed he was for the warrior. He was a predator, and he always had been. He’d tempered himself as best he could for his girl the first time around, but he hadn’t quit cold turkey, and she’d never asked it of him. It was, perhaps, the only thing her bastard of a Guardian had pounded into her head that wasn’t complete rubbish.

  Ravenna had understood she was there only to protect the human race. She’d viewed him as a thing from Hell at first, of course, but she hadn’t blamed him for being what he was, nor had she ever attempted to hold him to her moral code. It was a tacit understanding between them. He wasn’t human. He couldn’t be blamed for not acting human.

  Just as he couldn’t blame her for being human, for caring about the pissants she protected, even if they cared less than a damn about her.

  He couldn’t blame her for wanting to see the good in everyone, no matter how ill-advised.

  He couldn’t blame her for anything because all of it made up who she was.

  Nicholas wasn’t thick enough to think the fight had ended. His head might be clearing, the fog dissipating, but he knew there would always be questions. He would likely spend the rest of his days trying to reconcile with what he’d thought was true versus what actually was. He’d lived a good chunk of life not knowing his true identity, and try as he might, he couldn’t simply bounce back from that.

  He couldn’t go on without seeing her. Lord knows why h
e’d even tried.

  It had seemed important to distance himself and give himself time to think and mull over how her blood had opened his mind to an endless storm of new possibilities. It had provided the return of who he was, or who he had been before. While he’d told her to not call him Nicolai anymore, a part of him couldn’t help but sway with awe.

  She’d known him. She always had.

  Nicholas had been in the cemetery for God-knows-how-long now, waiting because he knew she’d be here. After what had happened back home, she’d need to pour her confusion and her fears into stalking something to kill. She’d be here.

  He needed her to be here and know he wasn’t turning away from her. He might still need time to reconcile the question marks running rampant through his mind, but he needed her above all else.

  Christ knows he always had. He’d needed her for two hundred years until he’d stumbled across her in that shithole of a village, and almost another two hundred before finding her again.

  He’d spent nearly half a millennia completely lost for a girl he hadn’t known until the end.

  Only this time it wouldn’t be the end. He wouldn’t let history repeat itself. Not now. Not ever.

  Raven had sacrificed herself to save him. How, he didn’t know, but he would find out. After, of course, he found her, bathed her face with kisses, shagged her rotten, and begged for forgiveness for both dying on her and not remembering her sweet face.

  Then he’d let her have it for bartering with a demon. Truly, he’d wring her neck, kiss it better, and wring it all over again.

  Whatever the payment was, it would never be made. He’d find a way around it.

  Then perhaps—just perhaps—they could have a go at the future.

  * * * *

  How all occasions do inform against me.

  Raven laughed, an achingly empty sound which echoed through her tired, emotionally crippled body and left her feeling even more lost than she had before.

  The fates had given her what she’d desperately wanted since awakening and realizing who she was. Since realizing she was alone, because Nicholas didn’t remember her.

  She’d wanted nothing else since that night but to be remembered.

  Paimon was right. The son of a bitch was right. She should have been careful for what she asked. He’d warned her, after all, that Nicolai could know life again only to hate her.

  The idea of Nicolai ever hating her had been laughable then.

  God, she was such a blind, arrogant fool.

  There was one thing, though, which kept her from melting into despair. He loved her. He’d said so. He might have walked away but he loved her.

  How much could she rely on love?

  Everything felt so blundered and so completely up in the air. She wanted to do something but didn’t know what. Every cell in her body commanded her to run and find him, but he’d asked her for time and she wasn’t about to deny him whatever he asked. She’d been living under the illusion that everything would somehow sort itself out once he remembered, not complicate itself right back up again. She’d believed it because she wanted it to be true. She wanted it.

  “All right,” she murmured gently to herself, kicking at a stone, her gaze trailing its movements as it bounced across the ground. “Well, let’s list the good things. Dexter is still totally on your side, not looking to be setting you up to get burned at the stake. I know what I’m up against now.” She paused meaningfully, stopping at the stone she’d kicked. “And Nicholas remembers.”

  “He remembers.”

  For the umpteenth time tonight, Raven froze, and her mind immediately went into recovery mode. She was prepared to resuscitate her heart if need be, To breathe back into life every part of her which was numb in despair. She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready to look him in the eyes and see the damage her selfish wish had inflicted. She wasn’t ready to have his love only out of obligation.

  Oh God.

  What if that was it, then? What if it boiled down to obligation or the claim? God, there were so many things she hadn’t considered—either out of idiocy or fear where such revelations would lead her.

  Raven swallowed hard and turned. “Nicholas…”

  He nodded solemnly, his dark eyes a storm of unreadable emotion.

  “I thought you needed time,” she said.

  “How long’s it been?”

  “About ninety minutes.”

  “It’s about all I needed.” Nicholas drew in a deep breath and took a step forward. And another. And another. “You all right, sweetness?”

  The question sounded so bizarre against the night air she almost laughed again. “All right?” she repeated. “Oh yeah. I’m fine. Real swell.”

  A pained look flashed across his face. “Raven—”

  “I mean I’ve just gone and made a royal mess of everything, haven’t I? Can’t save you for anything. Can’t make foolproof deals with demons. Can’t tell you how sorry I am for making you…come back, ‘cause honestly? Not so much with the sorry as I am with the Raven’s-a-moron thing.” She shrugged and released another high-pitched, slightly maniacal laugh. “So yes. The world is one big lemon ready to be made into lemonade. That’s pretty much how I am.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His word lent her pause. Raven’s heart skipped. “You’re sorry?” she repeated. “I made you relive—”

  “Yeah? My life’s an entertaining circus. It was a laugh. Really.”

  If the strain in his voice wasn’t enough, the tell in his eyes betrayed him completely. It always did.

  “I don’t blame you if you hate me, Nicholas.”

  Thick silence spread between them, his eyes widening in astonishment and deepening in something she hadn’t seen in what felt like a millennia. “Hate you?” he repeated, his voice hoarse, the storm of emotion nearly taking her to her knees. “You think I even have the wiring for that?”

  Raven blinked. “I…he…Paimon told me you might…a-and with what happened earlier—”

  A growl rumbled through his throat, and he tore forward, his hands clamping around her forearms and walking her backward until her back collided with the harsh bark of a tree. Always against trees, they were. It was nice to have something solid on which to depend. “You daft little twig,” he snarled. “You—”

  “Nicholas—”

  “Have I ever given you any reason? Any?” He shook her hard. “Not talking now, of course, but then. You knew me then, didn’t you? Didn’t you? How could you think I’d hate you if you knew me? How thick do I have to paint it for you?”

  Raven shook her head. It was all she could do.

  “You really think I wouldn’t have done the same thing?” he snarled. “If I’d known there was a way? Any way? You think I would have let that stupid arse take you from me? Do you have any idea what I would give up for you?”

  “I thought you—”

  “I told you I love you,” Nicholas barked, shaking her again. “I always have, even when I didn’t know you.” His face fell at that, the anger retreating and directing itself inward. His eyes went wide with grieved-awe, his head swooping downward as though he thought himself unworthy. “I didn’t know you. God, Raven, how could I not know you?”

  “The demon—”

  “The demon made me forget you?” he snarled, the tornado in his eyes seizing hold of his entire being. “It shouldn’t have been possible. Making me forget anything about you should’ve been impossible with one touch of your skin. One kiss…” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “A thousand demons shouldn’t have had the power to make me forget. Not you, Raven, not you. Anything else—everything else—but not you. I could’ve…God, kill me over and over again, just don’t take the memory of you away.”

  She didn’t realize she was crying until he reached up to brush away her tears. “I didn’t think…”

  “You didn’t think what?” His breathing was ragged, his hazy eyes wandering covetously over her face as though trying to convince himself sh
e was real. “That I would do as much—”

  “That you would ever remember.”

  Nicholas’s eyes flashed, and his grip on her arms tightened, his hips moving against hers. It took all of her not to simply gasp and thrust herself against his denim-clad erection. Hormones battled intellect. She needed to hear this. She needed to hear everything.

  “And if I didn’t, what then?” he asked. “Are you really so dippy that you don’t know I’m gonna be hopeless for you no matter what I do or don’t remember? You know what I was thinking right before we kissed and I got myself a taste of your blood? Before I remembered?”

  Raven shook her head, choking back a sob.

  “That you’re mine.” Nicholas’s lips just barely brushed hers, his eyes fluttering shut before focusing on her again. “Now I know you always have been.”

  Then his mouth was on her, massaging her lips so sweetly there was nothing to do but collapse against him, relief beyond recognition blistering her worn body. His hands slipped up her arms, brushing the sides of her neck and finally resting when he had her cheeks cupped in each palm. He moaned when she moaned into him, her lips parting to welcome the eager strokes of his tongue. He tasted just as she remembered—like Nicolai, but now flavored with a rush of danger and alcohol, combined with the thrilling air of him which was wholly and distinctively male and that was Nicolai as he would have been in this century had they lived.

  Her fingers wove through his hair, her ravenous mouth consuming everything he had to give. Every stroke of his lips sent fiery sparks down her middle. Her panties were drenched. Her heart thundered. Her pulse raced. She was in such need and terrified the world would blink itself away, that she would awake to find this nothing but a dream. “Nicholas…” she gasped.

  He grinned against her mouth, thrusting his clad cock against her drenched center. “God, I love that.”

  Raven sucked hard on his bottom lip, eliciting a long groan. “Nicholas,” she said, cheekily this time, fingers massaging his scalp. “You don’t mind if I…slip every now and then? I’m gonna try to remember—”