“Text me all day tomorrow. Don’t make me wonder if you’re thinking about me.”
“Let me just make this clear. I never stop thinking about you, Violet. Your eyes… your hair… and especially your mouth.”
She breathed in quickly. “My ass is jealous.”
Oh, my God, I love this girl. “I left your ass out to be gallant. Actually, when I think of your other parts, they are sharing a split-screen with your ass.”
Her breathy laughter smacked a smile across my face that I was sure was touching my ears. “I can’t believe I found you, Logan.”
I closed my eyes, sighing.
Chapter Eight
Violet
“Perry.”
“West… it’s me, it’s Violet.”
“Hey.” His voice softened, and I smiled inwardly.
“I know this is a little... um… I need to ask you for something. Something huge, actually.”
“Anything, Vi.”
“I need a car.”
“Done,” he said without pause, and I heard his fingers clicking on the keys of a keyboard. “What do you want?”
“I don’t care, just anything that will take me to Logan.”
The clatter quieted, and he shifted the phone. “That’s a long way to drive.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’ll get you a car. But let me get you here faster, and safer.” He started typing again. “Can you get a ride to the Richmond airport? I can book you a flight and pick you up-”
“If you do that, please just send a cab for me to Logan’s house. I don’t want to pull you away from Roam. How is she?” I finished packing the last of my clothes into my suitcase, glancing around the small laundry room/ bedroom.
“She’s healing.”
“How are you?”
He cleared his throat. “Preparing.”
I slung my bag over my shoulder, gathering my hair into a ponytail. “What time do I need to be at the airport?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Eleven. Violet.” his tone changed from accommodating to authoritative. “Please be careful… in every way.”
Is he really talking about safe sex? Are you kidding me? “Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll have a ride waiting for you when you land.”
“Thanks.” I started to disconnect, but stopped when I heard his voice.
“Violet?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s a good kid.”
I knew he was talking about Logan. I bit my lip, unable to stop the grin. “I know, West.”
The only turbulence on the plane ride was in my stomach; over and over I practiced what I’d say to Logan when I saw him. I couldn’t wait… I needed to see you…
I can’t believe how much I want you.
Just as West had promised, there was a ride waiting for me- and not a cab. The driver took my bag, called me ‘Miss’ and held the Mercedes door open as I stepped inside. By the time we reached Madison, I was a jumble of nerves, which was very unlike me.
It’s just Logan.
“Just Logan,” I whispered, making my way up the sidewalk of his house. He’d mentioned in his text that his parents were out of town; I wondered if he’d be awake, or if I should have called.
Knocking softly, I waited. The house was dark, and with it being almost one o’clock, I guessed he was asleep.
When I tried the door handle, I found it unlocked. Wow. Not in Richmond. Must be nice to live somewhere so safe.
Quietly, I pushed open the door. The TV was frozen on an on-demand channel menu, and he was sprawled out on the couch with one arm thrown over his face.
I lowered my bag to the floor, my heart swelling. He’s so handsome. Everything about him was disarming, and he made me overwhelmingly happy just by being this close to him. How did I fall so hard, so fast? Not like you, Violet.
Now that I was there, I had no idea what I was going to do. I didn’t expect him to sleep this soundly. I’d imagined the front door being thrown open, and me jumping into his arms, finally feeling his lips on mine.
He stirred, moving his hand away from his face, and I smiled.
I needed to memorize the curves of his face; I’d stared for too long at the Logan of 1955, and I wanted to learn the smooth lines of his jaw and his deep brown eyes. I slipped my jacket off and dropped it to the floor next to my bag.
He wore a gray tee shirt and darker gray pajama pants, and whatever deodorant he used reminded me of the first time I’d met him in Russia.
Kneeling next to him, I lifted my eyebrows. He’s such a heavy sleeper. I could see his eyes moving beneath his lids, and wondered if he was having a nightmare.
“Logan?” I inched backward, not wanting to get jacked in the face.
He stirred. Gently, I pulled my hand over his dark hair, loving the slight curl that caught my fingertips.
Those gorgeous brown eyes blinked and focused, and a slow grin spread over his face. “Am I dreaming?”
“Sure,” I responded, shifting on my knees.
He sat up, pulling me toward him. “You feel so real.”
“I was joking… you’re not dreaming. I flew here. It’s the middle of the night… Saturday morning.”
He processed my words, narrowing his eyes. “You flew here?”
“I called Daddy Warbucks.”
He smirked, and I squealed and giggled as he caught me. In seconds, I was in his warm place on the couch, and he stretched over me, raising his eyebrows.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
I nodded eagerly; closing my eyes.
“Open your eyes. They turn bluer when I’m this close to you.”
I smiled and let them open, and he searched them for a moment before cupping my face in his hands. “Hurry up. You’re killing me,” I whined, and he nodded, taking a steadying breath.
“There’s a lot riding on this kiss. I’m already in love with you. What if there’s no chemistry? What if I suck? What if you suck?”
I slapped his shoulder, laughing. “Just shut up. You’re ruining the moment.”
“Wait- I had potato chips for dinner. My mouth might taste like crap.”
“I don’t care Logan!”
“Alright, I’m stalling.” He dove, catching my lips open in laughter.
The smile left my face the moment his mouth captured mine.
His hips pressed against my hips as he took his time. I held my breath, dizzied by the combination of exploding sensations igniting from the friction of his hardened body against thighs. I held on to his shoulders, barely breathing, all control gone as he opened my mouth to his. His salty tongue only ignited my hunger; I wrapped my fingers into his hair, turning my face.
“Logan,” I breathed, lifting my leg to wrap around his waist. He groaned into my mouth, eagerly pressing me to the couch as his kiss worked over the corner of my mouth, capturing my bottom lip, then top, and then he tilted my face for a better angle to drown me, leaving me struggling for reality.
His fingers slid beneath my shirt, tracing over my bare skin, and I broke away, breathless. “Are you feeling something?” I begged.
His incredulous expression eased the foreign self-consciousness edging over me. “You feel… so right.” He pulled his mouth over my neck, leaving me struggling for control as his lips met the skin on my stomach. “Your kiss… changes everything.”
I remembered my words in the kitchen, in 1955, when describing the ending of my favorite movie. Smiling, I felt my eyes mist over. “I like change.”
“I want to kiss you everywhere. But first, this flower.”
I couldn’t resist arching my back as his fingers fumbled with the zipper on my jeans. When he found the small tattoo on the right side of my pelvis, I began to shake with the force of uncontrollable need. “Wait- ohmygod wait.” I gasped for air, quickly losing a grip on logical thoughts.
“Upstairs.” His tongue traced over the purple ink, and I cried out, gripping hi
s shoulders and he swept me into his arms. “My bedroom.”
“Wait,” I whispered. “Do you have protection?”
He nodded, almost dropping me as he missed the first step. Both of our mouths curled into matching smiles, and he exhaled a laugh. “I wanted to be all dramatic and carry you up the steps, but honestly- my knees are so fucking weak from all this kissing, I don’t think I can. Sorry.”
I felt the stairs with my toes, sliding down his length. “Pussy.”
He widened his eyes as I turned us, pushing him down to the steps. Kicking my jeans and panties away, I tugged at his pajama pants.
“Hell yeah.” He clasped both of his hands over the backs of my thighs, molding his fingers into my skin. “On the stairs.”
“Wait, go get what we need,” I ordered. He bolted to his feet, disappearing into the bedroom. I tried so hard to wait for him, excited about the whole stairs thing, but finally gave up and followed him.
He was already in the doorway, tearing at the condom wrapper. I let him slide it over himself before returning to his arms.
I sat down on his bed as he slowed his kisses, and he broke away only to pull his shirt over his head. His muscles, not nearly as ripped as in 1955, were much less threatening and ten times more attractive to me. I sat up on my knees, tugging off my own shirt.
His fingers eagerly moved to the clasp on my bra, and after a full sixty seconds of heart-hammering anticipation, I broke away at his frustrated curse. “Damn it- what is this? Some kind of barbed wire?”
I laughed, pulling back and unfastening the hook myself. “You’re killing me, Rush.” I took a steadying breath, letting his eyes fall over my bare body.
He stopped moving, and I was suddenly very aware that we were both completely naked. He raked his eyes over me, pushing me back over his bed. “You’re… perfect.”
“I’m not perfect.” I felt him relax as my shaking hands slid over his shoulders.
“You’re perfect for me.”
His hands explored before his mouth, and I moaned, unable to keep my voice inside my throat as he turned my body to molten wanting. The pain he caused me was brief, bearable, and forgotten as I climbed into a world I never knew existed.
“Is this okay? Am I hurting you? Should I stop?”
“No! No don’t,” I exhaled, my mouth on his shoulder. I scraped my teeth against his skin.
“God, Violet…”
His struggle for control was evident in his voice. I cried out into his mouth, unable to form words. Everything I’d known until that moment centered on him, and the way that he was making me feel. I moved against him a certain way, again, and then again until I finally understood what was happening.
“The way… you’re moving…”
He broke away from my kiss and groaned my name, falling over me at the same time that I lost all ability to think. I broke apart, caring about nothing, not the past, present, or future.
I loved the way his arms trembled just slightly as he struggled to come back to this world.
“I didn’t know… it could be like this,” he panted against my ear.
His boyish voice, so vulnerable, made me clutch him to my chest.
“I love you, Logan. I hope you know that.”
He met my eyes in the darkness of his bedroom. The scent of him was everywhere, on his sheets, on my body… I drowned in the warmth of his arms.
“I love you, Violet.” He caught my lips in his. “Glad that’s settled.”
Shaking my head, my chest rose as I broke into laughter.
Chapter Nine
Icepond
Logan
“Her fever is gone. She is gaining strength.”
At the creepy doctor’s words, I turned to Troy.
He sprawled in his throne, nodding once at the old man before waving his hand in dismissal. I gripped the sword in my hand, my palms instantly sweaty.
Don’t react… don’t react. “Logan.” He turned to me, gesturing to the weapon I held. “That is enough practice for today. You’re getting better, brother.”
The sword was taken from me by two guards. I approached the throne as Troy curled his fingers towards me.
“Can I see her?” I asked immediately, unable to hold back the request another second longer.
“That’s not necessary. You heard my physician; she is well.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. Over the last ten days, on more than one occasion, I had actually found myself praying for her death.
Roam’s face, so thin and pale, had freaked me the fuck out. I’d seen her sick before, but never that sick. When the doctor said she’d begun puking and hadn’t held anything down for two straight days, I knew she had the same flu that everyone at school had been coming down with.
At least she’s safe from Troy. Or was.
“It’ll take some time for her to get over this,” I said, tentative, lowering to the bench next to the two thrones.
“She’s had enough time.”
He’s going after her. I mentally assessed the guards on either side of the throne, and then calculated my distance to Troy. “You’ve asked for my… opinions a lot since I got here. You want us to trust each other- like brothers. Well, I know Roam. You have to convince her to like you. If you force her, she’ll never be… what you want her to be.”
He turned sharply to me, his ice blue eyes wide with anger. “Your opinions, when it comes to my queen, are never warranted. Hold your tongue.”
Well, then. I glared at him before looking down at my booted feet. His queen.
He’s out of his fucking mind.
“I’m sorry.” I shifted, waiting for the guards to lower their weapons aimed in my direction. As Troy waved his hand again, they resumed their sentinel positions.
“Forgotten.” He growled.
That was as close to an apology as I was going to get.
“She drives me mad with need. I’ll have her this evening. Then, maybe, I will think straight again.”
Picturing his hands on Roam’s thin, weakened body boiled my blood. She couldn’t even fight back if she tried.
Break his neck. He’s not immortal here.
I curled my fingers around the stone bench, trying to even my breathing. You will die, Logan. Even if you do manage to kill him, they will kill you instantly.
Suddenly picturing Violet’s face, I froze, waiting.
You love her. She means everything to you.
And like the selfish asshole that I was, I tried to rationalize letting Troy go after Roam. She’d live. He won’t kill her. He intends to keep her, not kill her. Comparing scenarios, I’d be dead if I attacked Troy, but she’d live if he took from her what he wanted.
If he raped her.
“Fuck,” I breathed, focused on Roam’s face.
I can’t let him hurt her. She is my best friend.
I love her.
Preparing for the best way to strike, I waited until Troy was given a goblet from a pretty servant girl. Before the girl could walk away, he grabbed her around the waist, turning to me. “You need something to distract you, brother.”
The brunette pleaded, her dark eyes darting between the guards and Troy.
“No thanks.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Not interested.”
He chuckled, releasing the girl. “Ah yes. You prefer blondes.”
I measured the distance between us; I could reach him in two strides.
“In all of these lifetimes, Roam has never looked more like my Mina. Her hair is the very same color… shades of brown, black, and auburn.”
What in the hell is he rambling about? I tried to remember West’s instructions, and the way I’d broken his neck in 1955. Quick, position, turn.
“When I am through with her, she will be begging for me. Willingly.”
Oh, fucking gross. Before I could doubt myself one more time, I launched at him from behind, tightening my arms around his neck. His hands locked on my elbow, but I jerked, my thundering heartbeat
overcompensating for the adrenaline rush sending flashes of light into my eyes.
A fist was slamming into my face. A boot in my ribs as I lay on the ground, and another in the other rib. Pain.
Troy towering over me, rearing back and pounding his knuckles into my face.
“Dungeon,” he hissed. Two guards wrenched my arms backwards, and it felt like they were ripped from my shoulders. Troy’s face came within centimeters from mine. “This is your one chance, brother. You will rot in a cell for two days for this. No food, no water. And in those two days, you can think about the hundreds of ways I’m fucking her.”
I roared, a sound I didn’t even recognize from my own chest, finding some strength from deep within my gut to hoist myself up on the guards shoulders and climb up Troy’s body, kicking him in the face.
After that, I remembered nothing else.
True to his word, I woke up in a stone cell, every part of my body swollen and throbbing in pain. Exhaling slowly, I held my ribs, guessing that more than one was broken. My lips cracked as I moved my mouth to moan quietly; my tongue was dried and stuck to my teeth. I tasted old blood.
No water.
A thin cot lined one wall, and a single, stinking urinal was the only other object in the cell. “Hello?” I coughed, brushing at crusted blood at the corner of my mouth. A guard’s movement, just outside the cell, drew my attention. “Water?”
“No.” The guard’s reply was just as I expected, at the same moment he spoke, I remembered why I was down here.
I remembered Roam.
“Is she okay? Is Roam- is the queen- okay?” I begged, holding my sides. Every breath, every word, sent razors to my lungs.
“Silence.” The guard replied.
I moved slowly to the cot, trying to dig deep for comforting thoughts. West taught her a little about fighting. I sent her to a few kickboxing lessons.
She’s the smartest person I know. She’ll get out of this.
He’s more than twice her size. The horrible nightmares surfaced in my mind, and I leaned my pounding head back against the wall.
“I’m sorry, Cam,” I whispered, focused on the stone ceiling through my watery gaze. What was he doing to her?
Rush (Roam Series, Book Four) Page 7