Forced

by Daniella Wright

  Chapter 5

  Even home alone, left to my own devices, I cannot stop thinking about her. There is no question in my mind nor heart that what I feel for the immortal woman is nothing short of love. I know, however, that I cannot force her to endure my short life. Even with a time machine, I cannot make myself live forever. Even to look at my invention now feels me with dread and uncertainty. I know in my heart that in each timeline, I will somehow find her. Whether or not it is my intent, I cannot deny the feeling that she is my soulmate. I know she is meant for me, and I for her. Struck by a sudden thought, I lurch upward in bed. It’s a longshot. A near impossibility. But with all the impossibilities that have proven true in the past few days, I have to give it a shot. I have to find her.

  I rise out of bed and dress as nicely as I am able. I feel woefully underdressed for my intents, but I have little money beyond what I have spent on the creation of my time machine. I cannot afford the luxury of silken garments. I wonder if this fact alone will make her decision, but I cannot allow myself to linger on the what-ifs. I simply know I have to find her and make my proposition. For better or for worse, at least I will have tried. I can go to my grave knowing that I did all that was possible to make my soulmate my own.

  I slip out the door of my home, for the first time in perhaps months. Everything seems dreadfully normal, exceptionally plain, but when I think about the future where everything seemed a funeral march, I remember that she could make even that possibility a good one. Smiling to myself, with love in my heart, I follow a path that seems to have ingrained itself in the very fabric of my being. I receive glances from those I pass by, but pay them little mind. I know that the purpose with which I walk may seem strange, especially to those who may have briefly met me in the entirety of my previous life. I feel a tug in my chest, and I know I am on the right path as I turn to the left at the end of my block. As I approach the park, I spot her almost immediately. My saliva has grown impossibly thick, and I know that my entire future hinges on this conversation. I walk towards her, and it as if she feels my presence. She turns to face me when I am but a pace away, eyes narrowed in careful consideration. I offer her a smile, but she is too lost in thought to reciprocate. At least, I hope she is simply lost in thought.

  “I have a proposition for you, Jenny, if you will give me but a moment of your time.” I say carefully, and she continues to trace her eyes up and down my form. There is a strange look of incomprehension, and I wonder if she has somehow forgotten me.

  “I’m listening, Jameson.” She says quietly, almost too quietly to hear. She seems to be wrapped up in thought, but I hope that her decision to at least hear me out is a step in the right direction. Her eyes are drawn to my hand, but I can only wring them together uncertainly as I begin to speak.

  “I know my life will be a short one, compared to yours. A speck in this massive existence you call your own. But I love you, Jenny. Of that I have no doubt.” I begin, and she makes as if to interrupt. I continue on, unwilling to be rejected so swiftly. “I have something that not many can boast, a time machine. And it was through that machine that I was able to know you and fall in love with you. My life may be a short one, but I can at least prolong our relationship in some way.” I continue, knowing I sound nothing short of crazy.

  “Jameson…” She tries, but I continue relentlessly.

  “Live this life with me. Together. And every day, I will take a trip into your future, to be with you. In a way, it’s as close to eternity as… as I can come. I know it’s very little, but I can’t ignore the feeling that we are fated to be together.” I finish lamely, hands tensing at my sides. Her eyes are locked on my hand still, and the only thing that seems certain is rejection.

  “I… that’s not going to happen, Jameson.” She says quietly, and I feel my heart drop into my gut. I bring my hand up to wipe my eyes, staring uncertainly at the spot where my wound had been only scarce moments previous. The skin seems to ripple before my eyes, and I am certain I am hallucinating. It’s obvious I’ve lost my mind. Slowly, the skin begins to stitch together, forming a flat plane of flesh as if the wound had never been present at all. I blink slowly, drawing my eyes away from the anomaly and back towards the immortal woman. She smiles, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes as she steps towards me. She grabs my hand, pulling it towards her lips.

  “What… what’s happening?” I inquire bleakly, certain I am near death. She looks around us, noticing that we are receiving our share of stares. She takes me by my newly healed hand, pulling me down the path that winds around the park. My mind is blank, and I allow her to pull me because there is little more that I can think to do. If I am not near death, I may as well be. I will be forced to live the entirety of my life without her. I blink as I am tugged through a doorway, and recognize some of the decor from her house in the early 21st century. Before I can speak, her lips are on my own. I press desperately against her, as if it is the last moment I will ever see her. She pulls away, caressing my cheek tenderly. “Jenny…?” I ask quietly, and she begins to laugh that melodic laugh.

  “Our space and time works in mysterious ways.” She says simply, rubbing her thumb against the healed part of my hand.

  “What…” I begin, and she pulls me in for another kiss. She pulls me along, guiding me on an unfamiliar path with a certainly unfamiliar destination. She opens another door, and I can see a plush canopy bed just beyond the door.

  “I did not want to say how I very much feel the same. From the moment I lay eyes upon you, I knew you were special. Your offer is very kind, and were the situation different, I would accept it in a heartbeat. However, it is unnecessary.” She murmurs. She draws me closed to the bed, slipping her gown down off of her shoulder. Everything seems to be moving impossibly fast, and I am certain that my expression is contorted in near laughable confusion. She only smiles at me, continuing to slip her gown off.

  “Unnecessary…?” I inquire hesitantly.

  “The space time continuum works in mysterious ways. I thought, when I saw you, that I sensed something strange. When your hand healed, it was only confirmed for me. Tell me, have you noticed anything strange about your travels?” She murmurs, and it is all I can do to focus on her face. I think as best I can, and it suddenly strikes me.

  “When I traveled. There was a gap between the safety doors. A strange and brilliant light enveloped me before our every meeting. I didn’t think much of it, but…” I trail off, looking uncertainly between my own hand and the vision standing before me. She steps towards me, brushing a lock of my shaggy brown hair away from my eyes. “What does this mean…?” I inquire haltingly. She smiles, leans in, and pauses but a breath away from me.

  “Welcome to the world of immortality, Jameson. Not even the bounds of time can constrain you now.” She murmurs, and our lips meet once more. Her bare form is pressed against me, and though I know there are perhaps more pressing matters, all I want now is to feel her flesh against me. She pulls my pants down, and I feel myself spring free with a strange sense that everything was falling into place. Not just in the sexual sense, either, though I suppose that is relevant as well. She presses against me, and I feel her from all the most tantalizing angles.

  “Does this mean… you love me too?” I implore, and she brings me close, lowering me to the bed.

  “I have never not loved you, Jameson. As you said, it was fate. It seems there are things that even I cannot understand.” She smiles, and I feel her settle between my thighs. I am inside her all at once, and stars explode behind my eyelids as she slowly rocks against me. This is an outcome beyond any I could have expected, and I can do little to react to her slow and gentle motions. While my mind is racing, my body is reacting as only a man’s can. As she presses solidly against me, her soft cries of my name echo melodically through the room. It’s my name she’s crying out. My name.

  “Jenny,” I gasp, elation flooding my veins. She smiles down at me, and another shift of her body and I feel as if my body is alight
. I can feel her all around me, and she buries her face in my shoulder as she seems to reach her own peak as well. We continue to rock against each other for a long moment, simply reveling in the closeness. A soft chortle of disbelief spills past my lips, and she tilts her head to consider my expression. “I could stay like this… with you… forever.” I murmur. She goes still, before pressing a tender kiss to my Adam’s apple.

  “Well, that’s very well a possibility.” She says coyly.

  “A possibility, huh? Us staying like this forever?” I tease.

  “Perhaps not like this. But forever, I hope” She corrects. Warmth blooms in my chest and I smile, wrapping my arms around her. I’m overwhelmed by feeling of true happiness for perhaps the first time in my life. Only now, I realize, there are many moments like this to come. An eternity of moments, spent with the woman who’s heart I had somehow managed to grasp. I hum thoughtfully, brushing a hand through her hair. Her breathing is evening out, and I can feel her falling asleep in my arms. Of all the impossibilities, this is perhaps the most compelling of all. As I feel myself beginning to drift off as well, ready to give way to sleep, I speak just loudly enough for her to hear.

  “Forever. That sounds good to me.” I offer. She simply snores in return. I consider her through weary eyes, blinking them closed and sagging into the bed. “Forever.” I repeat, drifting off to sleep. Premonitions were never my thing, but then again, never had immortality been my thing either. However, the dreams I have spoke of an eternity spent with my first love, my last love, and my only love.

  Forever.

  THE END

  Beast

  ~ Bonus Story ~

  A Secret Werewolf Romance

  Jennifer Hart is interviewing for the position of nanny to the orphaned niece of eccentric and elusive billionaire, Michael Thompson. Plied with offers of a generous salary to pay for her siblings’ college, and the chance to live in a fairy tale mansion, Jennifer accepts the interview, as well as the position when offered. While Mary Sullivan, the niece, is a bright, isolated child who Jennifer is easily able to draw out of her shell, the uncle is decidedly difficult…and devastatingly attractive.

  Meanwhile, Jennifer meets Damien, a swoon-worthy travel blogger staying in the nearby town. Damien seems ready to begin a whirl-wind romance with Jennifer. However, Damien and Michael share a secret—they are both werewolves; dangerous, wild creatures that come out after dark. As Jennifer is plunged into their world, she finds herself caught in the balance—both men claim the other is dangerous. Which one can she trust? Which one has her heart?

  * * *

  Chapter One

  I don’t know why I was out in the woods that night. I was holding a party at my brand new mansion out in the country. I had been a city slicker all of my life—I had been drawn to the peace and the quiet of the woods. Earlier, I had put up with all of my city friends, their false admiration for my wealth, my new-found prosperity. During the previous year, my tech startup had blown up, making me a newly minted billionaire. They all milled about my new country estate in their sleek, money-scented designer clothes, sipping expensive rosé and eating elaborate hors d’oeuvres. I found myself standing silently to the side, watching the parade of people that I had only met because I suddenly had money. It made me feel hollow inside. So I fled my own party, heading out into the woods in the pitch darkness.

  I loved the smell of the woods—a fresh pine scent. Twigs snapped beneath my feet and pebbles dislodged from the loamy earth. I could hear the sounds of cicadas and the calls of a few night birds; the sounds of heavy footsteps and the rustling of something large in the bushes. It must be a deer, I thought to myself, standing still. The rustling continued as the animal neared, the bushes parting to reveal a large, snarling beast. It was half man and half wolf, standing erect on two legs. Its body was covered in shaggy, matted fur that stank. Its eyes glowed yellow, and it approached me. I held up my hands as though to ward it off and backed up slowly. As I backed up, I tripped over a root, falling on my back. The wolf-man pounced, attacking me at the throat. I found myself thrown through the air, falling on my face in the clearing. It attacked me again, biting at my arm as though trying to dismember me.

  Suddenly, there were the clear calls of voices—people coming in search of me. The wolf-man paused, listening, and then ran off, disappearing back into the woods. I lay still, too injured to move. I could feel myself bleeding freely from the neck and the arm, and I was injured across my torso when I had been thrown across the clearing. A flashlight cut through the clearing; a sign of a civilization that I was suddenly no longer a part of. I began to sink into unconsciousness as the familiar voices drew near.

  Chapter One

  The driver was silent in the front seat of the sleek black town car that had picked me up from the bed and breakfast that I had spent the previous night in the town of Ashford in order to be taken for my job interview with the .com billionaire, Michael Thompson. I was interviewing for the nanny position for his niece, Mary Sullivan, whose parents had been killed in a widely reported and devastating car crash approximately six months before. She had been sent to live with her uncle, who reportedly, had become a reclusive and eccentric figure after a violent animal attack in the woods several years before. The whole situation was full of intrigue—and yet, I felt hesitant when Thompson’s lawyer had shown up at my door with a suitcase full of non-disclosure agreements for me to sign before I arrived at Thompson’s elegant and picturesque mansion located several miles outside of Ashford.

  I was twenty-six, and the oldest of four children. My mother had been a party-girl and an alcoholic, so I had raised my siblings myself, beginning when I was still a child, and then legally when my mother lost custody when I was eighteen. I got a job teaching preschool, and then helped my brother and two sisters through high school. We were all working hard to get the three of them through college; Julie had started her freshman year at SUNY a few weeks earlier. I had heard about the job with Thompson a few days before. Noting the ridiculously high salary for the job of caring for and homeschooling his niece, I applied immediately.

  I watched outside of the window as the woods encroached upon the road. They seemed like something out of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, as though they were trying to snap up the town car in their claw-like branches. The woods cut away to reveal the well-manicured lawns, and long, winding cypress-lined drive of Chatsworth House. The house itself was huge, with sand-colored bricks and a plethora of large windows. The town car pulled up in front of the huge, mahogany wood door. Getting out, the driver walked around to open my door for me.

  “Thank you,” I said, and he nodded silently in reply. I smoothed the skirt of my plain black sheath dress. I was dressed formally, yet simply in the dress and a matching cardigan with sensible shoes for touring the premises. I had a stocky build, so the sheath dress was really the only thing to hug my curves in an alluring way. I was pretty enough, I supposed, and wore a light amount of mascara with a touch of blush and a coral colored lip stain. My hair was a chestnut brown color, and I kept it cropped at my shoulders. My heart hammered in my chest, and my hands were sweating lightly. I was so far from home; I was so far from any type of civilization, really. The last sign of humanity had been five miles away from Thompson’s estate, and I was suddenly apprehensive. What if Thompson’s strange, elusiveness was to hide the fact that he was, in private, some type of psychopath? What if I was walking willingly right into his trap? I thought of the picture of him that I had seen in Forbes; he had been a slender man, with slightly hunched, forward leaning posture and rectangular, thick black glasses. He looked sophisticated; like a smart serial killer. I shook my head, realizing that I was letting my imagination get away with me. I blocked thoughts of a dark basement playroom filled with torture implements from my mind as I walked up to the door of Chatsworth House.

  As I reached for the bell, the door opened, and I felt my mouth drop in shock. Before me, a very different Michael Thompson was revealed. He h
ad lost the slender, slightly weak edge to him; he was muscular, and there was a beauty to his face that is only found in predatory animals. He seemed to tower over me, his posture straight and confident. He had dark, smooth skin and heart-stoppingly blue eyes. He looked surprised to see me. He held out a large, dry hand, which I shook.

  “Michael Thompson,” he said. “I heard the car pull up.”

  “Jennifer Hart,” I replied. “Pleased to meet you.” He nodded, and gestured with a hand for me to enter. The front hallway was several stories high, with an enormous, sweeping staircase that went up to the second floor landing. It was light, airy, with dark crimson oriental carpeting. Rich oil paintings hung on the walls. I got the feeling that the decorator who Thompson had hired had wanted to make the self-made man’s living accommodations look like old money instead of new money; it was almost gothic.

  “Welcome to Chatsworth House,” he said evenly. I looked at him, and felt something inside of me set on fire. What had he done in between the picture in Forbes and today? Because he had gone from shrimp to hunk in the interim.