Roam (Roam Series, Book One)

by Kimberly Adams

“For how long?” I begged.

  “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. “You don’t have to tell me. I know. I know you’re having the dreams, and they’re so real, and…”

  “The dreams aren’t so bad, Cam. When I wake up, I’m still who I am, and I still love you.”

  My chin trembled, and I forced the tears away.

  “I love you too,” I managed quickly, gripping his shirt. “Where will you go?”

  West gentled his tone, tucking his arm around my shoulders as he ushered me toward the front door. “You’ll know where he’s going when the numbers change, Roam. Every time he moves. Logan, just be prepared,” he warned, glancing at his arm and gesturing to the numbers. “It hurts. You know that.”

  Lifting my face to Logan’s, I finally broke down, unable to hold back the tears. “I love you, Rush,” I choked, tears flowing freely down my face. “Please don’t change.”

  “Sounds like something you’d write in my yearbook,” he joked quietly, lowering his mouth to mine. “One week isn’t that long,” he promised as he kissed me softly. I returned his silent kiss, grasping his shirt in my fist.

  Logan pulled away, gripping my hand before turning and walking out of the house. I watched him through one of the many windows on the east side of the room. 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 only intensified by my crying. I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve, hiccupping. When I turned to West, I fully expected a look of impatience or annoyance.

  Instead, he moved to me in one stride. Before I could fully lift my face to look up at him, he was bending to me, his lips claiming mine.

  I could have lived for a thousand years, and a thousand more, but knew in my heart that I would never again feel the passion, the urgency, of a kiss like that again. I gasped against his mouth, confused, fighting the need to open my mouth to him. The moment that he felt me relent, his tongue dove into my mouth, repetitive, tangling with mine in a way that forced me to think about what it would be like with him.

  Inside of me.

  I moaned softly, holding onto him with all my strength.

  Just as quickly, he pulled away, his hands clamped firmly over my upper arms. “Knowing what he is, and how many times I’ve watched him hurt you, I can’t stand it, Roam. You are needy and weak with him… you light up with me,” he said, proving his words as his mouth returned to mine. My eyes closed, worlds of time passing between us with every touch of his lips. His hands wandered over me, sliding down my arms and brushing the sides of my breasts before stopping at my waist.

  “West,” I pleaded, exhaling shakily into his mouth.

  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 and opening my tear-brightened eyes.

  “So goddamn sweet,” he murmured, and I blinked at my tears, touching my swollen lips. “We have to go,” he said, groaning as he picked me up by the waist and lowered me to the floor, just out of his reach. “I’m not apologizing anymore. You’re going to have to make your own choices about me touching you. So decide what you want.”

  When I took a step toward him, he backed me against the wall, lifting me so that his hips fit against mine. “Do you want to touch me?” I asked, and he exhaled, long and deep.

  “Do I want to…?” He slid his hand along my side, cupping beneath my thighs. I gasped, my heartbeat pulsing in my ears as he opened my legs to wrap around his waist. “You have no idea how much I want to touch you,” he replied, his mouth against my lips.

  The hunger in his words was undeniable. My body readied itself for him, and I moaned at the hot rush of need as he positioned himself between my legs. I could feel him pressing against my jeans, and the reality of the moment was instantly sobering.

  “West, please,” I begged, not sure what exactly I was asking for.

  He understood my silent turmoil, finally lowering me to my feet and moving toward the front door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sitting in the front seat of his SUV, I was still trembling from his kiss. 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. West checked 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 your backpack. Have you packed for a flight before?”

  “I’ve never flown anywhere,” I replied honestly, fumbling with the garage door keypad after entering in the incorrect code first. My fingers shook over the numbers. “Do you think he’s here, West?”

  “No. But I’m not taking any chances. If he thinks that you’re dead, he won’t expect the numbers to change right away.”

  He entered the garage before me. “Close the door and stay here until I say it’s clear,” he commanded. I did as he ordered, waiting impatiently in the dark garage for him to return. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally opened the door. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “What about books? How many books can I take?” I followed up the stairs after him, trying to keep up as he took two steps at a time.

  “Books? This isn’t a vacation, baby.”

  “No, textbooks. History books. I need to know what to expect if… if we…”

  “Roam.” He stopped, turning to me with a sigh. It was obvious that he was trying to be patient with me.

  “My Kindle then?”

  “Fine. Where are your documents?”

  I gestured toward my dresser. “My passport and birth certificate are in the top dresser drawer. My driver’s license is in my purse… wait-”

  He’d already opened my dresser drawer, rummaging through my panties and bras. He acted as though the drawer was filled with packing peanuts. “I got it. So organized.”

  I fought away my embarrassment, deciding that if he had just had his tongue in my mouth less than an hour before, he could certainly sort through my underwear drawer.

  I packed too much, and my brush and cosmetic case barely allowed me to close the bag. I glanced at my hair dryer, deciding where I would fit the appliance.

  He reached for my bag, removing my bottles of shampoo and conditioner. “No liquids. They’ll hold us up at security. I’ll buy you what you need, let’s go,” he ordered.

  Tucking my Kindle into the front compartment of the bag, I took one last glance around the room before grabbing my iPod.

  The pile of color-coded folders caught my eye, and my chest fell.

  “The deadline for my college applications,” I cried, staring at the neat stack of folders on my desk.

  “Don’t worry about that for now,” he urged, shifting my bag into his arms. His hand tightened on mine in the exchange, and I lifted my eyes to his. “When this is all done, I’ll make sure that you go to whatever college you want, Roam.”

  I ignored his pompous comment, trying to see the bigger picture. “Can I at least… write my dad a note?”

  He glanced out the window. “No. Come on, our flight is in an hour.”

  The drive to Cleveland-Hopkins Airport lasted about forty minutes with West traveling well above the legal speed limit. Staring out the window, I unabashedly let the tears roll down my cheeks, realizing that I had cried more in the last week than in the entire year after my mother had died.

  My heart broke for my dad. I hated for him to think that I’d just taken off suddenly, without a word. Morgan would be devastated that I hadn’t come to her for help. Would they suspect that something was truly wrong, since this was so out of character for me? Would Logan’s involvement be convincing enough?

  I glanced at West, appreciating that he
’d left me to my thoughts. When we were almost to the airport, he reached over to tuck my hair behind my ear. When I looked up at him, he offered me a napkin.

  I thanked him, wiping my eyes.

  “Is everything going to be… okay?” I asked, needing the reassurance that only he could give me. He reached for my hand, holding it gently.

  “It will be, Roam.”

  I remember texting him those same words the night after he explained everything to me.

  The first and only time I’d ever been to an airport was to pick Morgan up after her senior trip to France. I followed West closely, glancing around. “Do we have tickets?” I was already confused by the ebb and flow of the crowd as they traveled up and down escalators, in and out of corridors. Everyone moved with such purpose. I hated that I knew so much about history yet had so little experience in my own time.

  “I already printed our boarding passes online. We’re not checking our bags. We have to pass through security, so you’ll need your driver’s license.”

  Security was easier than I imagined. The line went on for what seemed like an hour, but our gate was less than ten feet away. I nearly had to run to keep up with him.

  “Oh, no, I forgot a coat… or… wait, almost everyone is wearing shorts. For September in Russia?”

  He gestured to our boarding pass, and I glanced at the destination for the first time. “We’re not going to Russia,” he said, under his breath. I narrowed my eyes, confused.

  “What?”

  “We’re going to North Carolina.”

  “Why?”

  The attendant ushered us on board, and I followed West to our seats. After he’d secured our bags, he turned to me.

  “We need to put some distance between Troy and your families. The first place he’ll go is Russia.”

  “We’re sending him on a wild goose chase?”

  He smirked at that, and I recognized that I’d caught him off guard. “Wild goose chase? I guess you could say that.” Gesturing to the window seat, he quirked a dark blond eyebrow. “Do you know where that phrase comes from, history major?”

  I accepted the seat, grateful to be pinned safely between West and the window. “I… don’t know, actually.”

  “In the sixteenth century, in English horse races, the horses would form a V. Like geese flying in formation, they would follow a lead horse.”

  A woman settled in front of us with a baby girl. The infant’s head wobbled as she stared at us from over her mother’s shoulder. Turning away to gaze out the window, I watched the world below get smaller with perfect clarity.

  Listening to him go on about history and horse races, I relaxed at his teaching tone. I was fascinated about the way that he recalled even the smallest details and turned to offer him an amused smile. “I’ll bet you’ve built up lots of useless knowledge over all of these centuries,” I teased, resting my head against his shoulder. As I did, his muscles tightened, and I looked up at him.

  “I have never lost at Trivial Pursuit,” he managed, taking quick, uneven breaths. I watched as he unbuckled and tried to stand, but a flight attendant held her hand up to him.

  “Please remain seated, sir.”

  He lowered to the seat, and I turned to him quickly. “West? What’s wrong?”

  “Kiss me,” he whispered, a guttural command that left me no other choice.

  His mouth covered mine, and he slid his arm around my waist. I gasped as he pressed his forearm into my back, his other hand threading through my hair. He covered our faces with a fistful of my hair, growling almost silently into my mouth.

  After a moment he pulled away and released me, and I tried to breathe. I glanced around, thankful that many of the passengers had ignored us, but when I turned back to West, I realized that his face was red and damp with sweat. “What’s wrong? West? Are you sick?”

  He backed away, turning his forearm upright. The numbers no longer matched mine.

  The coordinates had changed.

  “Oh my God… you just went through that… right here?” I asked, looking around.

  “I knew it would happen after we took off. Logan’s and Troy’s would have changed, too.”

  Absolute terror filled my heart, and I gripped the arm rest quickly. West covered my hand with his.

  “Breathe, baby,” he ordered. I nodded, pulling slow, deep breaths in and out of my lungs until I could focus again.

  “Where in North Carolina are we going?” I murmured, reading the coordinates.

  “The little cottage by the shore, from 1955. It’s still mine. Ours.”

  I lifted my eyes to his, stunned. “We’re going to the place that I dreamt about?”

  “Water calms you, Roam,” he said warmly.

  Lovingly.

  I smiled again, my cheeks resisting the unfamiliar expression. “It does,” I agreed, resting my head on his shoulder again. He turned to press a kiss to my hair.

  “I’ve had the cottage maintained for years. It was one of the first beach houses built in the area. I don’t know what kind of shape it’s in, but it was remodeled right after the hurricane a few years ago. I guess we’ll see.”

  “Does Troy know about the cottage? Will he look there now that the numbers have changed?”

  “I don’t think that he does.”

  I thought about that morning, in my dream, as West kissed my stomach and whispered to our child. I could feel him deep inside of me now, and every time he kissed me, I melted from the inside out. I shifted uncomfortably, swallowing hard as I forced myself to focus. “Where will Logan go?”

  “He’s going to Russia.” Now that we were fully in the air, he seemed to relax, his muscles less tense against my shoulder.

  “West, I want you to tell me about our lives. So that I know what to expect.”

  His hand slid over my knee, and I let my lashes flutter closed as his fingertips pressed into my skin. “I will, but slowly. One at a time. Telling you about every life will only overwhelm you right now.”

  I nodded, acutely aware of the way his hand smoothed over my leg.

  I want him.

  It was that moment when I truly realized how much I wanted him. When his hands were on me, I forgot about my love for Logan. I forgot about everything. I felt only need. Primeval, fundamental need that only West could fulfill.

  The baby in front of us began crying. The mother soothed her, but the child’s pitiful wailing only grew louder. After a second, she held her breath, her little fists balling at the air before she really let go. Several annoyed passengers turned around and glared at her, and the young mother rocked her daughter and tried desperately to get the baby to calm down.

  Several adult passengers began sighing disgustedly. I shot them dirty looks, narrowing my eyes at one middle-aged man who signaled for the attendant.

  “She’s only a baby,” I snapped at him, and he returned my glare with chastised annoyance.

  West gave me a small smile, and I could tell that he was proud of me for speaking to the man. He leaned forward, talking softly to the distressed woman. “The pressure change is probably hurting her ears,” he said. The woman turned to him, blushing. He smiled, and she batted her lashes, glancing from him to me.

  “I didn’t think of that,” she admitted.

  “Do you have a pacifier? Or a bottle? The sucking will help,” he added, that sexy baritone voice of his lulling the woman into semi-consciousness. He could have said anything and she would have nodded eagerly. Do all women fall over him?

  “I… yes, I have one somewhere...” she said, fishing through the diaper bag. “She never liked it, but I brought it just in case.” She removed a pacifier from her bag and pushed it into the baby’s mouth. As soon as the infant began to suckle, she calmed, and the crying ceased.

  The ignorant man applauded sarcastically. West ignored him, still grinning at the woman ahead of us. “There now. You’ll be fine. How old, three, four months?”

  “Four,” the woman agreed, smiling gratefully. “My husba
nd just returned from Afghanistan. He hasn’t met her yet.”

  “He’s a lucky man,” West replied, his easy charm comforting the woman. She could only blush, thanking him softly once more.

  He sat back against his seat, and I leaned into him. “That was impressive. How did you know how to help?” I asked, nodding toward the almost-sleeping baby.

  He didn’t answer, and instead locked his gaze with mine. “How do you feel? With the pressure change?”

  “I didn’t even notice,” I admitted, taking a deep breath. My lungs still felt weak, but not like the day before.

  “Good.”

  “How do you feel?” I asked, reaching for his hand. He looked down at me, his eyebrows raised.

  “About the cabin pressure?”

  “About everything,” I corrected.

  He considered my question before lowering his mouth to my ear. “I’m glad I found you when I did, Roam. Troy must have been close for a long time, waiting until you met me before attacking. He wanted to know if I’d tried to travel through the fountains, which means he knows about them… and it makes me wonder if he can travel through them, too.”

  I processed his words, goose bumps prickling along my arms. “He could follow us?”

  He only met my eyes knowingly.

  The maniac in the pool had centuries of experience in murdering me, and now, he could follow us into the past?

  I tried to move away, but West gripped my hand firmly. “I also feel like we can win this time, Roam. You’re different, different from every life that I’ve ever known with you. You have something inside of you that you never had before, not in any of the other lives.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, feeling completely inadequate. “I can’t fight, I cry like a baby when I’m scared and hold my breath until I pass out. What exactly is my winning quality?”

  He leaned in, sliding his hand along my jaw to hold my face steady. His eyes fell on my lips for a long moment, and finally, he met my gaze. “Your mind.”

  I exhaled a breathy laugh. “Book smart. Street stupid.”

  He lifted my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the palm of my hand. “There’s nothing stupid about inexperience, Roam. Innocence. I have a world to teach you,” he added.