Time Anomaly: A Time Travel Romance (Echo Trilogy, #2)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

Shakily, I raised my free hand and touched my fingertips to the side of his face. There was a hint of rough stubble. I brushed my thumb across his full lower lip, tantalized by the dual silk-and-sandpaper sensations on the pads of my fingers.

  “You are trembling,” Heru said, his eyelids slowly rising.

  Despite my loose linen dress, I felt like I was wearing a corset; my chest didn’t seem to have enough room for my heart and lungs to cohabitate in their suddenly hyperactive states.

  Heru leaned his cheek into my hand, then turned his head to run his lips back and forth over my palm. The sensation—tickling and tingling—was almost too much, almost unbearable.

  I sucked in a ragged breath.

  “I have decided.” His gaze locked with mine, heated and demanding. “No more imagining.”

  Licking my lips, I repeated his words. “No more imagining.” The words were simple, but their meaning was so clear that us uttering them created an immutable verbal contract between us. We would bond in this time . . . in any time.

  Heru leaned in until our lips were a hairsbreadth apart, but he didn’t close that final distance. Instead, he made a rough, pleased sound low in his throat and angled his face lower to run his nose along the line of my jaw. “Your scent intoxicates me,” he said, pressing a feather-light kiss to the skin just under my ear. “I can only imagine how you will taste.”

  My heartbeat stumbled over itself. “No more imagining,” I somehow managed to say, though the words were breathy. I twisted my wrist free from his grip and moved my hands down to the front of his linen kilt. “And no more waiting.”

  Heru moved in that faster-than-humanly-possible way that was born of a combination of his Nejeret physiology and centuries spent honing his body’s reflexes. He captured both of my wrists and pushed them away from his thighs with infuriating ease. His eyes glinted with challenge and promise. With desire.

  “Taking our time . . .” He shook his head slowly. “That is not the same thing as waiting. It is savoring, and I intend to savor every inch of you with my hands.” Those hands were sliding up my arms, over my shoulders, and back down the sides of my body until they gripped the linen on either side of my hips and pulled my dress up and over my head. “With my lips.” Those lips were curved into a sultry, taunting smile. “With my eyes.” Those eyes skimmed down the length of my body, their focus a searing brand on my skin. “And with my tongue.” That tongue slid over his lips, wetting them with sensual promise.

  “And only then, when I know your body better than I know my own, will I take you.” That challenging glint flashed in his eyes again. “And I will take you, little queen . . . over and over and over again.”

  I swallowed roughly. My chest rose and fell. Rose and fell. Rose and fell. My heart galloped, each beat pounding against my sternum.

  Lifting my chin and squaring my shoulders, I met Heru’s challenging gaze with one of my own. I had no problem with any of his tantalizing promises, save for one; I wouldn’t remain sane much longer if the ache of wanting, if the bond’s mounting need to be completed, wasn’t sated, and soon. He could have his fun—do his “savoring”—after. And because I was as familiar with his body as he promised to become with mine, I knew how to get my way. I knew his weaknesses. I knew exactly how to push him to the brink of control, to fan his need to an undeniable level just as he’d already managed to do within me.

  Too quickly for him to stop me—and some of my borrowed power may have been involved—I dropped to my knees, shoved the linen of his kilt up and out of the way, and took him into my mouth. All the way.

  He sucked in a breath, his fingers suddenly tangled in my hair. He seemed to be caught between pulling me closer and trying to push me away. I looked up at him, into his blazing gaze, and let him see just how much I was enjoying savoring his body.

  I was shocked that he let me continue for as long as he did, let me remain in control for as long as he did. But when he did stop me, he made it very clear which of us was truly in charge.

  With a hoarse growl, he gripped my upper arms, and lifted me until I was sitting on the edge of the altar. There was the sound of fabric tearing, and then he was standing between my legs, his arousal, hot and hard, pressing against me. He claimed my mouth as he entered me, neither his kiss nor the joining gentle.

  The single, urgent thrust shattered the pressure welling inside me, and I threw my head back and gasped, riding swell after swell of explosive pleasure. Sheer, physical relief washed over me, almost as enjoyable. Tension left my muscles in waves, tension I hadn’t noticed until it was gone. Apparently being around Heru, even experiencing our fleeting dalliance in the pool—none of it had been enough—and the toll of not being intimate with the man who was quite literally mated to my soul, had been snaking through my body, creating fissures, widening them, and slowly tearing me apart. But not anymore.

  Now I was whole; there was only peace . . . blissful peace.

  Heru seemed to understand how badly I needed to bask in the nearness that came with such a joining, to satiate our broken bond. He wrapped his arms around me and simply held me against him for minutes while I gave in to the sensations caused by my fractured soul being slowly pieced back together.

  When my breathing grew more regular, I raised my head and met his eyes, giving him a lazy smile.

  He brought his hands up to my face and wiped tears from my cheeks. “I have never seen pleasure make someone cry such tears.”

  Laughing softly, I shook my head. “It was more from relief than from pleasure, I think . . . though there was plenty of pleasure.”

  He arched an eyebrow and slowly shifted his hips away from me. “Was plenty of pleasure?” He thrust forward without warning, earning a grunt from me. His eyes traced over my face as he repeated the motion, studying my responses closely. “If it is gone away, then I must chase after it.” He increased his pace, his force, but his eyes never left my face. “I will chase . . . your pleasure . . . until I catch it again . . . and I will never . . . let . . . it go . . .”

  Either he stopped talking or I stopped listening. It didn’t matter either way, because he didn’t have to chase either of our pleasures for long.

  Sensation swelled inside me until it was too big, too full, too much, and then I was overflowing not just with ecstasy or relief, but with something that eclipsed mere physical pleasure, my ba merging with his. Our souls intertwined more deeply than our bodies ever could, uniting us in that single moment of eternal bliss that made everything else feel, smell, taste, and sound muted in comparison. I became fully aware of the universe in these moments, and oddly enough, never cared one bit. Marcus-Heru-my-bond-mate became my whole universe in these moments, just as I became his.

  Breathing hard, Heru stared at me as his ba untangled itself from mine, settling securely inside his body. His eyes were wide with wonder. “I had no idea it could . . . that bonding would be so . . .” He shook his head. “I have no words to describe it.”

  I laughed weakly, not because I wasn’t ecstatic, but because it was the most my temporarily spent abdominal muscles could manage. “I doubt there will ever be words that can describe it.”

  Heru’s gaze changed, his eyes darkening with some heavy emotion. I just hoped it wasn’t regret. He raised his hand, grazing his fingertips over my face, and my eyes fluttered closed. And then he spoke words that nearly shattered my heart. “If I asked you to stay with me, to live out the years between our two times by my side, would you?”

  There was nothing I wanted more than to have a chance to grow and change over the millennia with him, to truly be his equal, the partner he deserved. But that could never be. My chin trembled, and clearing my throat, I shook my head. “I cannot . . . you know that.”

  He rubbed a slow, languorous line back and forth over my bottom lip. “Because of the sheut?”

  I nodded.

  “But if there was a way—”

  “There isn’t.”

  “But if there was . . . would you?”

>   I sighed, but it came out as more of a sob. “I wish, more than anything—” I shook my head, knowing that wishes never solved anything. “I love you. I will always love you . . . in any time. Is that not the most important thing?”

  “I dislike that you must carry such burdens.” Heru’s fingertips continued to trace slow, gentle lines over my face, like he was trying to memorize what I looked like with touch alone. I didn’t think he even realized he was doing it. “I dislike that the Great Father has put you in such danger. I dislike everything about this situation . . .”

  I captured his free hand and pressed his palm against my chest, just over my heart. “I do not think you dislike everything about this situation.”

  Heru breathed out slowly.

  Forcing a lopsided grin, I moved his hand a few inches until it was cupping my breast. “What about this?” I gazed up at him through my lashes. “Do you dislike this?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Or this?” I asked as I moved his hand down my ribcage and abdomen and guided it between my legs. “Do you dislike this?”

  The corners of Heru’s lips quirked, and he chuckled.

  No more coaxing was needed on my part.

  37

  Practice & Perfect

  “Tell me what you are writing,” Heru said as he pressed himself against the back of my body, his heat burning through the thin linen of my dress, and wrapped his arms around my middle. He kissed my temple, keeping his lips pressed against that sensitive skin, his breath tickling the fine hairs growing there.

  My shoulders tensed, and I laughed softly. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and sighed. “I am describing the sandstorm . . . and what we were doing—or not doing—while we were stuck together in that little cavern.” I craned my neck so I could see his face. “And how angry you were.”

  Heru started tracing slow circles around my belly button with his index finger. “I was not angry.”

  I scoffed, or at least, I tried to. It came out as more of a shuddering exhale. “You were most certainly angry.”

  He stared into my eyes and shook his head. “I was not. I was terrified.”

  My eyebrows rose. “You? Terrified?”

  “You are the most terrifying being I have ever met.” His voice was soft, even.

  “I doubt that.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “And yet it is still true.”

  He released me and captured my hand, guiding me toward the doorway to the altar room, where he’d laid out a small feast while I’d been working. A wineskin, fruits, cheeses, and flatbreads covered the altar itself.

  Again, I raised my eyebrows. “How did you gather all of this so quickly?”

  Heru frowned. “You were inscribing for nearly an hour. It was not done so quickly . . .”

  “Oh . . . I did not realize it had been so long.” I mirrored his frown and shook my head. “How strange . . .”

  “Perhaps you should take a break for the rest of the night.”

  I glanced at the opening at the top of the stairs, where the first hint of dawn light shone through the doorway. “I believe it is already morning.”

  “Then perhaps you should take a break for the day.”

  Giving his hand a squeeze, I stepped closer, stood on tiptoes, and pressed my lips against his. “I will take a break to eat,” I said when I pulled away, “but then I really want to finish this room and get the next one started. I do not want to forget anything . . . forget to tell you anything.” I searched his eyes. “You would want to know everything, correct? That would set your mind at ease . . . ?”

  “As much as anything could, short of seeing you, standing before me . . . of holding you in my arms.” His hands settled on either side of my neck, his thumbs fitting perfectly along my jaw. When his lips touched mine, his kiss was deep and penetrating, and I melted against him.

  “I will allow you to continue your work, but—”

  “You will allow it?”

  He ignored my question. “But, I will tell you what to write in this new room.”

  I pushed the upper half of my body away from him with hands on his bare chest and eyed him. “You want to write a note to your future self?”

  A tantalizing half-smile touched his lips. “Something like that.” He held his hand out toward the array of food. “Come. Let us eat.”

  Not twenty minutes later, we’d both had our fill and were standing in front of the false door on the right side of the altar room. My hand was pressed against the smooth, solidified At, and my eyes were closed. I finalized my mental image of the structure I wanted to create—a simple, long hallway with plenty of space for many off-shooting rooms, should I require them.

  With a single, focused thought, I unmade the false door and expanded the solidified At away from me for nearly twenty yards. When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing before the doorway to a gleaming, pearlescent hallway.

  I stepped through the opening and made my way to the end of the hall, where I went through the same routine, except instead of another hallway, I formed a doorway that led to a circular, domed chamber. Glancing over my shoulder, I found that Heru was still standing in the altar room, his focus on me hawkish.

  My nerves sprouted wings and fluttered in my stomach. “Is something wrong?”

  Ever so slowly, Heru shook his head. “Do you have any idea what you look like when you do that?” He approached, his pace steady, his movements smooth.

  I bit my lip and shook my head, watching him come closer. I felt like a cornered animal all of a sudden.

  “Your skin glows, and your hair floats around you like you are underwater.” He didn’t stop when he reached me, but forced me backward into the freshly formed room with his body. “You are a goddess,” he said, his voice husky, his eyes darkening with promise. “You are my goddess.”

  My butt and shoulder blades touched smooth, cool wall, and Heru stopped, his body almost touching mine. Almost, but not quite.

  “Make a door, little queen.”

  “Why?” I asked, even as I willed one into being and darkness engulfed us.

  “Because I am about to help you learn how to remain more focused on your surroundings while you write, and I do not want anyone to interrupt such a valuable lesson. It is too dangerous for you to remain so unaware.” He breathed in deeply near my neck, his exhale giving rise to goose bumps. But still, he didn’t touch me. “Give us light, little queen.”

  I swallowed and did as he requested, making the walls glow with a soft luminescence. “How—how are you going to help me learn to be more aware?”

  A promising grin spread across his face. “You are going to record everything I do to you—describe how each touch makes you feel—until I decide that you have practiced enough.”

  My breath hitched. The task sounded impossible. “I do not think I will be very successful . . .”

  “I do not think you have much of a choice, because I am not stopping until every surface in this chamber is filled with your words . . .” He moved so his mouth was just hovering over mine.

  “I could lie . . . write gibberish,” I said breathily. “You would not be able to tell.”

  Heru pulled away, his grin turning wolfish. “In four thousand years, I would.”

  I imagined Marcus reading my descriptions of his past self making love to me, and my heartbeat faltered, then resumed beating triple-time.

  “Begin writing, little queen. I believe today is going to be quite interesting . . .”

  I licked my lips and raised my eyes to the very top of the dome. Letting out a shuddering breath, I started writing.

  Your hands are sliding up my arms. Only your fingertips are on my skin . . . it almost tickles, but it feels too good. Goose bumps are spreading out from every place you’re touching me . . .

  You’re holding my arms over my head, commanding me to keep them there. Your fingers are skimming down my arms, down the sides of my body. Your touch is so gentle . . . so light. I want you to te
ar off my dress, but you’re only lifting my skirt . . . slowly . . . so damn slowly. Everywhere you touch, my skin feels like it’s on fire. I need you to—Oh my God, Marcus . . . you’re on your knees, and . . . and . . . and . . .

  38

  Routine & Disturbance

  Living with Heru and his family wasn’t nearly as awkward as I’d expected it to be. Days passed, filled with mornings spent helping Seshseshet with the two younger children while she did “around the house” things, afternoons spent working in my underground sanctuary behind Nuin’s palace, evenings spent training with Nuin and usually some combination of Set, Nekure, and Aset, and nights spent with Heru. True, Heru was almost always around me during the day’s activities, as well, but it was the nights that I treasured.

  I would erect an At barrier in the doorway and windows of my sleeping chamber in his home, locking the two of us—and our sounds—inside until morning. And every morning, just as the sun was peeking over the cliffs surrounding the Oasis and Heru and I were dozing together, limbs tangled and minds lulled into contented sleep, a tapping would start on the other side of the At door.

  And every morning, Heru and I would groan sleepily as we donned our discarded clothing before I willed the barriers to revert to their former state—air. Tarset, Heru’s youngest daughter, a tiny four-year-old, would scamper in for some early morning snuggles. She was so obviously a daddy’s girl, and I was just grateful that her love of her father hadn’t resulted in jealousy for all of the time he spent with me. In fact, the reverse seemed to be happening.

  Just before dawn two weeks after Heru and I first bonded, I lay facing him on one of the thin pads that passed for mattresses in this time. I’d grown accustomed to them, had even started to sleep quite restfully, though spending every night sleeping beside Heru might have had something to do with that. The barriers covering the window openings were gone, letting fresh desert air fill the room, and Heru was tracing symbols on my hip with his fingertips, his eyes lidded with morning languor.