“You’re wearing an eye mask, like a sleeping mask. Your eyes are healing. I’m right here next to you, and I’m not leaving you,” he whispered, and I realized it was his arm across my waist.
“You drugged me,” I managed, my voice hoarse.
“The surgery is over. We had no time for your millions of questions- or for you to freak out.”
His mouth was close to my ear. “Where’s Logan?”
“It’s only been a few hours, Roam. He’s still at his house, with his parents. Protecting them.” Sardonic, he sighed. “He has no idea what Troy is capable of.”
I reached for my eyes, but he caught my hands before I touched my face.
“Don’t touch your eyes, just let them rest,” he ordered.
I nodded, rolling on my side to face him. His breath was warm against my face. “Do you have random surgeons at your beck and call? Who will just bring their handy laser and perform eye surgery on an underage, drugged, non-consenting girl?”
He tightened his grip on my waist. “It was necessary.”
“It must have cost you a fortune.”
“I have a lot of money. It’s not all… honest, but it’s necessary.” He repeated. I struggled with the heavy feeling of the narcotics wearing off.
“My lungs feel… better,” I realized, taking a deep breath for the first time in what felt like years.
“You had oxygen- and Albuterol. It helps your lungs recover after… after.” He avoided the word “drowning,” but it was hanging in the air. I took another deep breath.
“When do we go?” I inched closer to him. He flattened his palm against the small of my back.
“Tomorrow. How’s your head?” The thumb of his other hand brushed my lips.
“It doesn’t hurt.” I recognized that I was wearing nothing but his oversized tee-shirt. “West, my eyes… we fixed them because our physical bodies will travel, right?”
“I think so. I can’t be sure. I’m taking all precautions.”
“But… how can I be pregnant if…,” I was grateful for the mask covering my eyes.
“If you’re a virgin?” He finished, and an embarrassed flush crept over my cheeks and chest.
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t care if you’re pregnant or not. He wants to kill you either way.”
“But the only way to fulfill the prophecy- is for our child to be born.”
He sighed deeply, brushing his thumb over my lips again. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“How will our child save the world?” I asked, my lips moving against his thumb.
“I don’t know that. I’ve wondered that for centuries.” His voice was brusque, but I knew this tone. I am having an effect on him.
With the mask firmly in place, I reached for him. Once I found his chest, I smoothed my hand over his bare arm, touching the fabric near his shoulder. The nape of his neck was warm, and my fingers slid into his hair.
“Roam.” He caught my hand.
“I’m sorry…,” I tried to pull away, but he held me firmly.
“I promised I wouldn’t touch you- in that way. But that’s going to change. Eventually,” he added. “Not now,” he tucked my head against his chest. “Just rest,” he whispered, brushing his palm over my neck.
I registered his words. There is no other way. Somewhere, in some other dimension or world or life, I am going to make love with West. The thought was exciting and frightening at the same time. The dreams made me want him, the circumstances made me trust him… but Logan…
“What about… Laurel?” I whispered self-consciously.
I couldn’t see his face, but I felt him tense. “Laurel is dead, Roam.”
“What?” I gripped the back of his neck, wishing I could see his eyes. “When?”
“Troy killed her. In 2003.”
“And Violet?” My voice barely registered a whisper.
“She doesn’t know me. She was placed in a foster home at the age of eight.” He sounded matter-of-fact, but his hand pressed against my back tensely. This is difficult for him, I realized, threading my fingers through his hair again. He didn’t stop me this time.
“What does she look like?”
He sighed, resting his chin on my head. “She has my eyes. And her hair is blonde- and curly.”
I tried to imagine a girl, slightly older than myself, as West’s daughter. The notion seemed ludicrous given how young he looked. “And you want to save the world… for her.”
“She used to be my only reason. I wasted a lot of the past thirty years resenting you, trying to hate you… but now that I’ve met you, I’m right back where I’ve always been.”
“Where is that?” I asked softly, my eyelids heavy.
He pressed his lips to my forehead, saying nothing more.
Chapter Seventeen
The dreamless sleep came just when I needed it most. Music lulled me awake as I opened my eyes to blackness, the mask covering my eyes. I remembered the surgery and pulled the elastic band of the mask over my head, blinking.
My eyes focused on the helicopter print by da Vinci, and I marveled as every angle came into focus. For the first time since I was six years old, the world around me was clear, my eyesight unaided by glasses or contacts.
West opened the door to the bathroom, wearing nothing but jeans. They hung from his hips, revealing a broad chest, ripped abdomen, and a muscled V that disappeared into his waistline.
I blinked, focusing on him. “Are your abs immortal, too, or do you work out?”
A smile crept over his lips as my voice registered. “I’m sorry- you were still sleeping when I went to shower. Hold on,” he said. I watched him from the corner of my eye. He grabbed a white tee-shirt, pulling it over his head quickly. His hair was still damp.
“You wear that outfit a lot,” I knotted the bedspread in my fingers, turning to face him. “In my dreams.”
“It’s easy and has worked for years.” He reached for me, holding my face between his hands. “How do they feel? Your eyes?”
“They feel fine,” I admitted, suppressing an excited smile. “And I can see- everything.”
“And your chest- your lungs?”
“So much better.”
“Your head?”
“I wish it wasn’t thinking so much,” I admitted, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’m so scared, and I know the worst is yet to come.” My ear was scabbed with dried blood, and I shivered, remembering Troy’s teeth sinking into my skin.
He raised an eyebrow. “You died, baby. It can’t get much worse than that.”
“Yeah,” I looked around, seeing my jeans and peasant top neatly folded at the foot of the bed. He followed my gaze.
“I washed those for you. Go ahead and get dressed. Logan is packed and on his way. We need to get you to your house, pack, and grab your passport.”
“What about Morgan and my dad?”
He was rummaging through the closet, pulling a small suitcase out from the bottom. “We’ll figure that out when we get back.”
“If,” I corrected, standing tentatively. His tee-shirt reached just below my hips. My hair was a serious mess, falling in waves over my shoulders. “They’ll call the police.”
“I know.” He continued packing, not looking my way.
Shaking my head, I grabbed my clothes. “But, it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is getting my numbers to change on Troy’s arm.”
“Ours will change, too. We all locate you; you locate Logan.”
I cringed, remembering the burning pain in my arm. “Is there any way to turn off this skin GPS thing?”
“Nothing pleasant,” he said absently. “And you wouldn’t want that. You need to know where your enemy is.”
I thought of Logan, suddenly remembering him sitting next to me on the bus, on the first day of kindergarten. I was nervous and started crying, and Logan held his backpack up to block me from the rest of the children so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed.
&n
bsp; “Logan is not my enemy.” I walked to the bathroom to dress quickly. “What is this music?” I called, grateful for an unopened package of generic toothbrushes on the sink.
“Seriously?” He knocked once and then pushed the door open. I paused, toothbrush in my mouth. “This is Duran Duran.”
“Who?” I mouthed.
“Early nineties. Ordinary World.”
“Never heard of it. I don’t know a lot of nineties music.”
“I finally have something to teach you.” We both turned to the sound of knocking at the door downstairs. “That’d be Logan. Come on.”
I followed him to the stairs, admiring interior of his home. The dark oak continued throughout the house, and the staircase lead to a landing that overlooked the central living area of the home. The wall behind us was made of gray stone. Below, a kitchen with a counter bar opened into a living room with vaulted ceilings. Two large, wooden fans moved the air around inside comfortably. “This house is beautiful,” I murmured, taking everything in with perfect vision.
“Thanks- I built it.”
I widened my eyes, amazed. I blinked, realizing they burned a little. “West, my eyes are really dry.”
“Listen,” he turned to me on the bottom step, his hands gripping my forearms. “Do not trust Logan. You can love him all you want, but you cannot trust him.”
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding. Anxiety coursed through me, and my eyes filled with my own tears, burning.
“I mean it, Roam.”
“I know! Okay,” Annoyed, I pushed past him and walked to the door. When I opened it, Logan reached for me. I tucked my face into his neck, his familiar warmth combined with the scent of his skin calming my erratic nerves.
Neither one of us spoke for long minutes. West went to the kitchen, and I heard rustling and then the door on the refrigerator. When I pulled away, Logan’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen. “Are you okay? How do you feel?” He asked urgently.
“I’m okay… just still kind of in shock over all of this. But I’ve had a lot more time to process this than you have. How are you dealing with this?” I asked, reaching for his arm. The coordinates were darker against his tanned skin, and he made no effort to hide them under his short-sleeved polo.
“All that I know is, I want to kill this guy. I know we can’t kill him… but I can bring him close.” The vehemence in his voice frightened me; I’d never heard him so angry.
“Did you… dream last night?”
His eyes flickered to the kitchen, and I turned. West was listening, standing at the counter.
“I- yes.”
“Was it about me?”
Logan shrugged. “I usually dream about you, Cam.”
“You know what I mean.”
He ignored me, glancing at his watch. “If the flight is at noon, we have to get out of here and get her stuff,” he said to West.
“We’re leaving as soon as she eats.” West set a plate on the counter, buttered white toast and a glass of orange juice. “Don’t argue, just eat. I need to talk to Logan anyway.”
I nodded, my stomach rumbling at the sight of food. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. “Okay… but please don’t go far,” I asked softly, my voice breaking at the end of my plea.
“I’m not leaving you. We’ll be right in the dining room.”
I tried to eavesdrop, but their hushed, accelerated words were too hard to catch from the other room. Music played over the speakers on the ceiling through a built-in system that extended upstairs. Another song I don’t recognize.
Finishing the toast in minutes, I rinsed the plate in the sink and wandered into the dining room. They both looked up.
“Well?”
“Logan and I agree- we need to split up to make Troy believe we’re against each other. If he’s watching us, he’ll follow either you- to kill you- or Logan, to gain an ally. Then he’ll leave your families alone.”
“We’ll ultimately meet in St. Petersburg. As for your dad… Logan’s going make it look like the two of you ran away together on a romantic whim.”
“A romantic what? No way will my dad believe that.”
“He’s telling your dad that you’re pregnant.”
“We can’t have a manhunt of police and FBI chasing us, Cam,” Logan reached for my hand, but I took a step backward.
“You think my dad won’t try to find us?” I looked back and forth between the two of them, irritated. “Did you stop to think about my dad? He’ll be heartbroken and worried out of his mind, Logan!”
“He’ll be alive,” West grabbed his keys. “I have to grab my laptop and we’re done here.”
“Tell him we ran away, but do not tell him that I’m pregnant. It would crush him to think I took off with his grandchild.” I struggled with more burgeoning tears. “I’ll write him a letter in the car.”
West stormed past me, hurriedly packing up his laptop on the dining room table. “Roam, your father’s feelings are not our biggest concern right now. You need to get it together.”
Stunned, my blood boiled. “Get it together?”
“Yes! Get your shit together! Listen to what I say, and do it. That’s what we agreed.”
I turned to Logan, my heart dropping. He swore to protect Logan, as long as I cooperated. Without question.
Logan looked ready to punch him in the face.
“No- no, Logan, he’s right. I have to stop breaking down at every turn. Tell him I’m pregnant and we’re eloping. He’s just traditional enough to believe that scenario.”
“Good. Car.” West pointed out the window at Logan’s Camry. “This is where we say good-bye, for now. Logan, you have the phone I gave you?” He nodded.
“Where is my phone?” It occurred to me I hadn’t had my phone since we left the high school.
“Gone. iPhones can be tracked.”
“You threw away my iPhone?!” Shrieky. I didn’t care. My phone represented my freedom, freedom that was increasingly diminishing as the moments ticked by.
West ignored me. “Say good-bye.” He nodded toward Logan.
“For how long?”
“A week,” Logan murmured, wrapping his arms around me. I pressed my forehead against his chest, shaking my head.
“I’m so afraid you will change,” I whispered, hoping West wouldn’t hear me.
“The dreams aren’t so bad. When I wake up, I’m still who I am, and I love you.”
“Where will you go?”
“You’ll know when the numbers change, Roam. They’re going to change every time he moves. Logan- just be prepared,” he glanced at his arm, gesturing to the numbers. “It hurts. You know that.”
Lifting my face to Logan’s, I broke down. “I love you,” I choked, tears flowing freely down my face. “Please don’t change.”
“Sounds like something you’d write in my yearbook,” he joked quietly, tipping my chin up to face him. “One week isn’t that long.” His lips touched mine, and I returned his silent kiss, grasping his shirt in my fist.
Logan pulled away, pressing his lips to my forehead before turning and walking out of the house. I watched him through one of the many windows on the east side as he climbed into his car. By the time he’d backed out of the driveway, the weight in my chest was crushing.
“My eyes,” I sobbed, the pressure and burning intensified with my crying. I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve, hiccupping. When I turned back to West, I fully expected a look of impatience or annoyance.
Instead, he closed the distance between us in one stride. Before I could lift my face to look up at him, he was bending to me, his lips claiming mine. I gasped against his mouth, confused, fighting the urge to open my mouth to him and return his kiss. That was a battle lost in seconds. The moment he felt me relent, his tongue dove into my mouth. I moaned softly.
Just as quickly, he pulled away, his hands clamped firmly over my shoulders. “Knowing what he is, and how many times I’ve watched him hurt you, I can’t stand it, Roam. You are n
eedy and weak with him… you light up with me,” he proved his words, his mouth returning to mine. I responded, my eyes closed, worlds of time passing between us with every touch of his lips. His hands wandered over me, sliding down my sides and stopping at my waist. He tugged me up and against him, his mouth never leaving mine. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, digging my fingernails into his skin.
“We have to go,” he groaned, picking me up at the waist and setting me down, just out of his reach. “I’m not apologizing any more. You’re going to make your own choices from here on out, when it comes to me touching you. So decide what you want.”
Chapter Eighteen
Shaking, I covered my swollen lips with my palm.
Neither of us spoke on the way to my house. I knew that my dad would be at work on Saturday- the dealership was open until one o’clock. West craned his head in every direction as we pulled in the driveway, his knuckles flexing around the steering wheel. He thinks Troy might be here.
“Passport, birth certificate, driver’s license. Only the clothes you can fit in a carry-on. Do you have a carry-on?”
“I- I have a suitcase, I don’t know if it’s small enough, I’ve never flown anywhere,” I fumbled with the garage door key pad, entering in the incorrect code first. My fingers trembled over the numbers. “Do you think he’s here?”
“No. But I’m not taking any chances. Thinking you’re dead, he won’t expect the numbers to change right away.”
He entered the garage before me. “Close the garage and stay here until I say it’s clear.” I did as he asked, waiting in the dark garage for him to return. After what seemed like an eternity, he opened the door. “Okay, let’s go.”
“What about books? How many books can I take?” I ran up the stairs after him, trying to keep up as he skipped two steps at a time.
“Books? This isn’t a vacation.”
“No, text books. History books. I need to know what to expect if…,”
Roam (Roam Series, Book One) Page 13
