by Jasmine Walt
But instead of coming closer to do any of those things, Zane took another step back. And then another. From my place against the skyline of an ancient city, I knew where Zane’s body was headed.
Before he could reach for his pencil and pad, I was on him. His body was turned from me. I took hold of the back of his shoulders. Gripping him, I tossed his body back. He went airborne and landed on the large bed at the center of the room.
He landed with an oomph. He tried to rise, but I climbed over him and shoved him back down onto the mattress. He threw his head back and let out a deep- bellied laugh as I pinned his forearms down with my knees.
“D’accord, ma petite,” he chuckled. “The art can wait.”
Damn straight the art would wait. But I couldn’t. I needed to possess this man. I ripped at his shirt until I felt his flesh beneath my nails. He groaned against my mouth as our teeth mashed together. I watched him wince in pain, but he didn’t stop me.
“Whatever you need, mon coeur. Take from me.”
I had to stop his lips from moving. I needed them on me, against me. Open for me to drink, to taste, to take.
My hands went to his pants. I fumbled with his buckle. Frustrated, I released the dagger from its holster. His eyes widened and his grin kicked up. I sliced through the leather with a flick of the blade, then tossed the leather strap and the jade blade to the ground. I slid the slacks down his strong thighs while I attacked his mouth once more. When my hands couldn’t go further, I used my bare feet to free his shins and his feet until he was bare for me, an offering.
My hands tracked up his thighs and met warm, throbbing flesh. My mouth watered, my gut tightened around emptiness, as though I hadn’t been taking everything this man had given me. I reared back from him, breathing in shallow pants.
What was I doing? This had gone further than I had intended. I’d just meant to ask him a few questions. How had he ended up beneath me? How had I ended up on top of him, naked?
Zane lay beneath me, still and patient even as his erection throbbed between us. His arms were stretched over his head, gripping the headboard of the hotel bed, as though he knew if he let go, he would take me.
Why didn’t he just take me? He could have his way with me if he chose. But I could see through the haze of desire in his eyes; he needed me to choose him. He needed me to take this step toward him.
I didn’t want a choice right now. My mind was all wrong. I didn’t want to do the right thing, which I knew was to get out of this bed and stop screwing around with my ex.
The problem was that, for me, it would just be a step. For him, it would be as though I leaped back into his arms, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. I just needed this moment. I’d felt so lost for the last few weeks. I’d had people telling me about a me that I couldn’t remember, a me I was no longer in touch with. I just needed to cling to the familiar, to what I knew.
I was starving, parched, so in need of what he could give me. I knew that things weren’t repaired between us. An eternity that I couldn’t remember, past lives and deeds that he’d kept from me, still raged between us. But not in this moment. It was just me and him. Nia and Zane. It made sense, and I needed it right now.
It was selfish, childish, and immature. But I didn’t care. I aimed his cock for my entrance and sank down onto him.
Zane’s eyes closed in a silent prayer of gratitude. With my decision made, he let go of the headboard and latched onto me. He grabbed my ass and rocked into me. Slowly at first. But that only lasted a few strokes, and then he lost his control.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and attacked his mouth. We clung to each other, exploring the spots the other liked. Sucking at the places we knew were sensitive. Angling our thrusts in the ways we would drive each other wild.
All the while, Zane whispered prayers both new and familiar in my ear. I felt refueled by his worship. I was rejuvenated by his devotion. And when I reached my climax, I felt sated by his offering.
21
I heard the scritch-scritch against parchment at my back. The sound of Zane drawing was a constant in my sleeping and waking hours. I didn’t want to open my eyes from this dream and confront the day. But the voice found me anyway.
“Tisa, I cannot wait much longer. I need you to wake up.”
From the darkness of my dreams, the floating woman stepped in front of me. “Demeter?”
I peered at the woman. She did favor Demeter with the wheat-colored hair and sparkling eyes. But there was something . . . different about her. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“I need you to remember my birth,” she said. “Remember before it’s too late.”
“Your birth?”
“You don’t have much time. They are gathering. You need to wake up.”
But I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want her in my dreams anymore, disturbing my peace. The moment I thought it, she was gone.
Had I known it was that easy to get rid of a floating Greek goddess, I would’ve done it a week ago. I sighed and snuggled deeper into the pillows as the scene changed before my eyes.
Sun kissed my eyelids and brought to mind the sight of an ancient city. I saw domed steeples reaching into the morning sky and the Flavian Amphitheater of Rome stretching up. But there was a portion of the circular Colosseum that was damaged.
Behind me, I again heard the markings of long lines and circles as Zane continued his artwork. I didn’t want to turn around. I always woke from the dream when I moved.
As I lay still, I realized I missed having his heat at my back. I missed the sounds his pencils and brushes made against parchment. I held still in the dream and let the familiar sounds lull me deeper into relaxation. Looking out at the Colosseum, I remembered a time long ago.
“You took me on a date there,” I said.
“Oui, mon coeur. We saw the gladiators.”
I remembered. We’d sat upon cushioned curules—folding chairs—in a section for the elites. I remembered the gladiators. Their glistening, muscled skin. The clangs of their swords and armor. I remembered the sweat pouring off their bodies, the blood spraying from their wounds. As someone used to death, the violent display hadn’t unnerved me. What had turned my stomach was the reaction of the crowd.
The hunger and glee of those gathered to watch the display, their insatiable appetite for more carnage, had made me turn away. I had shut my eyes and placed my hands over my ears to tune them out.
Closing my eyes to the building that was out the window, I concentrated instead on the scratch of pencil against paper.
“I feel I’m constantly watching things, people, places, get destroyed,” I said. After a moment, I opened my eyes again to view the ruined structure. I felt like I was looking through a window of time, seeing the building in its prime and after its destruction. “Tres says he rebuilds to keep things moving, but I don’t believe him. I think he does it to cover up the past.”
“Tres?”
“Did you know he built on top of the Parthenon? And the city of Troy. I wonder if he built the Colosseum, too?”
Zane’s pencils went silent behind me. My past with Tres was a bone of contention between us. But it was my dream. I could say whatever I wanted.
“I think you two would get along if you tried,” I said.
“We used to get along very well.”
“What happened?” I knew the answer before he said it.
“He desires to possess the very thing that makes my heart beat. So we no longer see eye to eye.”
I looked again at the damaged roof of the once-great building. A plane flew overhead. The sounds of car horns honking in the distance sounded loud in my head. What a vivid dream this was.
Somewhere nearby, a cell phone rang. That was odd for a dream. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a rectangular device vibrating on the bedside table. I raised my head from the pillow in my dream to see Tres’s name on the screen.
I sat up.
I turned to look behind me.
“Oh no,” I groaned.
This wasn’t a dream. I was in Rome, in bed, with my ex.
“Bonjour,” he said.
Looking down, I saw that only the sketchpad covered Zane’s manhood.
“Oh no,” I wailed.
How had this happened? I had only come to ask him a question, which, yes, I could have asked on the phone. But technology was always weird between Immortals. Even so, I still could’ve come to the exhibit, gotten my answer, and left. That had been the plan. I didn’t have to dance with him. Or kiss him. Or sleep with him. Granted, I didn’t remember much sleeping happening.
I groaned again. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I tipped you over.”
“Yes, you did.” He grinned.
“No, I mean you as the refrigerator.”
“Pardon?”
“Our relationship. You’re my refrigerator. I tipped you over already. You’re on the ground, and I’m standing over you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t mean to sleep with you.”
He nodded with fake apology. “Well, you could’ve stopped the second time. Or, perhaps, the third go-around.”
“Zane!” I pulled the pillow over my head as though no one could see me. Then I realized that no one could. No one needed to know this had happened.
The moment the thought eased my mind, his phone rang. I pulled the pillow from my head to see him lean over and look at the caller ID. Then he picked it up.
I stared at him in a bit of shock. He never took calls when we were together. Who the hell was on the other end of the line who was so important?
“Allo.” He smiled into the phone.
I couldn’t hear what the other person said, but I knew it was a woman. Femininity wafted out of the receiver like a cheap perfume.
Zane chuckled, his face pressed against the handheld device. I was seething by the time he turned to me. I’d completely forgotten my ire about last night now that his attentions were elsewhere this morning.
“It’s for you.” He handed me his phone.
I took it and placed it to my ear. “Hello?”
“You slut.”
I shut my eyes and let my head sink into my free hand. “How’d you know I was here?”
“I looked in the closet of your hotel room,” Loren said. “One: only the sexy dress was gone. Two: Tres left a message at the front desk asking to see you tomorrow night, so I assumed you weren’t with him. And three: I also noted that your passport was gone.”
“I thought you were with Baros for another night.”
“He got called in by his keeper.” She huffed. “Apparently, they’ve found Hera. Thought you might like in on that action. I heard what she did to Socrates. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Hmm? Gonna fit in one more quickie before your flight?”
“Shut up.” I jabbed my thumb into END and tossed Zane’s phone on top of the comforter.
I turned and faced him. Then I pulled the covers around my chest so he’d focus on me and not my breasts.
“Zane, this was . . .” What? A mistake? Me using him to feel better about myself? Just a one-night stand with the person I’d loved for longer than I could remember?
“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re not ready to be back in a relationship.”
I shook my head.
“You got caught up in the moment. Things were familiar and comfortable. And you let things happen that you now regret.”
“I don’t regret it.”
And I didn’t. I also didn’t appreciate him telling me about myself, like I didn’t know who I was. Just like everyone around me had been doing this past week. Especially when he was the one who knew me best because he had been there for me for the last five hundred years, but not in the last five weeks.
“Why haven’t you called me?” I demanded.
“Because you prefer to have space when we break up.”
I had to unclench my teeth before I could speak. “When we break up? You say that like it’s a thing that we do on a regular basis. Like, Hey Nia, do you want to go to the movies this weekend? And then afterward, maybe we can break up for a century or so.”
Zane’s gaze narrowed on me, which was hard to do with his thick lashes and squinty eyes. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
I stared at him, incredulous. “And then you just leave me alone until I forget again?”
“No. I am never far from you. I always come when you need me.”
“Like a stalker.”
He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. As I’d mentioned, Zane and I had been together for a long time. We’d had more than our fair share of arguments. He’d typically close his eyes when I was on his nerves. He’d pinch the bridge of his nose when he was at the end of his rope. I was two for two today.
“When I chase you,” he said, “you run. When I give you space, you hunt me down. Why don’t you just tell me what you want me to do this time?”
“I don’t know what I want you to do.” I stood and stomped my foot. Then I wrapped my arms around my naked torso. “I don’t know what I want. I’m obviously confused. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t want to hurt you.”
Zane took a deep breath. He stood, too. We both stood there, naked from our lovemaking the night before. Irritated under the hazy cloud of the morning after.
Zane rocked back on his heels. My breath caught at the thought of him actually tipping over, like a refrigerator I had no more use for. I reached my hand out as though to catch him. His fingers snaked out and grabbed my wrist. He pressed his chest into my palm. I felt his heartbeat against my fingertips.
“It only hurts when you forget me,” he said.
“I won’t ever do that again, I swear.” I took a step into him. “I think you’re my best friend in the entire world.”
“I am. Through the universe and all of time.”
I sighed and rested my head on the space that was uniquely mine, that space between his pecs. “Don’t tell Loren I said that. She might claw your eyes out if she thinks you’re blowing up her spot.”
Zane chuckled. The puffs of air felt good on my face.
“No matter what happens between us,” I said, “that’s never going to change. We’ll always be friends.”
“Yes,” he said. “I suppose that will never change. Unless, of course, I commit another mass genocide in your name.”
“Yeah, so let’s not do that.”
I felt his cheeks spread in a grin against my temple.
“I really do have to go,” I said.
“Right.” He released me. “An archaeologist’s work is never done.”
“Not until the end of time.”
I looked up at him. He peered down at me. We stood before each other, baring more than our souls. There was still an ocean between us, but at least he was close enough for me to see, to touch, to talk to.
“So we’re good?” I asked.
“You mean with this undefined non-relationship where we may or may not see each other, but will remain secret besties through all time? Yeah, sure, we’re good.”
“Good.”
22
The moment the seat belt light went off in the commercial aircraft, I got up. I moved easily through the crowded plane as I had no luggage to carry off. All my gear was slung over my shoulder in an overnight bag. It was the baggage I carried on the inside that bothered me. It wasn’t a light load.
Aside from a general achiness from being exposed to three Immortals in one day, my lips still stung from the lingering kiss Zane had given me as I stood on the other side of the threshold of his hotel room. My body ached with the memories of his attention from the previous night. My palm itched over the unanswered text messages from Tres. My head hurt as I tried to figure out what to say when
I saw him next. At customs, I had nothing to declare so they let me pass.
Up ahead in the arrivals, I heard a commotion. A group of young coeds were whooping and high fiving at the end of the long hallway. When I got closer, I saw the reason and nearly turned away to board another flight.
Loren stood with a sign that read High fives if you got some last night.
An old woman with silver-white hair made her way over and gave Loren a high five. The cougar was accompanied by a much younger man. The crowd went wild.
And then Loren spotted me.
“Rome to Athens?” she said, holding up her hand for a slap. “I think that must be one of the longest morning-after walks of shame I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Shut up,” I growled, ignoring her outstretched hand.
Instead, I reached into my pocket to retrieve my vibrating phone. I took one look at it before shutting it down and shoving it back in my pocket. This time in my back pocket instead of the front.
“Is that the Broody Billionaire? Did you tell him you and Frenchie were rocking the refrigerator last night?”
“Loren . . .” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Hey,” called one of the noisy coeds. He broke away from the whooping and hollering and came to stand before Loren. “Come hang out with us tonight. We’re headed to this wild party. Free booze, a little recreational medicine . . .”
He held up a printed sheet of paper. It had the same wheat wreath image that our invitations had, the ones to the Mysteries that Baros had given us in Budapest. But unlike ours, this invite was in black and white, not gold-embossed lettering or expensive paper stock. It also had the addition of a peacock plume in the middle of the wreath, like the one that had been discarded by the dejected partygoer who hadn’t been able to gain access to Zeus’s orgy.
“Wild party, huh?” Loren took the invitation out of his hands and held it up for further inspection.
