Kiss Across Chains (Kiss Across Time Series)

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Veris nodded. “You remember what you will tell your husband to explain the morning away? And how to deal with the guards and slaves that return from the markets?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you should have no further trouble from this incident. I wish you the best, my lady.”

  Metrodora went inside and a slave closed the door behind her.

  Taylor turned to Veris.

  He shook his head, a tiny movement. “You must remain Ariadne out in public. Wait until we’re behind walls.”

  She pushed back her frustration and impatience. “Very well. Where?”

  “My house.”

  “Your house?”

  Veris grinned.

  * * * * *

  Veris’ house was in the merchant’s district, close to the wharves and the Golden Horn, but it was located at the far western edge of the district—closer to the Palace and Hippodrome than the sea. St. Sophia’s dome would cast its shadow over the house in the late afternoon.

  It was a medium-sized building, neat and orderly, with an internal garden patio like the older Roman houses once had.

  The house looked, smelled and sounded empty. Taylor looked around as Veris shut and barred the front door behind them, peering through the arches at the somewhat overgrown vegetation she could glimpse in the cavedium.

  “No slaves? Are you alone here?” she asked.

  “Not quite. Rafe is running some errands.”

  “Rafe?”

  “I’ll explain Rafe later.” He moved out of the foyer and Taylor followed him into the next room. It was a triclinium…a dining room. Divans and wide low tables sat on beautiful carpets and the walls were painted and decorated but there was not much else in the room. No cushions or clothes, no artwork, nothing to soften or comfort or ease. Taylor realized with a start that she had got used to the gilded Byzantine standard of living and was comparing an empty room against that benchmark.

  Veris turned to face her, unbuckling the sword belt from around his waist. “What do you need? Food? Water?” He dropped the sword onto the table next to him.

  Taylor threw herself at him. She had been damning back all her reactions, trying to avoid even thinking about the miracle of Veris’ presence here in Constantinople, for the entire time they had been travelling the city streets. But still it had bubbled up inside her as an effervescence, a joyous love-for-life that had put bounce in her step and a certainty that all was right in the world.

  She just wanted to touch him once more, to assure herself that yes, he was real. He was here. She wanted to reacquaint herself with how Veris felt and tasted and fitted against her body.

  So she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  His lips were so familiar it made her heart ache. The little movement of his mouth to ensure his canines didn’t tear her flesh open was as dear to her as his sigh as he pulled her up against him.

  “Veris, I don’t know how you got here so fast—”

  “I’m only glad I did. Gods, Taylor….” His hand on the back of her hand clutched a little tighter as he lifted his head so he could look her in the eyes. “I was on the far side of the square when he leapt at you. I watched you fight him off with that little knife of yours. If I was able to throw up, I would have.”

  “But that was only second before…Veris, did you use vampire speed? In front of humans?”

  “I don’t think they noticed.” He shrugged. “I don’t give a damn, anyway.” He ran his fingertip down her cheek. “Not when it comes to a choice between saving you and revealing myself to a few humans.” He unfastened the clip holding her veil in place and it slithered to the ground around her ankles. “That’s better.” He rapidly unclipped and loosened her hair until it was free and unfettered. “Better still.”

  Her heart picked up speed. Taylor let her hands slide away from Veris’ shoulders. “You like?” She turned around, so he could see the full effect of her hip-length hair, which Kale had curled and combed that morning.

  “I like,” he agreed, his voice deeper.

  Taylor unpinned her brightly colored mantle and tossed it on top of her veil. It left her wearing the long tunic with its complicated pleats, held together by a belt and the two elaborate pins at the shoulder.

  Veris untied the belt and let it drop onto the pile of jewel-colored cloth at her feet. Then he slid his hand inside the opening of her tunic to cup her bare ass. He drew in an unsteady breath. “Naked underneath. I knew you would be.” His fingers stroked her ass cheek. “I have been thinking of this moment.”

  “Of stroking my ass?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  He moved fast. Blindingly fast. Vampire speed.

  Taylor felt tugs at her shoulders. The pins were removed and her tunic was plucked from her like a small gale was pulled at the fabric. Then she was pushed up roughly against the painted and frescoed wall. She was naked except for her sandals, which wrapped around her ankles.

  Veris wasn’t moving at full vampire speed. She could still follow most of his movements, but it was like watching a movie in fast forward, without the blurred images or jerky movements. He shrugged off his dalmatic, then the tunic beneath. Just like her, he wore none of the contemporary underwear. He emerged naked and paused long enough to kick off his boots.

  His cock was erect, thick and dark with blood.

  He picked her up, his hands about her waist. For Veris, vampire or not, it barely taxed his strength.

  He pushed his cock inside her with a single thrust. Taylor was slick and primed for him. She had been since she had seen him, but having him inside her was intensely satisfying.

  Taylor sighed as he slid home and wrapped her legs around his hips.

  Veris leaned against the wall, his eyes inches from hers. “Remember this?” he asked, his voice a low growl, deep with arousal. He was using Old Norse.

  “Our first time…the first time we met. The first time we jumped.” She smiled. “I was terrified.”

  He thrust into her. “I was already half in love.”

  Her heart jumped. “You had just met me.”

  He slid his tongue up the length of her throat, over her chin, to finish with a kiss, as he made love to her. “I just knew. So did Brody.”

  She clung to him, her climax building. “So did I, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

  Then there were no more words, just the mutual reach for pleasure. Taylor let go of any external concerns and relaxed, knowing she was safe, completely invulnerable while she was in Veris’ arms.

  Her climax was powerful enough to make her scream, her fingers digging into the paint.

  Veris didn’t wait for her to recover. He picked her up and laid her on the divan, on her stomach and spread her legs just enough to give his fingers access to her pussy. He plunged his fingers inside, making her moan and squirm.

  Then he trailed them up to her ass, separating her cheeks and pressing his slick fingers against the rim of muscle. He was prepping her and she found she was pressing against him, her hips lifting, welcoming him.

  Veris spread her own lubricant around and inside her, working it inside with his fingers, and Taylor was panting by the time he pressed the end of his cock up against her. She was more than ready to receive him into her.

  He planted one fist on the divan by her head, his biceps flexing hard. The other hand curled over her hip, steadying her, as he pushed slowly into her.

  Taylor let out her breath. This was another sort of possession, one she had missed. She knew what Veris was doing. He was taking her every way he knew how. It was an instinctive need in him to renew his claim on her and while the modern woman in her could only smile, there was a more ancient part of her that answered the claim with a growl of arousal.

  She closed her eyes, letting him take her as hard as he wanted to. It was good. It was great. When his hand slid further around under her hip to reach for her clit and stroke, she moaned and shuddered her way into another climax as Veris thrust in shortened strokes, his own o
rgasm blooming. He groaned deeply and Taylor could feel him leaning over her, straining. It intensified her own sensations and she clutched at the edges of the divan, her body zinging and throbbing.

  Veris picked her up again and lay on the divan with her. He was breathing hard. He tucked her up against him and lifted her chin up so he could kiss her.

  “I missed kissing you,” he said, his voice low.

  “Just kissing me?”

  He grinned. “Oh, making you squirm as I fuck you is always a delight, but kissing you I will never tire of.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Tell me about Brody,” he said softly. “I saw him taken to your house last night. I know you’ve seen him.”

  She jumped. “How long have you been in the city?”

  “Just over a day. I had to learn the lay of things here and find out where you were before I could make any useful moves.”

  “And buy a house, too.” She looked around the room. “How did you get here so fast, Veris? Brody said you would take weeks. Months.” She swallowed against the need to cry once more at the miracle of his early arrival. “How did you manage it?”

  Veris touched his lips to her cheek. “That was easy. I wasn’t in Britain. I was in Pergamum. That’s Southern Turkey in modern terms.” His face shadowed over. “But I nearly didn’t make it, anyway. Three nights ago I was caught in a storm on the Marmara Sea.”

  “What happened?”

  His gaze shifted inwards. “Blood fever,” he murmured. “I thought I was too old to be caught out like that anymore. Such arrogance….”

  * * * * *

  Reshef was screaming more orders. Veris turned away from Rafael’s puzzled expression and pushed himself into movement. Human movement. He worked his way up the deck and planted himself in front of Reshef. “You cannot turn this ship around,” he said. “We have an agreement.”

  “I have only one sail now. I am the captain,” Reshef declared. “You will kill us all with this mad insistence on reaching Constantinople. We will put into land, the nearest land we can find, until this blows over.”

  Veris lifted his arm, pointing toward the full, straining mainsail. His arm felt heavy and hard to lift. “We’re already running ahead of the wind. If you try to turn in any other direction but this one, you’ll risk losing the one sail you have left. You’re better to keep running ahead and ride it out.”

  Reshef shook his head mulishly. “Your gold coin will be no use to anyone at the bottom of the sea, Northman. I would rather live to spend it.”

  “You will,” Veris assured him. “I’ve sailed bigger seas than this with a smaller sail. You have to trust me.”

  Reshef shook his head again and called out an order. Veris couldn’t translate it. The wind seemed to be too loud and Reshef’s words were all snatched and gone before he could hear them.

  A heavy hand came down on Veris’ shoulder and he understood that Reshef had decided to rid himself of a troublesome passenger, after all. He stared at the Phoenician, trying to will the little man to understand. To trust him.

  Heat and noise swamped Veris, blasting him with an almost impossible summons. He groaned.

  “Master!” The tug on his shoulder spun him around and Veris realized he had weakened to the point where a puny human could manipulate him with ease.

  Rafael grabbed both his shoulders and shook him. “Come with me!” he shouted over the sound of the wind and waves.

  Veris moved his head from side to side. No. If he went with Rafael, he knew what would happen. Instead he bent over, clutching at his chest. It was coming, the imperious command he would not be able to ignore. “Go away!” he shouted, but it came out of him as a wheezy whisper, snatched away by the wind.

  Rafael was tall. Tall enough to push his arm under Veris’ while he was bent over and haul him across the slippery deck, back to where the cargo was strapped down and the other passengers clung to the railings and each other in white-faced fear.

  Rafael pulled them both into a protected corner, tucked in behind the bulk of Veris’ possessions. Veris was so weak he couldn’t protest. But fear loomed large in his mind, as did the animal.

  Rafael shook him again. “What do you need?” he asked, lifting his voice just enough to be heard. “Tell me!”

  Veris was too far gone to prevaricate. The animal, the hunter he could not put aside, was coming. He could feel the pressure building. “Blood,” he croaked.

  Rafael stared at him. “Blood,” he repeated.

  “Human blood,” Veris added. “And now.”

  Rafael looked around the ship, at the sharply sloping deck and the crew heaving on the sails, then back at Veris. He swallowed. “Can you use mine?”

  Veris clenched his fist. Hard. “Anyone’s. Anyone…human.” His whole body was throbbing with the effort to keep the animal at bay. It was thrusting at his mind and body, trying to get out.

  Rafael’s eyes were large. But he wasn’t backing away. He even seemed calm. He nodded. “I owe you the price of my freedom, my…Veris. Use my blood.”

  Veris didn’t have time to argue. He drew Rafael to him. “This might hurt,” he croaked, knowing he didn’t have the energy or finesse to be gentle.

  He took the bite.

  * * * * *

  Strength and sanity returned within minutes. So did his normal vampire senses. Veris sealed over the wound on Rafael’s neck, healing it for him, and propped him up in the corner of the deck to recover. “You’ll be weak for a while,” he warned. “But I only took enough to get me through until we land. Eat the food you put aside, it’ll help.”

  Rafael nodded, although his eyes had a glassy expression that Veris recognized via his medical training. Clinical shock. Well, food and water would help with that, too.

  “I’m going to go reason with Rashef once more,” he told Rafael. “We have to keep going. Turning against the face of this gale is suicide.”

  Once more, Rafael simply nodded.

  Veris was too pressed for time to linger in worry over Rafael. He would have to deal with him later. He found the food Rafael had put aside for him and placed it by the younger man’s side. “Eat,” he coaxed. “You’ll feel better, I promise.”

  Then he climbed the slope of the heaving deck, working his way along the rails, looking for Reshef.

  The storm hadn’t abated an iota. The wind actually seemed stronger. The storm was rising to its peak. Reshef would naturally worry that they wouldn’t last the night, but they only had to survive the next hour or so and then the storm would diminish. Veris had seen far too many storms at sea and knew the pattern well.

  He was still looking for Reshef when he heard the sharp, unmistakable crack of timbers, high overhead. He looked up.

  The right yardarm of the main sail had given out under the strain and now it was folding in on itself, the sail sagging.

  They were losing forward momentum. The ship was starting to turn into the face of the oncoming waves.

  Veris moved as fast as he could, heading for the main mast. “Give me rope!” he shouted, pulling out his knife.

  Reshef appeared abruptly, almost magically, in front of him. “No man can climb that mast in this wind and rain. It is over!”

  “Give me the damned rope, Reshef! Do you want to die?”

  “We all die, sooner or later.” He shrugged.

  Veris closed his eyes, searching mentally for options. A modified version of the truth had unexpectedly worked with Rafael. Perhaps it would again, and there were no other options—time was pressing on them all…. “There is a man and a woman in New Rome I must reach,” he told Reshef. “One of them is about to die. I want to take the other one away before that happens.”

  “You can’t stop them dying?” Reshef asked curiously. “You?”

  Veris sighed. This was a slippery slope he was on, just like the deck he stood upon. “I would stop it to spare the pain it will cause, but the effects of stopping one death will be disaster and death to others I love.”

  Reshef laughed in di
sbelief. “You love people? You are a warrior.”

  “That’s why wars are fought, Reshef. Men fight to protect those they love. They hide it with a lot of words about country and honor, but when they’re gripping their sword and looking the enemy in the eye, they’re thinking about their wife and their children and the warmth of their bed that they want to go home to.” He shrugged. “We all have people we love waiting for us to reach safety tomorrow. I can get us there. Give me the rope, Reshef.”

  Reshef considered him. Then he waved.

  A coil of rope was dropped over Veris’ head. He threaded an arm through it, so it settled over his shoulder and nodded at Reshef. “Get ready to haul on the main braces as soon as I get it fixed. You’re going to have to run with a shortened sail.”

  “If we run with any sail at all, it will be a miracle,” Reshef replied. “Good luck.”

  Veris clamped the knife between his teeth and began to climb. He was already soaked through to the skin, so the driving wind and rain were just inconveniences that made the climb slightly more difficult. He edged out to where the yardarm was broken and got to work, lashing the broken ends together with the rope. It was a rough-as-guts jury-rigged job, but it gave the sail a horizontal and solid frame once more. Even before he had finished the first few winds of the rope the sail filled out, yanking on the yardarm and nearly ripping it out of the grip he had on it with his thighs.

  Below on the deck, he faintly heard cries from the crew as they hauled on the braces, bringing the sail in tight and back under control. The ship shuddered and started to move again, running under the wind. Reshef was a smart captain.

  Veris used the full length of the rope to make sure the yardarm would stay in place. Then he worked at the knots, tightening and hauling on them. The last thing he wanted was for them to unravel. The rain would help keep them tight, too.

  Satisfied that his work was sound, he backed down the mast. Once he was on the deck again, he put his knife away.