by Aimee Laine
32
Taylor trailed lazy fingers along Ian’s side as their breaths slowed. A light breeze moved through, causing a shiver.
“Cold?” Ian’s rough, sated voice didn’t mask the happiness.
“A little.” She laid a small kiss at the side of his lips. “But, I would like to stay out here. Want me to get a blanket?”
His hands slid low. “I’m good.”
Taylor chuckled as she pushed herself up. “You stay here.”
Ian yanked her back down. “But, I’m going to be cold.”
She nuzzled her nose against his. “Ian?”
“Yeah?” His fingertips traced along her back.
“I think all our lives merged tonight. I didn’t have that out of body experience I’ve had before. I just … it was just you and me.”
He turned until their gazes met. “Really?”
She nodded against him. “Every other time has kinda taken me with it, but this was … different. This was … today—real, if that makes sense.”
“I think I get it, yeah.”
“So …” She walked her fingers up his chest again. “I have a feeling. A gut feeling, since you like to listen to yours. That we won this time. Like maybe it’s over. Really. I feel it inside.”
Ian tilted up her chin and touched his lips with hers, but he didn’t comment.
A deeper breeze blew over them. He may not have believed, but she did. On a sigh, she said, “Let me get us a blanket. I’ll be back in two minutes.” Taylor lifted her body from Ian’s, bringing herself to a stand and holding her dress to her chest. On a second thought, she let it fall to the ground. “More for you to think about until I get back.”
He tucked his hands behind his head, leaving himself fully exposed. “A little cocky are you now?”
“Look who’s talking.” She swirled a finger in the air, circling his midsection.
“You know what they say.” He shrugged, a smile playing along his lips.
A laugh burst from Taylor. “Okay. Be right back.” Her walk from their tent to her house met with a growing smile and the cool of spring dew under her feet. She picked up speed, hopping up onto her deck as naked as a newborn but sated like a well-fed cat. A look back toward Ian put him in complete shadow, but the lights under the canopy glowed. Her sigh came with pure happiness.
She stepped into her kitchen, skipped the light switch and slipped along the hardwood floors toward her hall closet. A breath in stung her sinuses. “What’s that smell?”
“Hello, Claire.” The unmistakeable voice and the use of her middle name had Taylor spinning around, covering her breasts with her arms and sliding behind a chair—not that it would hide much.
“Surprised to see me?”
She squinted into the darkness. The moonlight silhouetted his form, leaning against the counter at her sink. “Tanner?” Oh, God, he can probably see all of me. The stream of illumination also reached one of Ian’s shirts—a long-sleeved button-down Taylor had hooked to the back of a chair that morning. She grabbed it and slid her arms inside, shaking fingers pulling the edges tight and closed.
“Are you afraid of me, Claire? After all this time?” His chuckle rang through the room, the lack of any other noise making it echo back at her.
“I thought you were dead.” She forced her voice firm and low, hating that he always used her middle name.
The dark shape grew. Footsteps came toward her. “Not dead, no. Planning. It took a while to figure out how best to get your attention again.”
“Again?”
He shrugged. “Once. Twice. Four or five times.”
“Five?” Taylor scooted backward more. As he came closer, she caught the glint of metal at waist level.
A gun?
“It’s such a small town, Claire. I had to be very, very careful to whom I spoke. Everyone … knows. They always have. They always do.” Another step back.
She hit the chair at her back. “Knows … what?”
“Oh, come on now, Claire. There’s nothing to fear. You love me, remember?” The outside light bathed his face as he emerged within the single stream emanating from outside. “You gave yourself to me. You promised to be mine.”
He hadn’t changed. Handsome but rugged, dark hair, brooding blue eyes. She’d fallen for him once because of looks and attention, but the conversation she’d had with Hough in the jail popped into Taylor’s mind. It’s all in the eyes. His eyes said it all—pure evil.
“Why did you set me up in Alabama?” Taylor’s fingers held tight to her shirt. If he came close enough, she’d let go, grab the chair and swing it and knock him over—or so she hoped.
“I thought it was the right time to start the game over.”
Oh, my God, there are three players. “Game?” Taylor asked, forcing the wobble from her voice.
“Of course. One.” He pointed to Taylor. “Two.” His finger angled toward himself. “Three.” He angled it toward the window.
Taylor. Tanner. Ian. She inched the chair out from the table, keeping it tight against her butt.
“Last time, though … he didn’t come. He didn’t save you. He didn’t love you enough.”
“Who’re you talking about?” Muscles trembled in Taylor’s arm.
“He wasn’t the right one.”
“Who are you talking about?” She said each word with distinct emphasis.
“The one you love but had not given yourself to.”
She wanted to scream. To curse at him. To force him to explain. “Who?”
“The cop. Such a pity. It would have been fun to see him suffer a little at your loss.”
Riley. He’d been in Alabama to convince Taylor to return home. As much as she wanted to bash in Tanner’s face, she also wanted answers. “Why did you think he was the one?”
Tanner raised an eyebrow. “Because he touched you that way.”
Friendship. A deep, longing friendship made them intimate on a different level than what she and Ian shared. “Why—”
Tanner jumped toward her. Taylor’s legs buckled at his quick movement, her shirt falling open. She straightened and spun with the chair.
He grabbed the back before she could get it off the ground. “Now that, we’ll not be having.” He inclined his head as he reached for Taylor’s cheek, rubbing his knuckles along her flesh. “So beautiful. You were so beautiful before, too. You gave yourself to me, Claire. To me.” He spit the words at Taylor. “As you were meant to.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“A virgin gives only to the man to whom she is destined to be with.” His hand gripped her chin. “But, you pushed me away.” A crazed, manic hold shone in his eyes.
“I don’t—”
He jerked her head. “You lie. I waited for you. You called him. I begged you to stay. You called him. I thought he was the one. To prove it, to show you how much you’d miss me, to bring you back to me, I had to fake my own death.”
And still I didn’t go to him.
“And, you didn’t come. That’s when I knew I’d played wrong because you also didn’t go to him. This time, I’ve been watching. For years, I’ve been waiting. Considering. Planning. At the wedding, I saw. I knew. I worked on your crew. I shook his hand. I verified first.”
Ian.
“I was patient. I needed to know if you’d remember. If you’d fall for him.” Tanner traced a thumb along her lips.
“You set me up, didn’t you?”
“I had to know. He left and came back. For you. I watched. I waited.”
You stalked me.
“He knew, too. I could feel it. And with that, I knew our paths had finally crossed, and it was time. All you had to do was give him up, and the game would end. But that … you did not do.”
“Okay, I will—”
He squeezed her lips shut. “It’s not appropriate to tell tales, Claire.”
She tried to turn, but he held her in place.
“You’ve even given him your body. You
should have remained true to us.” Before she could comment, he crushed his lips to hers.
Taylor slid her hands between them and pressed with every ounce of effort inside her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist holding her still before she could force the air to bash something into his head.
His nails dug into her skin. “Ah, ah, ah. Remember, I know what you can do. I’ve known through all three lives. Fire. Water. Earth. Air.” His grip tightened around her. “It’s easy to use against you since you refused, each time, to use them to your benefit. My belts did a great job holding your hands back last time, and your efforts only served to bury you faster. Thank you for sparing me the torture.” Tanner licked the side of her lips.
A deep desire to wipe off his saliva drove her anger up another notch. She jerked to the side, turning her head as far as possible, expecting another unwanted kiss.
“Those bones. They were beautiful, weren’t they? Yours. So lovely. When you bought this house, I knew then this would be the place we’d reunite.” Tanner’s breath, a sickly nausea-inducing smell, wafted over her nose. “Fate is fickle, isn’t she? You could have met him ages ago. Or, found your bones well before now. But, all of us coming together as it did—it could not have been more perfect.”
Taylor stayed mute, letting him talk and taking in the details.
“You don’t know, do you? About your heritage. Your destiny to be mine.”
“Destiny? But, you don’t have the symbol.”
“Neither would he, if the farmer’s wife hadn’t etched his skin with it first. And, just days before I dragged you to your grave.” With her gasp, he said, “All you had to do was choose me. Four times now you’ve promised yourself to me only to give yourself to another. Why would you deny me?”
Taylor didn’t remember evil or menace in Tanner’s voice during their quasi-relationship. “Maybe—maybe I have chosen you.”
“But, you haven’t. I can smell him upon you. Like before. Every time.” His voice pitched up.
Snake-like chills slithered up her body. Get him out of the house, and maybe you can get him into a mental institution. “How do you … know … all this?” It took determined force to say the words without a sarcastic tone.
A gleam brightened his eyes. “You’ve been in my dreams since … forever. But, I knew they weren’t just dreams. Nothing so vivid could have been conjured by a boy, repeated incessantly as a young man and understood by me. I see you with me. With him. I watch you die on a pyre I built. I hold you under the water. I let the earth reclaim you.”
The memories of seeing herself die played out. Had he seen the same from the other perspective? Why had they only come to her after she’d met Ian? No matter the answer, Taylor knew she had to act. “Maybe you’re wrong—”
He let go of her wrist, but the release lasted only a second, and a backhanded slap spun her from the chair to the floor. “Your body is a temple. My temple.”
Taylor scrambled toward the door. Get to Ian. Get out. Get Riley. The repetition ran through her mind.
Her head whipped back as Tanner yanked her hair, stopping her crawl. “Up. Now. It’s time to start the game again.”
Again? But this is it. This is my last! She lifted to her knees, pain searing through her scalp. With her hands free, she sent air in every direction, knocking pictures and figurines off their shelves. The sparseness of the room left her little to toss at him, and their proximity to the chairs and table wouldn’t allow her to levitate them to throw.
“Let me go, Tanner.” Grit and fire coated her tone as she stood, his hand still on her hair.
He chuckled. “I don’t think so. If I do … you’ll go back to him. I can’t have—I won’t see—” A tug pulled her backward toward him. “I watched him die last time. Stood there with the townspeople around me as his neck snapped.”
Rage burned inside her, enough to evaporate any forming tears. Convince him they were just dreams.
“Stupid, ignorant farmer thinking he could best me. All it took was one anonymous tip to the town magistrate.”
“You’re not old enough to have been around when there were hangings—”
His hand covered her mouth, and fear drained her of all warmth. His other hand slid around her bare middle, pressing her to him. “No one would ever have suspected the boy next door.”
The photo. He was there because he was … there.
She kicked behind her, but her leg only reached air. A movement with her wrist slid the microwave to the side, but she couldn’t focus to get it further.
“I want you to remember me this time, too.” Tanner’s hand crept from her face and down her arms, bone-chilling cold taking hold of her body. “I want to give you a mark like he did, so next time, we’ll be branded together.”
“Tanner, really, we can talk—”
He yanked her arms behind her.
Her lungs ceased to function.
The glint of a knife shone in her peripheral vision. No! Oh my God! The tip drew nearer as a desperate desire to breathe overcame her. She gulped, no different than when Riley had cuffed her a month before.
“You have a symbol. I give you one, too.”
Please, stop! The words her mind formed failed to be spoken as her mind blanked out, growing darker with each passing moment. I’m so sorry, Ian. This is all my fault.
The tip pierced the side of her cheek.
An involuntary gasp brought in air to her burning lungs and consciousness to her mind. She threw back her head, ramming him in the nose.
The knife clattered to the ground. Tanner hobbled backward as Taylor sucked in more air. “You bitch!” He covered his nose, dripping red through his fingers.
She spit to the side, wiping her hand over her mouth in a bid to rid herself of even the taste of him.
In that second, he jumped, knocking her over and pinning her to the ground—arms out wide—his legs between hers.
“Do you really think you can fight me? Have you ever been able to? This is our destiny. You die. We start over. Next time, you’ll know. Next time, you will be mine. Next time, you will understand what it means to give oneself to a man.”
Taylor whipped her head to the side as Tanner lowered his hips upon hers. “Get off me!” The rawness of her throat muted the snarl she’d attempted. She pulled at her legs and arms with all her strength. Until she had better use of her hands, her magical talent would remain a useless artifact of her life.
Like it had been every other time.
A faded memory hit her. She’d had gifts and hadn’t used them. Or couldn’t. He’d known how to keep her from using them because he’d known of them—just like in Alabama.
He kicked her legs apart. “Once more? For old times’ sake?”
“Go to hell.”
Tanner’s grin took on an even uglier smirk. Hot breath hit her lips. “Never test fate, Claire.” One hand reached for his belt. “We were meant to be together.”
“Taylor?” Ian’s voice breached the door.
Tanner cocked his head. “He calls you by your surname?”
Rage built up in Taylor, still strapped to her floor by the nearly two-hundred-pound man atop her. “My grandpa gave me that name, you fucking pig.” She yanked one hand free, flicked her wrist at the chair and sent it crashing into Tanner’s head. “Ian! Help!”
With Tanner’s body off to the side, she scrambled again. Taylor raced for the gun that had slid near the knife.
Tanner went for the same.
Ian pounded on the window.
Shoulder’s bumped as he reached the gun first.
Dammit, no!
Not ammunition.
Flares.
A Joker-like grin took hold of his face as he raised the barrel.
She grappled for the weapon as the sight in her peripheral vision took hold. Her gas oven stood wide open, the knobs all spun to high but unlit.
He’s going to create fire.
Tanner pointed straight to it.
Oh. My. God. He�
�s going to kill me again.
• • •
The explosion shook the earth, shattered glass and threw Ian from the back deck to a bush behind the house. His body crumpled along the ground, twenty feet from where he’d stood, while flames consumed the kitchen and leeched their way outside, up and over the roof of Taylor’s house.
“No!”
A rocket of wood tore off from the house and landed on the ground next to Ian. He scrambled upright, his heart pumping, chest heaving. Heat from the house made him blink and back up a few steps.
“No, you son of a bitch! This can’t be happening!”
Ian pushed off from his side spot, racing around to the front.
Smoke billowed from every crevice.
Flames raced from every opening.
Fire engulfed the porch, halting Ian’s approach.
“Taylor!” he screamed.
33
Taylor held her hands wide as flames took hold of every combustible surface in her kitchen. Her island had become a smoldering mound. Beyond that, only a river of red swirled. Within her own circle, air kept the flames at bay.
Tanner pushed to his knees, coughing and sputtering as black smoke and heat whirled outside of Taylor’s barrier.
She pushed her circle farther, encompassing Tanner and preventing the flames from reaching him.
His gaze locked on hers, a madness consuming his features.
At his jolt forward, she backed up.
The air retreated with her, but creaks from the roof reminded her of Joyce’s home. Flames grabbed hold of the interior walls. A step into what once had been her living room showed it fully engulfed.
Not an inch of her space existed.
Tears pricked her eyes.
Tanner’d been the literal death of her multiple times, and he would still win unless she kept the air going.
If windows existed, she couldn’t see them.
If a door opened, she wouldn’t have known.
Staring into Tanner’s eyes, she knew the only way to stop him would be to kill him. Yet, she couldn’t push him into the flames without breaking her own personal ethos.
Tanner jumped for her, his hands outstretched, a clear intention to grab her neck.