by Aliyah Burke
She checked each aisle and didn’t find a single person. Wearily, she headed back to the spot where she had retrieved her hardback weapon and returned it. There was no one in the store aside from herself as she walked to the front desk.
Her book was gone.
Brow furrowed, she mentally retraced her steps. “I’m positive I left it here.” She shook her head. “I’m losing it.”
The clock chimed, telling her it was time to close up. Not like she’d had anyone pop in for a while. She locked the door and counted the money. Once the nightly deposit was prepared, Ta-Mara went to the back, intent on cleaning up and shelving some more books. She wasn’t in any rush to go out in this weather.
The impressive vocals of John Legend stilled her wayward nerves as another rumble of thunder rolled overhead. Humming along, she entered the back room and headed to the far corner to work on some sci-fi books.
A gasp exploded from her throat. A body cloaked in black lay on the floor. Water pooled around him and he wasn’t moving. He remained on his side.
“Oh my God!” Ta-Mara scrambled over before kneeling beside him. She felt for a pulse, disturbing his cloak and revealing tanned skin. It was there. Faint, but there. “Are you okay?” She pulled away from the tingling that moved up her skin at first contact with his body.
She reached for his shoulder, and shook him. Something warm met her skin despite the cold of his clothing. Her eyes narrowed as she drew back her hand and saw the red of his blood on her palm. Her stomach heaved. Blood was never a good thing with her.
Still, Ta-Mara loathed leaving him. There was no phone in the back and her cell was also in the front room. She reached out to touch his dripping wet, black hair—so long it fell past the collar on his coat. Her fingers slid easily into its thickness.
She brushed it away from his face as she took stock of the man lying silently beside her. His face was gaunt, but she would bet it was not a normal look for him. His size alone told her he was a man of immense strength. Not right now, however. Now, he appeared helpless.
His eyes were closed, his long lashes curved against a dirt-smeared cheek. Lips were dry and cracked but his Cupid’s bow was attractive. There was a red line around his throat, as if someone had strangled him—or rather tried to hang him.
Ta-Mara cocked her head. “Hey, I’m going to call for help. Hang in there.” One final stroke along his cheek then she pushed away and dashed up to the front desk. Yanking the receiver up, she swore as she got no dial tone. She dug through her purse until she grabbed her cell and flipped it open. “Damn it!” No service.
She ran back to where her mysterious man lay, her cell phone in hand. He hadn’t moved, so Ta-Mara crouched back down beside him but refrained from touching him. “Hey, can you hear me?” She kept a partial eye on her cell, waiting for the moment it could be used.
“Come on, Tall, Dark and Handsome. Answer me,” Ta-Mara commanded after a while.
Was he dead? He didn’t think you could feel pain in death and he felt pain—burning pain that flowed through his body like nothing he’d felt before. He shifted slightly and clenched his jaw, trapping in the moan to ensure the men following didn’t hear him.
His memory was fuzzy. What just happened? He had been running and fell, the voices had grown louder and he had felt hands on him. Then what?
A rope. They had put a rope around his neck and strung him up in a tree. Fighting for his breath, the rope cutting into his skin… He remembered the sweet, satisfying breaths he’d taken once the branch cracked beneath his weight and dropped him unceremoniously on the muddy ground. The thunder had clapped loudly and shook everything.
That was all he remembered. A gentle touch caressed his cheek.
Am I dead? What he lay on wasn’t soft but it also wasn’t the muddy mess he had been in before. He figured he must be dead—shot twice and hanged, not very good odds of survival.
Footsteps approached and he tensed. Did he have the strength to fight off whoever it was?
A thick, syrupy female voice called out to him, “Hey, can you hear me?”
That voice created a sense of calm in him and he couldn’t explain it, but he knew wherever he was, he was safe. His panic eased and he moved cautiously, opening his eyes.
Slowly his vision came into focus and he swallowed at the view before him. It confused him.
A woman knelt beside him, yet didn’t look at him. Her attention was on a small object in her hand. His eyes traveled over her clothing and he was struck by how odd they appeared.
She wore trousers as he did, but hers were white and hugged her like a second skin. And as she crouched there, he was able to see how nicely they outlined her. Her shirt exposed arms—defined arms, shoulders, and as she turned away from him he could see part of her back. Her skin was the color of roasted pecans with a hint of molasses.
A thick mass of black hair tumbled down the middle of her back. The ringlets called to his fingers to touch, stroke, and indulge in.
His body reacted and despite the pain from earlier, his cock began to swell inside his slacks. When did women begin wearing things like that? And if I’m dead, why am I feeling lust?
He didn’t know anyone who dressed like that—white or black, free or slave.
He nearly shut his eyes as her head swung toward him, feigning death, watching her through slits. When she looked away, he watched her face as she continued to stare at and push things on whatever it was in her hand. The myriad of expressions crossing her face amazed him. He didn’t sense fear from her, despite their color difference. The people who were acquainted with him knew where he stood on slavery, but he didn’t recognize her.
“Come on, Tall, Dark and Handsome, answer me.” Her sultry voice flowed over him.
Peeking at her from under his lashes, he moaned and waited for her reaction. Her head snapped around to his and he saw the first sign of fear before concern masked it. He moaned again.
She stretched for him and his heart increased in speed as she placed a hand upon his forehead. “Can you hear me?” she questioned softly. A brief pause. “Can you understand me?”
He nodded slightly as a sigh of relief escaped from between her full lips. Then he opened his eyes and met her gaze. Big, beautiful, dark brown eyes stared at him. Her face was oval-shaped and her skin as smooth as any he had ever seen.
His body trembled.
“We have to get you out of this wet coat. Can you sit up?” She reached for the shiny object beside her and opened it before snapping it shut with a mild curse.
She cursed? It was adorable—the way it rolled off her lips and her almost sheepish look. But not at all as though she believed herself of a lower status.
“Yes,” he said. He pushed up gingerly and noticed the way she kept staring at him. “Who are you?”
She stood and helped him to do the same, but refused to answer. He allowed her to assist in removing the cloak. A scent he hadn’t smelled before wafted from her body to his nose. It was subtle and feminine. Fresh and arousing. Simple and yet exotic on her.
She must be a free woman. He’d noticed the gold rings on her fingers as she had offered him a hand. Her hands were much softer than he’d expected. But then, nothing about her was anything he would have expected.
“Sit here,” she commanded as she pushed him toward a chair. “I’ll get something to clean up the blood on your head. Sorry… Thanks to this crazy storm I can’t get any cell service to call an ambulance, but I’ll keep trying.” Easy strides took her away from him.
Her attitude reminded him of someone—a woman from his past. This was a bit much for him. All the light in the room came from the ceiling as opposed to a lamp or fire. He got up from the chair and looked at the thin black folder item on the desk. Telegraph keys were on it, but it was unlike any contraption he’d ever seen.
“Hey, don’t drip on the computer.” She spoke from behind him.
He looked at the thing again as he nodded and stepped back. What the hell is a comput
er? Where am I? None of this is familiar to me, except books.
“Sit,” she ordered, pointing at the chair.
He did and accepted the towel she handed him. It was so soft and smelled like crushed lavender. “Thank you. I think I should leave. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
She arched an eyebrow. “As long as you aren’t planning on hurting me, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, I want to know how you got in here.”
“Hurt you?”
“Look, man. You’re the one who just showed up here—bleeding, I might add. Are you bleeding anywhere else?” She wiped his head.
“I don’t think so,” he responded. She didn’t look so comfortable wiping his head, almost as if she were going to be sick. Funny how where he had been shot before just ached but he no longer believed he bled. He could move with just a little stiffness, his neck hurt the worst. “Are you sure you won’t get into trouble by being here?”
“I work here. Where were you? By your clothing, I would say some kind of historical reenactment. Civil War perhaps?”
“Reenactment? Of the Civil War?” This woman—although beautiful—was daft. Why would anyone reenact that?
“Perhaps not, sorry. I need to get you to a hospital for a CT.”
A CT? What is a CT? He didn’t understand. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“It’s part of history. Don’t need to get all in your role as being a Confederate. I was just asking.” She placed his hand over the cloth on his head. “Hold that there for a minute.”
“My role?” He frowned. “I am a Confederate—” He paused. “But I mean you no harm. If you are running from your owner, I can help.”
A short bark of laughter escaped from her as her eyes grew wide. “Running from my owner? Man, I think you are a little too into your role or else, I seriously need to get you to a hospital. I don’t have an owner—never had, never will.”
“So you are a free woman?”
She stepped farther back from him and opened that shiny thing in her hand again then closed it. Her brow furrowed as she watched him in the light and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Look, you’re really starting to freak me out, so drop the act, okay? Remember, Lincoln freed the slaves, the Civil War ended and the South lost. End of story. Can we drop it, please? Remember, this is the twenty-first century.”
Levi frowned. All that she said was confusing. A war hadn’t happened yet. There was talk of an impending one if Lincoln freed the Negros, but nothing yet. And here she was talking about it as if such a thing had already occurred. Maybe she wasn’t all there? Twenty-first century?
One thing was for sure, he didn’t like the nervousness that filled her face as she watched him. Pushing away from the stool, he moved toward her. His steps were slow and as unthreatening as he could make them.
He watched her as he prowled closer. Her eyes widened slightly before she narrowed them and stared right back. He knew she was scared but he admired how she refused to give into it.
Her gaze swept over his body and he recognized the admiration. Ignoring that, he stopped before her and bowed slightly. “I apologize for ‘freaking’ you out. I guess I did get into the role more than I had thought. My name is Levi.”
He noticed how her eyes grew larger as he said Levi, but he filed that information away for later. Would she pick up on his lie? Would she figure out that he had no idea how he’d got to where he was and recognized none of the things she had in her building, aside from the basics? Would she know how scared he was about his body’s reaction to her?
Ta-Mara shoved back her sexual reaction to this man. He had moved like a predator across the room toward her. His eyes were equivalent to the Kanchanaburi Sapphire, in her opinion—a deep, endless blue. They swirled with many different emotions but the one she focused on was passion. This man desired her.
She trembled. When she licked her lips, she saw another flare in his eyes. The closer he got, the more impressive he became. Even dripping wet, there was this power about him. His pants only accentuated the strength in his legs, and the shirt plastered to his torso showed off his wide shoulders, flat belly and strong arms.
Her body reminded her in a not-so-subtle way that it had been missing the touch of a good man for far too long. And to top off the gorgeous package he was, he went and told her his name is none other than that of the man she had been fantasizing about from her book, Levi. Moisture pooled between her thighs.
This must be a dream. One night with him would be heaven, but would it be enough? The way he made her feel with a look was more intense than any touch from previous lovers.
“Levi, is it?”
He nodded.
“My name is Ta-Mara LeBreaux.”
“Ta-Mara,” he drawled it out, rolling the ‘r’ as if making love to it.
Her breathing became heavier. He moved closer to her, his eyes dropped to the pulse in her neck and he smiled as if he could tell how fast her heart was beating.
“You should get out of those clothes,” she sputtered, desperate to say something.
Perhaps something different.
One jet-black eyebrow rose.
“I…I…I only meant that you could get sick if you stay in them.” Ta-Mara knew she was blushing. Oh, she just wanted to fall below the floorboards.
Another step closer then there was nowhere for her to go. Her back was against part of the wall that didn’t have any books on it. She could feel the light switch poking her but she didn’t care. All her focus was on the man taking up most of her air.
Her knees were weak and her heart pounded so hard she was surprised it was still behind her ribs. Each inhalation swamped her already overloaded senses with the scent of raw masculinity. He smelled like the outdoors. There was a hint of sweat but it only added to the allure, and something else which Ta-Mara merely labeled Levi.
He reached out with one hand and stroked the side of her face.
The room was encased in darkness as the lights went out again. Ta-Mara remained still, his hand by the corner of her mouth, the sensual strands of John Legend still playing.
“What happens now?” he murmured in her ear. Water dripped from his hair to her skin and seemed to sizzle with the heat between them.
Ignoring all the logical voices in her head, Ta-Mara pushed her face into his touch. “I don’t know. You tell me, Levi.”
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About the Author
Aliyah Burke is an avid reader and is never far from pen and paper (or the computer). She is married to a career military man, and they have a German Shepherd, two Borzois, and a DSH cat. Her days are spent sharing her time between work, writing, and dog training.
Email: [email protected]
Aliyah loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
Also by Aliyah Burke
Through The Fire
Seducing Damian
Code of Honour: A Marriage Of Convenience
Code of Honour: The Lieutenant’s Ex-Wife
Code of Honour: A Man Like No Other
Code of Honour: When Stars Collide
In Aeternum: Casanova in Training
In Aeternum: Harbour of Refuge
In Aeternum: Protected by Shadows
In Aeternum: Polar Opposites
Interludes: Temporary Home
Interludes: Alone With You
Interludes: Till We Ain’t Strangers Anymore
What’s Her Secret?: Preconception
Keeper of the Stars: Part One
Keeper of the Stars: Part Two
Keeper of the Stars: Part Three
Keeper of the Stars: Part Four
Keeper of the Stars: Part Five
Astral Guardians: Chasing the Storm
Astral Guardians: Highlands at Dawn
Astral Guardians: Fields of Thunder
Astral Guardians: Branded by Frost
Astral Guardians: Driven by Ni
ght
With Taige Crenshaw
Unbreakable Bonds
Kemet Uncovered: Talios
Kemet Uncovered: Devi
Kemet Uncovered: Linc
Kemet Uncovered: Saffron
Kemet Uncovered: Taber
Kemet Uncovered: Ashia