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

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  “Not exactly.” His grin became lopsided. “Come on, Lex . . . my mom gives me enough grief about this shit. I don’t think I could handle it from you, too.”

  I laughed, and then I groaned. “God . . . I feel like crap.”

  “Yeah, Re says that’s normal after your first back-to-back, unaided time jumps, especially two huge-ass ones.”

  With another groan, I propped myself up on my elbows, and Nekure helped me the rest of the way up, settling my back against the wall. “Somehow, I doubt that he said ‘huge-ass’ . . .”

  Chuckling, he lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug. “He also says your access to the sheut might be weak for a bit . . . which could be a problem, because now that it’s ‘complete’ within you, Apep’ll be able to sense it.” He paused, then added, “He’ll be drawn to it.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath, then squinted at Nekure. “Which means he’ll be on his way, right?”

  Nekure nodded.

  “Can I talk to Re?”

  “Yeah.” He flashed me another grin, this one holding nothing but mischief. “He’s been waiting for me to hand over control anyway . . . impatient fucker . . .”

  “Nekure!” I said with a laugh.

  Chuckling again, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. “Welcome back, Lex . . . you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

  As he pulled away, he closed his eyes. When they opened again, they were no longer pale blue, but filled with the glimmering iridescence of opals. He smiled again, but it was entirely different from Nekure’s. I knew this smile, those eyes. They belonged to Nuin—to Re. “Hello again, dear Alexandra,” he murmured.

  My chin trembled, and I swallowed, my saliva suddenly feeling too thick, my esophagus too narrow. “I wasn’t sure . . . I mean, I saw you go into him . . .” I shook my head. “But I wasn’t sure.”

  “Ah . . . but I would not abandon you.” Re-Nekure leaned in, but instead of pressing his lips against my forehead, he brushed them across my own lips in a purely platonic kiss. His lip ring felt hard and cool compared to the soft, warm flesh.

  Closing my eyes, I smiled. He was really there, inside Nekure . . . not dead.

  “Get away from—” Dominic started to say, but his words cut short as Re-Nekure pulled away from me.

  Because Re-Nekure had stretched out his arm and was holding an At blade to Dominic’s neck. “Careful, boy . . .”

  Dominic’s eyes widened, but not from the razor-sharp blade nearly slicing into his flesh. He was staring at me. “Lex . . . your eyes . . .”

  I looked away, feeling embarrassed for some reason I didn’t understand. “Stop it,” I said to Re-Nekure, reaching out to unmake the blade. But despite my best effort, the knife refused to disappear. My eyes sought out Re-Nekure’s. “Why isn’t it working?”

  He glanced at me. “Just give it a moment to recharge.”

  “How long of a moment?”

  “An hour, maybe two,” he said. The knife evaporated into rainbow mist.

  As soon as he was no longer in danger of having his neck sliced open, Dominic elbowed Re-Nekure in the side of the face. Because of his near-constant façade of courtesy and kindness, it was easy to forget that Dominic had been a highly trained, highly skilled assassin several hundred years ago and was easily one of the deadliest people alive. Pulling a knife on him was a pretty dumb move for pretty much anyone to make. But then, considering that Re-Nekure was probably one of the few people who were even more deadly than Dominic . . .

  They were suddenly grappling on the floor, and all I could do was gape.

  “Stop this at once!” Aset shouted from the top of the stairway leading down to the burial chamber. “Now!”

  Re-Nekure and Dominic froze.

  “I swear,” Aset said as she started down the stairs with a huff. “Men . . . they’re all boys, no matter their age.” She shook her head and shifted her gaze to me, her honey-colored eyes warming as she smiled. “Lex.”

  “Aset.” I clambered to my feet, using the wall because I was still a little unsteady, and threw my arms around her. “Thank you so much. You did everything perfectly. I don’t know how you managed, but you did . . .” I let out a relieved laugh. “Thank you.”

  She placed her hands on my shoulders and, pulling back, looked up into my eyes. “I only did what I must . . .” She grinned. “But you are welcome, of course.” And then she blinked several times, turned her face to the stairs, and let go of me completely.

  I followed her line of sight.

  Marcus.

  He stood on one of the middle stairs, frozen as he stared down at me. I could see the lump that had to be the At bottle of bonding pheromones under his linen, button-down shirt. He took the remaining stairs in two strides, and in another, his arms were around me and his face was buried against my neck. And he was shaking.

  His reaction paralyzed me, and I did the only thing I seemed able to do; I focused what little of the sheut I could control on the memories locked away in his mind. And released them.

  Marcus stiffened, then slowly raised his head. He gazed down at me with round, wondrous eyes of molten gold and liquid onyx. Slowly, his lips spread into a broad smile. A chuckle started deep in his chest, quickly blossoming into a laugh. And then my back was against the wall and he was kissing me, pressing his whole body against mine, and I didn’t care one bit that three of my closest friends were standing nearby.

  Marcus’s hands trailed down sides of my body before gliding behind my back, pulling me closer to him, and he did something I’d only experienced as a culmination of a sexual union between us—he slipped a tendril of his ba inside me, seeking my own, caressing my own. My nails dug into his lower back, pulling his hips as tight against mine as possible, and I moaned into his mouth. Pleasure rolled over me in waves.

  When he broke the kiss, I took several gasping breaths and leaned my head back against the wall. I stared up into his eyes and laughed breathily. “Well . . . I think it’s safe to say that you’ve stepped up your kissing game by light-years.”

  He leaned his forehead against mine. “And that was just the smallest amount of my ba.” He grinned. “I wonder what will happen when I fill you with it completely . . .”

  My entire body and my ba pulsed in anticipation. “I can’t wait to find out . . .”

  Someone cleared a throat behind Marcus.

  I turned crimson. I’d forgotten about the others. Standing in the altar room. Watching us.

  “Lex, I believe there are some people who would very much like to see you,” Dominic said, his accent thick.

  “Huh?” I forced myself to take a step away from Marcus—a super small one—and to face Dominic. “Who?”

  His eyes scanned my face, then slid down the length of my body before focusing on Nuin’s sarcophagus. His pale cheeks flushed, and he cleared his throat. “They are with Alexander and Jenny in the main palace . . . but I think you may wish to change into something a little more, uh, substantial before seeing them . . .”

  I glanced down at my simple, belted white linen shift. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “Nothing,” Aset said with a snort. “It is the people of this time who are the problem—they are such prudes.” She stepped around the altar and handed me a canvas tote bag. “Clothes . . . I’ve had a long time to prepare for your return.” She shrugged and made shooing motion. “Go. Change. We’ll be out here.”

  Hugging the bag, I wandered down one of the hallways I’d made thousands of years ago and entered the last room I’d created. Marcus followed.

  “I hope you’re not intending to have your way with me,” I said lightly as I pulled clothing items out of the bag—there was a pair of khaki shorts, a white tank top, a thin, ivory linen button-down shirt, a pair of tan, lace-up work boots and socks, and of course, undergarments. I stared at the bra and underwear like they were utterly foreign to me, once again assessed my current attire, and finally understood Dominic’s words . . . and his blushes
. The linen wasn’t see-through, but it didn’t come close to hiding everything, either.

  Marcus’s arms wrapped around me from behind, and he pressed himself against my backside. “And here I thought you would be hoping for quite the opposite . . .” His hand cupped my breast, his thumb doing very pleasant things.

  “Stop that,” I said, laughing as I twisted around in his hold. I peered up at him, studying the lines and angles of his face—lines and angles I knew better than my own. “I’m not about to meet a bunch of Nejerets smelling like sex.”

  Marcus brushed his knuckles down the side of my cheek. “And if I tell you that you always smell like sex to me—like sex and love and everything that’s good in the world—does that change your mind?”

  My cheeks, neck, and chest heated, again.

  Marcus’s easy expression melted, and worry filled his eyes.

  My stomach dropped. “What?” I searched those golden depths for some hint of what he was about to reveal. “What is it?”

  “The people Dom was referring to aren’t Nejerets.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “There are humans here? I mean, besides J and Gen?”

  Marcus said nothing for a moment, then nodded. “Susan Ivanov . . .”

  My mouth fell open. “My grandma’s here?”

  He nodded again. “As are your parents.”

  46

  Want & Need

  Crossing my arms, I narrowed my eyes at Marcus. “Do they know?”

  He nodded, and the blood drained from my face. My parents knew about me . . . about what I really was. They knew that I wasn’t human. I fought the urge to panic, which wasn’t easy because it was a really damn persistent urge.

  “You brought them here,” I said quietly.

  Again, Marcus nodded.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a long moment. I will not panic . . . and I will not freak out. I will not . . .

  I clenched my jaw. “I can’t believe you told them.”

  Marcus released me, letting me step back and start to change my clothes. “It was impossible not to once they were here.” Not an explanation, just a statement. I took another deep breath.

  I unclasped my belt and set it carefully on the floor. Another deep breath. “And you brought them here because . . . ?”

  “I decided that them alive and fully aware of what you are would be a preferable situation for you to return to than Apep having slain them using your father’s hands,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I glanced at him, unsurprised to find a hard, challenging glint in his eyes. I looked away as I tugged my dress over my head. I could practically feel Marcus’s eyes raking over my bare skin.

  “Thank you,” I said, meeting his eyes for the briefest moment and letting him see that I meant it. “I don’t know what I would’ve done . . .” I swallowed back unnecessary sorrow for what could have been and forced myself to meet his burning eyes, to hold that gaze. “Thank you, Marcus. Really.”

  His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. “Make a door, Little Ivanov,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. He took a step toward me and started unbuckling his belt.

  I took a step backward, my heartbeat already speeding up from what he intended. “But . . . my family—”

  His eyes narrowed, and he took another step, unfastening the top button of his trousers. “Make a door.”

  I took another step backward, and my back touched the cool wall. I was breathing faster now. “But . . . but Apep—”

  “Make.” Step. “A.” Step. “Door.” He was right in front of me, only inches away. He raised one eyebrow.

  I willed a door into being in the blink of an eye. “But—”

  Marcus caressed me with his gaze. “You’ve been gone for a month, and the last time I saw you—” He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment. When he opened them, they burned with torment. “The last time I truly saw you, my hands were around your neck, holding you underwater, and you were about to die.” His eyes searched mine. “I need to feel you . . . to know that you’re really here . . . to know that you’re still mine. I need you, Lex.”

  “But what if Apep tries to pos—”

  “He cannot possess me when I am surrounded by At.”

  I blinked, then nodded, and not a second later, Marcus’s pants were pushed down, and my legs were wrapped around his hips, and I was experiencing the full depth of his need for me . . . of our need for each other. It was as brief and as intense of a joining as we’d ever shared, and by the end, when my ba tangled with his, something snapped inside me. I—my ba—felt like whatever threads had been tying it to my body, whatever resistance remained, holding it back from merging with Marcus’s completely, broke, and I was inside him; I was a part of him.

  I could sense Apep’s fractured sheut, threaded through Marcus’s very soul. I could feel how incomplete it was, and could imagine—knew—how beautiful and wondrous it would be if it were whole again. And I could practically see the tether stretching between Marcus and Set, who was miles and miles away to the east. Suddenly, the way to return that sheut to its former glory was so obvious. So easy.

  I tugged on the thin tether of sheut, a mere thread connecting the portion that was in Marcus to the portion Set’s body contained. The latter resisted, and the tether groaned . . . stretched . . .

  Whatever it had been anchored to on Set’s end snapped, and in a rush, the remainder of Apep’s sheut funneled into Marcus, combining with the splinters already embedded in his ba and swelling to a glowing, pulsating mass of power.

  Gasping, I withdrew my ba from Marcus and stared into his stunned eyes—his glowing eyes, swirling with blues and greens and purples, just as mine did, only in every shade of red, orange, and yellow. Apep’s sheut was whole, and it was all inside Marcus.

  He was breathing hard, his features locked in a mask of shock. “Was that what I think it was?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  I nodded. “Apep’s sheut . . . you have it all, now.”

  When my feet were once again planted on the floor and we were both working on catching our breath, Marcus’s lips quirked, curving into a wicked little smile. “Then I guess the next few days will be quite busy as we do everything we can to restore ma’at . . .”

  I pulled my head back a few inches and eyed him. “You mean, start trying to conceive?”

  His little smile widened into an even more wicked grin. “I must admit that I am so looking forward to this arduous challenge . . .”

  “Oh, yeah, um . . .” I swallowed roughly and looked away. It was the first time we’d actually spoken about the whole “kids” thing. Wiggling out of his hold, I headed for my modern clothes. “You know,” I said, glancing back at him as he refastened his pants. He was watching me carefully. “I never told you about that—the ‘we can have kids’ thing—back then . . .”

  “I do recall,” he said. “It was an interesting piece of information to learn from your writings.”

  I pulled up my underwear. “Are you mad . . . I mean, that I didn’t tell you back then?”

  He hesitated, which terrified me, and then he frowned and shrugged. “I’m not mad. I don’t quite understand your reasoning, but I’m not mad.”

  Watching his face for any hint of what he was feeling, I slipped my bra on, reaching behind me to fasten the clasp. As far as I could tell, he was being honest. “So, um . . . how do you feel about it?” I rolled my eyes at how lame the question had sounded, then snuck another peek at Marcus.

  The corners of his mouth twitched and he raised his eyebrows. “How do I feel about the fact that us having children is even possible . . . that it’s the only way to prevent eternal, divine powers from killing us . . . or that our children might become beings even greater than Nejerets and be the only way to restore balance to the universe?”

  I looked down at my shorts as I zipped them up. “Um . . . the first one?”

  “Honestly, Little Ivanov . . .” Marcus tugged me into his arms before I had a chance to pull th
e tank top on over my head. “I have never”—he kissed me—“ever”—kiss—“been happier.” He finished with a toe-curling, breath-stealing, ba-caressing kiss that had me panting and jelly-muscled all over again.

  “Well . . .” I stepped out of his hold and put on the tank top, smoothing it down unnecessarily. I sent a longing glance at my discarded shift; I was going to miss dressing so comfortably. “That’s just . . . great.” I cleared my throat and felt my cheeks flush as I met his eyes. “Are you planning on doing that every time we kiss from now on?”

  A single eyebrow arched higher. “Are you getting tired of it already?”

  “No, I just—” My cheeks burned hotter, and I slipped my arms into the sleeves of the thin, button-down shirt. “I would just appreciate it if you could, er, restrain yourself whenever other people are around. I mean, I really have no problem climaxing every five minutes, if that’s your goal, but I’d rather not have it happen in front of, oh . . . I don’t know, my family . . .”

  Marcus laughed out loud, but sobered quickly. He pressed a hand to his heart. “I will try to show some restraint, but I must admit that I am quite fond of this idea of making you climax every five minutes.” He grinned mischievously. “Perhaps I shall set an alarm . . .”

  “I was kidding,” I said with a laugh.

  His eyes glinted with promise. “I wasn’t.”

  I gulped.

  “I believe there is one item lacking from your current attire . . .” Marcus reached behind his neck and worked the clasp of a thin silver chain that was hanging around his neck—not, I realized, the chain that held the bottle of bonding pheromones I’d made for him. He pulled a large pendant out from the neck of his shirt. It was an ancient lapis lazuli falcon, a symbol of the god Heru—of him—that he’d given me a week or so before I stepped back in time, when we were still in Florence.

  I turned around for him to secure the delicate chain around my neck and touched my fingers to the intensely blue pendant. “Thank you, Marcus.”

  He turned me back around and studied my face. “And what about you, Little Ivanov? How do you feel about the ‘we can have kids’ thing?” A tiny line appeared between his eyebrows. “I know you have said that having children is not something you had ever planned on doing, even before you learned you could not . . .”