“And she’s still alive?”
Tempus gestured at the door. “Obviously. That was her in the background. They’re married. She’s a mortal.”
“He’s not?”
“He wasn’t.” He scowled. Even his scowl was sort of sexy in that dark and brooding way. Lacey really tried not to find it attractive. “Now, I’m not sure what Zeit is. He’s not immortal. He wasted that. Though he thinks it was noble.”
“He gave up his immortality for her?”
“I’m not doing that. Let’s just put that out there.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t asking. I was just going to say that’s sort of…”
“Stupid?”
“No.”
“Mortal?”
“Uhh.”
“Now he has a fleeting span of time on this plane of existence in exchange for pain and a transient human form of joy.”
“I was going to say it’s romantic,” Lacey grumbled. Geez, this guy!
“I’m not romantic.”
“Well, it seems your brother is.” She turned to him. “Why are you pissed at me? You’re the one walking around and killing people. All I did was stop you and probably blow your mind with that kiss.”
“You didn’t,” and the moron brought out the air quotes, “‘blow my mind.’ It was good, but not that good.”
Oh, it was that good. Of all the guys to have rocking chemistry with—chemistry that nearly left her stuttering and weak-kneed—she had it with a grim reaper.
“And I’m not killing people. I’m simply taking and using their future for the benefit of the remainder of mortality.”
“The end result being that they’re dead?”
“Yes. They have no future. Tonight, I was meant to take an older mortal’s life force which could potentially save the lives of many others from their fates, but you prevented me.”
“In all fairness, I told you to take me instead.” It was an impulse. A crazy impulse. But if he had to take anyone, at least she had very little family and she was prepared. Plus, she was a volunteer.
“Yes, well, I didn’t catch on to what you were saying until it was too late.”
“Because I blew your mind with that kiss.”
Tempus sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration. “You’re really very twisted to alleviate my boredom like this.”
“Yes, because that’s what I was doing. I was concerned your New Year’s Eve wasn’t entertaining enough so I was offering to let you kill me—for fun.”
His head dropped and his eyes focused on hers. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the Fate sisters. It’s their mortal sacrifice that was ruined.”
“You work for the Fates?”
Tempus looked up and down the halls with a scowl. “I really shouldn’t be talking about this in the halls.”
“So, you’d rather just stand here with your murder victim in awkward silence?”
“It wasn’t going to be awkward for me.”
“Oh, go to hell.” She paused. “Wait, is that where you’re from?”
“I’m not a grim reaper. I’m a son of Father Time. A time holder. Three hundred and sixty-four days of the year, you’d be grateful to see me around. That would mean someone just got lucky.”
She gave him a flat look. “Wow, you do have a high opinion of yourself, stud.”
“Not lucky in that way. I use the minutes I’ve stolen on New Year’s Eve to provide a few seconds here and there to mortals who need it. I’m the shadow in the corner of your eye that keeps you from getting hit by a bus. I’m the presence that bumps a couple together who are meant to be with each other... so, see, I am romantic.”
“When forced. You probably trip one or both parties, literally bumping them together.”
His frown said she wasn’t completely off-base in thinking that. “We just met. Why are you so pissed at me?”
“You were going to kill me.”
“You asked me to, and you’ll notice you’re still here—alive.”
“Your brother killed my father.”
Tempus shrugged. “I thought you said it was romantic.”
“Not that! I said it was romantic that he gave up his immortality to be with his wife. Not that he killed my father. Besides, you were going to kill someone’s father tonight so don’t act all blameless in this.”
“Everyone is someone’s father.”
“Exactly! Everyone is someone’s father!”
“Unless they’re female. Or sterile. Or choose not to have children. Or are a child themselves.”
She blinked. She’d been on such a mental roll, she’d totally missed that.
The door opened and Zeit stood there, frowning at them. “You two are very loud.” He cleared his throat. “Hannah says I’m to apologize to you for killing your father.”
Her mouth dropped open. It would be ungracious to not accept, but…
Both men stared at her.
“He was my father, you know.” She wanted to shake both of them.
They both continued to stare as if she was a specimen under a microscope and they were curious what she’d do.
“How would you feel if someone killed your father?”
Tempus narrowed his eyes in confusion as Zeit said, “He’s immortal. Besides, time would implode as the temporal plane disintegrated.”
“Also, you’d probably be sad.”
Neither of the brothers seemed to get what she was saying.
A brunette popped out from behind Zeit. “Hi, yeah, there’s no way they’ll understand the concept.” She punched Zeit in the shoulder. “It’d be like if your father had killed me.”
Zeit frowned. “That was never going to happen. I wouldn’t have let that happen.”
The woman shrugged. “See, the concept is a bit foreign to them. Zeit has come a long way but every once in a while mortality still seems like a coat six times too big from a thrift store.” She grimaced. “Sorry about your father. I was there when that happened. It was really horrible.”
Lacey cleared her throat and nodded. “Yeah. We weren’t close at all, but it was still a lousy way for him to go and, well, he was my father.”
“My name is Hannah. Come on in and we can talk about things,” she said, gesturing into the room.
“The chocolate oranges are all mine,” Zeit said.
Lacey nodded. “Okay. I can live with that.”
Lacey would accept Hannah’s apology it seemed, but no one else’s. And that fizzing energy between them that had been building since that kiss wasn’t dissipating. Even arguing hadn’t killed it.
The mortal world was messy with contradictions. This was why he only interacted with it when he absolutely had to. It was a shame that he was now intertwined with Lacey’s timeline rather effectively.
“So, you distracted Tempus and then offered your life in exchange for his New Year’s sacrifice but he didn’t take it because he didn’t realize you were Lacey and he was still... distracted?” Zeit asked. He was sitting in a large armchair with his wife on his lap.
Lacey sat on the bed since there was only one more chair and Tempus had taken it. Sitting on the bed when he couldn’t get that kiss out of his head was a bad idea. Especially since Lacey slapping him implied it wasn’t going to be repeated anytime in the near future. Tempus was pointedly not looking at her on the bed or picturing her on the bed while he’d relayed the details.
His brother’s focus on the word “distracted” indicated he knew what had occurred in the lodge’s ballroom to blur Tempus’s focus. Lacey hadn’t exactly jumped to clarify how she’d been distracting him, and when he’d glanced at her, very briefly, she’d been looking anywhere but him also.
Why did he feel like they’d been caught in a compromising mortal situation? They’d been in a crowded ballroom on New Year’s Eve. Plus, it’d just been kissing.
Zeit cleared his throat. “You don’t have many options now. Your minutes of grace have passed. You can let the Fates take Lacey, w
hich they’ll be anxious to do before you get to know her. Her future is theirs so it is their right.”
Tempus opened his mouth to argue... which surprised him.
Eyeing him, Zeit went on with a loud, “However, the value of her sacrifice is nil outside the one minute of grace on either side of New Year’s Eve, so it’d be wasted as far as the greater humanity goes. Her death would be pointless.”
“Ahhh a pointless death. That’s what I always hoped to achieve,” Lacey said dryly.
Hannah poked her husband. “You’ll have to forgive Zeit. Tact is not his forte.”
“You asked for my help. I can stop helping,” his brother said.
“Or you could start.” Tempus wasn’t overly impressed with Zeit’s help so far.
“Fine. Your other option is to do what I did and continue to save Lacey’s life over the course of the next year. Then when New Year’s Eve comes, you make your choice. She’ll almost certainly be your mortal sacrifice again.”
“Choice?” He looked over in time to catch Lacey’s frown. “What choice does he have? I offered. They accepted. I have a year to live. It sounds pretty cut and dried.”
“You’re okay with dying?” Hannah asked.
“Well, no, it doesn’t sound like a picnic, but you’ve made it sound like it’s inevitable and he,” Lacey pointed at Tempus, “implied that a lot of other people would live because I died. That sounds sort of noble. It’s better than pointless at the very least.”
“He could sacrifice his immortality for your future,” Hannah said.
“No,” he and Lacey said at once, which he didn’t care for. It was his choice, not Lacey’s. What did it mean that she didn’t want him to give his life for hers? He didn’t like that at all. It was difficult to say why, though.
Hannah’s gaze darted between them before she said, “Well, there you have it. Tempus saves your life over and over until next New Year’s Eve when you basically hurl yourself into the volcano on behalf of your fellow men... and women... and probably some children.”
Her husband stared at her. “They’re going to do it next to a volcano? Isn’t that unnecessarily dramatic and complicated?”
“It’d at least be warmer than this place,” Tempus pointed out.
Zeit nodded at him. That, at least, made sense.
Hannah shook her head and said to Lacey, “See. It’s adorable. It’s like anything figurative might as well not exist. I should give you my phone number so you can call when you want to kill Tempus because there’ll be days when you might be frustrated that he’s immortal and you can’t do that.”
What?
His brother narrowed his eyes. “You never felt that way about me, though.”
Hannah patted his arm. “Of course not, honey. You’re an angel. I’ll get you that phone number, Lacey.”
CHAPTER TWO
He met her beside her car. His black boots were covered in snow and he was scowling. When they’d parted ways at his brother’s door, she’d assumed, apparently incorrectly, that it’d be a few days before she saw him again. Maybe even weeks. Instead, it was hours.
“I’m riding back with you.” His eyes narrowed. “Actually, I’m driving.”
“Why?” If she had to be shut up in her little compact with him for hours, she deserved to know why.
“The Fates could try to kill you at any time, and I don’t want to have to commute to stop them,” he scowled, “I gave my Porsche to Zeit. I’ll just get another.”
How would that be? He’d just get another Porsche. Tempus would probably blame her for having to get rid of this one, though. “I’d hate to inconvenience you with my near-death experiences.”
He held his hands up. “We’re going to be seeing quite a lot of each other in the next year. We should at least try to get along.”
“Do we actually have to see each other?” If they were going to be spending a lot of time together, they should have ground rules, and she wasn’t sure if those ground rules should include or exclude kissing. Even right here, right now, her hormones were begging for more of him. It wasn’t fair.
“Look, I can make saving your life as unobtrusive as possible. Once we get back, you’ll barely even know I exist, other than you’ll continue to exist. So. There. I guess we don’t have to get along.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t fine of course. She was just saying that. He’d assume she was fine because he was a moron incapable of sensing her feelings on this whole thing. How could she be so attracted to him when he was just biding his time until he could kill her? It could be a matter of days or weeks before he lost interest in saving her life and let her die a pointless death. The odds that she’d make it to New Year’s seemed slim.
He held out his hand.
She shrugged and handed him her suitcase.
With a sigh, he set her suitcase on the ground and held out his hand again. “The keys?”
Oh. Right. Lacey dug in her purse, ignoring his sounds of impatience until she finally pulled out the wad of keys with a metal four-leaf clover dangling from it.
Tempus held up the keys to inspect them critically. “Are you a janitor?”
Hannah was right; she did want to kill him. “No.”
“And you keep all these keys because…?”
“They’re my memories.” She took the keys from him and pulled one from the bunch. “This was my first car. It was this old yellow VW bug... so cute. Getting it into gear required divine assistance and it couldn’t go up hills for anything, but it was mine. I bought it with five years’ saved babysitting money.” She flipped to a different key. “This was my mom’s house when I was a kid. I was a latch-key kid. Do you know what that is?”
“Your mother kept you locked up?” He said it like this was a reasonable course of action.
“No. She worked all the time so I had a key to the house so I could let myself in after school.” She held up another key. “This was a key to my best friend’s house. She moved to Germany a few years ago with her husband and kid. When we were teenagers, I spent more time at her house than I did at my own.” Licking her lips, she held up a safety deposit key. “This is from my mom. I opened it after she died and it had all these old pictures of us.” It’d been touching to see what her mom considered valuable.
“Your mother died?”
“Three years ago. Drunk driver. Then, two years ago,” she held up another key, “your brother killed my father. This is the key to his house from when I was younger. He and my mom had joint custody. See how this key is barely used…” Lacey shook her head. Water under the bridge. She grabbed the right key. “This is the key you want.”
Without a word, Tempus took it, unlocked the car, and put her suitcase inside. It was difficult to tell whether he’d felt something. His stark silence could go either way. He didn’t open her door for her, but he’d probably never been schooled by his mother on polite behavior.
“Do you have a mother?” she asked as she got in the passenger’s side and settled down.
He moved the seat back impossibly far and frowned at how close the ceiling was to his head. “No. Not unless you call the three Fates our... maternal figures. Which I wouldn’t.”
Well, that explained it.
He started up the car. “We don’t have to actually talk. You can sleep.”
Her mouth dropped open.
He caught her expression as he backed up. “What?”
“I’m sorry if the sound of my voice offends you.”
“It doesn’t. Your voice is nice. I just know that mortals need sleep.” He stopped and gave her a long look. “I’m still planning on taking your life at the end of this year, and I don’t want that decision being difficult.”
She looked out her window. Basically he didn’t want to get to know her at all. He was there to save her life until he took it himself—end of story. She should appreciate his honesty. Instead she whispered, “You are such an ass.” She closed her eyes and feigned sleep until the sting of tears stopped.
/> It was better she hated him than anything else. He was starting to feel things for her and he didn’t much care for it. He couldn’t take the life of someone he felt things for.
She wasn’t crying, was she?
For some mortals, death was a bit emotional.
He could see how it might be.
He wasn’t going to give up his immortality for so few years of hers. Maybe it was selfish, but she’d offered herself up as sacrifice. He was going to take Joseph Toulouse... who’d probably drop dead from natural causes within the year anyway. Instead of taking his life, he’d be taking someone thirty years younger.
“If you’re not a janitor, what are you?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m a social worker,” she said with a sniff. She hadn’t been sleeping. That didn’t mean she was crying. Even if she was crying, that didn’t mean it was his fault. “I work with battered women mostly. My dad was abusive to my mom—which is why she left him.”
Maybe he didn’t want to know more about her. Tempus already liked most of what he knew. More and more, he was seeing her as a person—not just another mortal, albeit a very hot mortal.
“He was an alcoholic back then, and his marriage wasn’t worth sobering up for. He did eventually sober up some when the doctor said his innards were getting pickled and he’d die if he didn’t. My mom only let me stay with him when he was sober... so he missed most of my life. He’d been sober a year when he died. He stopped drinking completely after my mom was killed. By then, we were a couple of strangers with nothing to talk about other than everything we regretted. We met at the lodge to try to... find neutral ground, but I swear he was searching for someone to blame for his drinking.” She broke off. “I’m rambling again. You can tell me to shut up.”
“Shut up.” He didn’t like that he was starting to like her. It was definitely better if she stopped talking.
“You’re a bastard.”
His mouth dropped open. “You said I could say that.”
She shot upright. “I didn’t mean it. Nobody means it when they say that. You’re supposed to say, ‘No, go on. I like hearing about your life.’”
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