Time Rider (Rise of the Skipworths)

by Mallory Kane

  His shoulder had an angry, charred furrow, his chest covered with scratches and scrapes. His chest above the bandages were a watercolor in blues and yellows and greens, the old bruises bleeding into the new ones. She touched his ridged belly and felt his muscles contract.

  "You're so hurt," she whispered, longing, despite her sadness, to stretch herself against his whole length, longing to feel his naked chest against her breasts, feel his hardness against her softness, his skin against hers. She shivered a little.

  When she brought her gaze back to his face, he was still frowning. He touched her cheek with one callused finger. When he did, her head moved toward his touch and he made a rumbling sound deep in his throat, then wrapped his fingers around her neck and pulled her to him.

  His hand caressed her nape as his mouth touched hers. The touch was electrifying, sending waves of desire through her—not just her desire, but his too.

  He did still desire her. He still wanted her with a fierceness that awed her. A fierceness that overlay the pain, the sadness, even the grief. His mouth opened and she opened hers beneath it. As his kiss deepened and her senses swirled faster, he began to move his hand from her neck down to trace her collarbone, then lower, to caress her breast beneath the soft cotton of the I.

  He pushed her onto her back and slid his hands under the shirt. Kristen's stomach contracted as his fingers trailed across her skin. She raised her arms and let him strip the shirt off her just as he was stripping her emotions raw with his kisses. He found and loosened the string that held Skipper's swim trunks on and pushed them down, cupping her buttocks in his hands and pulling her close to him, until his erection throbbed against her.

  She couldn't stand not seeing him, so she pushed on the elastic of the shorts he wore, hooking her thumbs in it and pushing them down. He kicked them off with a grunt, leaving nothing between them.

  Nothing at all, except five hundred years. That almost stopped her, but at that instant, he slipped his finger into her, knocking every last coherent thought out of her head. She writhed against him.

  "Please," she begged. "Rider—"

  "What?" he whispered. "Tell me what, Doc. Kristen. Tell me what you want."

  "You," she hissed. "Just you. Now."

  Then he was over and in her, filling her, taunting her with his teasing thrusts, until she grasped his buttocks and pulled him closer, closer. If she could, she would have melded with him, forming one complete being, so he could never separate himself again.

  "Kiss me, Rider," she begged, knowing when he did she would feel it all, even if it were for the last time.

  He kissed her and she felt it. Felt his overwhelming desire. Felt the ribs grinding painfully in his middle. Felt her own need growing until her throbbing body sent its signals to his and he quickened his thrusts. His climax grew inside her just like her own until they both shattered.

  Afterwards, they lay together, still joined, for a long time. Finally Rider moved and Kristen let him go, unable to keep him inside her any longer. As he withdrew physically, leaving her cold and empty, he withdrew emotionally at the same time. The shields went back up around him. He'd needed the release, needed her, one more time, but that was all. The link that bound them wasn't strong enough to override his love for his wife.

  She knew this. She could deal with it. She'd just have to collect the tattered strips of her heart and go on without him.

  Sitting up, he put his head in his hands. Kristen trailed her fingers down his back, not willing to lose him just yet.

  "Doc," he said, and it sounded like an admonishment. She drew her hand back and pulled the sheet up to cover herself.

  That was it. She needed it to be over. She didn't think she could take him being here and holding himself away from her. She needed him gone now, if he was going, so she could start trying to get used to it. Oh, God, why couldn't he just be a psycho?

  "Rider," she rushed in to fill the silence before he spoke. "I know. It's all right."

  He turned and stared at her, his eyes dark as midnight. "What do you know?"

  She squeezed her eyes shut, and twisted the sheet in her hands. "I know you've got to go back and try to save your wife. I understand. I'd do the same thing for Skipper if I could."

  When she opened her eyes, his back was to her again, and his hands were clasped together, his elbows on his knees. "You don't know a damned thing."

  She saw his body trembling and she longed to pull him close, to comfort him, but she could feel the sadness in him, too innate to be helped by comfort, too deep for him to shield from her. She just sat there and waited for him to continue.

  "I need to tell you about Mari, Doc. I need to explain to you just what she was. See, she—" He stopped, his voice cracking.

  The pain in his voice cut into Kristen's heart like a scalpel, until she wanted to tear it out just to get rid of the pain.

  "Mari was a skipworth, Doc. But she was something else, too." He looked at her, his eyes dark and bright as cobalt glass. "She was a traitor."

  Kristen stared at him, her heart in her throat. What was he saying?

  "She sold out the skipworths for power. Then, when she found out the government was experimenting with time travel to destroy you and therefore destroy all the skipworths, including her, she sold the government out. They killed her for that."

  His beautiful shoulders undulated in a shrug, and he made a small noise when his broken ribs stabbed him. He turned around to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face, undecipherable emotions crowding his heart.

  Kristen could hardly speak, her heart was pounding so painfully in her chest. "What—what are you saying?" she breathed.

  "I'm saying I don't want to go back and save her, Doc. What I want to do is stay here and keep you safe, but I can't do that."

  Kristen stared at him, trying to make sense of his words, trying to sort out the various messages she was getting from his closeness, but he dropped his gaze and the sensations stopped. "What do you mean?"

  He didn't look up. "I was hoping we could travel in time. When Darwin said I could go back, I thought that would be the answer, I thought we could just hide in time. But you can't go. And I can't protect you." He picked up the scrub pants off the floor and left. She heard him go out on deck.

  For a long time she just sat there, hugging her knees, staring at nothing, bewildered by his words, by the turmoil of his emotions. He said he couldn't protect her. But if he couldn't, then there was no one in the world who could.

  Maybe she should be worried about all her descendants. Maybe she should be thinking of the people five hundred years in the future who were there because she was alive now. But she just couldn't think that broadly. She was here, now, and she was in danger of losing the man she loved more than life. More than her own life, more even than the lives of unnamed generations in the future. But he said he couldn't stay with her.

  She jerked on the I and went up on deck. He stood, his back straight and rigid, holding on to a halyard and gazing at the sunset. Sam was draped over one arm with his head tucked under Rider's chin.

  Looking at them, her heart broke.

  "You know," she said, interrupting her intolerable thoughts, lifting her chin as he turned to look at her. "I can take care of myself. Darwin told me to remember what Skipper said when our parents died. He said no matter what." Her heart was pounding so hard she was having trouble getting enough air to talk, but she took a deep shaky breath and continued.

  "No matter what, he'd protect me. To the end of time. He has, you know. He left me a stash. He taught me a little about sailing too. So I'll be just fine here. I'd suggest you find Darwin and go back where you came from."

  His mouth quirked up.

  "Don't laugh at me! I'm serious. You can go back and—and do whatever it is you think you need to do. I know you're only trying to spare my feelings. I promise I won't get killed for a few years yet."

  "Doc, you're priceless. Now, get below before the wind catches that I again
and you make a spectacle of yourself."

  Kristen put her hand on the hem of the shirt, holding it down.

  "Here," he said as she turned. "Take the damned cat with you." He followed her, chuckling irritatingly.

  In the cockpit, she let the struggling cat down and whirled on Rider, the tears she hadn't been able to blink away rolling down her cheeks, tickling her skin. She clenched her fists, refusing to wipe them away. "You have no right to laugh at me, damn you. You don't think I want to be tied to a man who gets nauseated around me, do you?" To her dismay, she burst into tears.

  Rider tried to gather her into his arms, but she resisted, pushing at him. "Leave me alone, you bastard. I just—hate good-byes, that's all. I don't need you."

  He pulled her to him, pinning her arms like he had aeons ago in the street. His breath was hot on her cheek as he whispered to her. "Oh, God, Doc. I hate good-byes, too." He sighed raggedly. "What am I going to do with you? I can't leave you."

  Kristen stopped struggling, but she couldn't stop crying. "What—what do you mean? I'll be fine."

  "Doc, shut up, okay?" He shook her gently. "I'm probably the worst protector you could have. I've got all these damned emotions churning around inside me, keeping me from thinking straight." He held her at arm's length and gazed into her eyes. "I don't know if you should trust me to keep you safe. I love you too much."

  Kristen stared at him, dumbfounded. "You—love me too much?"

  He nodded, not taking his eyes off her. "Too damned much to be logical. Too damned much to be safe for you. But Doc, I can't leave you. I can't just walk away from the most important person in my life." He shrugged. "I know how stupid it is. I'm so scared. So afraid of losing you. So afraid of leading you into danger."

  He shook his head slowly. "You need somebody brave, somebody who's not eaten up with love and fear."

  His words floated around her like dandelion fluff in midsummer, too wonderful and lovely to be believed. She stared at him, trying to absorb their meaning. She lay her fingers on his forearms and felt his sadness. "You are the bravest man I have ever known," she said softly. "I told you before, the people who aren't afraid are fools."

  "So, Doc," he said. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He frowned, and she could have sworn there was a glimmer of doubt, maybe even fear, in his intense gaze. "That is, if you want me."

  Her eyes were hazy with tears, and she was baffled by what she was hearing. "Are you sure? Are you really, really sure?"

  "Listen to me." He sat down and pulled her down beside him, holding her hands in his. He held her fingers to his lips as he talked. "You are more important to me than anyone, anywhere, any time. I don't think I can face a future that doesn't have you in it."

  Kristen's heart was doing battle in her chest. Fear and hope, pain and love, grief and overwhelming joy were fighting inside her. "I don't want you here if this is some kind of badge of honor, Rider." She pulled her hands away from his distracting lips. "I told you. I can take care of myself."

  "Look inside me, Doc. Find your answer there." His eyes blazed cobalt under his furrowed brows. He gazed at her unblinkingly and she accepted his challenge. She lay her palms on either side of his neck and closed her eyes. He leaned forward until his forehead was touching hers.

  From within him, she felt a growing warmth, a warmth that flickered, then blazed. His skin burned under her hands. She was suffused with love, saturated with hot desire. She nodded, rocking her forehead against his, and felt a swift jolt of relief from him.

  "I love you, Rider," she whispered as his arms encircled her and his head angled, his mouth seeking hers.

  "Well, it sure took you two long enough."

  Rider tensed and let go of Kristen. He stood with a grunt. "Darwin, I presume," he said sarcastically.

  "Hi!" Darwin stood on the deck, her black fatigues and heavy boots ludicrously out of place on the light, airy sailboat.

  Kristen wanted to giggle at the disgusted look Rider gave the girl, but she thought it might be better not to.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked her. "Got some more platitudes for us?"

  "Only one," Darwin said, grinning from ear to ear as they climbed up on deck. "I want to offer you two my congratulations."

  Kristen stared at her. "Congratulations? For what? Are we safe?"

  A shadow crossed Darwin's expressive face. "No, Kristen. You're probably never going to be totally safe, although you do have a good idea about sailing around. It will be awfully hard for anyone to find you that way, especially if you keep contact with others to a minimum. But no, my congratulations are for a very different upcoming event."

  Rider still looked disgusted and bewildered, but Kristen suddenly knew what Darwin was talking about. She wasn't sure if Darwin's glance at her was telepathic, but she had no doubt about the message, however the other girl had managed to send it. Kristen lay her hand protectively across her stomach, and as she did, another thought occurred to her. "Oh my God, Darwin."

  Darwin nodded gleefully. "Isn't it wonderful? And deliciously ironic?"

  Rider growled. "Would someone mind telling me what is going on here?"

  "I'll leave that to your wife," Darwin said and started to disappear.

  That is, she disappeared for a split second, but then she popped back. "Here I go again," she muttered. "I'll probably be in probation for the rest of my life for this one."

  She shrugged and took Kristen's hand. "I need to ask you a very big favor, Krissy."

  Kristen was surprised to hear Darwin use the nickname Skipper had given her.

  "May I please have Skipper's computer?" Her expressive face was dark with apprehension. "You won't need it any more, and I know someone who wants it very badly."

  Kristen stared at Darwin. She thought about all of Skipper's things, his house, his boat, his computer, and how they had saved Rider's and her lives in the past few days. The computer was something of Skipper's, something that held a tiny bit of his echoes still, but somehow she didn't mind Darwin having it. After all, Kristen had his boat and her memories.

  She shrugged. "Sure, Darwin. I don't mind."

  Darwin's little face lit up like a Christmas tree as she darted below deck and popped back with the nylon belt pack. She kissed Kristen on the cheek. "Go sailing, Krissy, and watch for the whales." Then she was gone.

  Kristen was almost knocked down by the gentle love and the faint echo of her brother that blasted her when Darwin touched her. She gaped at the spot where Darwin had been standing—all that was left was a shimmer.

  Blinking and frowning, she tried her best to make sense out of Darwin's words and the sensations she'd left with her, but the only thing that made sense was impossible.

  "What the hell did she mean by that?"

  Kristen allowed Rider to interrupt her crazy thoughts. She shrugged and laughed a little. "Another gross prophecy, no doubt."

  Rider glared at her. "You're awfully smug all of a sudden. Did I miss something?"

  "Oh, Rider, of course you did." Kristen kissed him.

  "Doc —"

  "Okay." She took his hand and placed it on her flat stomach. "You'd better enjoy my girlish figure while you can," she said. "Because it won't be girlish much longer."

  Rider turned ashen. "You mean you're—"

  She nodded, smiling. "I'm pregnant."

  "But how—I mean how do you know?"

  "Trust me," she said. "Women know these things." She patted his hand where it rested on her belly.

  "But, Rider, there's something else about this particular baby," she said.

  He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a long moment, then his face became even more pale as the realization dawned on him. He sat down abruptly.

  Kristen knelt in front of him, holding his hands, feeling his disbelief, his fear, his joy, through them as he finally relaxed and the color came back into his face.

  "You and—me?" he said incredulously.

  Kristen nodded, her heart filled to bursting. "Y
ou and me," she repeated. "I may be the mother of all the Deviants, but sir, you are their father!"

  He jumped up so fast, he almost knocked her over. Then he realized what he'd done and he turned back to take her arm as carefully as if she were ninety years old. "Doc, I'm sorry. Are you all right? How long have you been pregnant? When I think you were out there, chasing that damned cat—"

  Kristen looked at him. How long had she been pregnant? She thought about it. "Probably only an hour or so," she said quietly.

  Rider smiled at her, the heartbreaking smile she'd loved since the first time she'd seen it. She would love that smile forever. "I've got to get to work," he said, patting her arm.

  "Oh, stop it." She shrugged off his hand. "I'm not an invalid. Where are you going?"

  "I've got to get you out of here. We're the hope of the future, the parents of all the Deviants, and the first one is on its way. We've got some sailing to do."

  She reached up to kiss him, but something far out on the horizon caught her eye. "Rider, look," she whispered.

  "What?" He frowned and squinted in the bright sunlight.

  "Out there. See?" She pointed toward a shiny black shimmer in the water beyond the docked boats, out where the water was almost as blue as the sky.

  "What is it?"

  She took his hand again and lay it on her belly, holding it there while the happiness she'd thought she would never again feel suffused her. "It's a whale."

  "A whale," he said wonderingly, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her.

  She nodded. "And I promise you, Rider, some day we'll hear them singing."

  He didn't stop smiling, even when she kissed him.

  EPILOGUE

  Several days later, Darwin sat on the pier out of sight, dangling her feet in the water, and watched Rider and Kristen prepare to set sail. She smiled to herself, satisfied that she'd done all she could without really interfering.

  Even her last remark, and the sensations she'd allowed Kristen to glean from her, as heavy with meaning as they had been, hadn't really revealed anything. The important thing was she'd kept the promise she'd made.