Ill? I retrieved the lanyard with the key, my eyes sweeping over her. I liked hearing her call me Mr. Perry too much.
She reminded so much of Annie.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Feeling better?”
As I pushed open the door, I flipped a switch that turned on a fan/light combo.
“Listen, you’ll need to open the window if I’m going in there with you.”
The stifling heat was overpowering. “It’s pretty warm in here,” I agreed, irritated at the pile of boxes near the door.
“Yes, that, and the fact that I have common sense and an unscathed reputation.”
My eyes snapped to hers. Common sense…? I realized she was implying that I was in fact a male teacher, ten years her senior, taking my female student into a secluded, locked room.
“Of course,” I moved to the concession window, lifting the aluminum gate. She’s right. Why does she always seem one step ahead of me? I’m in control here.
I hope.
“When do I get my phone back?” She asked, kneeling next to a box of chips.
I retrieved her phone from my pocket. “We discussed this yesterday, right?”
“I was using my phone for research.”
Her voice was confident. Even. So sure of herself, she smiled politely, and I was instantly pissed off. She’s going to sit there and lie, right to my face?
“Really.” I slid the lock on her phone, and a screen popped up displaying an entry titled Dream Dictionary- to dream about a teacher. “A dream dictionary.” God, she was seventeen fucking years old. A kid. This was going to be harder than I thought. I needed patience, and I was grasping for it.
She may have been beautiful and smart, but the last thing I was going to deal with was immaturity and an aversion to authority. That shit ended now. “So, you had a dream about a teacher?” I smirked; I couldn’t help it. I’d caught her in a boldfaced lie, and I was enjoying every second of her discomfort.
I had died a hundred deaths for this girl. She was going to do everything I said.
She lifted her chin, defiant. “Yes I did. It was very disturbing. It was about you, and I woke up vomiting.”
I stared, comprehending her words. She dreamed. About me. Disturbing.
She’s already having the dreams, before I even touched her… like Annie had.
Of all the lives, of all the girls, never had her words rendered me completely speechless.
I imagined the memories she could have experienced. The dungeon torture… the woods in France… the gas station…
The motel.
My hands around her neck.
Jesus Christ.
“I was sick in the dream, in some hotel room… it smelled…,” she cleared her throat, “It seemed so real that I woke up sick. It was really short but kind of… kind of scary.”
Her voice shook.
I was so wrong.
The hotel. Julie.
I’d completely misjudged her. No wonder she was late. She’d had her first nightmare, and I hadn’t even been there for her, to hold her, to comfort her. Her hands twisted furiously at her waist, and her delicate shoulders fell.
It’s not defiance in her eyes, you fucking asshole, it’s exhaustion.
“I’m sorry, Roam,” I managed, carefully placing her phone on the box to avoid touching her. “Here.”
This is wrong. I need to wait. She’s too young for this. I pictured her standing in the snow, watching as they lowered her mother’s body into the cold, hard ground. I remembered discovering that Roam had been rushed to the hospital only a year later, nearly dying from falling into a nest of yellow jackets.
I’d stayed awake all night, saying every prayer that I had left, staring at the numbers. When they remained through the next day, I promised myself I’d never let her feel that kind of pain again. I’d be there for her, as early as possible. My partner in this prophecy, not my wife.
Save this world and end this- without a baby.
“Not your fault. The mind is a strange place.”
I listened to this kid forgive me with logic.
Finally, I nodded, wiping my sweating palms over my knees. “Very true. I’m sorry that I embarrassed you.” I had to get out of there. I had to get the fuck out of there before I touched her. I wanted to touch her, I wanted to see her face when she realized the world that she knew was much older and entirely more frightening then she could have ever imagined.
“Here, just put away these two boxes and lock up when you’re done. I’ll let Mr. Kingston know you volunteered.” I held out the long, blue lanyard.
She continued kneeling at the boxes. Her eyes widened, and with her naturally high cheekbones, she took my breath away.
She’s only seventeen. She’ll only grow more beautiful with time.
“You’re leaving?”
“I just remembered something I need to take care of. You got this?”
She stood, and I judged her to be about 5’6”. “Thanks for being so easy about this,” she said.
Get the fuck away from her. I thrust the lanyard toward her, watching it slip through her fingers. As I bent to sweep the air for it, she did the same.
And her finger touched the back of my hand.
It was too late.
Pain slashed across her face, and I reached for her, catching her before she fell. A scream ripped from her lips. I yanked her sweatshirt over her head, trying desperately to untangle her hair. Her yellow, short sleeved tee shirt beneath revealed her bare arms.
The numbers were surfacing on her forearm.
“Damn it!” I slammed the concession window closed, knowing her screams would draw the attention of everyone on the school grounds. With every wail, I grew more and more anxious. God, her scream, it sounds like…
Like 1533. Emeline. The dungeon, the branding iron…
Suddenly, she stopped. I knew she had to have been in the height of her pain; I’d experienced the numbers changing so many times, I knew the slicing feeling happening that very moment.
And then I realized.
She was fainting.
I caught her just in time, sliding to the ground to sit with her in my arms. I felt for her pulse in her wrist; it was there, so strong. She was out cold.
Protected from the pain.
“Roam,” I whispered, her long braid falling over my arm. Something was happening, and no matter how I tried to fight it, I was losing touch with my purpose.
With my goal.
“Too damned innocent,” I murmured, slowly tracing my fingertip over her temple and down her cheek. She was peaceful, breathing evenly.
Drawing me in.
Her skin, her scent… her chest as it rose and fell in my arms. I realized, finally, what I’d done, and let my forehead fall to hers.
She was forbidden.
Off limits.
Too young; my student.
I had done this all to myself. Everything stood in my path, and I wanted her like I had never wanted her before.
I fucking ached for her.
She sighed, and I was instantly hard. Blood coursed through my veins, choking me, urging me. Her lips fell apart, and I shoved my fingers into her hair, needing to kiss her more than I ever had.
She’s unconscious, and I’m going straight to hell.
That was a given.
With every ounce of restraint I had, I drew her wrist to my mouth, kissing softly. Registering her with all of my senses.
I remembered all the other lives before this one.
When my lips touched her skin, my resolve disintegrated.
“Roam…,” even her name on my tongue drove me insane. I imagined her in my bed, begging, writhing, and actually jumped when she began to stir. “Roam, hang in there, I’ll explain everything, just hang in there, please don’t scream,” I whispered, tracing her hairline over and over again. “Shhh... don’t try to move yet. Trust me, please trust me.”
She whimpered, and then began to cry.
As she sobbed i
n my arms, so filled with confusion and fear, I continued to hold her and comfort her.
It was over.
My plan, my clever preparation, the years of education, all of it- obliterated. I was going to have her.
And nothing could stop me.
Chapter Five
Julie
“I want to make love to you. Not for a baby. Just to feel you.”
The hotel room was so cheap, garishly decorated in red chenille. Her face softened, and I planned to catch her in this willing mood before we inevitably found something else to argue about. In the twenty-nine days I’d known her, we’d argued for twenty-eight of them.
The day she left me, but came back, was the only day we didn’t fight.
We stood on opposite sides of the bed. “I want you to undress me,” she dropped her wedding bouquet to the comforter, tugging off her coat. “Slowly. And put your mouth where I like it the most. And then fuck me- hard.”
I listened to her, already yanking my tuxedo away. She was nothing like the other girls; bossy, opinionated, and without reservation when it came to the ways she wanted me to satisfy her.
“I’m making love to you tonight, Julie.”
“I’m not interested in that.”
I watched her crawl across the bed on her hands and knees, her eyes just tiny, seductive slits as she reached for my belt.
Grabbing her, I lifted her easily into the air and landed over her on the bed, cradling her neck in my hands. “I’ll teach you to be a good girl if it’s the last thing I do.”
“I don’t want to be a good girl, Wes,” she whined, wrapping her legs around my waist.
I focused on her eyes. When I stared for too long, she closed them.
My wedding night with Annie had been the most romantic night I’d ever experienced. She conceived that night, falling apart in my arms, giving me the kind of love that I’d waited for for centuries.
But Julie wanted me to fuck her. Hard.
I was angry. I was angry every day, and drinking more and more, and being with Julie only made it easier to get my hands on the kinds of drugs that made me check out for hours on end. Was I marrying her for the prophecy? Or because she could help get me the drugs that would continue to allow me to escape this fucking world?
I turned her over, wrapping my arm around her waist and jerking her ass upwards, against my bulging erection. She moaned, and I thrust, and all I wanted was the release that she promised every time she climbed on top of me.
I came before her, selfishly, and she dug her forehead into the pillow, cursing. “You’re not done,” she hissed, turning over.
It was that moment that I knew. She laid beneath me, still in her wedding dress, her thighs sticky from where I’d just been, and I finally realized.
I didn’t love her, and I never would.
Chapter Six
Annie
“I know it’s small,” I held the door open to the second bedroom, letting her pass through the narrow cottage doorway first. “But for the nursery…,”
“West, it’s perfect,” she turned to me, holding her rounded stomach. “I can paint some flowers on the wall. I just know she’s a girl, I feel it.”
I grinned, nodding. “I’ve got some supplies for a cradle. I can paint it white, and then scratch it, giving it that older look to match the dresser we found…,”
“I’m so happy,” she turned to me quickly, and I folded her into my arms. “I’m just so afraid to be happy. He’s close to me,” she lowered her eyes to the coordinates. I pressed my lips to her forehead, and she closed her eyes.
“I’m closer, baby.”
I spread my fingers over her middle, smiling in wonder as the baby inside kicked at my palm. She lifted her face and grinned, her own hand covering mine. “She feels you. I wonder if she’ll have red hair, like my grandmother.”
“We need some names,” I said, loving the tiny pressure against my fingertips as my daughter (or son) stretched and turned.
“I’ll know what her name is when I meet her,” she assured me, her eyelids fluttering. “Kiss me.”
I obliged, holding onto her a little too tightly.
The confrontation was imminent.
She was nearing the middle of her pregnancy, and I’d moved us to a small cottage on an island in North Carolina called Emerald Isle. We were as secluded as possible, needing a boat to take us on and off the mainland. I’d managed to get her coordinates to pinpoint an area in the ocean, making it difficult for Troy- or the Alter- to locate us.
“I miss spending time with you. You’re working so much… I miss you,” she sighed, and I caught her lips in mine.
“Sweetheart, when our baby is born, and enough weeks have passed, I’ll make sure to make up for lost time,” I promised, giving her a deep, stirring kiss.
“West?”
“Hmn?”
“Please promise me something.”
“Anything, baby.”
“If I’m not her… if I’m not the one to save this world… promise me you’ll love again. Promise me you’ll open your heart to the one. Please.”
“Annie-…,”
“She’ll be me,” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please don’t forget that she’ll be me. And if our baby lives, but I don’t… please love her like I would love her,” she went on, her voice thick, her words halted.
“Hey, now,” I cupped her petite face in my hands, brushing at her tears with my thumb. “Stop that. It’s you and me, Anastasia Perry. You and me, and our baby, and we’re going to end this together. I won’t fail this time, and I can’t let you go. No one will ever be you.”
“I love you,” she sobbed, linking her swollen fingers through mine. “And she won’t be just like me, but she’ll love you like I do. Because a love like this doesn’t just end.”
I hated when she talked like this. She saw things before they happened, knew things before they occurred, and the fear in her voice unsettled me. “Did you have a dream?”
“Just promise me,” she begged.
Focused on her bright, watery eyes, I nodded once. “I promise you. I promise you that I’ll never stop loving you. I never have, and I never will.”
Chapter Seven
Roam
I had explained the prophecy, the Alters, the dreams, and told her I was looking for the doors to the past lives.
And she didn’t run.
She may be naïve, but she’s brave, I thought, sliding my alarm off on my phone. I’d left her alone last night to just process all of the information…
And so I could think straight.
Logan Rush was going to be a problem. The kid had good intentions, but he was on her constantly. He was a liability, and I had to decide whether it was safe for Roam to tell him about who she was, and who I was. He definitely loved her and cared about her, and another set of eyes watching out for her was something I’d never had the advantage of having in the past.
But she loved him.
But isn’t sleeping with him, she made that clear at the park.
Not him, not anyone.
I hadn’t experienced jealousy in decades, and emotion was biting at my already short temper. Was she thinking of sleeping with him? Were they being safe?
What would I do if she ended up pregnant- with Logan’s child?
I couldn’t very well work sex ed into my history class. I hoped that Morgan was helping her be responsible.
At the thought of Logan’s sloppy hands on her body, a fresh surge of jealousy took over, firing rapid, angry signals in my brain. Chills ran over my arms, and I knew that something was wrong.
The unanswered questions had me reaching for my phone. I dialed her number, and she answered with a groggy “Hello?”
Tears in her voice. She was crying.
“You were asleep,” I snapped. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it. You’ve been crying. Are you okay?”
I was being too familiar, too personal, and though I’d already chastised myself f
or that during our talk at Paine Falls, I fell right back into the same patterns with her every time.
“No I’m not okay. I died last night. In the woods. In France,” she shook, her words trembling so much I could barely understand her. “And when he put the knife in me, there was real pain! And I screamed for you, but,” she broke into breathy sobs.
Fuck. France. “I’m coming to your house. Tell Logan that you’re sick and you’re not going to school.”
“West…,”
“Fifteen minutes.”
I disconnected, and then dialed the school, explaining that I needed a substitute for the day, family emergency. Grabbing the canvas bag of books that I’d checked out from the library, along with my messenger bag and laptop, I nearly ran to the car.
On the road within five minutes, I made it to her house in ten. The front door was left unlocked, something else I’d have to address with her. What part of you’re being hunted didn’t she understand? The house was eerily silent. I took two steps at a time, glancing in two bedrooms before finding one that I knew inherently was hers.
A small sound came from the bathroom.
I stepped into the doorway, nearly dropping to my knees.
Pale- her dark hair only turned her face ashen as she curled against the wall. Sheets were piled in the mesh hamper, and were darkened with heavy blood stains. “Goddamnit,” I clenched my fists, crossing the small bathroom in one stride.
Gathering her into my arms, I let her head fall against my chest. Fragile and weak, she gripped my arms, a tiny shudder escaping with her words. “I’m so afraid.”
Carrying her to the bed, I pulled the blankets over her, smoothing her damp hair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, keeling at the bedside. Her eyes lifted to mine, anxiety forcing her words out in short breaths.
“What about school?”
I ran my hands over her floral bedspread, the pillow, anywhere to keep from crawling beneath the covers and drawing her against my body.
France. They killed her together, both Troy and the Alter, slicing her up and murdering our child.
“I called in for a sub.”
“What are you doing?” She followed my hands as they worked over the bedspread.
West (A Roam Series Novella) Page 3
