She smiled at him, but shook her head. “I’m not ready for that yet. I’m sorry.”
He lowered his hand and studied her. “You were in love with the idea of Ajax?”
She saw no reason to lie, when he’d already figured her out. “Unfortunately. Since I was about four years old. But honestly, right this minute, I just want to punch him in the nose.”
Nicodemus looked up briefly, and a grin played out over his lips. “You say Ajax went to collect his Marked Mate and bring her here?”
“I assume so. I doubt he’d leave her behind. You all seem a bit overprotective and territorial to me.” Except when it came to her, of course. Ajax had no trouble at all leaving her behind.
“Well then, though I will deeply mourn the loss of our star-crossed love, I am happy to help you get a little revenge.”
“What?” He looked like a mischievous five-year-old.
“He broke your heart?”
“Yes.”
“Would you embrace an opportunity to teach him a lesson?”
He wasn’t making sense. At all. But Ajax was an idiot. She’d Marked him, felt the burn all the way to her toes, and he’d given it back. Refused her claim. Shattered decades of dreams in an instant and left her behind to chase after another woman. It was petty and small, but she wanted to hurt him, wanted him to regret his choice, at least a little.
“Yes, but how?”
“He is watching us. Kiss me. Now.” Nicodemus lowered his face to hers and stepped in close. The heat of his body wrapped around her and his hands framed her face. She nodded, the smallest movement of her head, and he kissed her. Kissed her with fire and regret, kissed her like she was the only woman in the world.
Kissed her like he wanted to keep her for himself.
<><><>
Ajax paced in the sand near where Bran sat in a chair and tried to ignore the byplay going on farther up the beach.
Nicodemus was walking with Emma. Talking to her. Holding out his hand.
Mine.
He told the stupid voice in his head to be silent. He couldn’t claim Emma. If Angeline had been right about anything, she’d been right about that. The Triscani couldn’t turn his Queen to ash if he didn’t have one.
Nicodemus and Emma were facing each other now. What were they talking about? As much as he strained his hearing, they were just beyond reach.
“I told you, snooze you lose.”
He wanted to punch Bran in the face. Where had he heard such a ridiculous expression? These humans and their odd way of speaking were driving him mad. “She will not offer her Mark to the Darkwalker.”
“She might. You didn’t want it.”
Then Nicodemus placed his hands on Emma’s face, lowered his head.
Kissed her.
“Nicodemus!” His roar could have been heard for miles.
He watched, fuming, as the Darkwalker lifted his head and whispered something in Emma’s ear. She wrapped her hand around his wrist as he held her head still. Did she touch the male to keep him at a distance, or to hold him to her?
Had Nicodemus felt the fire of her touch? Did he now carry Emma’s Mark? Or had she denied him?
Gods be damned. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it.
Nicodemus took his sweet time escorting Emma back to the fire, where he held a chair for her and stood behind her like her private guardian angel. He had no answers to the question of Nicodemus carrying her Mark. The Darkwalker’s boots denied him even the smallest clue.
Ajax wanted to scream, but didn’t have the luxury. The music was off and every face was serious. And they were looking to him.
“We have less than forty-eight hours until the new moon rises.”
Aron interrupted. “Forty-six hours, three minutes and seventeen seconds, as of now.” Zoey grinned and silently mouthed the word “superpower” to her male.
Raiden sat in a chair with his Marked Mate, Mari, leaning against his legs where she sat in the sand. “That matches what Mari found in the cave, give or take a couple hours. I’d have to do that math.”
“Don’t bother. Aron’s never wrong.” Zoey shrugged.
“From what all of you have told me, the goddess plans to open the Gates and force all of the Triscani out of their false kingdom, into this one. And it’s up to us to find a way to capture and ash every single one of them.”
“There will be thousands.” Katherine shuddered. “They’re all over, over there. In the dark. Too many for me to count. But maybe Robbie can take them. Just line them up and suck them dry like the goddess did in Colorado.”
Nicodemus spoke from his place of honor behind Emma’s chair, his hand resting along its top, near her shoulder. Ajax had to look away so he could hear the male’s words.
“That will only work if Robert is here. And he is not. We will be a small force, a handful of males, against an army of Hunters. And they will not come alone.
“Nor will they stand idly by and allow us to turn them to ash. They’ll come with swords and claws. Outnumber us several hundred to one. And that is just the Hunters. If they are forced out of their realm, the younger males will arrive also, those who have turned, and those who have not. What would you have us do with them? The younger sons who have not yet tasted the dark gift? Would you ask us to kill them as well? Boys. Five years old? Ten? At what age does murdering our own become acceptable?”
“When I command it.”
“No.” Nicodemus shook his head. “We will track the Hunters if they roam Earth’s plane and destroy them, every single one of them. But I will not ask my men to stand in front of an army and die for a King’s pride.”
“You will, if that is what I ask of you.”
“We serve because Katherine requested it of us, because the goddess honored us. We will honor and defend her to our dying breaths.” Nicodemus rose to his full height and snarled his last words. “But you are less than nothing to me.”
“I am your King.”
“You are ash under my boots.” Nicodemus turned and walked away, all four of the other Darkwalkers with him. They summoned a portal and were gone.
Chapter Seven
Early-morning light filtered into the bright kitchen and Emma did the one thing she knew would prevent her from pulling every single strand of hair out of her head.
She made breakfast.
Aron and Zoey were staying at Mari’s house, Bran had vanished back to his spaceship, which left her hosts, Katherine and Teagh, and the other one here to eat breakfast.
She refused to even think his name.
Instead she entertained the idea of kissing Nicodemus again. It hadn’t rocked her world, but it hadn’t been bad either. The boy knew how to kiss. And he was gorgeous, sex on a stick. Katherine hadn’t lied about that. It wasn’t his fault she just wasn’t into him.
But maybe she could be. He was sexy and had no problem telling that other male to go to hell. Maybe if she got out of this house, went to stay with Mari for a while, or, even better, left completely, she’d start to feel like she could function again.
One more day. Then this Crux would be over and she could vanish into the woodwork. Go start a new life in Hawaii or Paris. Leave her former destiny and duty far behind her and start her life. A real life.
Alone in the well-stocked kitchen, she decided to make cinnamon crepes and poached eggs.
“Jumper still broken?”
Emma startled at the softly spoken question and swung around with the frying pan in her hand, ready to attack.
An Immortal female stood before her, and from the long hours of Bran’s description, she recognized the Seer, Celestina. Long blonde hair like liquid sunshine, eyes like blue ice, about the same height as Emma, who’d crowed in celebration when she’d broken five foot two. And, true to Bran’s word, she was dressed in blue. Not a dress, but dark blue jeans, a powder-blue sweater and blue leather boots bright enough to make the sky jealous. It was weird. And kind of adorable for a two-thousand-year-old Immortal.
>
“You’re Celestina.”
“Yes.” The petite Immortal looked into the bowl where Emma had been mixing the batter for her crepes. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Crepes.”
“Yum.” She poked at the batter then looked back up at Emma. “But not why I’m here. Your jumper still broken?”
“Yes. But how did you know about that?” Emma hadn’t told anyone, not even Bran. If he knew that she couldn’t just pop herself out of trouble, he’d never let her out of his sight.
“Because I had to borrow it.” Emma felt her eyes round, but Celestina held up her finger in front of her lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone. It has to be our secret. I needed it. But now it’s time for you to have it back so Droghan doesn’t cut off your head.”
Beheading. She’d have to agree with the Seer on that one. That didn’t sound good. “But how did you steal it in the first place?”
“I asked, and you gave it to me.” Celestina winked at her. “And then we anchored your jumping power to a soul stone.”
“I knew it!” Emma raised her voice, then hurriedly brought herself under control. “Where is it? How do I get it back?”
“Loverboy has it. Probably in his pocket.”
“Ajax?”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said loverboy.”
“Isn’t that what he is?”
God. It was like arguing with a four-year-old. “How do I get my jumper back?”
“Hold the stone in your hand and blood it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. It was created by you, by your blood and your intention, so your intention will also destroy it.”
“I didn’t…”
“Yes. You did. Just not yet…” Celestina backed away and put her hand to her lips. “Shhh. Don’t tell anyone. But don’t take it back until you absolutely have to. Preferably not until your head’s about to roll. Please. I still have a few things that I really need to do but I had to tell you now, in case I don’t come back.”
With that, the Seer vanished into thin air. No portal. No poof. Nothing. Just gone. Emma had always wondered what it looked like when she jumped.
Cool.
Didn’t matter if Emma wanted to ask more questions. She gave up that idea and just grinned. She could want all day, the Seer was gone.
And as soon as she got that soul stone from Ajax, for the first time in her life, she’d be free. She’d have her jumper fixed, Ajax could go be with his Queen, and Emma would be free to go live her own life. No duty. No prophecy. No smoking hot Immortal King to lust after.
It was going to be a great day.
<><><>
After Nicodemus and the other Darkwalkers left in their dramatic show of defiance and complete lack of respect, Ajax and the others had decided that they didn’t have much in the way of options. The goddess was determined to open the Gate, and Droghan was trying to stop her.
That was all they knew. They had no idea where this great battle would happen. There were too many new variables, too many unknowns.
Last time this great battle had happened, Robbie and the Darkwalkers hadn’t existed, Aron had been imprisoned by the Triscani, Raiden had been on another planet, Ajax and Angeline had been Marked Mates on Itara, and Emma…
None of them had any idea what to think about Emma.
Bran claimed that Emma was destined to be a powerful Queen, but refused to reveal his source of information. He also told the group about dozens of missions where he and the other Archivers had sent Timewalkers to divert Droghan’s attempts at genocide of the entire human race. The Archiver was convinced that Droghan knew about Emma’s existence and her destiny, and had been trying for centuries to eradicate her line.
Ajax didn’t know what to think, or hope for. Bran and Teagh were both close to Ajax in age, but where he’d spent centuries locked away, they’d been living and learning and coping with the world. He had to trust them, and their judgment.
The only similarity between this battle and the last one was Bran and Celestina on board their ship with the rest of the Archivers. And if things went bad, Bran assured him that they’d jump back in time and do the whole damn thing again.
Except this time, Teagh would not be with them. He refused to leave Katherine behind and had chosen to remain on Earth. Not that he could blame Teagh. If he had a Marked Mate, he’d make the same decision.
But, he did not. Emma was not his to claim. The goddess herself denied him. He had no direct link to the goddess, and no soul stone to protect him from Triscani evil. No Mate. No throne. No gods damn clue what to do about any of it. He felt like he was unraveling at the edges and the only one who could hold him together was beyond his reach. Maybe forever.
A male did not refuse a Timewalker’s Mark. Ever. Not if he had a single functioning cell inside his head. Which, apparently, he did not. The Mark was the sign of a direct blessing by the goddess, of power and divine destiny.
But Emma was human, and he needed an Itaran Queen. An Immortal. A female from a high-ranking lineage to help him reclaim his throne. He had a duty to his people. The prophecy guaranteed his seat on the throne, but not the respect or adoration of his people.
He wanted Emma. He wanted her kiss and her fire, her passion and her surrender. But to claim her would do the little human a huge disservice. She’d be hated and hunted on his home world, and he had to return and assume the throne. He couldn’t doom her to that existence. He couldn’t court her love knowing he would deliver her to a life of political intrigue and resentment. She’d be happy in his bed, and miserable out of it. It was no life for the blue-eyed beauty.
Everything Ajax thought he knew was slipping from his fingers. He did not feel like a King. He felt like an imposter. The Darkwalkers refused to obey him, the Itarans didn’t know he existed, the one woman he’d ever claimed as his own no longer appealed to him, and the one he ached to touch he couldn’t claim.
As he’d heard Zoey whisper to Aron last night, the entire situation was “Fubarred”. Which, he’d discovered, meant “fucked up beyond all recognition.”
He had to agree.
Emma had been eyeing him for hours as he walked the beach. Not with idle curiosity or desire in her eyes. She was stalking him like a cat hunted a mouse. Like she would play with him before she killed him.
Or slap him if he tried to kiss her. He knew that keeping his distance was the best way to protect her, but seeing her in Nicodemus’s arms had broken something inside of him, something that refused to be returned to rights.
Ajax had never been jealous of another living soul, not once. He been born with royal blood and even though he had lost his mother and his siblings at fourteen, he had been whisked away to Itara, given palaces and servants and power. He’d had a beautiful bride and beautiful things on both worlds, homes on both worlds, riches and good food and laughter.
And now? Now he was dirty, and broken, and alone. And who did he have to blame? Only himself.
Ajax had left the house hours before. He’d watch the sun rise over the water and tried to meditate, or pray, or beg the goddess for help and an explanation.
Her answer was silence. And then he saw Emma watching him from the patio, creeping closer every few minutes as if she worked up her courage to come speak to him. She had saved his life, more than that, saved his soul. He would give her anything she asked for, if it was his to give. Unfortunately, his future had been set long ago. His life was not his own. He belonged to the throne on Itara.
He had instructed Bran to bring him a warrior’s clothing, and so when he stood he felt more like himself. The false trappings of Teagh’s clothing and humanity were gone, and instead, this Itaran soldier’s uniform would serve as a reminder of what was to come. Without them, it was too easy to get lost, too easy to forget his duty and begin to dream.
“Emma, why do you stock me like a jungle cat?”
She quit pretending to study the palm trees and turned to him, closed the dista
nce until she stood staring up at him on the path. Her auburn hair was pulled back behind her head in a braid and she’d abandoned the skirt she’d worn last night in favor of indecently small white shorts and a dark green T-shirt that didn’t hide the ties of a swim suit that teased him from the back of her neck.
He’d seen the tiny scrap of material Teagh’s Mate wore to swim, an item she called a bikini. He wondered if that would be Emma’s choice as well, how her petite curves would look, not in the red of Katherine’s bikini, but brown, like chocolate on her skin.
She was no longer barefoot, and he regretted seeing her feet covered in pale sandals.
He’d wanted to walk barefoot on the beach with her, as Nicodemus had done. In fact, he’d tried to invent an excuse to walk with her all morning, and come up empty handed.
“Katherine took you shopping?”
“Yes.” She blushed and he wondered what he’d said to embarrass her. “It’s nice to have clothes that actually fit. I’m too short for Katherine’s stuff.”
“You are perfect. Her clothing is too long for you.”
Her cheeks pinked. Perhaps she wasn’t yet in love with Nicodemus.
“Thank you. I think.” She lifted one dainty hand to rub the side of her neck and looked up at him, bit her lip. “I need to ask you for something. Actually, I need you to do three things for me.”
“Ask.”
“Okay.” She lowered her hand from her neck and squared her shoulders. “I need you to keep this conversation a secret.”
“Done.”
She smiled. “I need you to give me the soul stone you’ve been carrying around in your pocket.”
The slight grin he’d felt spring to life by her approach died a painful and immediate death. “Why did you not ask me about the soul stone before?”
“Because I just found out that you had it this morning.”
“I would be happy to give you the stone, Emma, if I could. But I no longer have it.”
“What do you mean, you no longer have it? What did you do with it?” She stood in the sand, unmoving, as white flames sprung up to dance on the skin of her feet and sandals. By the gods, she was furious. “Where is it?”
White Fire: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 5 Page 7