Rush (Roam Series, Book Four)

by Kimberly Adams

  What. The. Fuck. “You have a daughter, too?”

  “William’s twin sister, Meredith. She suffers from insanity and is locked in the dungeons below.”

  The screaming that I heard. So, nut-jobs run in the family. Of course.

  He looked ready to pass out. Any minute now. “It has been sixty years since my children’s birth. I knew that they were immortal, and yet I still let down my guard that night you killed his Violet. How could I have not known? She does this to me; I cannot think about anything but Roam.”

  Thank God he didn’t suspect that she was immortal. Convincing him that I was evil by killing Violet was the only reason that I was still breathing.

  “You are my brother once again, Logan. Do not forget that you have a responsibility to yourself, and to the people of this world.”

  Yeah, fuck everyone on Earth. “Yes, your majesty.”

  As Troy’s valet appeared, Will entered the room again, glancing at his father. “Good. I thought he’d never stop.”

  “What?”

  “Privately.” He gestured to the hall. “We must discuss the masquerade.”

  “Why? I don’t give a shit about a ball.” I tipped my mug back and downed the remainder of the shit-beer inside.

  Will leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I will help you get her out of here.”

  I jerked my head to the side as the valet escorted Troy to his chambers. “Roam?”

  Will nodded again toward the hallway. “Well now, I trust that I have your attention?”

  Chapter Eleven

  August 27, 2012

  “Miss Camden?”

  I stood in the doorway of Roam’s history class, suddenly confused.

  The new teacher, Mr. Perry, stayed behind his desk as Roam gathered her books. She sent me a small ‘I’m coming’ wave as she made her way to his desk. Mr. Perry focused on me in the doorway.

  “Come on in, Logan.”

  I took a few steps forward, still slightly off balance. Did I forget something? I rechecked my pockets; phone and car keys, wallet…

  Everything’s here. What the hell is wrong with me? “Hi- Logan Rush.” I extended my hand. “Someone said you’re taking over the baseball team for the rest of the season?”

  He hesitated, glancing once at Roam before finally accepting my handshake. “That’s right. I hear you have a promising record.”

  “He’s so talented,” Roam gushed, wrapping one arm around me. I grinned, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “He’s being modest. Mr. Perry, thanks for picking up my book. I was so embarrassed. I just- I don’t know, felt lightheaded or something… anyway, thanks.” She flashed a charismatic smile, the same smile that convinced me that I was the luckiest guy in the world at least ten times a day.

  “Of course. Have a good day. Welcome back Roam.”

  For a second, I almost thought he was going to reach for her. I tightened my grip on my girlfriend, leading her toward the hall.

  The new school year, our senior year, lay before us in all of its glory. She slipped her hand in mine, her cheeks flushed to a pleasant pink as we walked to her locker. “I feel like… something’s off.” She turned to me, lifting her right arm and turning it from side to side. “I got so dizzy in class earlier, and completely dropped my book on the floor.”

  “Were you holding your breath?” I suggested, reaching for her combination lock before she did. 8-26-94… my birthday. I loved how much she loved me.

  “Maybe. Mr. Perry kind of made a… grand entrance. He walked in the door and immediately called someone on his phone. He apologized and said he was checking on his daughter, but it was just kind of- frantic. I don’t know. All I know,” she began as she wetted her lips, tilting her head to the side slightly, “is that I’m glad you haven’t brought up the way I acted last night. So I will. You were right… and wrong.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. You were right- I was feeling pressured by your eighteenth birthday… and how long we’ve been dating… that it was time to…”

  I stared at her, straight-faced. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

  She twisted her lips and groaned, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Make love.”

  “Oh, I remember now.”

  “You forgot?” Her wide, innocent eyes, greener than her experience, nagged at my conscience.

  I tugged her closer, fitting her against my hips. “No, I didn’t forget. In fact, I dreamt about you all night. Naked, begging me to put you out of your virginal misery.”

  “Rush!”

  “Cam.” I got the rise out of her that I was waiting for; she flushed five shades of red in four seconds, and I tipped her face to mine. “When the time is right for you. Like I said. Now control yourself, slut.”

  “Stop.”

  “And how was I wrong…?”

  She dropped her history book to the locker shelf, looping her arms around my neck. “What you said about… making love to me. You were wrong about being a regret in my life. I could never regret you.”

  The bell rang, and we were both late for second period, but neither of us moved. I slid my hand around the back of her neck, her long, silken hair falling in shining waves over my forearm.

  “I...” her lips softened, opening slightly as I urged them apart with mine, “love…” her fingers tightened on my upper arm, “…you.”

  Breathless, she wavered on her feet in the empty hallway.

  “Roam, Logan, you are both late for class.”

  Mr. Perry’s voice cut through the daydream around us as he moved to close his classroom door.

  Roam broke away and covered her lips, nodding, embarrassed. “Sorry,” she murmured, closing her locker with a soft snap. I watched her hurry toward her next class, shrinking as she passed Mr. Perry again.

  “Remember where you are,” he chided her sternly. She nodded and turned for the stairs.

  I narrowed my eyes at him as he returned to his classroom.

  The teachers were merciless with their homework assignments for the first week. Friday afternoon, I lay in the grass in my backyard, Roam’s ponytail spread over my side and her head resting on my stomach as she faced the sky. The smell of chlorine from the school swimming pool still faintly filled my senses, and I untangled her still-damp hair.

  “I just struggle so much with French. I could tell you the history of the entire country, but just can’t seem to make my tongue turn in the right way to get the accent.”

  At the thought of her tongue turning in any particular way, I grumbled from deep in my chest, tossing my English book to the ground. “Sit on top of me.”

  “No.” She snapped her book closed, arching her back to look up at me. “How is that supposed to help my French?”

  “Trust me.”

  With a sound that was a mixture between a grr and an umph, she flipped over and straddled me. I slid my hands over her thighs, raising one eyebrow.

  “Well?”

  “I like sundresses.”

  “I’m waiting for my French lesson.”

  “Okay. Lean down here and put your mouth on mine.”

  She smirked, flattening her palms on my chest. “Exactly what are your qualifications? Can you even tell me the who the president of France is?”

  I dared to inch my fingers just under the hem of her dress. She stiffened.

  “Um, Pepe le Pew.”

  “Um, no. That is a persistent cartoon skunk desperately in need of a restraining order.”

  I chuckled, my stomach moving beneath her. “Well, I’m a year older and wiser than you.”

  “Because you failed Kindergarten, Logan.”

  “The alphabet is hard.”

  “I tried to help you.”

  Sitting up quickly, I tucked her legs around my waist. With her lips crushed to mine, blood coursed through my veins and dotted my vision with what could only be explained as hormone-induced hysteria.

  She made a tiny sound in her throat that drove me insane.<
br />
  “Come inside.”

  “No.” She shook her head slightly, and I was sure she was thinking of my parent’s goodbye only an hour earlier as they left for the weekend.

  “I’ll stop when you tell me to.”

  “I don’t want you to anymore. I don’t trust myself.” She squirmed as my thumb found the edge of her panties, straining away from me.

  “I’ll be good,” I half-promised, standing with her still wrapped around me. She was tall but so light, and I had no problem carrying her across the back patio.

  Within minutes I had her panting on the couch, her dress hiked up and her resistance obliterated. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, and I reached with one hand to pull off my tee shirt. My mouth dropped to her neck, and she whimpered softly, turning her face away.

  “West…”

  I froze.

  “What?” I exhaled, my eyes popping open and my hand stilling on her hip. Her tear-brightened eyes fluttered, and she turned to face me.

  “Logan?”

  I decided to ignore whatever she mumbled, pulling away the thin, lacy barrier between my hand and her wet, waiting body.

  She clenched her thighs together, fear washing over her horrified expression.

  “I want to touch you.”

  “Not there.” She pushed at my shoulders, and I narrowed my eyes.

  “You’ll like this,” I urged, pushing my hand between her legs.

  She immediately stopped moving; her entire body went slack, and her chest stopped rising and falling.

  “Roam- breathe. Roam.” I pulled her dress back down, moving her into a sitting position. She stared forward, limp, her chin dropping to her chest. “Roam!” She fainted, right there, with me still holding her in my arms. I lowered her back to the couch, brushing her hair away from her face, chafing her upper arms. “Come on Cam,” I growled, fighting the urge to slap her.

  Why in the hell would I slap her? Jesus Christ.

  Her shallow breaths returned slowly, unevenly. She focused on me, and then over my shoulder, confusion clouding her gaze.

  “You said you’d stop,” she wailed, breaking into panic-stricken tears. I stared at her open-mouthed, feeling like the shittiest shit on the face of the Earth.

  “I know- I’m sorry, I just-”

  “I’m going home.” She burst to her feet, unsteady. I grabbed for her hand, but she wrenched it away, hurrying to the backyard where our books still littered the grass.

  “Don’t walk. I’ll drive you-”

  “I’m fine.” She attempted a brave smile, wiping at her tears with her fingertips. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay? Love you,” she added, reaching for an awkward half-hug.

  “Love you too, Cam.”

  I watched her walk down the road and turn at the stop sign toward her house, feeling like a complete and utter asshole. You scared her, you dick.

  Swearing, I flipped the mailbox open, gathering the two envelopes inside. The top letter was from the high school and was addressed to me, so I ripped it open, scanning the words.

  Madison High School baseball team… introducing the new coach… I focused on the picture on the side of the paper, looking over his welcome letter. I look forward to a winning season.

  Sincerely,

  West Perry.

  The humid summer air stifled my ability to take a deep, calming breath. West? What the fuck kind of name is that?

  I stopped in midstride in the driveway, repeating his name in my mind.

  Is that what Roam said? Did she really fucking say his name?

  No. You’re acting like a jealous dickhead. I crumpled the letter, satisfied as it hit the inside walls of the dumpster. All I’d heard about all week at lunch was Mr. Perry, the God of History. One week in, and I’d already had enough of Mr. History.

  The problem was, I realized as the next few weeks progressed, I couldn’t not like Mr. Perry. He was cool, I admitted it, and Roam suddenly avoided talking about him, even in passing. I guessed it was Ally’s comment and the incident at lunch that doused whatever school-girl crush my girlfriend was having for him.

  “I heard he has a daughter, and his wife left him because he had a big-boobed, blonde skank on the side who is now living with him. What an asshole.”

  “Those are rumors, Ally-May. Cruel. Stop spreading them.”

  “Oh, untwist your panties, Ro.” She arched one eyebrow, offering me a speculative glance before turning back to her. “You may want to wring them out first.”

  My eyes narrowed, and Roam’s fingers knotted together in tell-tale angst. “Mr. Perry is a wonderful teacher, and I’m sure he’s a good father. He talks about his daughter all the time. How he chooses to live his life is none of our business.”

  “He’s fucking hot.” Ally declared.

  “Mr. Perry and his- hotness- have nothing to do with the fact that you can’t stop gossiping!”

  I saw him before they did, crossing behind our table just as Roam shouted her last statement.

  He stopped, and she turned to him, and I could feel her mortification from across the table.

  Mr. Perry kept his disgustingly-perfect movie-star blue eyes on my girlfriend for way too long before looking my way. “Hi Logan. I wanted to tell you- there are job openings at Strike. Roam mentioned you were looking for a job.”

  “Really?” I looked at Roam, who kept her eyes locked on her untouched lunch. “Hey, thanks.”

  “Sure.” He nodded once before glancing at his watch. “Have a good day.”

  “OMG he totally heard you.” Ally had the decency to blush.

  Roam scowled at her, sweeping her lunch into her hands and marching to the trashcan.

  Chapter Twelve

  Violet

  “Are you on your way home?”

  “Yes, I’m just leaving the school-”

  “Mom is here. She’s pissed. Apparently she’s done talking on the phone.”

  I glanced at my mother, trying to give her a break. She had absolutely no idea about the prophecy, the castle, or the years she’d been held prisoner.

  Somehow, she had real memories of raising me for the past nine years, as though I hadn’t just spent my teenage life in and out of foster homes.

  All she knew was the man who had left her with a four-month-old infant eighteen years ago was suddenly back in the picture, and I wanted to live with him.

  “Tell him he’d better bring a lawyer.”

  “Mom.” I covered the phone, trying desperately to keep the macaroni and cheese that I was making for Eva from sticking to the pan again. “Stop it.”

  West must have heard her. “Tell her I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  He sounds tired. “He’ll be here in ten minutes,” I repeated.

  She nodded, lowering to a kitchen chair next to the red-headed toddler. Eva was in the throes of the terrible threes, and launched into a tantrum as often as possible. I fully expected her to kick at my mom, but instead, she just pushed a crayon in her direction. “Color,” she ordered.

  “I would love to color.” Laurel exhaled slowly, as though trying to calm down. “So, where is this one’s mom? Did he leave her, too?”

  I slammed the spatula down on the counter, glaring at my mother. “Please don’t. Just let the past go. Whatever his reasons were for leaving, it happened. He’s giving you money. What else do you want?”

  “I want answers, and I deserve them.”

  He’s not going to be able to give you answers, I thought, straining the water from the pan. A fresh pang of heartache tightened my chest, and I squeezed my eyes closed, trying not to think of Logan, and how I almost had him...

  And how I lost him… again.

  One moment, I was standing in the strange castle, surrounded by screams and gunshots as Logan rushed into the room, gathering me into his arms.

  First, I had felt his lips on mine…

  And then I felt the world fade away.

  When I focused again, I was standing in the middle
of West’s living room, holding Eva in my arms one Monday morning in August. I scrambled for my phone, powering it down twice before finally believing the date on the calendar app.

  2012. Two and a half years in the past.

  When the phone rang, West’s voice was low and anxious. “Eva is there with you? You both remember?”

  “I… I think so… what happened?”

  “I’m standing in front of a classroom of seniors. Hold on.”

  “Is Logan there? Roam?”

  “She doesn’t remember.”

  The realization that the three of us were the only ones who remembered what had happened was devastating. I just held Eva in my arms, crying until he called back.

  The foster system had no record of my existence- or my juvenile record. My mom lived in West Virginia in the same house West had built years ago, believing that I just took off and left to go live with him after learning who he was.

  It was as though Asher had created an entirely new life for us…

  And Logan wasn’t in it.

  West walked in, and Eva dropped her crayons, running into his arms. “Hey, babe. Were you good for Vi today?”

  “Daddy!”

  “You look the same. How do you look the same?” Laurel stood, and I hurried to West, reaching for Eva.

  “Okay, let’s have some dinner. We’re going to let them talk grown-up stuff, okay?” I chatted, carrying her back to the table.

  West loosened his tie, dropping his messenger bag by the front door. “Hi, Laurel.”

  “Hi?” She moved to him slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. My mother was twenty-nine the day Troy abducted her and took her to the castle, and didn’t look a day over thirty. She believed herself to be thirty-eight years old. “Just ‘hi’?”

  He gestured to the couch, and she rolled her eyes, taking a seat. I scraped the macaroni into a small, pink bowl, watching them carefully.

  “Maybe we should go out on the porch and talk-”

  “No.” she pointed in my general direction, and I froze. “This is about Violet. She’s almost an adult. This isn’t about you and me, it never was. This is about you owing her an explanation, and me being here to witness it.”

  I was impressed with the cool control in her voice. I knew she could fly off the handle at any moment, but thankfully, she was keeping a check on her emotions- probably for Eva’s sake.