by Mia Downing
“I’m not.” But I was. Insanely.
“I emailed her—not you—because she had emailed me first about my marketing meeting with Todd this morning. He switched it to a little later. She told me to bring you a muffin.” A corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “And she told me what kind she would prefer as well.”
“Okay.” I sipped again with more confidence.
“And I brought you this.” He reached into his coat, withdrew a piece of paper, and held it out to me.
I glanced at him and then the sheet before taking it and unfolding it. Inside, he’d written in his familiar yet not familiar handwriting a list of places—my car, my apartment, the bookstore, his greenhouse, the other guest room, the master bathroom, the sofa in the library, and anywhere in New York City.
“This is my sex location list?”
He hummed in affirmation. “At your demand.”
Stunned and touched, I tapped the page to refocus on something else to keep from tearing up. “Why the sofa and the bathroom?”
“I had a leak in the bathroom and had to renovate. The sofa was below that. My mattress on my bed is new, too, so that’s safe.” He pointed to the bottom of the list. “New York doesn’t exist in the future, and we never went there at any other time, so that’s all fresh, new territory to claim.”
My chest ached at his sweetness. No one else had listened to me, had given me anything I remotely wanted. He’d given me a list. “So…you did it everywhere else in the world?”
Leaning closer, he whispered, “Are you getting bitchy?”
“No.” I laughed, and the energy on his side burned brighter. Stronger. “Thank you.”
He nodded and ducked his head. “Now. Would you feel more comfortable if I act professional while you’re at work, or do you want me to be your boyfriend when we’re here?”
The hair at my nape rose as my skin prickled. I didn’t want a boyfriend, now or ever. And definitely not one with a countdown to March fifteenth. “Isn’t it early for the boyfriend moniker?”
“I’m hopeful.”
I drew in a deep breath as my heartbeat picked up in pace. “Marek. You’re leaving in five months.”
“Okay.” He raised his hands in supplication. “So, what do you propose?”
He wasn’t going to like what I had to suggest, but I wanted him to stay. If I were less available, maybe he’d see me as a prize worthy of staying to claim. “Well, I experimented, and you’re right. I can touch other people, and it didn’t bother me. It was refreshing for a change.”
“Good.” But his facial expression betrayed the uneasy energy I must have been sending his way.
I took a step back. Realism and life had taught me not to close out all options. He couldn’t be my only option. “So…my thought is that we exist, and see each other, and if someone comes along that might stay longer than five months, I explore that.”
“Ah.” He rubbed his chin as if mulling over my suggestion, the energy on his side muddying to a grayish yellow. “You realize as long as we’re bonded, you’re not going to want other men, right?”
“You’d said before that other bonded have a life apart from each other. They don’t all marry, and bonded pairs can co-exist quite fine while having other partners,” I defended.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “But that’s the other bonded. You’re elite.”
“And that means?”
“I’m it for you.” He said it as if he were sorry and winced. “I’m sorry.”
“I get no choice?”
“No, not really.” He shrugged. “She picked me, so I guess she had a choice in the beginning.”
“She was sixteen! Didn’t she care that she’d never kiss another boy? What if the guy she chose ended up being an asshole who’d leave in five months, and she’d be stuck with him?”
“I’m sorry.”
“So if I wanted to date…Todd…I couldn’t.”
“Well, you could, but—”
“Did I hear my name?” Todd asked as the back door by the offices shut behind him. He smoothed his blond hair as he squinted, adjusting to the dimmer light of the fiction nook. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Young. Skye.”
“Todd,” I managed as I quickly put up my protective block, shielding me from Marek’s annoying, yellow presence. “Mr. Young brought coffee and muffins out front.”
Todd smiled and removed his coat, ducking into his office to hang it up. “Oh, great. Let me get that. Skye, can you show Mr. Young to my office?”
“Sure.” I waited for Todd to brush past me. I didn’t even revel in the fact that he no longer repulsed me. I didn’t like him, and I wouldn’t date him. There were other fish in the sea.
I grabbed Marek’s elbow, led him down the hall, and shoved him in Todd’s office. I remained in the hall where it was safe.
Marek turned to face me, his shoulders drooping. “I didn’t bring him a muffin.”
“He can have mine. I’m no longer hungry.”
“This doesn’t have to be a big deal—”
“It doesn’t? Every time I turn around, there’s some new rule I have to follow or obey. It’s nauseating.” I glared. “Just so you know, Grace and I are going out tonight. And if I get me some digits from a guy, I’m taking them.” And I was figuring out how to break this bond, too.
Marek ran a hand through is perfectly neat hair, mussing it all up. “Skye, can I take you to lunch or something to discuss this after? Because I have something else to tell you—”
“No.”
Todd appeared in the hallway with the coffee and my muffin. I stuck my hand inside the office so he couldn’t see me flip Marek off. I turned, brushed past my boss, and went to work.
Skye
Drinks and dancing with Grace did not go as planned, because I had fully expected to be taken home by someone other than Grace. And as she pulled up in front of my apartment to drop off my tipsy ass, I braced myself for the lecture that would follow.
She sighed as she contemplated me, her hair glowing brilliant orange in the streetlight. “You regret any of that yet?”
Grace was the only one in my life who had lectured me. “I danced with one guy. I didn’t even touch him.”
“No, you didn’t.” She sighed again as she shook her head, her earrings jingling merrily. “You realize you just tossed gasoline on what could be a really good thing for you? I mean, you didn’t toss the match, but damn, you got close. And don’t even bother lying, saying that wasn’t your intent. I smelled relationship suicide on you the moment you hid from Marek after he met with Todd. And then, you ask me to go out drinking like old times without an explanation.”
I shrugged. She’d gone to keep me out of trouble. Just like old times.
Her earrings jingled again. “You know I support whatever you want or need, but I don’t get where you’re coming from right now.”
I winced. I’d had one drink, then two, then three, and when that guy had asked me to dance, Grace was right. I had wanted to set fire to everything Marek represented. If this had happened a few years ago, I would have taken that guy home. And I didn’t tonight, because I couldn’t. As hard as I pushed myself to like this other guy, all I had wanted was Marek.
Damn him.
I cast her an aloof side-eye. “He’s not my boyfriend or my husband.”
“But you want him to be something.” Grace tossed her hands in the air in frustration. “Damn, girl, I’m not planning on getting a maid-of-honor dress yet, because you’ve known Marek a week. But what’s it going to take to let him have a chance?
I closed my eyes and rubbed the ache from my forehead. “I don’t know.”
Grace sighed. “Okay, then let’s make a list.”
“No! I don’t need a list.” This would be the list from hell that would expose every detail of my private life for the world to see. It would also be the list that would make me see Marek for what he was, and I wasn’t ready for that.
She ignored me as she took out a little pad of pa
per from her expensive tote bag. “Pros. He is fine to look at, he’s smart, and he brought me a muffin, too, so he’s kind and loyal to your main girl. He gets bonus points for that. So, is he good in bed?”
“Yes.” I squirmed in discomfort, both because I was horny, and knowing my best friend, the questions would get more detailed.
“Did he eat pussy on the first date?”
Horrified, I gaped at her. “Grace! Just because you share all your dirty date deets with me doesn’t mean I want to share.”
She scribbled like mad under the pros list. “So I’m going to say yes, and he gets two points for that, since I know you didn’t go to Olga’s like I suggested.”
Olga was responsible for Grace’s very meticulous Brazilian wax job. I just wanted the floor of the car to swallow me whole. “I groomed.”
“Okay, that’s good, but you need an appointment if you want him to frequent Ladyville.”
I shoved my hand in her face. “Stop! No more.”
She batted it away and tapped the pen on the pad of paper. “So what are the cons?”
“I told you, he has wife issues.” Like, he thinks I’m his dead wife sort of issues.
She stared at me with eyes that bore through my soul. “He ate pussy on your first sex date. I’m going to guess that you have wife issues.” And just like that, she wrote, Skye has wife issues in the cons section.
I tried to grab the pad, and she held it away.
I tossed my hands again. “Since when did his eating pussy or not become the Magic 8 Ball of knowledge?”
“Because that’s how guys work.” Grace poked me in the forearm. “So what’s your problem with the dead wife?”
I blew out a puff of hair that fluttered a free strand of hair. “He said I’m like her.”
“So he gets points for dealing with your prickly, bitchy self. Because I know you’ve gone there.” She scribbled again.
“Just once.” At her raised brows, I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay, many times.”
“And how did he handle it?”
“He…he said if I got bitchy, he was going to kiss me.” I swallowed. “And there might have been some punishment sex. With spanking.”
She whistled low. “Oh damn, Mr. Darcy has moves. So he gets a lot of points for that.” Of course, punishment sex ended up in the pro’s column.
But she set the pen down, studied the list, and gave me her patented, “Skye, you’ve fucked up,” look. If she sang his praises now…
Oh, God, no.
“Don’t,” I warned.
But she grabbed my hand and held it tight. “Sweetie, he could be really good for you. And he already looks smitten. So why are you pushing him away that hard?”
I closed my eyes, willing one of us to disappear. When I opened them and she hadn’t, I surrendered. For the moment, I’d forget about the time travel and him thinking I was his wife in some futuristic land. If I did that, I could tell her what bothered me.
“He’s going to leave me. In five months.” And I couldn’t choose anyone else. I was stuck with a man who would leave me, and it wasn’t fair.
Her brows raised as if she wasn’t expecting that. “So, he told you up front? That’s a good thing. He’s trying to be honest. Is he planning on returning?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “He knows it’s early but wants me to keep an open mind about going, too.”
She nodded. “Then you’ll have to make a decision, but that’s five months from now.”
I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up. I couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d have me committed. But damn, if she knew the danger, the risk of what he needed to do… Where we’d go…
I blew out another breath. “He has the power to hurt me, and it’s only been a week. I know all those pros. I know this could be good. I know I’m destroying it on purpose.” I drew in a shaky breath. “But what kind of a mess am I going to be in five months?” I dabbed my sleeve at a hot, angry tear. It couldn’t be anything but that. I was angry and sad and… I wanted him.
Grace sighed and patted the hand she held. “You’ll be the strong woman who will decide what’s best for you, and you’ll do that. But you have to stop pushing him away. I know you had a shitty life, and that has made you socially limited. Your first reaction is to bristle like a cactus, your second reaction is to burn it all down in a blaze of glory, and that’s all understandable. You’ve done that to me many times, and I get it. But if you toss enough gas on the bonfire stack, eventually, it’s going to flame up whether you want it to or not.”
Defeated, I nodded. “Okay. You’re right.”
“As usual.” She patted my hand again. It was our thing, since usually, I couldn’t bear more. “And we’re not telling Marek that that guy gave you his number, right? Unless he asks, just…don’t go there. Just delete that from your phone and move on. You did nothing wrong by dancing with a handsome guy.”
“I already deleted that.” Impulsively, I leaned over and pulled her into a hug, the first that I could bear.
Gasping, she wrapped her arms around me, knowing damn well what price I would have paid for that a day ago. And it felt so, so, so good.
She patted my back and whispered, “Good girl.”
I had Marek to thank for that, too.
Chapter fifteen
Skye
After I said goodbye to Grace, I went inside and slowly climbed the stairs to my apartment. Whenever I was sad or unsure, I wanted cookies. I must have wanted them so badly that I could smell them, almost taste them, the chocolaty bits mixing with sweet butter and flour… I liked them soft and chewy and preferred them hot out of the oven.
I went to use my key and found the door unlocked. Alarmed, I pushed open the door. Soft alternative rock floated from my living room, and every light in my tiny apartment flooded the hallway. Marek.
I shut the door loudly, tossed my keys on the little table in the hall, and walked into the kitchen.
My heart sped up as I found him in my kitchen, baking cookies of all things. They lined the kitchen table and counters in various states of preparedness. Some had just come out of the oven while others waited on parchment paper for their turn. As much as I didn’t want him in my kitchen right at this moment, a part of me wanted to weep. He’d known I was pissed. And yet here he was, baking cookies. For me.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I could call the cops on you for breaking and entering.”
He raised his head for the first time, his dark brow arched incredulously. “Oh, officer, help,” he said in a high-pitched voice that sounded suspiciously like mine except he’d adopted a bit of a British accent. “My hot boyfriend broke into my home and is making me cookies.” His mouth quirked as he snorted and returned to shifting cookies from the cooling rack to a plate.
“Oh, so you think I think you’re hot?” Unfortunately, he was. The way his leather pants molded to his thighs in all the right places, his hair mussed in a way that said he didn’t give a fuck…yeah, that did it for me.
“It’s a million degrees in this kitchen. I think hot is a given.” After depositing the last cookie, he brushed off his hands and held out the plate. “You can have one unless you’re calling the cops. Then I’ll need all of them for bribes.”
I glared as I took a cookie and bit into perfection. All the tension and frustration from the evening melted away on my tongue, replaced with a happy flush of endorphins. I didn’t realize my eyes were closed until a glass clinked.
He’d set a glass of cold milk in front of me. “So. Do you want to discuss tonight?”
“What makes you think I’d want to discuss anything with you? This is all your fault.” I took another bite, licking a bit of chocolate from my bottom lip. “And what makes you think something happened?”
“I’m not stupid. I know you went out with Grace to get even, to prove me wrong.” His gaze followed the sweep of my tongue, and he glanced away, fidgeting with a dish towel as he leaned against my counter. “Okay
, then we’ll discuss that keeping a spare key under your doormat isn’t the best hiding place.”
“Since you’re the first one to violate using it in the years I’ve lived here, I’m not that worried.” But I vowed to find another hiding place as soon as possible. “Why are you here?”
“For the obvious reason. To make cookies.”
“You have a kitchen.”
He sighed and seemed unable to meet my gaze. Instead, he contemplated the three bottles of whiskey next to my stove and lifted one. “I was concerned. And it was a…chance to make up for something I’d done in the past. A do-over if you will.”
My brows rose as reached for another cookie. “What did you do?”
He poured himself a hefty serving of the harshest whiskey into a mug and took a huge swig. “I didn’t do anything technically wrong. You—”
“She.” I glared.
“She,” he corrected, “had found out, just like you did, that other men were no longer an option because of the gift. Let’s just say you took it a lot better than she did.”
Oh, so Ms. Perfect had more of a temper than I did. I nibbled again as I cocked my head. “And?”
“I found out she’d done exactly what you did. She went on a quest to prove me wrong. And I handled the situation as any seventeen-year-old boy would. I broke stuff and left.” He took a smaller swig of whiskey, his gaze dark over the rim of his glass. “I ended up at the training center with one of the older elite men, and he asked me to look at things her way. I was hurt, because I had seen her retaliation as not wanting me. I should have seen that what she wanted was the ability to choose, just as I had made the choice to love only her.”
I narrowed my eyes as I contemplated what he’d just said. “Oh, so you got a choice?”
He must have realized he’d slipped up, because he looked away, his eyes closed. Then he opened them, knocked back the rest of his liquor. His gaze met mine. “Yeah. I can choose.”
I blinked in shock and surprise, and then anger. “Why can you choose, and I can’t?”
He shrugged. “The gifted aren’t always sterile. Before we make that first jump, we’re able to reproduce. The Association encourages the gifted to have children in that time when we’re training. You know, they want their army of gifted repopulated. But as far as the bond is concerned, it’s just a simple matter of maintaining the population. The elite women usually bond with only one man, but the guy can…” Wincing, he looked away.