Chasing Time

by Mia Downing

  My heart pounded as it dropped a million miles an hour, sinking to the pit of my stomach. But my insides flamed lava red and turned just as hot and gooey with lust.

  “Where?” Grace leaned in, smelling of bubble gum and cinnamon coffee. “Ohmygod, he’s asking you to his house to see his library? Do you know how amazing his library must be?” She squealed like a trapped piglet. “Yes, damn it. Say yes.”

  “You’re just as nerdy as I am,” I accused as I closed my eyes to find calm and clarity.

  For some reason, driving to the point seemed dangerous. I loved the ocean during a storm. This Nor’easter would only bring rain, but the waves pounding on the cliffs would be like an aphrodisiac for me. I pictured myself straddling his lap, kissing him as if his lips would give me my last gasp of breath, my hands tangled in his dark mess of mane. I don’t know why, but that image hit me just as strongly as any of my dreams. I tried to swallow, my mouth so dry that the lump in my throat refused to move.

  The library… It had to be safer, right? Being surrounded by books and maps and globes and whatever else, the room filled with the calming scent of paper and ink…

  Grace shook my arm. “You have condoms, right?”

  My eyes flew open. “What?”

  “Well, you’ll be in his house, just a floor away from a great, big bed. He has to have a huge bed in that mansion. All those books would turn me on. Hell, I’d do him on his desk in that massive, decadent library.”

  “No! I’m not bringing condoms or doing him on his desk in his library.” My hand flew to my throat as if it would keep me from hyperventilating. “Is that what he’s expecting? I mean, I was more worried about screwing him in his car on the point until you brought up the books and the desk.”

  “Oh, so you do want to do more than kiss him,” Grace crowed as she clapped her hands in glee. “Damn, girl. By all means, take him to the cliffs.”

  I planted my forehead on the edge of my desk and moaned. “I can’t do this. I can’t screw him by accident.”

  “Hey. Skye.” Grace sank to the floor, crouching in an unladylike way in her miniskirt so she could peek at me from under the desk. “I’m teasing. I’m glad you like him, and you can do him or not do him. Your choice.”

  “He’s a client.”

  “So is Mrs. Daily, and someone does her whenever her ex takes the kids,” she softly reminded me. “Look. I just want you to be happy. Decide what you want, or even—no. Don’t decide.”

  “Don’t decide?”

  “No, don’t. Just go on either adventure and see what happens. Keep an open mind. Just give him a chance.”

  That was probably the best advice she’d ever given me. I rarely gave anyone a chance. All my life, I had made preemptive decisions to protect myself. When I didn’t do that, bad things happened.

  But what was the worst that could happen with either choice? I probably wouldn’t like touching him, and we wouldn’t go out again. That wouldn’t be the end of the world. He wasn’t a murderer, and I wasn’t a tramp. If I had sex with him, it wouldn’t be an accident.

  And Grace was right. Todd violated our clients all the time, and business still went on.

  “Okay.” I lifted my head.

  Grace popped back up with a hopeful look on her face. “Okay? That means…”

  “I’ll see what happens.”

  “Look. He’s a man, Skye. He’s had a wife, so that means he knows his way around your playground…if you know what I mean.” She made a suggestive circle around her crotch area with her palm. “The boys you dated couldn’t find their way across the street, never mind find your clit.”

  “Grace Valentine Marin!”

  She shushed me with a wave of her hand. “I know you’re hesitating because of the sex issue. Trust me. Older guys who have been married are awesome.” She winked, and the bell out front over the door rang. “Damn customers. So which adventure are you choosing?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” My cheeks still burned, the heat of embarrassment creeping down my throat and chest.

  “I’ll be right with you!” Grace called to out to the front as she patted my shoulder. “Well, don’t make him wait all day for an answer.”

  Marek

  As I waited for Skye’s reply to my email, I poured through a couple of books she’d found for me, hoping for some clues. Being stuck in the past meant the books I needed were in the future, too far ahead for me to go alone and retrieve. Only a couple of teams besides ours jumped back this far in time. A few that had the capability had never been heard from again—a danger of the occupation.

  To communicate, we left notes in margins of certain books that we knew would have survived to our future time. I wouldn’t get an answer, but they’d see my notations and at least know what the hell had happened. We all spoke English, but we wrote in Uptari, the new language of the future. To the people of the past, it looked like scribbled gibberish.

  I had hoped if Skye read the notes in these books she’d ordered, it would summon other memories to link her to me. She’d known Uptari, had spoken and written it as it was her first language. However, that hadn’t sparked anything.

  And so far, the notes held nothing I could use. They were all mine or hers from past jumps through time, filled with information regarding relics and tidbits about the eras we had visited. Nothing that explained what to do when someone fractured in time.

  I leaned my forehead in my hand, frustrated. I didn’t know if Skye was ready to bond with me or not. I couldn’t feel more than a trickle of her energy, which was odd. The first time I’d experienced her power, her energy had unleased like a force to be reckoned with. She’d chosen me out of a panel of other candidates to become her partner.

  Our bonding—the merging of our energies—had been a gift. It had also been a danger, and it had ended up being our downfall.

  Someone knocked on the open library door. “Hey, Marek. You okay?”

  I lifted my head and smiled at the teenage boy looming in my doorway, his awkward angles combining with anxious energy that had him drumming his fingers on the door jam.

  “Hey, Jay. What’s up?”

  Jay Witcombe’s family cared for the manor as had their parents, their grandparents, and great-grandparents back to the mid-1800s. I paid them well to live in the gatehouse at the front of the property and look after everything, and also, to keep my secrets.

  Jay had been grounded for the summer, but his mom allowed him to talk to me. So an odd friendship had formed, one where Jay could feel comfortable to talk about guy stuff and learn how to fix things. I was good at fixing things, terrible at talking guy stuff. My upbringing in a world with Victorian era standards conflicted with this brash, bold world.

  He raked his reddish bangs from his eyes and took a step into the library. “My mom sent me up with the groceries you requested. I put them on the counter.”

  “I appreciate that.” I gave him an inclusive smile. “Don’t tell your mom, but I might have a date tomorrow.”

  He broke into a bigger grin. “No shit? Oh, sorry. I mean—”

  I waved a hand. “Your mother isn’t here. Don’t worry about it.”

  Jay nodded. “So you hooking up with Grace or Skye?” He’d driven me down to the bookstore a few times before I got the parts to fix the sports car. I think he had a bit of a crush on both women. Or he was a typical teen and would screw whoever looked his way.

  “Skye, but we’re not hooking up,” I corrected. “I invited her to come see my library, and I may cook for her.” If she agreed. I was assuming that would be her choice of the two.

  “Skye is hot.” He nodded again. “I’d tap that.”

  Damn, son, so would I. I shot him a stern glare before I dropped my gaze to check my e-mail. Nothing. “Gentlemen don’t ‘tap that.’ That’s important to remember for when you go to college next year.”

  He snorted. “You are an old guy trapped in a young dude’s body. Girls of this age get laid first, consider dating second. You need to le
t me set you up with the apps I told you about.”

  “If it doesn’t work out with Skye, I’ll consider it.” If it didn’t work out, I’d be dead.

  “Cool.” His foot scuffed on the plank flooring. “Well, a date is better than what my mom thinks.”

  I jerked my head up to squint at him. “What does she think?”

  “She’s worried you have cancer. She thinks you’re looking sick, and you always do your own shopping. But since you asked her to pick stuff up, she’s convinced you’re dying of something.”

  I nodded, an odd lump forming in my throat. So that’s why Jay hadn’t dashed out with better things to do. His mother had an active imagination, and now, he was worried, too. “I don’t have cancer.”

  Jay’s brows rose, disappearing beneath his long hair. “You sure? Mom says you look like Uncle Eddie did before he was diagnosed. He died a few months later.”

  Ouch. I fought the urge to look at myself in the mirror over the fireplace and came up with a suitable lie. “I’ve got some stuff going on, but the doctor isn’t sure what it is.”

  “Then how do you know it’s not cancer?”

  Yeah, how did I? I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck. “Uh, they did a bunch of tests…and nothing came back conclusive.” Damn it, think. I wracked my brain for present-day ailments. I’d been vaccinated against most of them. “They did some blood work, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” My gaze dropped to the floor where a spider crawled along the crack in the planks. Ah, there we go. The perfect lie. I just had to change the insect.

  I looked up at him and gave him an encouraging smile. “They think it might be something tick-borne.”

  “Like Lyme Disease?” He sounded hopeful. “That’s treatable.”

  “Yeah, like that. They are going to try some antibiotics next.” If I remembered correctly, that was the cure for this era.

  “That’s awesome. Can I tell my mom that?”

  “Sure.” I needed to continue my studies if I stayed here much longer. I couldn’t be caught in a lie.

  My gaze dropped again to my empty in-box on my computer. His worry sparked doubt, eclipsing my anticipation with growing dread. If they thought I looked ill, what would Skye think?

  Jay cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad you’ll be okay. Later.”

  As Jay turned to leave, I asked, “Do I really look that bad?”

  He turned back. “You look like shit.” He blinked at his bluntness and winced. “Sorry.”

  “I ‘look like shit’ how?” Damn, I didn’t realize the loss of energy had taken that much from me. If I didn’t look like the old me, how would she remember me at all?

  “I dunno. You’re asking a guy.” But Jay swept his gaze up my form, lingering on my face. “Your face is ghost-white, and you’ve lost some weight since last week. Mom’s worried because you used to walk a lot, but you’ve been driving more. And the whole grocery thing.”

  “Ah.” I ran a hand over my face. My jaw and cheeks did feel gaunt. And my pants were a bit loose.

  “Look,” Jay reasoned, “it shouldn’t hurt your chances in getting laid, though.”

  I dropped my hand from my face. “Oh?”

  “Nah. Use the sick thing to your advantage and get some.”

  Blinking, I struggled to keep from laughing. “I don’t need a pity fuck. Gentlemen have standards.”

  But I did need a pity fuck. The only way I’d get better was to restore my bond and get much-needed energy from Skye. The quickest way to do that would be through sex.

  “Take what you can get.” Jay slapped the trim of the door before leaving, his way of saying goodbye.

  I glanced down, and an email from Skye sat in my in-box. My hands trembled as I hovered over the mouse. A pity fuck, indeed. I drew in a breath and clicked the little envelope icon.

  She’d written:

  I’d love to see your library, and you don’t need to cook for me. However, I wanted to get this out there so we’re clear. I am not having sex with you.

  I sank into my chair and laughed. That was so Skye—blunt and to the point. It made me feel a little better about looking like shit. I mean, if she’d brought up not having sex with me, then she must have been thinking about it. And if she was thinking about sex and choosing the library, she might have remembered something about the point.

  We’d had a lot of sex in both places in other times. She loved sex during a storm, especially out at the point. Most people weren’t stupid enough to drive out there when the weather was bad; we found it exciting. She’d climb on my lap and kiss me breathless, riding me through many orgasms. Though coming was great, what we both wanted was what happened next—the after effect, the glorious, quick explosion of energy she passed on to me.

  Fuck, now I felt dirty wanting that, especially after admonishing Jay about the conduct of gentlemen. I was a charlatan. A thief. A fraud.

  And what if she didn’t remember me? How was I going to explain how we’d gotten here and how I had gotten us into this dilemma?

  No, there had to be another solution besides a pity fuck. Skye was worth more than that.

  Marek

  After I put away my groceries, I sat in the library and stared at my time travel watch for what seemed an eternity. The storm had begun outside, the sky turning blacker than night as rain pelted the bow window of the reading nook.

  I turned the watch over in my hand, looking for a solution to my problems. The wide, brown leather cuff still fit my wrist perfectly, even if I was losing a little weight. The two main dials monitored where I was in time and where I could travel through time. As a rule, a time traveler couldn’t go where they had been before because of the whole paradox issue. So I couldn’t jump through time to yesterday as I’d been there already.

  I didn’t have to worry about that, though. The watch marked everywhere we had been and kept me from returning. But one thing had bothered me since I had come to this time and stayed…I should have succumbed ages ago to low energy levels. I tapped the tiny dial that monitored how much energy I had. Though I was running low, the dial still marked an influx.

  If Skye and I were no longer bonded, shouldn’t that marker deplete faster? Why I was still alive? I had pushed the boundaries of time to the point of exhaustion, but I was still here. Sure, I could replenish some of it myself, and the amount I created was larger than most. I had to be strong enough to handle the powerhouse of Skye’s energy. But if I were a cat with nine lives, that last soul should have departed ages ago.

  We couldn’t still be bonded. Being bonded meant we shared energy, feelings, emotions, and even locations. I couldn’t feel her at all. Occasionally, I could, but it was like catching a whiff of a woman’s alluring perfume, and poof, it was gone with the breeze.

  I had made her break our bond before I left, so she wouldn’t suffer when I jumped ahead. She would have been in pain every day of her life as her energy searched for mine. But what if she hadn’t broken it?

  It still made no sense to me, but curiosity won as I formulated a plan. If she were somehow bound to me, I wouldn’t be able to jump farther in time than I had energy to spend. That was a failsafe, because if a partner were lost between time, the partner left behind would suffer an agonizing existence. To keep that from happening, the gift tethered the partners and kept them from becoming lost. I could still die here. The gift wasn’t that kind.

  So technically, if we had any sort of bond and I tried to jump right now with little energy, my watch would prevent that. If we didn’t have a bond, my watch would happily take me wherever, because I should be smart enough to read the energy dial and see I was in dire straits. And yeah, that energy dial was just touching the red.

  Did I dare try it?

  If we were bound somehow, I’d live, but I’d lose a bunch of energy firing up the watch. The thing shouldn’t take me anywhere, but I’d be screwed.

  If we weren’t bound somehow… Well, I had to be fast enough to time
out aborting the mission, or I’d be lost between times. Which wasn’t a bad death for a time traveler. However, Skye would probably be pissed about me skipping out on our date, and Jay’s mother would worry.

  And what would I gain, knowing if we were bound or not?

  Being bound would make things difficult. I couldn’t correct the problem. Repairing the bond would fall under her right. I’d have to pray that Skye got her memories back and took pity on my sorry ass to save me. Or I’d have to get creative and lie. I was a great liar, but my Skye was immune to my charms.

  If we weren’t bound, that would be my best option. Even if she didn’t remember, I knew the binding ceremony. I could muddle through and beg for forgiveness afterward. That wasn’t gentlemanly, and she’d have to choose me, anyway. The gift of her energy couldn’t be given to someone not chosen.

  I needed whiskey.

  I went to the small bar area I’d created on my desk and poured myself a shot. Drinking was frowned on in the future, but my hands trembled so much that I could barely knock my liquid courage back. I needed some clarity to be able to hit the abort button on time. Or I needed to be drunk enough so I couldn’t strap on my watch and give this a go. I’d take either.

  I blew out a breath and slammed the drink back. The liquid burned down my throat and gave me something else to focus on other than this huge risk. I wasn’t a risk taker. I planned, plotted, made backup plans, and plotted those. I had ways out of everything. That level of plotting and planning was what made me a great liar, because I could dodge down any path in my brain and find a way out.

  Not with this, though. I couldn’t dodge this.

  My hands now steady and the plan firmer in my brain, I strapped on my watch. The warm leather embraced my wrist like an old friend, one that hopefully kept me safe. I could jump forward just a little in time, just enough so that if I lived, I could be here and say goodbye to Skye. Then I’d know the truth.

  If I weren’t bound, I could abort the mission if I paid attention to the spiral of light. It was risky, but I had timed it right before. Then, I could see if she’d choose me.