Sliding into the bed next to her, I did my best to keep my distance. Her small nipples budded against the thin material of her camisole, and I followed the shape of her perfect breasts as they curved, pressed together as she slept on her side.
Closing my eyes, I refused to look at another inch of her body. I was already throbbing, and if she touched me in any way I’d lose all resolve.
Somehow, I managed to sleep.
The moon was high in the window when her screams jolted me awake.
I turned as she thrashed, trying to grab her flailing arms. She kicked me hard in the side, and I grunted, failing to catch her wrists. Instead, I flattened my body over hers, trying to stop her from falling out of the bed or hurting herself.
When her fingernails raked over my shoulder blades, I growled, a fresh surge of adrenaline taking control.
“Ouch- Roam! Roam!” I picked her completely up, pinning her arms to her sides and sitting her upright in the bed.
She blinked and panted in fear, searching the darkened bedroom. “West?”
“You’re okay, I’m here… it’s 2012,” I consoled, bending to her kiss the tears away from her eyes.
“Logan…,”
“No, Logan’s not here,” I answered, sighing. Of course she wants Logan.
“No… Logan, he…,” she took a deep breath, and I knew she was trying her damndest not to cry again. “He raped me.”
“What?” I growled, nearly bruising her upper arms with my angry hold. I will fucking kill that kid. “When?” I demanded.
“I don’t know… 1533? Right after I got this,” she slid the thin strap of the white, lace-edged camisole off her shoulder, revealing the birthmark shaped like a cross.
“Oh… oh,” I murmured. Not Logan… the Alter. 1533. “And I was there.”
“It was horrible- my heart broke for you, West, just trapped and unable to help me… her,” she corrected.
Horrible… for me?
“Logan had you first, and then Troy,” I answered, testing, unable to fathom the level of selfless sympathy in her gaze.
“Her,” she insisted, tears brimming.
I nodded. “I spent three days sitting in that cell with you on the floor, dying. Alone.”
“I’m sorry,” she sat up, kneeling on the bed next to where I sat.
And suddenly, she was kissing my back.
Her mouth was moving over the scratches she’d dug into my skin, serrated cuts that were already healing. When her tongue traced a line over the wound, I groaned and turned.
I had her on her back and pressed to the pillow in seconds. I starved for her, ached for her body, her heart, her mind. I wrapped my hand under her knee, my touch sliding torturously slow up her leg until I could trace the outline of her panties. She gripped the sheets, her breath hitched in her throat.
“I’m scared,” she cried.
My eyes never leaving hers, I slipped my thumb under the string band of her panties, stroking lightly at the soft curls. I spread her legs wider with my hands, almost lowering my mouth before realizing I wouldn’t be able to make sure she was breathing- not with my tongue deep inside of her.
“There are other things to be afraid of. This isn’t one of them.” My mouth claimed hers as I skirted her panties, teasing, waiting until she was writhing before pushing two fingers deep inside. I probed, hard, slow, knowing exactly where to touch her and make her cry my name.
Her back arched, and the moment I found the very center of her pleasure point, she moaned, rocking against my hand. “West,” she managed, her tiny cries stealing my sanity.
Her eyes widened as she came close to the edge, and I continued the rhythmic pulsing, dripping wild kisses to her mouth and throat. When I slid my hand under her camisole and cupped her breast, I drew her into my mouth through the thin cotton. She whispered something incoherent, something that sounded like my name and God. I circled my tongue over the hardened bud, all the while pushing my fingers in and out of her tight passage.
My mouth returned to hers, but she broke away in a mix of shock and confusion.
“Do what feels right,” I hushed, drawing kisses down her neck. She gripped my shoulders, back bowed, following my every thrust with her own need. When my mouth found her breast again, she screamed a cry, her eyes rolling back before her lids closed. Moistened lashes fanned over her cheeks as she gasped at the building inferno within her body.
I could feel her tightening around my fingers, relishing in her abandon as I took her over the boundaries of everything that she had ever known. “That’s it,” I comforted softly, my lips returning to her neck.
At that moment, she burst, screaming, and I felt the clenching pleasure deep inside of her with my relentless touch. She was holding her breath now, and I quickly moved my lips to her ear.
“This is what we are,” I whispered as she struggled with consciousness. “If we do this, Roam, I will never let you go. Do you understand?” I lifted myself over her, poised just over her body. “Do you want this?”
She remembered to breathe, tears of shameless satisfaction sliding down from the corners of her eyes to her dark hair.
And then she nodded.
I’d already shed my boxers, poised just outside her moistened opening. There was no way to make this easier; the damage was inevitable. I pushed inside, slowly. Her cry was different from only moments before; breathless and filled with pain.
“It will pass,” I promised, not moving, groaning from deep within my throat at her perfection, her warmth, and the tightness of her body.
The waiting was torturous. Finally, she took a breath, just when I thought she was going to pass out. I pulled out just slightly, and then drove forward again, watching her face for signs of hurting. Eyes narrowed but determined, she reached for my face, her fingertips tracing my jaw. When a low moan escaped from deep within her throat, I lost my patience.
I plunged, holding her tightly, the hot depths of her body eliminating all of my thoughts. She gripped my shoulders while fighting her cries. Over and over I thrust, feeling her join my desperate need. As soon as she lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around my waist, matching my rhythm, I watched her fall apart in my arms.
“West… my god, West, please,” she cried, desperate, until she couldn’t speak anymore. My name. Mine.
She was mine.
I was undone. The violent spasms wrecked me, and I poured my soul into her, claiming her as mine.
Forever.
“Roam,” I begged, lowering my mouth to hers.
Of the thousands of times I’d made love to her, I’d never been so destroyed.
Maybe it was the tension, the need, the forbidden role she played in my life… I opened my eyes, drowning in her adoring gaze.
The awareness hit me with a thousand volts.
I love her.
I love her more than I have ever loved any of them. More than Lysbette, or Amina, or Isa…
More than Annie.
I loved her with my entire soul, and she stared back at me with a world of pain and guilt in her eyes.
Because of Logan.
I turned her and lay behind her, tucking her body against mine.
“Are you okay?” I managed, threading my fingers through hers.
“I will be.”
The first traces of sunrise filled the bedroom.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No. The pain went away, I mean.”
Guilt. So much fucking guilt. “Let’s just get some sleep.”
I could hear her uneven breaths as her mind turned over and over anxiously. I wanted her to sleep. I wanted her to be sated, heavy, and loved, the way she should be feeling after her first time.
Not conflicted and filled with remorse.
“Don’t be afraid to sleep,” I said finally, and she jumped.
“I don’t want to deal with any more nightmares.”
“You don’t dream when you’re pregnant,” I hushed into her ear.
“What?” Sh
e sat up, turning around to look at me. I pulled her closer, so that she was facing me.
“You have never dreamt when pregnant. The dreams- and the nightmares- go away near the beginning.” I patiently explained, tracing the perfect lines of her beautiful face.
“I wish that I would have known that a long time ago,” she said, lost in thought.
I almost chuckled. Did she mean she would have slept with me sooner?
My open hand slid across her waist, urging her back against the pillow. She lay down, and I turned to kiss the soft, silken skin of her stomach.
“Good-morning, baby,” I whispered.
She threaded her fingers through my hair, smiling before closing her eyes.
Chapter Twelve
Roam
I let her sleep in small increments of time.
As the sun rose, I carried her to the outdoor shower just outside our bedroom. A basic, wooden stall occupied the space where a small shanty used to stand. The hot water mixed with the cool morning air.
My eyes skimmed her body, and she stood in the shower stream, trembling. Her eyes never left mine.
“West?”
I couldn’t speak. In seconds I had her wrists, drawing them upward and above her head. My lips moved to the numbers on her arm, tracing over the coordinates etched into her skin.
She moaned, her knees melting. I caught her just in time; she struggled to hold onto me. “Are you sore, baby?”
I reached for her, tenderly probing between her legs, and she cried out again, clinging to me with all of her strength.
“Yes… but I want you. Please,” she begged softly, her eyes opening beneath the warm water stream.
I lifted her up and against the wooden wall, my mouth on hers and my tongue spreading her lips. I tried to slow down, but my need to possess her took over once again. She wrapped her legs around my hips, murmuring against my mouth as I pushed into her.
“Like this?” I asked, dropping my mouth to her neck. I thrust her against the wall with each stroke, and she rolled her head against the wet wood, her tears mixing with the warm water stream.
“Yes, please, West…,”
I roared, my orgasm ripping me apart. Smothering her small cries with my mouth, I felt her go slack, crying my name as her own pleasure claimed her consciousness.
She returned to me within seconds, and I grinned, slowly pulling out of her. “You have to remember to breathe, baby.”
She blinked rapidly, a languid smile moving over her swollen lips. “I don’t want to breathe. I like when you’re inside of me, and I start to… fall apart…,”
I’d never remained this hard, this needing, for as long as I had with Roam.
Three times in an hour was quickly becoming a reality, and I didn’t see an end for my ache for her.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I lathered her with soap, and then myself, and by the time I was finished cleaning her, she was begging for me again.
“Please… more…,”
I carried her, soaking wet, back into the house, carefully lowering her to the bed. I knew she had to be sore; the sheets were a mess, and the first time had been painful for her. “Lay back.”
She nodded. When I pushed her wet, naked legs apart, she gasped and tried to sit back up again with a tiny protest.
“Close your eyes.”
She did. So trusting. I wanted to see her face, but I knew this was new for her, and she was unsure of herself. Between my thrusting fingers and my mouth, she came apart, grinding herself against me and moaning.
She was divinity. A goddess.
An endless life finally worth living.
I kissed a trail up her stomach, still tasting her, and her tear-brightened eyes fluttered open.
She smiled at me.
Her smile was my answer; my reason, my purpose after hundreds of years of failure and heartache. At that moment, I wanted to speak the words that I’d said to her over and over again; I wanted to tell her that this time, this life… I loved her. The way her lips swelled when I kissed them, the way her face lit up when we talked about history, and the way begged for me when I made love to her. Her pleading cries, so unlike Annie or Julie or any of them, drove me even further over the edge.
But… I waited to tell her.
She pushed at my shoulder until I was lying on my back. Amused, I tucked my hands under her bottom as she straddled my waist. “And what are you planning to do, Miss Camden?”
She bit her lip, just slightly, shrugging with a shy smile. “I want to do that… to you. But I don’t know how to make you… like it.”
I pulled her closer, so my words were hot on her lips. “No?” I prodded, encouraged, sliding my fingers beneath her. She was so wet, waiting for me, and I employed all of my strength to refrain from pushing back inside of her.
“I want you to feel what I’m feeling.”
Primal lust surged through me. Her sincerity drove me beyond any territory I’d ever known. She was so innocent. We were both completely naked in the humid cottage, damp with sweat and water and soap and sand, and I could have died happily right there, in her arms.
I gathered handfuls of her luscious hair, kissing her deeply. “I’m yours, Roam. I’ve always been yours. I find you, I protect you. I serve you.”
The words came from somewhere deep in my subconscious. She readily accepted the power I gave her, lowering her face and dropping shy kisses over my abs. As she moved downward, I was stiffened as her sweet, tentative mouth took me in.
She made me feel so whole, so alive…
So mortal.
I managed to turn her over to lie on her back just in time, joining with her again before coming apart. I’d forgotten to make sure she was ready, but groaned when I found her hot and waiting for me.
My life had changed for the first time in six hundred years.
We were a tangled mess of limbs, of contact, and of whispered words. I stared out the window, my heart racing with anxiety as our situation slowly invaded my consciousness.
Troy was hunting her.
Logan was going to Russia.
The fountains.
“I can’t get lost in you again. It happens every time, and I forget that we are in a war,” I murmured.
“You’re right,” she breathed, her head fitting perfectly into the crook of my arm. “We need to eat, and I need to learn to fight.”
“You fought pretty well last night,” I teased, and her brows furrowed as she reached for my back. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I probably could have fought Troy more if I hadn’t been in the water.”
Oh, god, I could feel her fear, and it cracked my heart in two. I held her tighter, moving comforting kisses over her face.
“You’re right. But the first thing we’re going to do is go swimming.”
Panic consumed her, tightening her grip on my arms. “No way. I’m not going in the ocean…,”
“You’ve got to get back in the water, Roam. I know you’re afraid, but you are a talented swimmer and you can’t carry fear like that around with you for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not ready.” Her long legs tightened over mine, and I nudged her thighs apart, rolling her to her back.
She lightened me by centuries. I felt like laughing, even amidst our serious words, just so happy to have her in my arms again. I dove, planting silly, wet kisses over her neck and chest, and she broke into tortured laughter.
“Stop! West stop!”
“Stop what?”
“I- Ohmygod,” she sat up, too quickly, and her forehead cracked against mine.
“What?” Something was wrong- her entire body tensed beneath me.
“My numbers!” She turned ashen, staring at her arm. “Where are they? What…,”
I wrenched her arm to me, turning it over. Slowly, logic pieced what was happening together. Logan. Fucking Logan. I told him to wait.
Either he’s dead… or he went through the fountain.
“We ha
ve to go.”
“What does this mean? Is Logan… is he…,” she was struggling to breath, and her face paled. “Is he still here?”
“No,” I snapped, shoving my feet into jeans. When I turned to her, she was twisting the bedspread beneath her fingers, holding her breath, ready to pass out. “Roam,” I barked, trying to get her attention. “I don’t think he’s dead, I think he traveled through the fountain. He didn’t wait. Goddamnit,” I stood, and the relief on her face only angered me further.
“Why would he do that?”
“Hurry- I’ll buy plane tickets while you get cleaned up.”
She was running to the bathroom on shaking legs. “What will happen to him?”
Logan. How much longer will she continue to love Logan? What would it take to make her truly mine? “I don’t know- which is exactly why I told him to wait,” I growled, hastily repacking my bag.
“West!” Her cry sent me to the bathroom in seconds. I gathered her into my arms as she gripped her arm in fear. “They’re coming back…,”
“Look at my face,” I dropped her to the bed, my fingers locked on her upper arms. “Just focus.”
She did so well; I kissed her through the numbers changing, proud of her restraint. When they finally changed, I glanced at the coordinates again.
“Where?” She panted.
“Russia. He traveled- and he came back.”
My cell phone was ringing. I flipped the phone open, shouting before he could speak. “I told you to wait!”
“Fucking wait?” His voice answered me, and I kept my eyes focused on Roam. “It was 1977. And you killed her. You fucking killed her. Put her on the phone-…,”
“No way in hell you’re speaking to her.”
“Let me talk to him!” Tears filled her eyes, and I hit speaker, tossing the device to the bed.
This was it.
It was Logan’s choice. If he told her, I’d lose all of her trust.
I would lose her.
“Roam, it’s true, the fountain is a door,” he rushed. “I spent a day in 1977, but only minutes passed here.”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She urged, her voice bordering on hysterical.
I wanted to end the call before he said the words. I focused on her face, trying to remember the way she looked at me before she knew I was a murderer.
West (A Roam Series Novella) Page 6
