Red Night ((Book 1) Timewalker Chronicles)

by Michele Callahan

  Her quick gasp was his only indication that she’d heard him.

  “I’m turning on the light now.”

  “Please don’t.” The words were more a resigned sigh than a request.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not ready to talk to you yet.”

  Too bad. He’d been ready to talk to her for sixteen years. With a decisive flick of his wrist, he flipped the light switch up. He blinked a couple times as his eyes adjusted to the shocking glow of the naked bulb in his antique glass table lamp. The broken lamp was lying on the hardwood floor, its faceted body in shatters. At least it still worked.

  The light coming up from the floor cast shadows in reverse on his angel’s face. But was she an angel, or a beautifully seductive demon? And what was she doing here?

  “Who are you and why are you in my house?”

  Her clear blue eyes held censure, and fear. The fear held him in check and kept him silent. She eased around the edge of the desk and stood in front of the lamp. Once again, the shadows swallowed her face. He resisted the need to reach out and touch her skin, to make sure she was real and not some twisted game his imagination was playing to torture him.

  Innocent but sassy. Sexy. Afraid. But of what?

  “M-6.” Her voice was a mere whisper of sound but it thundered through his mind, whirling and destroying his thoughts like a mental tornado.

  “How do you know about M-6?” No one knew. The project was classified. The first shiver of real dread raced up his spine. How could she know? He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her small frame directly in front of him. “Who are you?”

  She squirmed for a moment in protest and he loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. She wasn’t going anywhere until he had some answers. He couldn’t risk her disappearing act again. If she escaped now, he’d truly believe he’d gone crazy. Lusting after a figment of your imagination for years was bad enough. Believing he’d held her in his arms and then lost her would make him certifiable. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was not a woman he could ever touch and then forget.

  No, he intended to hang onto her for as long as he could. With a slow, measured breath he took the scent of her into his lungs. A mixture of roses and fresh rain. She smelled good. Too good. Exactly like his dreams. But this was no dream.

  “The bug gets out, Luke. You have to help me kill it.” She was staring him straight in the eye. In their depths he saw truth. And pity. The pity scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter Three

  The implications of her statement struck instantly, like a sledgehammer poised over his skull slamming home. This was a possibility everyone in the Hot Zone hypothesized, planned for, and prayed would never happen.

  “I’m responsible?” Her slight assent shook him to the core. He crushed her so tightly to his chest he could barely breathe and hoped he was having a nightmare.

  She didn’t struggle, just waited, in silence. For over half his lifetime he’d waited, imagined her warm body pressed against his countless times. Now he was so ice cold inside he didn’t think even she could warm him. He’d believed in her for years. His faith left plenty of room for him to have his own personal angel. But for what? To love him? To end his solitary existence?

  No. To tell him he was going to kill people with his research. “How many? How far will it go?”

  Small, delicate hands shoved at his chest as she pushed away to look up at him. “Everyone.”

  Beneath her, her legs buckled. But her weakness didn’t register. Holding her up, he demanded more answers. “Everyone? How many?”

  Her eyelashes dropped down to cover the truth in her eyes, the weakness. “Billions, Luke. Everybody. The whole world.”

  “No.” He shook her gently. “I don’t believe you.” Every brain cell he had was firing, thinking, plotting, theorizing about how what she said could come to be. His mind wouldn’t accept that any of this was happening. Gut instinct disagreed. The mass of twisting intestines roiling in his abdomen knew she was real. Knew she was telling him the truth. Knew, and didn’t have a damn clue what to do about it.

  “How do you know? How did you get in here?”

  Slurred words were her only answer and he really looked at her for the first time. Her pale skin was translucent. The delicate snaking of vessels on her eyelids was acutely visible. Her eyes were brilliant blue, and so bloodshot he wondered how she could see at all. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and if he hadn’t been holding onto her arms so tightly she would have fallen. “What’s wrong with you?”

  A wan smile served as her apology. “I need to eat.”

  Without another word, Luke carried her to the kitchen and settled her in a chair at his oak dining table. Praying she wouldn’t topple over, he broke out his gourmet cooking skills and warmed up a can of tomato soup. Tears welled in her eyes when he set it and some crackers in front of her. He looked away, stared up at the marbled green and brown paint covering the walls and willed her tears not to fall. Hysterical women were not his forte. Hell, he should be the one in hysterics. If she was telling him the truth, he was taking the news pretty well. It wasn’t every day a stranger told you that you were responsible for the end of the world.

  He stalked to his coffee pot. “Damn it.” Empty. Of course it was empty. It was after ten o’clock. He should be asleep, not wondering if this woman was real or a figment of his imagination. Warring parts of him were hoping for both.

  He tried to be patient. For years he’d loved this woman, had obsessed about her so much in college his roommates had thought he’d lost his mind. More than one girlfriend had dumped him because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Countless drawings of her face were upstairs. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to meet her on the beach, or at a party, or… Hell. Anywhere.

  “May I have something else?” Her voice sent warmth flowing back into his bloodstream.

  “Sure.” A little of her color was back. Good. Two microwave dinners, several sodas, a bag of chips, and two plums later she was finally done. When her knowing gaze settled on him once again, he almost wished she wasn’t.

  “Are you ready to hear the whole story?”

  What choice did he have? All those years ago the man in a white robe had told him this woman would be his. That he would have to save her. Luke was convinced one of God’s personal messengers had given him an assignment. He was equally sure he’d pay in hell if he failed. So would she.

  “Go ahead.” He sank down into the chair next to hers and hid his shaking hands under the table.

  “My name is Alexa Antwyr. I was sent…here.” Her eyes darted away from his face, then back again. “I was sent here to stop M-6 from escaping.”

  “Escaping what?”

  “Your lab.”

  “This hasn’t happened yet?”

  She shook her head and he knew his eyes were widening in shock. “You expect me to believe you’re from the future? Or some kind of prophet?”

  “Yes.”

  He was about to say more, but she interrupted.

  “In two days’ time, you, several people you work with, and a man named Matthew Kline are going to be exposed to M-6. Within four weeks of that exposure you are all dead.”

  Two days. The date of the annual fundraising dinner. A couple hundred people would be there from all over the country. “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Luke’s head was going to explode with the possibilities. “Just a handful of us would be easy to track and quarantine. How does it get to the rest of the world?”

  “The party, they think. It spread like the flu and started mutating on its own. Hopped on airplanes and flew all over the country and the rest of the world before any of you showed any symptoms. They speculated that you crossed it with some kind of flu virus because it’s airborne and hard to kill. Based on the three week incubation period, they decided May 9, was the day you were all first exposed.”

  “It’s airborne?” That was a
staggering realization. How many people could be exposed in twenty-one days? Twenty-one days when the carrier didn’t know he was sick, or show signs of infection…and a cough could kill. “That’s impossible.”

  “We don’t know how he did it, but Trent crossed your strain of M-6 with some unknown type of influenza. That’s their theory anyway.”

  “You’re from the future and all you have is a damn theory?” His head was threatening to pound off of his neck and this was all just speculation? If she didn’t look like a strong gust of wind would blow her over, he’d strangle her.

  “No. I…” Her blue eyes held such sadness, such truth, he could barely bring himself to look at her. “There was no one left to record…”

  “Stop.” Luke ran his hand through his hair and studied her face, looking for something, anything that would convince him she didn’t believe what she was telling him. He searched in vain. Nerves drove his fingertips to pound the tabletop. So, whoever sent Alexa to him thought Trent had mixed influenza with the Ebola mutation he’d been working with. Before today, he’d have laughed this woman out of his house. However, today Trent had laid out a plan eerily similar to what she was suggesting. Could Trent have gone in without his knowledge and started his pet project a little early? The hair rising on the back of his neck answered the question for him. “Okay. Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

  Long, warm fingers wrapped around his on the tabletop, stopped their awkward beat. As much as he wanted to be strong, he couldn’t pull away from the soft feminine touch. Her soft, confident voice whipped around, clearing the cobwebs of doubt, screaming inside his soul like a strong hot wind streaking through a canyon. “My name is Alexa Antwyr. I was sent back in time to stop the Red Death from wiping out this Earth.”

  “Red Death?”

  She squeezed his hand. “That’s what they called it after it got out.”

  The images her words brought to mind were horrifying. He’d seen Ebola outbreaks, worked for the CDC when they had a couple of outbreaks in Africa a few years ago. First time he’d been on the front lines and it wasn’t pretty. The whole planet? “Did you say ‘this Earth’?”

  Nodding, she pulled her hand from his and stood. “Can we go outside? I’m not used to being stuck inside all day.”

  Escape. That was fine with him. Maybe it would be easier to hear about how he’d destroyed the entire world outside, in the dark, where he couldn’t see her face. Luke led the way to his back porch swing, but didn’t turn on the light. Instead of joining him, Alexa paced along the edge of his porch, her head thrown back to inhale the various aromas floating in the humid night sky. Roses. His neighbor’s lilac bush. Fresh-cut grass and rhododendron blossoms. Her small delicate hands glided over the cedar porch railing and he wished like hell she was touching him that way. He wanted to run as far away from her as possible almost as much as he wanted her writhing naked beneath him. Not a good combination.

  Enough adrenaline pumped through his system he figured he could go run a marathon and not even get warmed up. Or make love to her all night. He shifted uncomfortably. “All right, angel. Tell me the rest.”

  Alexa didn’t answer him right away. She stared at him as if trying to come to some monumental decision.

  “What does that look mean?” Her hands ran up and down her arms, despite the warm damp air that held them in its unrelenting heat. Fireflies danced behind her in the yard like small fairies come to worship their queen. Their silent queen. Luke prided himself on his self-control and patience. She was pushing the limits of both. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I can’t decide whether or not to really trust you. Are you really going to help me destroy your life’s work? Are you going to be able to accept the truth?” Her words rang in challenge and he realized she didn’t truly believe he was going to help her. She didn’t trust him. She couldn’t know about all the nights he’d already spent with her in his mind. He knew a gift from heaven when he saw one. And he’d been waiting for her for one hell of a long time. The price tag attached to her appearance was getting steep, but not insurmountable. Yet. Already, he knew he was going to throw away his career to help her in her quest to save the world. And she was wondering if she could trust him? Women.

  “I think it’s pretty obvious we’ve both already made those decisions,” Luke said. She’d broken into his home, eaten in his kitchen, plagued him in dreams for sixteen years, and she was wondering if he was going to believe in her? He’d been marked for her, for God’s sake. He was going to do a whole hell of a lot more than that. For starters, he would see her naked in his bed, her body spread out before him like a pagan offering to the gods. He was going to worship at that altar all night. But first, there was the matter of saving a few lives.

  He closed the distance between them slowly, like a big cat stalking his prey. His hands wrapped around her upper arms and he pulled her as close as he could without adding fuel to the fire by allowing their bodies to touch. There was only so much a man could take. “Alexa, I’ve known you for sixteen years. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  A quiver ran through her body and into his where he held her. He wondered for a moment if it was fear of him that caused it. Then he saw her pupils dilate with desire. Her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip. He’d wanted her in his dreams for so long that this felt like the thousandth time he’d touched her, not the first. Memories built into a tidal wave that carried him over the edge of control. He could no more resist those lips than force himself to stop dreaming of her. Luckily, the reality of her in his arms was so much better than his dreams.

  He closed the distance between them. Slow. Deliberate. Her lips were millimeters from his own, still he waited. Savored the contact. Enjoyed the soft push of her full breasts against his chest. The moist heat of their mouths mingled in the air between them.

  “Luke?” She whispered his name against his lips.

  “Yes.” The soft skin of her arms enticed his palms. He brushed the sensitive curves of her breasts through the thin white shirt as he slid his hands down her arms to settle on her hips. Heaven. She was pure heaven.

  “I’m supposed to kill you.”

  He smiled and pulled her hips against his erection. That might kill him. “Can it wait?”

  The smile was her undoing. It pulsed through the hot air that hovered between their mouths, wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Killing Luke Lawson was definitely out.

  Rock hard chest muscles were hot beneath her wandering hands. Before wrapping her arms around his neck, she massaged every ounce of flesh. She buried her hands in the silky waves of his hair, exposing her body, inviting his touch to wander up from her hips to her breasts. Still he didn’t close the distance between their mouths. She ached. Waited. Realized he was building the tension between them purposely. Her blood pounded in a wicked beat everywhere, throbbing. Especially between her legs, where she wanted him most.

  “Kiss me.” She didn’t recognize the breathless need in her own voice.

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Relief coursed through her until his hot mouth took possession of hers. Then she was on fire. Her world narrowed to him. His lips. The unforgiving muscles of his chest pressed against her hard nipples. He splayed his hands and slid them up and down her hips, so agonizingly close to where she wanted him to be, to touch. He invaded her mouth with his tongue, glided in and out, surrounded her with heat. The taste of him drove every sane thought from her head. A driving need to taste him forced her tongue to dart into his mouth to explore. To stake a claim.

  A trail of fire burned over her where his hands slid around to cup her buttocks. He lifted her slightly, rubbing her against his arousal. She thought she would die with sweet pain. Her body wanted, needed him inside of her, filling her. Inner muscles pulsed to life, throbbed in desperate invitation. She arched back against the porch railing, forcing her body more firmly against his.

  Hot lips traced her pulse down her neck. He nibbled at her s
houlder and torturous pulses of shock rippled through her, to her very core. She was going into meltdown. “Luke.”

  His only answer was to lift her higher, until her nipple hung suspended in front of the searing heat of his mouth. Unable to resist, she pulled him to her. A soft moan escaped her lips when he softly bit the peak through her thin cotton shirt. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his body her only anchor in a hurricane of sensations more intense than anything she’d ever experienced.

  One of his hands moved to her waist, then up beneath her shirt. Sweet torture glided over her flesh as his hands teased, grazed her skin with the lightest touch, and finally pushed the offending fabric to bunch at her shoulders. Exposed, her nipple was peaked and hard, begging for more. His tongue found her first, flicked. Then he closed his mouth around the mound, sucked until she moaned his name.

  Her entire body tuned to the accelerated beat of her heart. Throbbing with need. Burning through her skin where the mark of her calling was now blazing with a life of its own. With his tongue, he found the heated birthmark on her breast and traced the hot design, searing the symbol into her consciousness. Branding her as his forever.

  Her birthmark. Her heritage. Her destiny.

  “Stop.” It was going to kill her, and probably him too, but they couldn’t do this. Not yet. Every lecture she’d ever had from her mother had touched on this subject. Her mother must have known what it would be like for her, once she met Luke. Memories of heated gazes that constantly passed between her mother and father jumped to the fore. Judging by her parent’s relationship, this thing between them wasn’t ever going to cool down. But they had work to do first. She wasn’t going to fail because this man drove every drop of blood from her head to other parts of her body.

  “Luke, I’m sorry.” Gathering every ounce of self-control she’d ever had, she unwrapped her legs from his waist and slid back down the hard length of him to stand on the porch. Still exposed, her nipple slid along his chest on the way down, and she gritted her teeth at the bittersweet agony. “We have to stop.”