Eternity

by Tmonique Stephens

  “What did you say?”

  Cook took a few steps closer. Roman’s upheld hand stopped him. “The nine people The Strangler has killed, they all deserved to die. One guy was a pedophile; the next a drug dealer. The first woman he killed had murdered her parents and her siblings in the seventies and got off on a technicality; another one was a serial drunk driver. He killed a mother and her two kids after a binge.”

  Stella’s clutched her head to keep it from falling off her shoulders. Her thoughts raced to keep up with the litany of details Cook rolled off his tongue. Could he be right? Was she lumped in with these people? Part of an exclusive club? Is that why he returned to finish her off? God, she didn’t want to believe it, but Roman was right. Those nurses had died because of her.

  “Enough. Not another word.” Roman silenced the man then pulled her against him. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She nodded quickly and followed him out the door.

  “Why did he pick you? Haven’t you asked yourself that question? Why you?” Cook asked.

  She spun around. “Of course I asked that question!” Furious, she walked up to him and pointed her finger in his face. “How could you think I didn’t?”

  “I investigated you and you’re not a criminal. So why did he pick you to kill?” He continued to push.

  “He didn’t pick me. I stumbled upon him killing another person, and I ran. I ran and he caught me,” she sobbed, but questioned the truth of her words as Roman dragged her away.

  “Are you sure?” Cook chased them, “Because this guy hasn’t made a mistake until you. Why is that? Why you?”

  That was the last word she heard as Roman pushed her into a cab. Too absorbed in Cook’s words, Stella paid no attention to where the car headed. She didn’t fight when his arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into his solid chest. Sure and steady, the rhythmic beating of his heart calmed her.

  Why her? No matter how much she tried to answer that question, it kept returning and the un-remembered faces of the dead nurses haunted her. “Did you know this?” Eyes closed, she whispered.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  Her attempted laugh turned into a broken sob. “I thought you knew everything.” She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer. “I know you have a file somewhere with everything about me, don’t you.”

  “Yes, it’s what I do. To protect you, I have to know you.”

  “So I’m right. Everything I told you about me and my family is in a file locked in your office, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t know it from you, Stella. Hearing your story from your own lips cannot compare to reading it on a few sheets of paper. You told me, shared with me your story, and I’m grateful for it.”

  Her head spun. All of it—her life and the man sitting next to her—collided together in a conspiracy to rob her sanity. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.

  Traffic slowed and the cab lurched to a halt. Stella grabbed the door handle and yanked. Swiftly, she slipped from the car, barely escaping his reach. Roman’s curses followed her into Central Park as the early evening crowd swallowed her.

  Within seconds, the heavy tread of feet sounded behind her, then next to her when he matched her stride. “Do I need to tell you to never do that again?” He didn’t look at her.

  She glared at him until he spared her a withering glance she found irresistible. Stella laughed. Either laugh or cry, her father always told her. For the first time in weeks her stomach spasmed with mirth. Unused muscles hurt, but in a wonderful way that made her laugh harder. A stitch blossomed on her side. Doubled over, wheezing, she let it all out, until a sob choked her. Tears blurred her vision and her laughter took an abrupt turn toward hysteria.

  Roman grabbed her and jerked her too him. Standing on the sidewalk, in the middle of Central Park, his mouth covered hers.

  He devoured her, tongue invading, conquering her mouth and her senses until she forgot to cry. Desire whipped through her scouring the hurt and pain away, leaving just a man her body yearned for. She loved it, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer until all that supported her was him. She returned his kiss with a fierceness of her own, wanting him, needing him, until catcalls to get a room broke through their fever.

  “Don’t ever run from me again,” he ordered, inches from her lips. And though she nodded, her mind thought of inventive ways to make him kiss her like that again.

  “Why did you run?” he asked when they were walking again.

  “I didn’t run. I left. I needed some fresh air and what better place than the park?”

  “I can’t say I understand what’s going on, Stella. In many ways, I’m as confused as you are to the how’s and why’s, and that is not something I’m the least bit happy with. In a short span of time, much has happened to you. You’ve handled it as best as you could. Another woman would’ve cracked. Not you. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

  Her chest swelled and her spine straightened a little more. When was the last time someone said that to her. Someone that mattered. And when did Roman, his opinion and approval, matter? And would he still feel the same way if he knew the truth. The truth that wasn’t included in the file he had on her?

  She stopped at the edge of the Great Lawn. People still lingered as twilight gathered, but none close by. She sat beneath her tree.

  “That was my favorite spot.” She pointed to a nearby hedge. “I spent a few weeks here after I ran away from my last foster home.” A summer spent in the park, hiding herself and the few possessions she managed to gather. A shudder raced through her and she chewed her bottom lip. Memories of cold, hungry nights choked her. Out of everything she could’ve shared, why did she pick one of the most painful?

  She cast a fleeting look at him. Thunder engulfed his features turning him into a hulking menace.

  “What happened in foster care?” His voice dropped so low she barely heard him.

  “N-nothing.” She looked away. Firm fingers clasped her chin and returned her attention to him. He searched her face, looking for a way to force her to tell him.

  Would he hurt me?

  With night gathering and no one nearby, he could kill her and dump her body in her old hiding place. No one would find her until she stank. She had to get away.

  The fingers gripping her chin stroked her jaw and glided down the column of her throat, stalling her instinct to flee, making her long for something she never had. She closed her eyes against that traitorous emotion and tilted her face into the moonlight.

  The wind bathed her in a cool breeze, lifting her bangs, revealing her scar. Let him look. Let him see exactly how horrible it is. Maybe then he could deal with the scars on the inside, the ones keeping her from moving forward and claiming whatever joy this life had to offer.

  Brave thoughts didn’t give her strength to open her eyes. Pity and disgust wasn’t something she wanted to see on his face.

  The calloused pad of his thumb stroked her scar and left an aching trail of awareness spreading across nerve endings that—until recently—slumbered blissfully ignorant of passion. Now they roared to life, demanding attention. Fear sliced through her. What if she looked and all she saw was revulsion?

  Then you’d know. Her eyes opened.

  Love stared back.

  Unshed tears blurred her vision.

  Roman’s hand dropped to his side. “Don’t cry. I—I won’t—”

  She leaped into his arms. He caught her, tumbling back onto the grass. She landed on top of his body.

  Tears pelted his face. Another man would have flinched from her ghastly display and pushed her away or at the least, shielded himself. Roman waited, one hand on the small of her back, the other pushing her tousled hair behind her ears and wiping away the river cascading from her eyes.

  “Sweetheart, please, tell me what’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t, at least not at this moment. Not when her heart was raw and wide open. With almost no effort, every wall she erected, Roman destroye
d. Now the rubble lay at her feet. Instinct told her to rebuild—quickly—before it was too late.

  As she looked down into his face, she realized late had passed days ago. Maybe it was the meals he fed her, or how he didn’t balk when she wanted to learn how to defend herself. Maybe it was the nights spent safely sheltered in his arms and the way his gaze caressed her? There was something about him she craved . . . even loved?

  Oh God, anything but that!

  She tried to push away, to climb off him.

  He let her go. His hands slid down her body, and she was free. To leave or stay. Straddling him under a tree, the ghosts of her past hovering, she gazed into Roman’s blue eyes and saw her future.

  Suddenly, she felt the weight of him beneath her, this solid man wedged between her thighs. Instinct made her hips do a slow roll, and Roman throbbed. Her core slickened.

  “I’m too heavy.” A thready whisper was all she could muster.

  “No.” His husky voice sent all the moisture in her south.

  “I’ll get off.” He wouldn’t let her. He gripped her knees, pressing them tight to his side. “Am I hurting you?”

  He shook his head. “Kiss me, Stella. Just be quiet, and kiss me.”

  Afraid, she leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest and pressed her lips to his.

  The throbbing between her thighs matched the beating of her heart and the fiery lick of desire pulsing through her veins. Right now, she wanted this. And nothing more.

  Stella cupped his face. She didn’t know what to do as her lips first brushed and then ground against his mouth. “Show me. I don’t know how to do this. Please show me how,” she whispered a breath away from his lips.

  “Take what you want of me. All I have is for you.” His graveled voice rubbed her nerves raw.

  She tried again, this time her tongue slowly entered his mouth. His jaw hung open while she stroked the roof of his mouth and brushed his tongue. He canted his head to the side and his tongue slipped into her. She sucked and tasted him, thrilled at his groan while she held his face and rode the lightning of desire erupting inside.

  His kisses sent fire racing through her blood. Her core ground against him, riding his erection, stroking her center against his until lust and frustration clashed. She wanted more, but didn’t know how to get it. Overwhelmed, she tried to pull back.

  Roman gripped her ass and thrust between her thighs. He rose to meet her retreat until they were sitting. Powerful hands stroked her back, her arms, and her hips. He wrapped her legs around his waist and caressed them from calf to rear as their pelvises worked against their clothes.

  Shards of ecstasy shot through her. An inferno raged inside her body, setting her soul alight. “I can’t breathe.” She whimpered against his lips.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  She shook her head violently.

  “Then I’ll breathe for you.” He devoured her tender lips, his hand cupped her breast and thumbed a taut nipple through her shirt and bra.

  Nerve endings sputtered and fired in brilliant bursts, flinging her into a world she had never known. She came undone in his arms. Her body became an alien being, immensely strange but oh, so wonderful.

  Limp, she collapsed onto his chest. Vaguely, she felt his fingers in her hair and his kisses along the length of her scar.

  “Are you okay?” Rough, his voice rumbled through her.

  Better than OK. If that’s what it’s like then, God, she wanted more. “Yes, are you?” she panted, still trying to breathe.

  He lay back on the grass and pulled her on top of him. “I’ll be all right.”

  Stella started to speak, but he shushed her and stroked lazy circles into her back. Sleep was the last thing on her mind, but within minutes, she slid into slumber.

  CHAPTER 13

  Birth, that’s what this was. His second, more painful birth, Alamut thought, lying on the warm earth, a fragrant blade of soft grass tickling his nose. He couldn’t guess how long he lay on the grass. Night, then sunrise, then night again. Hidden in a thicket behind a hedge, he was glad the park was big enough to hide him while his body adjusted, conformed to its new reality. If he knew he’d be this helpless he wouldn’t have volunteered.

  Time moved differently on Chemmis. An hour there equaled a day here. He had to get out of the park and find out what’s happened since he was gone. He stretched, testing each muscle. The slashes Alamut carved into his back ached like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Throbbing rippled through him, starting at the scar and radiating outward. First in his back, down his buttocks, through his thighs and legs, the pain seared his nerve endings and stripped everything from him. Then the true agony began.

  Bones snapped and elongated. Muscles ripped and grew, bulged, ripped again and bulged more. Fingers turned into claws, a tail sprouted from his lower back. His neck thickened. His shoulders widened. A broad snout morphed from his nose and mouth, and pushed his eyes to the side of his head. He opened his jaw to scream, but his voice emerged as a strangled croak that resembled nothing he had ever said. At the brink of his tolerance, the pain vanished.

  He slumped, but a surge of energy made him lunge to his feet, fully aware and ready for war. Never had he been this raw and alive and a part of everything, but still himself. He inhaled a lungful of air. Aromas and flavors he’d never experienced filtered through him, sparking the need to hunt.

  “Thank you, Master.” If this was a taste of what the God could gift him, he would follow him into Duat and back . . . for a while.

  His head snapped up and tilted left. A new scent sifted through his new nostrils. Roman! A growl turned into a rough bark.

  But Anubis’ orders froze him. The god wanted him to hunt only who he chose and his body struggled to obey that command. He couldn’t fight it. Anubis’ will superseded anything he wanted. No! He had traded one type of slavery for another. Frustrated, he turned away from Roman and took his first step forward.

  Another scent hit him.

  The sweet pheromones of a woman in heat shredded his need to hunt and obey, and replaced it with a more primal hunger. Anubis and Alamut’s will disintegrated and the beast charged forward with a single-minded intent.

  Curled on his body in the middle of Central Park, Roman let Stella sleep. Holding her wasn’t a hardship as his mind wandered to the future, their future. Foolhardy, definitely, but what else could he do when he held the object of his obsession in his arms?

  Remember your promise and let her go.

  He stroked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and slid his fingers down her silky cheek. She nuzzled him, turned her face into his palm and kissed him. Every noble intention evaporated like a bead of sizzling water in a hot skillet. Cock rock hard, he had to kiss her, feel her breath on his skin, in his body. In the deserted park, he needed her now.

  The fine hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He froze. Battle instincts surged to the forefront, screaming for action, instead, he listened to the night surrounding him and waited. Though not a hub of wildlife, the creatures of Central Park were silent. They also waited. Somewhere, nearby, a predator stalked.

  He nudged Stella. She stretched, making him aware of every curve and hollow she possessed, and purred, a sexy rumble deep in her throat. Before she could say a word, he cupped her head and pulled her into a quick kiss.

  “Shhh, we’re in danger,” he whispered against her lips.

  Her head popped up and she eased off him. In the gloom, her frightened eyes met his. “What?” She mouthed.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  Crouched low, he took her hand, together they crawled along next to the hedge. He looked over. His keen eyesight picked up nothing and no one. So why did the same excitement he used to get before a battle race through his veins? Stella squeezed his hand. Her wide eyes sent him a question he couldn’t answer.

  He drew his gun from the small of his back and the silencer from his jacket pocket.

  “Roman?” Her voice wavered.
>
  He spared her a glance. “Whatever happens, do exactly as I say. Understand?”

  Her head bobbed on her neck.

  “Walk beside me, not in front or behind. Got it?”

  Not far from the nearest road, they stuck to the trees and away from the open expanse of the Great Lawn.

  Leaves crunched behind them. He’d never run from anything in his life. Even before the curse and his immortality, he stood his ground and killed everything in his path. Now, whatever stalked him, stalked her. His senses told him only one lurked in the darkness, but with Stella to protect, he couldn’t risk it.

  The Delacorte amphitheater loomed ahead. He guided her into the shadows. Stationed behind a statue, he aimed and watched the route they had just taken. Stella clutched his jacket, her shivering body pressed close.

  “Tell me.”

  “There’s someone out there.”

  “It could be anyone, ’kids maybe?”

  “Maybe.” He agreed purely to reassure her. But as he spoke, one hundred yards away, something peeled away from the shadows of a large tree and charged.

  “Stay,” he ordered. Through his jacket, her nails dug into his back. He pulled away, but she wouldn’t let go. He shrugged out of his jacket and advanced. She called to him, begging him to return, but the blood rushing in his ears drown out her voice. He rushed forward and focused on the attacking foe.

  Wait. He skidded to a halt. He had a shot, but . . . something was wrong. The height was too short. Whoever ran toward him must be a child—or running on all fours. He squinted at the slice of darkness closing the distance between them. The tree coverage ended and speckled moonlight dotted the Great Lawn, uncovering the thing barreling forward. For a split second his mind tried to unravel the impossible nightmare quickly shrinking the distance, before he fired three shots between its widely spaced eyes. It roared and charged faster.