“As soon as possible,” he said with a wink.
“Well, I could swipe some ribbon, and you still have that mistletoe.”
“Ribbon?”
“All tied up and nowhere to go. And if you can’t unwrap me, you could break out your pocketknife for the job.”
His forehead scrunched up. “My pocketknife?” Then, his mouth dropped open. “You just told me what was in my last present, didn’t you?”
Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his mouth.
“Oh! Let me get a picture!” Mrs. Cowper said from beside them, producing a camera.
A picture—a picture for her locket, to put in her heart along with this night that would forever reside there.
Zeit hugged her close. And it felt like he’d stopped time… but it was probably just magic.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Every holiday season I get a little nuts… well, more nuts. The stress gets to me, and I slip into Scrooge-mode. Then, my husband drags me out to look at Christmas lights or takes the kids off so I can sit at home and read holiday stories, and things work out. He keeps the magic in the holidays for our little family. He’s amazing. My kids are amazingly supportive. They’re the best kids a mother could ever have. It means the world that they’re proud of me.
Many thanks to all my readers who have supported me. Knowing that other people are excited for me to release something—you have no idea what that means to me. It’s everything. Writing can be lonely, frustrating, and you wonder why you’re doing it again and again. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I keep writing for you.
Everyone with Pen and Kink has been fantastic and so supportive. Thank you, Cori, Trysh, and Elesha for all your hard work. The covers by Amanda C. Davis were perfectly gorgeous.
TAKING TIME
Servants of Fate: Book Two
For Mary Williams who once called Agatha Christie a dirty, rotten cheater.
CHAPTER ONE
Bored.
“Bored. Bored. Bored.” And he had no confidence whatsoever that tonight would alleviate his condition. Tempus glanced around him at the mortals getting drunker and less interesting by the second. Why squander minutes, let alone hours, in this condition when both were numbered? Especially if you were Joseph Toulouse, age fifty-nine, in the ballroom of this quaint little lodge.
“Tempus. In the ballroom. With the lead pipe,” he muttered, pulling the lemon wedge from his drink and sucking it. The bitter sweetness appealed to him for some reason. It always had.
Four minutes.
At least the divorcee who’d been following him the last hour had found another target. He hated to lead on a mortal. Tempus had dallied with many who knew the score—an hour or two of fun, then he was gone and, hopefully, they never saw him again.
Having family around might have made this night endurable if it hadn’t been Zeit at this lodge, and this hadn’t been the site of his brother’s fall from grace. Hell, this place should give Zeit the creeps. He’d fallen prey to the womanly wiles of a mortal in this ballroom a year ago. On this very night. He’d given up his immortality, and now he was playing house with her. What a waste of immortality, but at least he seemed happy. They’d drifted off to their room an hour ago, probably for a more private celebration of the New Year.
Not that his sister-in-law was a bad person. He’d met her briefly, and Hannah was halfway decent for a mortal. She had a certain sort of wholesome appeal.
Three minutes.
Three minutes and Tempus could do what he’d come to do and then get out of here. The roads were clear enough that he could make it to a major city within a few hours in the Porsche he’d driven here, rather than hopping through planes of existence. He wouldn’t be heading toward Boise—which was where Zeit lived these days. Seriously. Boise. Maybe that was a punishment the Fate sisters had devised and Zeit only thought he’d chosen this life. That had to be it.
Two minutes.
The crowd grew more boisterous. Beside him, a drunk woman tried to start the countdown early, but her equally sloshed husband yelled, “Not yet!” Two minutes and Tempus had his quarry in sight. Joseph Toulouse had two minutes left to live. Two minutes left to make the most of his time. He was currently tapping his watch face and complaining that it wasn’t keeping time correctly. “It says we still have five minutes left,” he said to the elderly woman beside him who was speaking in low frustrated tones with a teenager. Mrs. Toulouse’s mouth moved, saying to the teenage female, “No, you can’t. I’m sorry you’re bored.”
“You and me both, kid.” Her life was about to get more exciting though. It was a shame he had to take Joseph’s life here in front of family. This lodge might start getting a reputation as the place to come if you wanted to have a heart attack on New Year’s Eve. It’d put a damper on the festivities at the very least.
“Excuse me,” a voice said as someone tapped him on the shoulder. Mortals seemed to give him a wide berth, possibly on account of the long black trench coat he wore on work days. Women were less repelled, and occasionally a woman, like the divorcee earlier, was drawn to the aura of danger he projected. Since this was a woman, he didn’t take a chance and replied flatly, “One minute, five seconds.” It was a drumbeat in his head. The thud of seconds. Thud. Thud. Thud. That and Joseph Toulouse and his location over and over.
And then a woman stepped in front of him. Directly in front of him. He caught a glimpse of glossy red lips and high cheekbones covered in freckles before the red-haired beauty threw her arms around his neck and aligned his mouth with hers.
He’d kissed and been kissed before. He was immortal. He’d lost count of the intimate encounters he’d had since time began. This one would count. He’d remember this kiss for eternity.
He should stop her.
He should tell her it wasn’t time yet and he wasn’t the mortal she wanted.
Tempus didn’t do either.
She was shorter than him so she’d had to drag him down to her level of about five-nine, but from the moment her tongue slid into his mouth, he’d grabbed her hips and pulled her off her feet so she couldn’t get away. The pounding of his pulse was louder than the pounding of the seconds dropping. Vaguely, amid the fireworks in his brain from the kiss, the crowd’s chanting of the countdown broke through.
He pulled back. “I need to go do something.”
“Take me instead,” the woman murmured, kissing along his jawbone, not loosening up her arms.
“Oh, I will.” He definitely wasn’t letting this one go. Hopefully she had a room in the lodge because he didn’t, and it looked like he wasn’t leaving right away and he definitely wasn’t bored anymore. At all.
Then, midstream, the chant in his head shifted from Joseph Toulouse to Lacey Carpenter, age twenty-nine, still in the ballroom, still in the lodge.
“What?” That had never happened. Were the Fates trying to keep him on his toes by switching at the last second? Lacey Carpenter? What about Joseph Toulouse?
“I said, take me,” his auburn-haired temptress said. Her voice was clear and firm. So, she wasn’t drunk. That was good. Later when he did take her—he wanted no regrets between them.
“I need to…” He tried to pull away, but then she was kissing his neck and her fingernails were digging in, like she intended to never let him get loose—nor did he want to get loose.
But he had to find Lacey. Not Joseph. Lacey now. His target never shifted like this. What game were the Fates playing?
Lacey?
That was a mortal woman’s name, right?
Lacey Carpenter. The ballroom. The thud of his pulse. The thud of seconds. The sinful touch of this female’s tongue against his skin. The heat of her breath. The silk of her black dress against his palms as it rubbed against her skin. Inhale. Exhale. His breath felt raspy in his throat. He dipped his chin, catching her mouth again.
Lacey Carpenter.
Lacey.
The ballroom.
The lodge.
Her mouth was tart and tangy sweet
, matching the subtle scent of peaches on her skin. She grabbed his lower lip between her teeth.
“Ten... nine... eight... seven…” the crowd began chanting around him.
Oh hell, he tightened his grip on this woman who’d become irresistible at the worst time and pulled her off him, setting her aside—forcibly. She grabbed both his hands in hers, preventing him from freezing time.
“Hey!”
“Four…”
“I’m not letting you do it,” the woman said, her brown eyes sparkling with the disco ball lights above them.
She was stopping him all right, but she had no idea what she was doing.
“Three... two…”
He tried to yank his hands from hers, but she had a death grip and he was still befuddled from that kiss... the woman kissed like she was putting her whole soul into it.
“One!”
“Hell,” he said. He had seconds to stop time, find Lacey Carpenter, and he couldn’t seem to concentrate.
The ballroom erupted in “Happy New Year” and he had an armful of peach-smelling female who’d pressed her mouth to his again. Everything blurred under the sensual onslaught of her mouth. He tunneled his hands through her hair, deepening the kiss for just a second before using a tug of her hair to pull away from her. She looked up at him with lids half-closed and kiss-wet lips and he almost forgot himself.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be right back. I just need to find someone.”
“Who?”
“Lacey Carpenter.” He might as well tell her. Maybe she could help, and he had less than a minute to complete his task. One minute after the stroke of midnight and Lacey Carpenter’s life had to be exchanged for the fates of all those nearby. The rest of her life would be given to provide seconds and minutes of a changed fate for everyone else. Every one of Father Time’s sons had to make this exchange.
He had less than a minute to do so.
The goddess in his arms tilted her head.
Damn, she was beautiful and sexy and he was running out of time. He’d have to freeze time and quickly search all the mortals in the room for identification.
He went to snap his fingers when she murmured, “I’m Lacey.”
Tempus stared at her.
She couldn’t be Lacey. She couldn’t be the woman he was meant to kill.
“Lacey?”
She nodded.
“No, you can’t be.”
“I am.”
He sighed.
The clock struck 12:01, the seconds stopped pounding and he knew he’d just made a huge mistake.
“Well, I guess it’s too late. I’m screwed—hopefully it’ll be literally.” So, he kissed her again.
Lacey Carpenter—the Lacey Carpenter pulled back and slapped his face.
Her mother had always said that her impulsive side would get her in a heap of trouble one day. That day had arrived, but at least it hadn’t killed her. Though she didn’t really know how this whole thing worked with tall, dark, and dangerous. She just knew she wasn’t going to let Mr. Death here claim another life. Not tonight. This trip was supposed to be about closure... about coming to terms with some strange mythical creature sucking the life out of her father two years ago. Instead, it seemed like history was repeating itself when she saw the guy in the black trench coat lingering on the edge of the dance floor.
Lacey knew what she’d seen two years ago. Everyone had thought she was crazy, but there’d been a guy just like this near her father when he’d had his fatal heart attack, and then the trench-coated guy had “poof” vanished into thin air a moment later. Here she was again with this guy eyeballing someone all night, biding his time, waiting to reap another soul.
Not tonight!
Though she’d never have guessed that a minion of evil would kiss so well. She’d nearly forgotten what she was doing.
She raised her hand to slap him again—which he deserved for being such an amazing kisser, but he grabbed her wrist.
“We’ve done that already,” he said. “Since I can’t feel pain, it’s more of an annoyance and you’re drawing attention to us.”
She tried to yank her hand from his grasp. “Fine, but you’re not killing anyone tonight.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
That’s right, buddy. I know who you are. Well mostly. Okay it was a guess.
“I said that you’re not killing anyone tonight.”
Those same eyes narrowed. “You knew what you were doing when you kissed me.”
Actually, she had no idea what she’d been doing when she’d kissed him. It had been a crazy impulse. Still, Lacey squared her shoulders and stood up straight—just barely reaching his shoulder. Geez, he was tall.
“You’re not killing anyone else. You’ll have to kill me first,” she said, finally succeeding in reclaiming her hand from his grasp.
“Yes, well, that’s the deal you made with fate apparently. With the Fates.” He rubbed both his hands down his face. “And I was complaining about being bored.” Then he focused his dark eyes on her, and it felt like he was looking into her soul.
You always leap without looking, her mother said.
You never take a minute to think of the consequences, her mother said.
Her consequences were right here and tasted like tart lemon. His scent made her want to climb him like he was a tree. Which is basically what she’d been about to do before he’d said her name. That was like a bucket of cold water dropped on her head. Her name on his lips made it all real and supernatural all at once. How would he know her name if he wasn’t magical or something?
He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door.
“Where are we going?” She tugged back. Leaving a public venue with a stranger was a bad idea—and he was very strange. It wasn’t every night you met a grim reaper or whatever he was.
“We’re going to see someone.”
“I’m not leaving the lodge with you.”
“That’s fine because he’s staying here.”
“Who?” she asked, digging in her heels. Maybe he was taking her to see Death. Maybe he worked for the devil himself and she was going to see Satan.
Whoa.
Satan.
She might be meeting Satan.
That was…
She did request a virgin whatever that peachy drink was, didn’t she? She didn’t feel drunk, but this was all hazy and surreal.
“My brother Zeit.”
“Grim reapers have brothers?”
He turned to stare at her. “I thought you knew what I was doing?”
“I guessed.”
“You guessed that I was here to take a life tonight?”
“Weren’t you? You were going to snap your fingers and somehow suck his life out and then you’d be gone like time stopped for you but not the rest of us.” Those seconds were permanently imprinted in her mind. The black trench coat. The blip of time where he was in front of her father. Another blip and he was gone.
This guy didn’t deny it. He just returned to dragging her through the lobby and down the hall.
“Hey, what’s your name?” She should know the name of the man who she’d been kissing and who might still be planning on killing her.
“Tempus Halt.”
“Time hold?” She sniffed. “Seems a bit on the nose.”
Tempus stopped in front of a door, took a deep breath, and knocked... forcefully.
Lacey looked up and down the hall. Luckily it seemed most of the lodge’s guests were singing “Auld Lang Syne” in the ballroom.
The door opened to an out of breath man with a sheet clutched about his waist, and, wow, was he built. There was a definite family resemblance between the brothers. “This is not a good time, Tempus. When I said stop by and…” He saw her a moment before Tempus stepped between them as if shielding her view. Wait…
Wait.
“You!” Lacey shouted, ducking to the side, and pointing at the man. “You killed my father.”
Tempus’s broth
er, Zeit or whatever, narrowed his eyes.
“Two years ago. Here. You killed my father. You gave him a heart attack.”
Zeit’s grip on the sheet tightened. “Actually, he was already having a heart attack and dying. I only sped it along.”
Her mouth dropped open and she itched to slap him too.
“Honey?” a woman called from inside the room. “Who is it? Tell them to come back in ten minutes.”
Tempus’s brother frowned. “I’ll need more than ten minutes.”
“I need to talk to you now,” Tempus said.
“Fifteen minutes. Go... have a drink.”
“Now, Zeit. It seems you’re partly to blame for my predicament.”
“Ten minutes,” Zeit said and went to slam the door.
Tempus stuck his shoe in the door and said in a low voice, “Lacey Carpenter, age twenty-nine, the grand ballroom, and this damn lodge.”
Zeit looked past him and met her eyes. “And she’s…?”
“Lacey,” Tempus said.
His brother swore under his breath. “Give us a couple minutes to get dressed.”
“You can have five minutes... that way you can finish up too.”
Zeit slammed the door after more profanity.
Tempus turned to face her.
She cleared her throat. “So, that was your brother.”
“Yes.”
“And he killed my father.” She was proud of herself for saying that without the choke of emotion that would have been there a year ago. Maybe there was something to be said for this whole closure thing. Maybe she was getting closure. Of course, two years ago had been an attempt to get closure with her absentee father. Instead, he’d died.
“Apparently. This is my first time here at the lodge and I was only meant to be here for tonight.”
“To kill that man you’d been staring down.”
“Up until it changed to you? Yes.”
“So, now what?”
“Now, we talk to Zeit and his... Hannah.”
“Why?”
“Because he was supposed to kill her two years ago but he took your father’s life instead.”
Servants of Fate Page 9