“I am trying to be logical… but I am having a hard time fighting the… lust… I feel for you. It’s all-consuming. I just can’t stop thinking of you touching me. In really intimate places. I mean, the bedroom, not intimate places on my body… well maybe… what I mean is, even when I’m irritated with you, it’s so confusing, and I…,”
“Roam.” He cupped my chin and turned my face to his. I closed my eyes and waited for his kiss, but instead he bent and pressed his lips to my neck. I shivered, melting as his tongue nipped the side of my collar bone. “If you keep talking like that, I won’t make it through the week without taking you to that bedroom and doing exactly what you’ve been dreaming about.”
“I won’t make it through the night if you don’t,” I whispered, my brazen words unfamiliar to my own ears.
He stopped kissing and pulled away, his eyes on mine. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes,” I admitted, more to myself than to him.
“And you won’t regret this?”
I thought of Logan’s words in Cleveland, as I offered myself to him on his birthday. I refuse to be a regret in your life. “I…,”
The cell phone in his pocket buzzed and chimed several times. He reached for it and sighed, reading the number before putting it to his ear. “Logan.”
“Is he okay?” I asked, jumping to my feet anxiously. He held his finger up, indicating that I should wait. After a moment, he nodded.
“Okay. Yes. Call when you get there. Yes. I will.”
He hung up, and my mouth dropped. “I wanted to talk to him!”
“We have to get in the house,” he nearly dragged me through the sand. I had to run to keep up with him.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“He’s about to board for Moscow,” he slammed and locked the door behind us, gesturing to the bed. “Lay down.”
“What?” I panicked. Right now? He’s going to make love to me right this moment?
“Roam, listen to me! Lay down!” He snapped. I scrambled to the bed, nervous tears glistening in my eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Stay there!” he roared, dropping to the bed and stretching over me. I tried to back against the headboard but he caught me. In seconds, my arm began to tingle, just over the numbers.
“No,” I grabbed my arm, the fire racing through my veins. Screaming, I clawed at the invisible needles in my arm, my mind blurring with the stinging pain as the numbers began to change. He caught my offending hand as I scratched at my skin, pinning it to the bed beside my face.
“Don’t- don’t tear your skin…,”
Screams erupted from my core as I struggled to free my arms. This time I stayed fully conscious, my mind completely aware of the invisible, excruciating acid searing my skin. West whispered something in my ear, but all I could hear were my own screams.
Finally, the pain began to subside. He released my arms as I sat up, looking at the coordinates.
“Okay?” He asked gently. I nodded uncertainly, still staring at the numbers.
“Russia?” I asked, gesturing to the black, tattooed stamp of unfamiliar numbers.
“Yes.”
“Logan,” I sighed, dropping back against the pillow exhaustedly.
“Come on. We need to get some groceries and something to eat. No more lusty talks by the beach, Miss Camden. You’re distracting me.”
I gaped at him, shaking my head. “I- I was just…,”
“Stop. I was joking. You have to move on after the numbers change. You’ll get more used to it, after a while,” he promised.
I took a deep breath, unconvinced. I would never get used to that pain.
We spent the rest of the afternoon gathering groceries and supplies from Wal-mart. As I walked around the store, I panicked every time a man with Troy’s height or build would come into view. West pushed the cart and shopped with purpose, occasionally stopping to ask me about my eating preferences.
“I don’t care for fish.”
“What kind of fish?” He asked, staring at the fresh seafood collection.
I wrinkled my nose. “Any fish- fried or otherwise.”
“Huh.” He sent me a surprised, wayward glance before moving on to the meat selection. “That’s new.”
Hands on my hips, I narrowed my eyes. “Are you going to constantly compare me to Julie, or all of my other lives? Because, let me tell you… I’m getting kind of jealous.”
He lifted his eyes to mine, taken aback. “Really?”
“I saw my- Julie’s- figure. I don’t have anything up here to compare,” I gestured awkwardly to the upper-half of my body. “And I’m just plain.”
He stopped the cart so suddenly, I almost fell over it. “You are anything but plain, Roam Camden.”
“Well, if you keep comparing me, I’m going to feel inadequate. And you’re so… so…,” Heat edged over my neck and up my face.
“Hot, I know, you told me,” he teased, grinning. “Right before we fixed your eyes.”
“Well, yes, so don’t compare me to the past. Or to- to Laurel.”
His expression darkened when I said her name. “What else do you eat?” He asked, changing the subject.
Oh- a nerve. I wondered about Laurel and what she looked like, but now was not the time to ask him. “Anything but fish.”
“Right.”
We shopped for the staples we’d need for the week, and I convinced him that a mattress cover for both beds was absolutely a staple. A rental company provided the linens for the beds, so all we needed other than groceries were a few cleaning supplies.
In the parking lot, I stopped, anxiously gripping his hand. “West- what about 1977? When- if- we went there, you could try to save Laurel! You’d have to wait some years, but…,” My stomach did a somersault and I almost dropped to my knees. “My mother! I could write her some kind of note, telling her to go to the doctor because…,”
“Stop.” He pulled me to him, holding my face in his palms. His eyes locked with mine. “Don’t spend any more time thinking about that. What we’re trying to do is dangerous enough, and we’re not even sure it will work. But we’ve been given the opportunity because of the prophecy. We can’t change anything else. We can’t gamble, or fix the lottery, or save dead- or dying- people. As you said, the past refuses to be changed. Saving Laurel- or your mother- might completely negate what we accomplish.”
I pressed forward into his arms and ground my forehead into his chest. I knew he was right, but the thought of my mother alive was overwhelming.
On the way back to the cottage, we stopped at a local pizza shop to carry out. We drove in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. After putting all of the groceries and supplies away, he set out paper plates and bottled water, and I pulled two paper towels off the roll for our pizza. We moved in sync, neither of us speaking, both lost in our own thoughts.
Ravenous, I finished two wide slices, and West consumed almost four. After we finished, I stood up, cleaning my place. “I’m going to shower, is that okay?”
He somehow fit the pizza box into the refrigerator. “Of course.”
We stared at each other in the dim kitchen lights. The clock on the microwave changed to nine-thirty. Waves crashing against the shore created a constant white noise in the cottage, the salt water air filling the atmosphere. I took a deep breath, threading my fingers together. “What I said… by the ocean…,” I cringed, remembering my shameless invitation for West to take me to bed. “I don’t think…,”
“Nothing is going to happen tonight, Roam. Take a shower and go to bed. I’ll come in and check on you before…,”
“No! No, I want you to sleep with me. Just beside me, I mean. Don’t leave me in the bedroom alone. I’m afraid of the nightmares.”
“I’ll come in, then, in a little while.” He ran his fingers through his hair, resting them at the back of his neck. “Just to sleep.”
“Okay, thank you.” I started to turn, but he caught me gently. I looked up at him.
Satisfaction made me smile, his flattering words striking up the capricious teenager inside me. I blushed, looking at him shyly. “Thank you,” I managed.
He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Now get to bed. This isn’t a vacation. I’m teaching you how to fight tomorrow- more than just self defense. You need sleep.”
“Yes, Mr. Perry.”
He shook his head, still smirking.
Chapter Twenty
The dank cellar is dripping at the corners with sludge-streaked stone walls. I am suspended from shackles in the ceiling. As I register that I am dreaming, I realize that I am in a prison. I am alone.
I take account of my surroundings; no light except for an open fire pit in the wall, several empty cells with iron bars, and a long, wooden table with wheel-like devices attached. It’s a rack, I realize in horror. The long, iron rods propped against the fire pit fill me with dread. They are thick at the bottom…
In the shape of a cross.
Frantically I wish for whatever is going to happen to end. I can’t bear the thought of torture or dying again. The watery mirror claims one wall across from me. The garment that I wear is white but filthy; something meant to be worn under fine gowns. The material brushes my bare body as I yank against the shackles. My hair is red-gold with long, heavy waves.
Footsteps approach. I see a man with another man slung over his shoulder. He throws the iron-barred door open and drops the slack prisoner to the stone.
I recognize West immediately.
Vomit erupts in my throat, and I have no choice but to turn my head and gag, choking as the vile substance splashes to the grimy floor. My jailer turns to face me.
It is Troy.
“He shall watch,” he says, gesturing to West as he wrestles with consciousness.
Another man enters, brushing his hands against his hips. Relief floods my body so quickly that I drop, the manacles catching my weight cruelly. “Logan!” I cry, pleading. “Logan, please help me!”
Logan looks confused, from me to Troy. “Does she suffer visions?”
“She is a witch; all witches communicate with the devil,” Troy responds, reaching for an iron bar. He holds the bar into the fire, heating the cross at the end.
I know what is coming. I think of the birthmark on my shoulder, and West’s story.
“I am not a witch, and I am just a girl, and you’re a good person, you don’t want to do this,” I say to Logan, tears tumbling down my cheeks. “Please…,”
“Quiet, witch,” Troy snarls, and before I have time to register his movement, he stabs the branding iron at my shoulder. I gasp, contorting in pain. My screams tear through the stone dungeon, echoing in unseen caverns.
“No!” West is on his feet, slamming his weight into the bars.
“Take her now. A virgin witch will rise again.” Troy’s hissing voice is behind me. I lift my head, the fire pain in my shoulder blurring my vision. Logan is in front of me, his fingers gripping my chin. I meet his dark eyes. They are empty, void of the compassion and love that I have known since we were children.
I am pressed against the stone wall. He lifts my garment, spreading my legs apart.
“I will kill you! So help me God I will kill you!” West is roaring.
“Please don’t,” I beg weakly. Logan’s face is so close to mine that our mouths are touching.
“Roam,” he whispers against my lips. In one movement he tears through me. I am screaming… I can’t stop screaming.
Kicking with all of my lower body weight, I managed to knee him in the side as hard as I could. I heard the air hiss from his body. My fingernails dug into his shoulders, and I pulled them down, gathering skin beneath them.
“Ouch- Roam! Roam!”
I felt myself being lifted into the air and I finally opened my eyes. He held me in his arms, pinning my hands to my sides. Confusion stole my first moments of consciousness away from me as I searched dimly-lit room. A bed, the windows, West… the beach cottage. Am I in another dream?
“West?”
“You’re okay, I’m here… it’s 2012,” he consoled, his warm lips at the corners of my eyes.
“Logan,” I said as he lowered me back to the pillows, turning to straighten the sheets around us. I could see in the moonlight streaming over the ocean and through the window that he wore only shorts. Deep, red ravines marred his back, along his shoulder blades. Did I do that to him?
“No, Logan’s not here,” he answered, sighing.
“No… Logan, he…,” Don’t cry. You just cry and cry and you know it’s not real, you baby. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “He raped me.”
“What?” West growled, adrenaline tightening his grip on my upper arms. “When?” He demanded.
“I don’t know… 1533? Right after I got this,” I slid the thin strap of the white, lace-edged cami off my shoulder, revealing the birthmark shaped like a cross. I had fallen asleep in my underwear; the warm air was stifling in the bedroom even after opening the windows. The waves lapping at the shore sounded close enough to the window to reach out and touch.
“Oh… oh,” he murmured. I watched his expression change from enraged to stone-cold as he remembered. “And I was there.”
“It was horrible- my heart broke for you, West, just trapped and unable to help me… her,” I corrected, my fingertips brushing the birthmark. I need to distance myself from the dreams- that will make them easier.
“Logan had you first, and then Troy.”
“Her,” I insisted, tears burning my eyes.
“I spent three days sitting in that cell with you on the floor, dying. Alone.”
“I’m sorry,” I sat up, kneeling on the bed next to where he sat. The moonlight bathed his face in silvery shadows, the cuts in his back long and serrated. I reached for them, touching them tenderly. He followed the movements of my hand with his eyes.
Something possessed me, some ageless craving deep within, to press my lips against his back, over the wound that I had caused. As I did, his muscles tensed, tightening the skin beneath my mouth.
I kissed his back the way I would kiss his lips; deep, my tongue tracing the line that my fingernails had broken into his skin. He groaned, turning suddenly and pressing me back against the pillow. His eyes searched mine, ravenous, while his hand cupped the underside of my knee and slid up to my thigh.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, my face only inches from his as he lay over me. He stilled his hand that spanned my thigh, his thumb pressing against the string band of my panties.
“There are other things to be afraid of. This isn’t one of them.” His mouth claimed mine as his thumb slipped inside the band of my bikini, stroking.
I held my breath, torrents of desire moving through me in waves. Rocking against his hand, I gasped, widening my eyes. I broke from his kiss in shock.
“Do what feels right,” he murmured, trailing kisses down my neck. I gripped his broad shoulders, unable to resist bucking beneath his expert touch. As his mouth found my breast, I cried out, dizzying sensations pleasing my senses. “That’s it,” he murmured, his lips trailing back over my collar bone.
I tried to close my legs and fight him as the stirring deep inside me turned into something more. Pressing my thighs together against his skilled hand, I exploded, the world falling away as I cried his name.
“This is what we are,” he whispered against my ear as I struggled with consciousness. “If we do this, Roam, I will never let you go. Do you understand?” he lifted himself over me, poised just over my body. “Do you want this?”
Tearfully, I nodded. I would have begged him at that point. He thrust forward, taking more than my virginity. He took the innocence that had kept me naïve for so very long. He seized the promise of what my future once held, only seconds before. My scream was involuntary; the pain was not over-exaggera
ted from the descriptions I’d heard. He pinned my arms, still inside of me, and held me, completely still.
“It will pass,” he cajoled, his voice coarse with wanting.
It did pass; the burning pain came and went faster than the numbers. Struggling with his movements at first, I was unsure of what was supposed to be happening inside. In moments I was sure of nothing except for him, for West, and his determination to build the excitement again within me. I rocked against him, our bodies falling into a steady rhythm as the waves crashed to the shore outside. Again I unfolded, breathless as my world burst into a million intricate pieces around me. West moaned, tensing over me.
“Roam,” he cried out roughly, his lips meeting mine again.
After a few moments, he pulled out and away, the awareness very confusing and uncomfortable. I wrapped the wayward sheet around me securely, abruptly very conscious of the fact that I was naked from the waist down. He turned me over to my side and lay behind me, tucking my bare buttocks against his uncovered thighs. My mind reeled as I struggled to form words.
“Are you okay?” he asked tenderly against my ear, threading his fingers through mine.
“I will be,” I answered, gazing out the window of the cottage. It was nearly morning, and the first hint of sunrise touched the horizon.
“Did I hurt you?” he kissed my neck, and then tucked his face into my heavy hair.
“No. The pain went away, I mean,” I managed awkwardly.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he suggested, hugging me from behind
I nodded, knowing that was not a possibility. As much as I struggled to barricade the part of my mind that sought thoughts of Logan, I could fend them off no longer. Logan’s words taunted me, weighing my heart with shame. I’ll never hurt you Roam. And I’ll never let anyone hurt you. I promise you.
Who was Logan now? Did the person that he was in another life even matter? I could only guess how many times he’d participated in my torture or death throughout all the lifetimes I’d had with him. But, just as I was not responsible for my own past lives, he could not be held responsible for his. He’d done nothing but love me my entire life, and I repaid him by giving myself to another man.
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