“No! I remember,” I cried, beating at his face with my closed fist. The strength of his jaw sent shooting pains through my fingers. “God… oh,” I tried, holding my fist.
“Roam, stop,” he ordered, gripping my hands in his. “Logan, get some ice-”
“I can’t believe you lied to me,” I sobbed, twisting away from him. “I trusted you,” I managed brokenly, focusing on Logan as he rushed to a mini-fridge. My eyes darted to my surroundings.
A hotel room, lower class.
“Listen to me,” he commanded, holding my arms tightly. “I blamed myself. I suspected that I’d done it, but I was never sure,” he explained slowly, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Roam,” he whispered, pulling me against his chest.
“No,” I cried brokenly, shaking my head against his neck. I tried not to be comforted by his touch, but the barrage of confusing emotions warred within my soul.
My rationalization for being with him instead of Logan was that Logan possessed the capability to kill me.
West had killed me… he had loved me, married me, and murdered me.
I pushed at West’s chest, and the moment he released me, I backed against the headboard of the bed.
“Give me your hand,” Logan said gently, moving to my side and taking my outstretched palm. He wrapped a towel filled with ice around my fingers. “You might have broken it. I can’t say it wasn’t completely worth it, though,” he added, shooting West a revolted glare.
West ignored him, pulling my fingers out, flattening and then curling them into a fist again. “It’s not broken. Just don’t punch anything anymore, especially me. I’m immortal, Roam. You’re wasting your time.”
I hardened at his insensitive tone, jerking my hand away. “You feel pain,” I scorned, backing further away from him. “If I can’t trap you, I may as well punch you until my hand breaks.”
He turned toward the window. “I deserve that,” he said, and the stupid part of me that had fallen so much in love with him wanted to comfort him.
What is wrong with me?
“Wait… they can be trapped?” Logan interrupted, dropping the remaining ice into the sink. West and I turned his way. “Immortals can be trapped? What does that mean?”
“It means they can be trapped, not killed.” West stood, walking to the window.
“Then why can’t we lure Troy through the fountain, and trap him in 1977?” Logan pushed.
“How would we do that?” I asked, flexing my fingers carefully.
“We destroy the door… we destroy the fountain.”
West and I both turned his way, and West narrowed his eyes. “You’re suggesting that we bomb the fountain?” he asked, and I watched as he began to pace. “How?”
“We get the material… explosives, bombs… from 1977, and we use them now. We could carry them through without leaving a trail of evidence. If we bought a bunch of explosives now, and then a famous Russian fountain blew up a couple days later, we’d be on our way to prison. But if we get the materials from the past-”
“Hold on,” West cut in, reaching for his bag. “This may work,” he agreed, removing his laptop.
I stood and crossed the room to the bathroom. Once inside, I closed and locked the door.
The mirror reflected a girl that I no longer recognized. Nothing about me had changed physically, but inside, I felt like a different person.
I was living a life that I no longer understood.
I touched Logan’s razor before running my fingers along his toothbrush handle, remembering our race to lose our teeth for the tooth fairy in first grade.
I sat on the closed toilet, burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t hold West’s actions against him anymore than I could blame Logan for his past lives.
Imagining a life without Logan was impossible. I loved both of them for different reasons, but I didn’t know who to trust.
As I remembered West’s mouth all over my body, I gasped, tilting my head against the wall.
I would never stop wanting him.
Troy’s face, his murderous eyes as he held me under the water, flashed through my mind. I struggled to breathe, staring at the shower curtain and pulling in shaky breaths through my nose and out of my mouth. I needed to feel confident that I could fight him and win before I saw him again. Fainting in fear was not an option.
I heard them both talking about explosives, the clicking of West’s keyboard carrying under the doorway. Blowing up the Peterhof Fountains? I shook my head disgustedly.
A knock jolted me out of my trance. “Cam?” Logan called softly.
I stood, walking to the door. “If the fountain is a wormhole or something through time, blowing up the physical features around it will not make it disappear,” I called through the door.
Silence answered me. I unlocked the door, pulling it open. They both stared my way, and I brushed a wayward strand of hair from my eyes, standing up straighter. “If the water is what allows us to time travel, then we would have to drain the fountains.”
West listened, his eyes never leaving mine. After a moment, he nodded. “She’s right.” He closed the laptop, crossing his arms and sitting back on the bed. “Go on.”
“The water drains to the Gulf of Finland. Between 1941 and 1944, Peterhof was captured by the Germans. At that time, many of the fountains were damaged or destroyed.”
West nodded thoughtfully. “You’re thinking that if we can at least use the explosives to damage them, they will drain the fountains and begin restoration, like they did in the forties,” he clarified, his eyes searching mine.
I longed to be alone with him, to talk to him, to beg him to convince me that I had nothing to fear.
“Yes.” I kicked at the bedspread absently. “This will take money and… connections. Resources, West. If we do it this way, instead of our original plan, you’ll need to get all of the supplies that we need.”
“The original plan is out of the question,” West replied curtly, running his hand through his hair.
Logan’s head turned back and forth between us, and he watched us with his tell-tale look of annoyance. “What’s the original plan? Can you clue me in?”
I shifted my eyes his way. “To use me… as bait. To make Troy think that he’s killed me, and then hide.”
Logan snorted, rolling his eyes. “That’s the shittiest plan I ever heard,” he said, grabbing my melting makeshift bag of ice from the bed and tossed it at the sink.
“It was her plan,” West added, and I glared at him.
“Seeing as how you had no plan, at least it was a plan!”
West held his arms out at his sides, stepping toward me. “In what elaborate way would we make him think he’s killed you, Roam? Some special poison? Or let him drown you again, hoping that I can pump the fucking water out of your lungs one more time? Jesus Christ.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right, let’s blow up a fountain! Much better plan!” I shouted sarcastically, narrowing my eyes. “And stop cursing!”
“Hey, easy, Cam. That one was my idea,” Logan clipped, raising a dark eyebrow my way.
I shook my head at West, ignoring Logan. “So, basically, you had no plan, except the same plan that’s failed me over and over again for six hundred years… sleep with me, put your child inside of me, and let us both die!”
Tears streamed freely down my cheeks as I screamed at him.
West stared at me, unforgiving.
Emotionless.
I held my breath, jolting as he crossed the room to me in one stride. Logan stood up when he did, but I held my hand up to him, indicating that he stay where he was.
He stopped only inches from my face, gripping my chin in his hand so that I had no choice but to look into his eyes.
My pulse quickened as the current between us took over my senses.
“My plan is same as it’s always been. Since the day that I discovered that I had a second chance.” His deep, blue eyes reached into my soul, and I exhaled quickly. “I woul
d go back to whatever life that I could, and I would save you, Roam. Alone.”
He let go of my face. I stumbled as he brushed past me to leave, jolting as he slammed the heavy door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Silence hung in the hotel room. The moment that West left, I felt the urgency to go and find him. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry for what I’d said, and that I loved him, no matter what he had done in a drugged haze over thirty years ago. His eyes had held so much pain when I accused him of letting me and our child die.
I had never been so harsh and unforgiving in my entire life.
Logan leaned back on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “He only went to the lobby. He told me that he was going there for better network reception. Stop looking so hysterical.”
I checked myself, resisting the impulse to follow West to the lobby. Grateful to know where he was, I sat on the other bed. “I’m not hysterical. I’m just used to him being with me. He knows all of the answers, and we don’t.”
“The only thing he knows is that he wants to get his hands on you. Again.”
“What do you mean again?” I demanded, breaking into a cold sweat.
“I know you slept with him.”
My betraying expression told Logan everything that he needed to know. I tried to turn away, but it was too late. He burst to his feet, enraged.
“Logan-”
“I can’t believe you did it! What, he just pitched you some bullshit about your destined souls and you just jumped into bed with him?”
“No! It wasn’t like that,” I cried, balling my fists until my fingernails cut the palms of my hands. “We talked… and we spent time together, and… Logan, I feel different with him, I just…”
He’d started for the door, but at my words, he stopped. “Oh, fuck you, Roam!” he called sarcastically, turning to me “You didn’t even use anything, did you? Valedictorian. Yale and Princeton fighting over you. Now, you’re a knocked-up, high-school drop-out. Congratulations.”
“Screw you, Logan!” I shouted, my chest caving in as my heart broke. Hearing his words, his ever-sarcastic statements of truth, hurt me worse than anything he’d ever done to me in my dreams.
He sneered, shrugging and crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure, why not. Are you giving it away now?”
“I hate you for that!” I cried, choking on my tears.
He rushed to me so quickly that I barely had time to back up. Pinned between him and the wall, his dark eyes, the same caramel gaze that I’d known my entire life, blazed down at me in rage.
Take her now.
Troy’s menacing growl slithered through my memory as Logan’s face, so close to mine, reminded me of the terrible nightmare of the dungeon.
Gasping, I stomped my right foot down as hard as I could on his foot. As he instinctively moved backwards, I shoved my palm straight up into his chin, knocking him back another few inches.
I ran for the door, almost making it to the handle before Logan’s arm was around my waist. I tried to scream, but his hand clamped down over my lips. In seconds he had me on the bed, holding me beneath him.
“I’m not going to hurt you! Roam!”
He pulled his hand away from my mouth. When I focused on him, he was not the evil, soulless man in my horrible nightmare.
He was Logan Robert Rush, the boy that I built forts with in the woods… the teenager who awkwardly tried to kiss me on New Year’s Eve… the man who had promised to always protect me, no matter what.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I cried, tears slipping down my face to the pillow. He bent to kiss my forehead, tentatively at first, and then both of my cheeks as I sobbed. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, Logan,” I whispered, so ashamed of myself that I could barely form words.
He said nothing. He pressed his lips to mine, and I tried to unfold into his kiss, wrapping my arms around him. Him, his touch, the taste of his lips… every part of him in this intimate way felt unfamiliar to my body, my mind. He was trying as hard as I was to lose himself in our kiss, and I could feel his over-compensation as his tongue dove into my mouth.
Finally, he stilled and pulled away.
“I think we’re… done, Roam.”
He sat up, and I held my breath as his eyes filled with tears.
“Oh… God Logan, I-”
“I can’t be with you anymore.”
“Logan,” I tried, burying my face in my hands.
He began packing items into his backpack. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched, my shoulders shaking beneath the enormous weight of my tears. “What about the fountains?” I managed brokenly.
He zipped his bag, dropping it to the carpet. “You two are on your own. Maybe going to boot camp and dreaming about murdering you every night is just what I need to get over you.”
I couldn’t respond.
The thought of him leaving was so devastating that I could only sit and cry. I felt his lips on the top of my head before I heard the heavy snap of the hotel room door.
I shivered, somehow lowering to the bed. The ache in my heart was unbearable. My temples throbbed, and I pressed my face into the pillow, squeezing my eyes closed and praying for sleep.
Hours later, I woke to West’s voice.
He was speaking on the phone. I tried to muster up the strength to care, but instead, I drifted back to a welcoming, dismal abyss.
For a few peaceful moments, as I began to wake, I had no idea where I was. The room was dark and cool, and only the glowing red clock offered any light. The events of the past weeks came rushing back to me in one sickening jolt.
I turned my head to see West asleep next to me, his fingers only inches from my hand, as though he’d been holding it.
I’m in Russia… and Logan is gone.
My eyes burned from crying so much. I turned to my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to organize my overzealous emotions as they surfaced.
I refuse to cry any more, I decided first, anger burning my thoughts.
I am not a victim. I am a participant.
“West,” I whispered. “West, wake up,” I tried louder, nudging him.
He sat up quickly, his eyes settling on me. “Are you okay?”
“What are we doing first?” I demanded, my voice lower and hoarse. I needed to know what to expect.
I feared the unknown more than I feared the past.
He moved closer, sliding his hand through my hair. I tried to keep his even gaze, but when he held my head like that, I dissolved into my need for him.
“West,” I tried, my plea sounding nothing like a protest.
His shadowed face hovered over mine. “First, I need you to forgive me. Please,” he begged, his mouth against my neck. I nodded without hesitation, and he moved his lips to mine, teasing, coaxing, going so torturously slow with me. Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him as close as I could.
He groaned, moving over me and letting the passion that I’d been waiting for take over his kiss. God, he held me so tightly that I couldn’t move if I’d tried, fitting his hips between my legs.
“You’re my life, Roam. My life has ended every time you’ve gone. I can’t let that happen again. I won’t survive again,” he hushed, the raw emotion in his words twisting my heart. I’d never heard him so candid, and I nodded, pressing my body against his.
“I love you West. There’s nothing that you could do… nothing that you’ve ever done… to make me stop loving you.”
He balled my skirt at my waist, tugging my panties aside before thrusting into me. I cried out, holding onto his shoulders as he drove me to the edge of consciousness. We came quickly, together, both of us dying to feel the mind-numbing satisfaction that only we had to give.
He held me for a long time after. When he finally pulled away, I sat up, searching for the clock on the bedside table.
Almost five AM.
“I never want to talk about it again,” I murmured, into the darkness. “The past is the past. Every life w
e’ve shared has had a terrible ending.”
He turned on the lamp, and I gasped. His entire eye was purple and black. “What happened to you?” I cried, reaching for his eye.
“Logan,” he replied tersely, wincing as I touched his face. “It’ll heal.”
“Did you hurt him?” I asked.
“No. I couldn’t. His anger had nothing to do with this prophecy, or our lives. It was just a guy pissed at another guy for sleeping with his girlfriend. I deserved it.”
I didn’t argue with him, silently thanking him for his restraint. “I deserved the terrible things that he said to me, too.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, he stood, glancing at the clock. “The fountains open at eleven. I want to wait for a significant crowd before we go, so we blend.”
“You think that no one will notice if we just disappear after dipping our arms into the fountain?”
I expected him to ignore my comment. Instead, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t know, Roam.”
I curled on the bed and thought about Logan, unable to stop the self-loathing from taking over. Somehow, I must have fallen back to sleep, and West woke me an hour later. In a short time, we were showered and dressed, ready to leave, and he suggested that I wear jeans and the peasant top, both items of clothing that were the most appropriate for the time. His own jeans and a long-sleeved, white dress shirt would also work… for now, he’d added.
How long would we be gone?
“We’re leaving our luggage here. I’ve made some calls, if it comes down to it, I can have the fountains bombed.”
“Bombed?” Horrific images of war crossed my mind, and I stared at him, revolted. “What about the innocent people, West? Tourists? Children?”
“It will have to be when the grounds are empty. We’re talking last resort here, baby. Only if Troy follows us.”
“You what, just called in some… criminal friends?” When he didn’t respond, I shivered. “Why would they do that for you?” I managed, almost afraid to ask.
“I’ve helped them in the past.”
I watched him carefully, realizing that I might never know all his secrets. “Oh.”
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