Eternity

by Tmonique Stephens

  His breath caught. Stella’s hands moved to shield her body. His gaze shifted to her face and he saw her uncertainty. Still on his knees, he held out his hand and didn’t move. Timidly extending her arm, she reached for him. Her fingertips brushed his skin before their palms met. He didn’t pull, but waited for her to come to him. When she did, he brought his lips to her scarred abdomen, kissing each scar while stroking her sides and hips. Her hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, caressing him, while his kisses spoke his love. In the quiet room, her sigh of delightful need moved him to sweep her up and lay her on the bed.

  Stella tensed and her hands pressed against his chest. In the dim light, he met her gaze. Fear stared back at him, but patiently, he waited for her acceptance. Gradually, her body relaxed and her tense hands cupped his head and pulled his lips to hers. He spread tender little kisses across her mouth until her lips parted and welcomed him in. Soon, her tongue demanded more and he gave her what she wanted, penetrating her mouth in increments, then deeply when her hands became frantic and her body lay open and willing.

  He trailed kisses to her breast and pulled her heavenly nipple into his hot mouth, suckling while his hand traveled low to the small silk triangle covering her. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband and through her short curls. He parted her slick flesh.

  Her breathing turned ragged and legs parted.

  Wet. Dear God. So wet.

  Moisture coated his finger. A purr eased from her throat when he dipped inside and rubbed tight little circles on her swollen clit. He released her nipple and returned to her lips while he slipped his finger into her core. Roman tortured her—and himself—with slow kisses and deep grinding thrust until she quivered on the brink of ecstasy. He pulled away, removing his lips, his nimble fingers, and body from her. She watched him hungrily. Nostrils flaring, eyes wild and dilated, her breath hitched and a plea flared in her gaze.

  “Strip for me.” He breathed inches away from her swollen lips and then moved further away. This had to be her decision. From the panic that streaked across her face, he expected her to refuse, to succumb to the past instead of moving forward and beginning a life with him. He steeled his heart and readied himself for rejection, knowing together they would survive this. He waited so long for this moment and whether now or ten years from now, he’d wait forever for Stella.

  Trembling fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties. He forgot to breathe as she slowly eased them off her hips and down her thighs. He took over at her knees and swept the silk off her feet. He lifted her foot and placed a kiss in her sensitive arch then worked his way up her shapely leg, nibbling her ankle, calf and knee. Her body quivered as he licked his way up her inner thigh. Her gaze never left his face.

  Stella’s breath rushed from her, encouraging him to continue. At her apex, he breathed in her fragrant scent and blew a cool breeze over her before settling himself between her thighs, separating her slick folds and snaking his tongue inside her.

  The taste of her made him growl and swirl his tongue over her clit. She bucked and came hard, her flesh clenching around his thrusting tongue. She sobbed her release.

  Roman hovered over her as she came back to earth. Waiting for entry, he rubbed his swollen tip against her opening. The coldness in his soul begged for her warmth, her slippery heat surrounding him, but most of all his soul begged for her trust. To trust him not to hurt her. Trust him with her body, her heart and soul.

  Stella opened her eyes. “Roman.” She smiled dreamily and then immediately stiffened.

  “Sweetheart, I’m not going to hurt you. Relax.” But all of her muscle tensed, waiting for an attack. Her small hands pushed against him.

  He couldn’t do this; take what she wasn’t ready to give. Defeated, he laid his head on her shoulder. His hope disintegrating.

  “He hurt me,” she whispered against his neck.

  Roman buried his pain and kissed her collarbone, her neck and jaw, her eyes, the tip of her nose and finally her lips. No passion, no lust, just two shattered souls clinging to each other. She clung to him, giving as much comfort as she received. Carefully, he slid his hand between them. “Where did he hurt you, Stella?” he touched her core and rubbed with tiny little flicks of his fingers. “Was it here?”

  She nodded. Her hips surged against his palm. Tears cleared and stormy gray eyes danced passionately. He stroked her again. She moaned and held his gaze while her hips undulated.

  “Am I hurting you?” He slipped in a finger and stirred and ground his palm against her clit.

  “Roman.” She gasped and brought her lips to his.

  “Am I hurting you?” He repeated the question.

  “No . . . no . . .” She shook her head back and forth as her body reawakened for him.

  “Tell me how you feel.” He breathed in her ear before he took the lobe between his teeth.

  “Oh God, it’s exquisite.” Her eyelids fluttered.

  “Look at me.” Urgently, he positioned himself at her opening, waiting for permission to enter. “Am I the man that hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Am I the man that tried to kill you?”

  “No, Roman, no. You’re not him.” Her voice quivered with need.

  “Take me.” Ready and waiting for her touch, he took her hand and guided her to him. He died a little when her cool fingers wrapped around him. She stroked—up, down, around—and led him to her wet center.

  Again, her body braced for pain.

  He captured her face and entered her slowly. He worked himself inside her wetness, losing his mind in excruciating increments as her legs fell open and her hips tilted to receive more. “Siete bello. Ti amo. Lascilo all’interno del vostro corpo stretto.” In Italian, he spoke words of love as he slowly lost his mind.

  “Yes.” Her voice strained as waves rippled from her core, tightening and releasing her slick walls around him.

  He settled inside her and begged for the strength not to come. Then he set the rhythm and watched ecstasy spread throughout her body. Her legs wrapped his waist and he lengthened his strokes, diving deeper into her heat, his control slipping. She writhed beneath him. His hands grabbed her hips. Her nails raked his chest and she moaned his name.

  Wild and frantic, Stella pulled his head down to hers. Weight braced on his elbows, Roman held her face as he moved harder into her. Never would he forget this moment when she completely gave herself to pleasure. Head thrown back, hair streaming, her body thrashed while her tightness seized him. “Who’s loving you, giving you pleasure? . . . I am.”

  Passionate cries sang in his ear as he thrust deep inside her. He wrapped his arms around her and released. Centuries of loneliness and searching fell away and the coldness at his center vanished. Panting, still hard inside her, he watched her come back to earth and waited for that moment of recognition. She was going to remember everything now. And all would be right.

  The beast roared as the woman raced away on a motorcycle. He started to give chase anyway. Alamut, buried in the animal’s subconscious, watched like a passenger trapped in the backseat of a car about to tumble over a cliff, screaming, reaching for the wheel until he surged forward and wrestled back control of his mind. Looking through the strange eyes of the beast he had transformed into, the colors of the world seemed brighter, sharper, 3D, HD, IMAX, Stereo surround sound, details he had never seen before came into focus all at once. At the back of his mind, like a distant itch, he heard a roar. The beast wanted control again. Not happening. He morphed back into his human body.

  Sirens wailed, getting closer by the second. No problem. The cops would be looking for animal, not man. He could blend. A cool wind smacked him. His balls shriveled and hugged closer to his body. He looked down and saw white skin. He was naked on Central Park West and the scattered crowd had started returning.

  He darted back into the park, but knew he couldn’t stay here for long. Word of a wild animal would bring everything from the police to the dogcatchers. Up ahead, flashligh
ts strobbed, red and blue dissected the night. The cops were already here. Back the way he chased Roman and Stella, he cut through the amphitheater and the castle, then turned and sprinted across the Great Lawn, but two police cars jumped the curb. Their headlights bathed him. He went left, dodged through a copse of tree. More cars and light joined, boxing him in. The cars skidded, kicking up grass and dirt before stopping. Policemen jumped out, guns aimed.

  The beast clawed the inside of his skull and his muscles responded twitching and stretching. The snap of a bone reverberated through his body. He was changing again. He had to stop it, but couldn’t. His body screamed, the beast joined in, or was it him, head thrown back bellowing before he charged the nearest officer.

  Rapid shots fired from multiple guns, turning the park into a shooting gallery. Nothing stopped him. Inches from impact, he glimpsed terror in the officer’s wide eyes.

  Then everything faded away. His atoms separated, flew apart and dragged him away from the police, the park and Manhattan, and dumped him in the middle of the pit with the hibernating Anubites in upstate New York. His bellow of supremacy turned to a croak of despair. Clammy inert flesh smothered him and he sank deeper into the mass of bodies. He was their master, not one of them to be thrown in here, waiting for Anubis’ call. He still had his soul.

  At least, he prayed he still did, as he rolled bodies and pushed limbs out of his way. Slowly he freed himself and climbed to his feet. Standing on the top of the pile, he wiped away the gelatinous slime covering him and walked over to the wall. He’d climb halfway up and the earth gave way, sending him tumbling back down with dirt and rocks chasing. He could’ve called the beast. With two-inch claws and powerful legs, he could climb and be free in an instant.

  Instinct warned him against that impulse. Call the beast only when you needed him. To do more could mean losing himself to the animal. After the incident in the park, he wasn’t sure that hadn’t already happened. He couldn’t tell how long it took to climb out of the pit, but when he flipped a leg over, pulled himself up and rolled onto the metal walkway, it was Alamut, not the beast that stood on weary feet. Leaning against the rail, chest heaving with accomplishment, his prideful gloating gave way to disgust. He could’ve flashed from the pit like he did in the park.

  “Idiot!” Can I do it again? He looked down into the hole and flash. He was there, standing on the pile right where he started.

  “Yes,” he hissed, raising his fist in the air. This was no accident. Destiny called to him and with it, his enemies would fall.

  Remembering the shots, he ran his hand along his body, surprised at his smooth skin. He flexed his muscles. Energy thrummed through him and the beast was a distant rumble in the corner of his mind, waiting, wanting.

  Soon had been his mantra for every setback and disappointment. From the first slight to his Anubis’ enslavement. Soon kept him sane.

  But Soon no longer satisfied.

  Today, starting with Roman, all debts would be paid.

  He flashed to his bedroom. The broken mirror had long been removed and the shattered fragments swept away leaving no trace of his outburst. Efficient Hector and his loyal crew. Distant branches from his own family tree brought together and tied by their own secret code. A code that bound them to the Nicolis’ family, much like slavery. In one way or another, everyone under this roof was indebted to Roman.

  “Not me.” Not anymore. He dressed and thought about flashing downstairs, but he didn’t know who was home or where they were. At this time in the early evening, he had no way to tell.

  Nerves ate at him when he opened his door and stepped into the hallway. The beast inside him stirred, agitated by his nervous energy. Its primitive instincts stretched, overtaking his needs and wants. A sniff of the air told him how many people were in the house and their general direction, but only Stella and Roman’s scent could he definitely discern among the millions. They were in the mansion.

  His sharper hearing picked up the brother’s voices. Thane, Quin, Hector, and E.J. were in the dining room. Their booming voices carried, allowing him to hear their speculations about Roman and Stella’s arrival last night and the animal attack in the park.

  Blind f-ing fools. If they weren’t lodged up Roman’s ass he would’ve let them join him—not as equals—as . . . colonels or sergeants in his new army instead of the servants they currently were. Their reverence for Roman left no room in their conformed minds for anything else. Maybe after he killed Roman, he would harvest them. God knows they all carried enough darkness in their souls to meet the criteria. He walked down the stairs and bumped into the last person he expected to see so soon.

  CHAPTER 16

  Roman woke to the sweet memory of Stella’s taste on his lips and the hot, moist embrace of her sheath. God, he wanted her again, but she looked so fragile sleeping with her hands beneath her chin. Wrapped in his arms, close to his heart, the scent of her hair, and her perfect derrière tucked against his rigid shaft, the delightful weight of her breast in his palm, all taxed his control. In awe, he counted the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, traced the shell of her ear until she woke, laughed and tried to wiggle away. Gently, he pulled her back into the shelter of his body where she purred and fell back asleep. After two-thousand years, he relished the intimacy.

  The burnt orange late afternoon sun hung low when he finally unraveled himself from the tangle of her limbs and hair. Careful not to disturb her slumber, he eased out of bed, but couldn’t quite bring himself to leave.

  Hair strewn over the pillows, sheets twisted seductively around her hips, everything he ever wanted in life lay nestled in the bed in front of him. He had to protect her. Losing her again wasn’t an option. He dragged on his pants and went to his study. On his laptop, he opened Stella’s file and retrieved everything about her time in foster care, including Mrs. Carmen’s full name.

  Showered and shaved, he descended the stairs to the ground level, voices traveled from the dining room. Inside, E.J., Quin, and Thane gathered for dinner. Roman served himself a heaping plate of food from the buffet.

  “Avery called today. The job’s complete. He’s on his way back,” Thane said.

  Roman nodded. “And Tyrone, has he checked in?”

  “No. I suppose he’s still in Egypt, but there’s no way of knowing.”

  Roman’s eyebrows furrowed. “He has a locator.”

  “Either it’s not working or he turned it off,” Thane added.

  “Or he’s dead,” E.J. said.

  “Not Tyrone. He’s too good at what he does,” Thane said.

  “I agree. Give him two more days. Then send a search party,” Roman ordered.

  “Who should we send?” Quin added his two cents.

  “We’ll start with you.” Roman smiled, knowing Quin would hate everything about Egypt, especially the sand.

  “Hmm. I’ll make sure to pack plenty of sun block.” Quin grimaced.

  Roman chuckled, but quickly sobered. “Send Brayden.” He sat at the head of the table and slid a Post-It to Quin, sitting at his right. On it was Stella’s foster mother’s name. “She has a son. Find him.”

  A single nod is all the acknowledgment Quin gave.

  “Daniel’s been in and out. He looked like hell. I didn’t ask why.” Thane redirected the conversation.

  “He’s been in and out for a while,” E.J. mumbled around a mouthful of food.

  “After the last job, are you surprised?” Quin sat back and draped his arm on the empty chair next to him.

  Held for a week in Columbia, he wasn’t exactly pleased when Roman negotiated his release.

  “Where’s he now?” Roman asked.

  “Though I watch and track, Roman, I don’t keep tabs on my brothers. I’m not a babysitter.” Quin stated.

  “We are all our brother’s keeper.” Roman stood. “Each one of us is responsible for the other. We’re a family. A unit.” His fist pounded the table. “Never forget that. If you haven’t learned that by now, then I’
ve failed you all.”

  “You haven’t failed them, Roman.” Hector entered with a bottle of Macallan and poured each man a glass. “Now stop denting the table and finish your meal.”

  “Hector to the rescue.” E.J. laughed.

  “I am my brother’s keeper.” Hector winked at Roman.

  “Ready to tell us about last night?” Quin asked.

  Roman downed his scotch first. “I don’t know what ‘It’ was, an animal of some kind.” Hector refilled his glass. “A really big fucking animal. I emptied a clip into the thing. It kept coming, unfazed.” The men gathered closer.

  “Maybe something escaped from The Central Park Zoo?” E.J. interjected.

  “No,” Roman shook his head. “Nothing like that belongs in a zoo. It had to be a hybrid. Stronger, faster. The thing slammed into me and lifted me off my feet.”

  Thane quirked a brow. “A bear maybe?”

  “Does a bear have a two foot long snout?” No one answered. “Whatever it was, I couldn’t stay and find out. I grabbed Stella and ran.” He turned to Quin. “Found anything?” he asked, referring to the email he sent him days ago.

  “Not yet. We’ve all got enemies, you more than most. I’m searching to see who’s nearby and foolish enough to act.”

  “Anyone of them in genetics? Search for that first. No regular guy created that thing.”

  “Could it track you here?” Hector asked.

  Roman met each man’s gaze before he answered. “. . . If it does, Hector will have to clear a space on the wall.”

  CHAPTER 17

  I remember.

  Stella popped up in bed, sheets clutched to her breasts. Vivid images crashed together in her mind. Scenes of her past lives flickered through her subconscious, tragedy followed by tragedy, death and heartache. Different women, different ages, some Roman never met. They waited for him.