Roam (Roam Series, Book One)

by Kimberly Adams

  “January twenty-ninth,” I murmured, remembering my dream.

  “Yes.” He thanked the waitress who brought us refills on our water, looking back to me as she left our table. “That’s all I want to talk about here. I’ll tell you the rest back at the cottage. For now, I want the rest of the evening to be about you. Roam. You deserve that. Tell me something about your life that I couldn’t research. Pretend this is a date.”

  His words took me by surprise but warmed me from head to toe. I smiled, giving him a skeptical shrug. “I’ve only ever dated Logan, and he knows everything about me. What do you want to know… that you don’t know already?”

  His eyes were set on mine, and I could tell that he was amused by my question. “Okay. What is your favorite movie?”

  I rolled my eyes at his clichéd question, taking a small sip of water. I knew that he was trying, so I leaned in. “That’s a hard one. I love movies. If I had to pick one, though, I’d say it’s a tie between Das Boot and… no, that’s the one.”

  Laughter tugged at his smile, and before I could say something defensive, he spoke quickly.

  “Favorite song?” he asked, urging patiently.

  “It’s an old song by a group called The Association. It was my parents’ wedding song.”

  He lowered his fork, meeting my eyes. “An old song,” he murmured, his eyes wistful, and I realized that, for him, the song probably seemed like it had come out only a few years ago. “I’ll accept that remark in exchange for my comment at the cottage. I called Logan a kid, Roam, because he is. And,” he added, lowering his voice, “I’m well aware of your age.”

  I took that moment to acknowledge that I was only seventeen years old, and he was over six-hundred.

  And our storm was just beginning.

  Pushing my plate forward, I leaned back against the seat. “I can’t eat anymore. I’m just not hungry,” I explained softly. He watched me, the intensity of his gaze forcing me to meet his eyes. “Everything that has happened in the past few days… I can’t sit here and act like everything is just… normal, West.”

  “Roam.” He reached for my hand, covering my fingers with his. “I’ve been down the road of misery and self-pity. Wrong path, trust me,” he told me. “This may be our last chance to have a normal night. A date. Take advantage of it, baby.”

  I gathered my hair and pulled it over my shoulder, resting my head against the back of the booth. Considering his words, I thought about where the rest of his story would lead us. I knew that I was strangled in 1977; he’d already told me that much. Rolling the straw wrapper in my fingers, I took a deep breath. “You didn’t ask me my favorite book.”

  “We don’t have enough lifetimes for that question, I’m sure,” he replied with a smirk. Pouting prettily, I could tell that he was waiting for me to answer.

  “My mother gave me a book of fairytales when I was a baby. The illustrations are haunting and beautiful, and the stories are original. Some are scary, and some make very little sense… but I feel like, as my life goes on, I can relate to those ones the most.”

  He tightened his hold on my hand, and I lifted my eyes to his haunting gaze. “It’s because they are true. Most of them… are true.”

  “Your turn,” I urged, brushing the back of my hand against my cheek to chase away a wayward tear. “Movie, song, book. Go.”

  Smiling, he leaned back, his long legs stretching out to touch mine under the table. “Movie, too many to list. Song, I will tell you another time. And book? Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.”

  Goaded, I grinned his way and shook my head. “Hey. I answered all of your questions, and you’re going to give me answers like those?”

  “They were true answers.”

  The waiter arrived with our bill, and West paid quickly. As we walked out of the restaurant, he held my hand, pulling me toward him. “Thank you,” I told him, and he smiled down at me, tucking his arm around me as we walked along the outdoor mall.

  “You’re very welcome, Miss Camden.”

  I sighed, leaning into him. “Will you tell me the rest now?”

  He nodded. “At the cottage. After I do what I’ve been thinking about doing to you for the past two hours,” he murmured huskily, lowering a kiss to my neck. I flushed, looking around at the crowded plaza.

  “Okay,” I agreed, taking a shaky breath. “West?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Drive fast.”

  He laughed at that, opening my car door for me.

  We made it as far as the kitchen table. The way that he shoved my dress up to my waist and pressed me back over the table left me feeling so sexy, so desired, that I gave into everything that he wanted to do to me.

  I am his.

  Later, we sat by the ocean together, and I curled into his protective arms. My body still ached from the ardor of his lovemaking only moments before. His hands covered mine, and I traced the lines of his palm.

  I’m falling so fast. I couldn’t imagine being more in love with him.

  “After we got married-”

  “West,” I whispered, pressing my toes into the sand, “please refer to Julie as her. I’m afraid of how the story ends.”

  He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering longer than usual. “When I married Julie, our relationship was difficult. We argued more than I’d ever argued with anyone in my entire existence. She knew that the Alter was close… the numbers had changed again by March, and he was somewhere in Alabama.

  “Julie was involved with some friends who did drugs. A lot of drugs. She persuaded me to try some new things, and the promise of escape, even just for a few hours, was tempting. Finally, I gave in.” I could feel the heat radiating from his chest, and I knew that this was hard for him to talk about. I was glad that we were facing the ocean and that he didn’t have to look at me.

  “For an immortal, the effects of drugs and alcohol are short-lived. To get any kind of high, I had to combine drugs and increase the quantity.” His tone changed, and I could feel him putting distance between us. “We got high at first, pot only. She was sure that it wouldn’t affect the baby. After a while, some harder drugs made their way into our apartment. I began to depend on them to get through the day, and would spend entire days on the couch, fucked up, unable to process time… and glad for it.

  “I lost my job, and so did she. I stole money and we lived in motel rooms for a while. You had a dream about that,” he remembered, and I nodded, snuggling closer to him.

  I couldn’t imagine West that out of control.

  “You… she… was almost four months pregnant. We had a terrible argument. She hit me, and I slapped her back. I was so messed up,” he hissed, the disgust in his voice evident. “She came back to the hotel room one night, shaking, bleeding... and I…”

  He stopped talking, holding me so tightly that I winced in his strong arms.

  “What happened?” I asked, turning to press a loving kiss to his cheek.

  West turned to look me directly in the eye. “She had an abortion. She paid some backyard surgeon to abort our baby. She didn’t want anything to do with the prophecy and wanted a divorce.”

  I realized I’d been holding my breath, and I gasped sharply, sitting back on the sand. His watery eyes forced my stomach to churn. “Oh West. I’m so sorry.”

  He didn’t answer. Looking out over the ocean, he took a deep breath. “I took a lot of pills and blacked out. When I woke up, she was dead. Strangled. I still don’t know if it was Troy or the Alter. I imagine that it was Troy.”

  Silence roared in my ears over the crashing of the waves. I pressed my fingers into the sand, touching a small, white shell. “My God. And then you ran,” I went on, remembering the news article that I’d read.

  “I ran. I ended up in West Virginia. It took time to sober up and realize what had happened. When I did, I found a job fixing cars. After a while I met Laurel and married her. We had Violet, but I knew that time was running out. I knew you were coming. I could feel yo
u, Roam. So, I left. You were born the day I drove away from them.”

  “What made you decide to get married and have a child?”

  He answered me without hesitating. “It was Laurel. I loved her very much.”

  I didn’t expect him to reply so honestly. I swallowed hard, looking out over the ocean. “Oh.”

  He turned to me, cupping my chin in his hand. “In all the lifetimes we’ve spent together, Roam, I’ve never felt this way about you. Or anyone,” he clarified. “I have loved you, but never thought that it was possible to love you this much.”

  Elation swept through me, and I unabashedly beamed his way. “West... I love you, too. I feel like I was made to love you.”

  He pushed me back over the sand, lacing his fingers through mine and kissing me with all of his heart.

  In that little white cottage on the shore of Emerald Isle, West and I talked until the early hours of morning. I told him about my mom, about how close we were, and explained how devastating her death had been to me.

  He kissed away my tears. “I was there, the day of the funeral. You were so broken, baby. If it hadn’t been for Morgan, I wouldn’t have been able to resist trying to help you.”

  His admission shocked me. I turned on my pillow, letting the moonlight bathe my naked body for him to see. He traced my silhouette with his strong hand, settling over my lower back.

  I told him that I loved children very much and had wanted to teach when I was younger.

  His face lit up as he smiled at me. “What made you change your mind?” he asked.

  “I really love working with young children. But there’s not much history you can teach them… when they only know their parents.”

  He laughed wholeheartedly, and I grinned his way.

  He told me more about his time without me, the places he’d been, and some of the things that he’d seen and done. “The centuries without you were difficult, especially the sixteen-hundreds. I forgot my purpose more than once, doing some things that I regret. But I learned a long time ago to forgive myself, or else immortality would become unbearable.”

  His deep wisdom captivated me. I rolled over to my stomach, propped my chin in my hands, and scissored my legs in the air. “Tell me something that I don’t know about you, Mr. Perry,” I ordered, grinning.

  His eyes settled on my face, and he leaned in close to my lips. “Roam, I am trying to remember that your soul is as old as mine when I look at this face.”

  I lowered my lashes, blushing. “I’m sorry… that I’m so young.”

  “It’s not your fault. But it’d help if you stop calling me Mr. Perry,” he chastised, and I lifted my eyes to his stern tone. “It’s unsettling how much that makes me want to devour you.”

  I listened to his reprimanding tone, my body responding naturally to his words.

  He finally smirked, rolling over to the nightstand to reach for his laptop. “Okay, I’ll play you my favorite song. No peeking.”

  “I promise,” I replied, almost giggling as I covered my face with the pillow.

  After a moment, the first tinkling notes of Elvis Presley’s “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You” filled the room.

  West pulled the pillow from my eyes, smiling down at me, his hand outstretched.

  He was asking me to dance with him.

  The moonlight poured in the windows. Only the sound of the ocean echoed with the song as he pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me.

  He held me in his arms for a long, poignant moment before he began to sway.

  Dancing on the planked floor, both of us completely naked, I looked up at him, my gaze pleading with him. “No matter what happens, West, I just want to remember this. This moment. I want to dream about this,” I whispered, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes.

  He nodded, bending to kiss my lips. “You will, Roam. I promise you, you will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I slept through that night without dreaming. Sun poured through open window as West’s phone vibrated against the dresser. He reached for it, and I noticed that he was already showered and dressed.

  “Yes. We’re leaving in an hour. Calm down, Logan. I know that the things you’re dreaming are horrific, I get that. Yes, she has the dreams.” He sighed, giving me a comforting smile as he ran his hand over my hair. “No, she doesn’t blame you, Logan, she knows that it’s not you. When we get off the plane, you’ll see that she’s the same person you’ve always known. Any sign of Troy?” he asked, pausing, and I waited silently. “Good. Okay, see you soon.”

  I turned over and wrapped the sheet around myself, and he bent to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Morning, baby,” he hushed against my mouth. “Breakfast, and then back to the airport. We have a layover in Atlanta, and then another one in Italy. Nothing overnight, but the one in Rome is about four hours.”

  “Okay,” I replied softly, comprehending his words. “And Logan is safe?”

  West continued to pack his bag. “The dreams are getting to him.”

  I stared at my hands, my heart pounding with worry.

  What would I say to Logan? Hi, sorry you left me alone for three days. I couldn’t control myself and slept with West.

  Shame burned my cheeks.

  I wanted to sleep with West.

  I love him.

  West ran his hand through his hair, eyes narrowed. “We can’t let him know that anything has changed. Let him believe that you’re his girlfriend for as long as possible. We can’t risk making him angry. He will hurt you, Roam.”

  I stiffened, gripping the sheet to my chest. “That’s not fair. He never did anything to hurt me.”

  He pulled the zipper of his bag, lifting his eyes to mine. “Not yet.”

  “Stop,” I snapped, standing up and gathering the sheet around my body. With the edge in his tone, even though we’d just made love for almost two days straight, I was suddenly feeling modest. “He’s just as much a part of all of this as I am. He’s risking his life. He could have walked away.”

  “Exactly. He didn’t, because of who he is. He can’t. He is as drawn to you as I am, but for the opposite reason.”

  “So, it can’t just be me, it has to be the voodoo prophecy… love magic or whatever?” I demanded, marching to the bathroom and slamming the door.

  “Roam.”

  “Shut up,” I ordered through the wood, knowing that I sounded about half my age, but not caring.

  “We don’t have time for a tantrum this morning. Get showered and dressed. We’re leaving in less than an hour.”

  I did as he ordered, angrily packing my bag. I tried not to think about my life with Logan, or the fact that he’d never given up on me, even when he was still dating Abby.

  He wanted me. He’d always wanted me for me.

  I knew that the seed of doubt had been planted, and there was no going back. I would never forgive West for that.

  We left the island without speaking. An hour and a half later, we were seated on another plane, and he reached for my hand. As much as I wanted to be completely immature and jerk my hand from his grasp, I let him take it.

  He lowered his mouth to my ear. “I’m sorry. I will stop being so callous and think of how you feel.”

  Apologies always made me cry, especially when I was the one who’d been wronged. Who was I kidding? Suddenly everything made me cry. I fought back the emotional tears, nodding quickly and looking down at my lap.

  “Roam. Do you forgive me?”

  Lifting my eyes, I couldn’t help but be surprised at his calm maturity. Logan would have sulked for days, stubbornly waiting for my apology. I threaded my fingers in his.

  “Of course I forgive you. I just don’t want to hurt him.”

  West pressed his lips to mine, and I gave in, returning his adoring kiss. “I’ll go easier on him, baby. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Takeoff was more turbulent that the first flight. We were in the air no longer than fifteen minu
tes before my anxiety crept in. West managed to stay seated again during the changing of the numbers, and I held his hands, talking to him, comforting him until it ended.

  The coordinates were for Russia.

  I took a deep breath, staring out the window to calm my nerves.

  “Hey,” he said softly, holding my iPod out to me. I lifted my eyes, surprised. “Last night, after you fell asleep, I filled your iPod with your first music lesson. It’s time that you met the nineties music. Roam, this is the nineties. Nineties, Roam.”

  I giggled, grinning his way. West was rarely silly, but over the past two days, I’d met a playful side of him that I was sure he kept reserved. “Nice to meet you, strange and unusual decade,” I quipped.

  “Unusual,” he repeated, arching one eyebrow. “Just wait. You’re going to want to avoid the shuffle option. It will overwhelm you. I started with 1990 and will take you to 1999. Only the hits. Ready?”

  I grinned. “Sure…?”

  “Good. Occasionally I will ask what you think. I expect honest and thoughtful answers.”

  I smirked at his teacher tone. I knew that he was desperately trying to distract me. Appreciating his efforts, I accepted the iPod.

  “Yes, Mr. Perry.”

  “Notepad, pen. Notes,” he ordered, offering me a United Airlines notepad and pen.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “The flight attendant liked me.” He grinned lasciviously, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Oh, please,” I begged, shaking my head at him. Stuffing my ear buds into my ears, I rested my head on his shoulder as I settled into the music.

  I was thankful for the distraction.

  Occasionally he’d try to steal at glance at my abundance of notes, but I hid the notepad from his cheating eyes. The flight to Atlanta lasted a little over an hour, and once we were seated in the airport for our layover, he looked at me eagerly. “Well?”

  “Okay.” I crossed my legs, looking down at my notes. “I made it through about twenty songs and had to skip a couple. Madonna’s “Vogue” was fun but… eh. MC Hammer, Naughty by Nature, LL Cool J, Digital Underground, and House of Pain- I’ve heard all those ones, they’re classics. Alice in Chains and Metallica- not a chance. Red Hot Chili Peppers… I may get used to that. Mariah Carey- way different than what I’m used to from her. I am undecided with Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”” I drew a giant question mark next to Nirvana.