Chasing Time

by Mia Downing

  I met his sardonic gaze with a glare at his lack of help.

  He gave me a flippant shrug. “Your choice. Order me to fuck you.”

  My mouth went dry as something inside me changed. Withered. I didn’t want to order him or force him to do this, either. Damn him. But I held his gaze and inched down, taking him slow and easy, my hand at the base to hold him steady as I descended. When I hit home, my inner muscles fluttered around his shaft, my core aching with a fresh need.

  I had no clue what to say or do as I sat on this gorgeous man’s hard dick. I mean, I wanted to fuck him. The bond said he was so close. I could take his orgasm and finish myself and still give him the after. But he lay like a stone, making his own silent point.

  I sucked in a breath, and my bottom lip trembled with some unknown emotion I couldn’t label. Damn it, why couldn’t I just ride him and get what I needed?

  “Hey. Hey.” Brows furrowing, he broke the rules and tugged me to his chest, cradling me to him. “What do you want me to do, sweetness?”

  “Make me believe…” That you love me.

  Groaning, he captured my face with his large hands, pulling me into a heated yet sweet kiss that nibbled and caressed as his tongue tangled with mine. Somehow, he rolled us both so he was on top, his hand cupping my ass so he could angle me in that special way, so his cock stroked all the right things deep inside me. My G-spot practically sang as he thrust, taking me higher and higher to the edge of orgasm.

  I broke the kiss and held his face so I could meet his gaze. “I want you to come first.”

  “What?” He shook his head slightly and stilled. “No, that’s not—”

  “You’ll get an after. I’m so close to coming, Marek. I just want you to go first. This is the same as a blow job.” This was important to me for some reason. Maybe because she had always come first. I don’t know. Why he wouldn’t want to come first baffled me. “Please?”

  “Sweetness. That isn’t what I do.”

  “It is if you love me.”

  He groaned and buried his face in my neck, his lean form still and hot and yet deliciously heavy on top of mine. A little sweat coated his skin in a sheen that turned me on even more. I wiggled and clenched my core, enticing him to get going.

  “Why?” he whispered.

  “I don’t understand why you won’t.”

  “It’s… It’s my way of paying for the after. I don’t deserve the gift of your energy. And though I don’t need it now to survive…” He breathed shallow in my ear, swallowing loudly. “But to take it and not reward you first… It’s wrong.”

  I kissed his mess of hair in confusion as I cradled him closer. “It’s my gift. I don’t have to give you an after. We’ve discussed this.”

  “It’s not what we’re taught.”

  That made me sad for him. “Marek, I want this. For you.”

  I lifted his head from my neck and kissed him as I bucked my hips, sinking him deeper inside me. Groaning, his mouth took control.

  Closing my eyes, I focused on the bond. When I’d joined us before, the seam had been easy to see. Right now, the colors mixed and merged, his now tinged a darker gray at the edges with the stress of what I was making him do. But as I met him thrust for thrust, that changed, his energy threading with my deep blue, the green swirling darker.

  As his breaths became shallower, the yellow exploded along the edges, reaching outward, seeking my blue. Tentatively, I allowed some of the teal to escape, my heart aching at what I had to do. The two colors aligned, and for a brief moment, the seam of the bond lit in a line of brilliant green. There.

  “Skye.” He groaned, his voice guttural and raw as his entire body tensed and stilled.

  The colors exploded as he came, his yellow washing over the seam of the bond in a tidal wave of pleasure that crashed into my energy. Unable to hold back, I joined him, clutching his shoulders as I held him close. The burst of after hit like an explosion that made me shudder and cry out from the exquisite pleasure.

  I panted against his shoulder, unable to catch my breath as my eyes flew open. I’d never seen the bond shaded like that. Is that why they ingrained in gifted men to make sure the women orgasmed first? To hide the seam of the bond so they couldn’t break it? I could have just reached out and plucked a single thread of that electric green and unraveled it all. I had the power and the need. And now, I knew exactly where to find it. Even though the colors calmed, the tide of green washing back and forth over us like waves. That one thread stood out, beckoning to me.

  He rolled from me and flopped down on the bed, his arm flung over his eyes. He knew. The lump in my throat grew as I rose and went to the bathroom. I washed up and returned with a washcloth for him, and just as he’d cleaned me up so many times after he’d passionately annihilated me, I did the same for him.

  When I finished, I climbed back on the bed next to him, sitting on my heels, unsure where to start or what to say.

  Arm still over his eyes, he sighed. “I feel like you’re getting ready to say goodbye.”

  My hand flew to my throat, now thick with emotion. “Marek.”

  He shook his head, still refusing to look at me. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t know how to make you happy. I can’t change who or what you are. I can’t change what I did in the past that brought you to this point.” A breath shuddered between his lips, and his chest heaved. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything to make you believe.”

  Oh, God. My lips trembled, and I slid my hand to my mouth to fight back the words. I wanted this. But I didn’t want to destroy him.

  He cleared his throat, his eyes still shielded from me. “Just say it.”

  I reached out with the other hand, my fingertips hovering over his elbow. The stifling pain radiated from my chest to my throat, and I shook with the burden of what I had to do.

  Finally, I whispered, “I want to break the bond.”

  Chapter nineteen

  Marek

  Skye wanted to break the bond.

  Panic welled up in my chest as I ripped my arm from my eyes to stare at her.

  She sat in the dim light next to me, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other clutching her throat as she fought to breathe. Her trembling almost shook the bed, and as bad as this hurt me—oh, did my chest ache—her fear vibrated through the bond so hard that it scared me, too.

  She didn’t want to sever the bond. She needed to do this, or she’d break. That realization knifed deeper into my heart, and I sucked in a ragged breath to prove I could still breathe.

  I raised a hand in defeat and let it fall to the bed. My body went blissfully numb like I’d finished off a bottle of whiskey. “So sever it.”

  That seemed to shock her into a different emotion than fear. Her hand left her mouth to clutch mine while the other dashed away tears. “I can’t without you understanding why. Without your permission.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand why you’d care if I understand or not. It’s your choice.” Funny how for someone who had wanted choices, she didn’t want to make this one alone. “I’m not going to give you permission to—” I couldn’t even say it. “To me, this is worse than divorce or anything you have that’s equal in this time. This is the end.”

  Her eyes closed, and her jaw tensed as she took a moment. How anyone could choose the right words to end everything was beyond me.

  Finally, she opened her eyes. “It’s the end of something I didn’t choose. Breaking the bond means I can understand what it means to live without you if I don’t go. And if I choose to go, the bond will be my choice entirely.”

  Was she crazy? I shook my head. “You don’t understand. This will hurt you. Your bond will search for me even if I’m not here. It’s not the same as when there’s a thread left like in the beginning. It’s worse. It won’t hurt as much as when I jumped while we were bonded, but it’s not comfortable.”

  This admission shook her confidence a little. Her bottom lip trembled as she said, “I can
shield.”

  “This is about you and your bond, which will be inside your shield. It still hurts.”

  She nodded and ducked her head, staring at her fingernails for a long time. “Do you understand why I’m asking for this?”

  “No.” I didn’t want to admit that it hurt that she didn’t want to choose me. Almost fifteen years ago, she’d stood in a circle of a lot of other guys and picked me.

  But she was right. She wasn’t that Skye. She’d never stood in that circle and made that decision. And I’d never given her an option to agree or disagree to sharing energy with me. I sighed and scrubbed my palms over my face as I muttered, “Yes. I understand.”

  “I won’t do it without your permission.” Fresh tears dripped down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “And you can’t jump until the Ides. You have to stay in this time. Okay? You promised me you wouldn’t leave me. And so help me God, I’ll find a way to hunt you down and make you pay if you jump.”

  I gave a hoarse laugh. “As if this isn’t payment enough.” I didn’t want to say yes. I wanted her to say she was wrong, that I was worth the choice. And she needed me, too, just as much as I needed her.

  Downstairs, I had a mug that said, “If you love something, set it free. It will come back to you.” I had never gotten that saying until now. She was asking me to set her free. Fates, I could only hope that the mug was right, and she’d return.

  Her hand grasped my arm, and she shook it with an increased level of urgency that I vibrated through her energy. “Promise not to jump. This is important to me.”

  Too tired to fight, I shrugged. “I promise. You want my watch?”

  “No. I’m going to trust you.”

  At least she trusted me for something. “Then get it done.”

  Her breath whooshed out as if she’d been holding it, the tail end stuttering on a wrenching sob. Her trembling hand cupped my jaw and cheek, and I closed my eyes as I focused on the energy one last time.

  Both sides darkened, her dark-blue growing black, mine muting to a dingy yellow. The seam in the middle began to unravel, like someone pulling a string on ripped fabric. I fought the panic that wanted to well as my energy bunched up, unable to find a way to her as the seam disappeared. It felt similar to the way it did when she shielded against me. But this was permanent. No energy would seep around the shield now and then, beckoning to me. It would be final. Done.

  That last thread remained.

  The bed shifted, and she pressed her lips to mine, her tears dampening my face as she mentally pulled the last string holding us together. I wanted to hold her, grab that thread, and never let it go.

  But I let her kiss me and prayed to the Fates that she’d return, because I loved her enough to do as she asked.

  The bond severed, and her blue went black as ink. I’d set her free.

  She sucked in a breath as she yanked away, her eyes wide with panic. “Oh, God. I wasn’t expecting—” Her breath came in pants as she closed her eyes on the pain that had to be welling up as her bond railed against being separated. “I have to go.”

  I flung my arm over my eyes and scrunched them to hold back the tears as she scrambled from the bed, grabbing her clothes, her feet pounding down the stairs.

  I hadn’t realized how powerful her energy had been even when she shielded against me. Even when I had thought it gone, it had still throbbed inside of me like a monster pounding at the door, begging to be let in. I just hadn’t noticed it.

  Now, I felt…hollow. Empty. Alone.

  And all I wanted was time to hurry up, so she’d choose me.

  Skye

  This… I never expected severing the bond to hurt like this. The energy clamored inside me, begging to be set free. So much energy. It built and built, and like when he’d jumped without me, the bond searched with piercing agony. On top of that, the guilt churned right along with the bond, telling me exactly what a pathetic fool I was for walking away.

  Somehow, I made it home and upstairs, the throbbing inside me calming as the distance between us grew. I shut the door and sank down in the hallway, right on the spot where he’d fingered me to an orgasm after our first night together.

  Drawing my knees up, I rested my forehead on them, wanting to cry, but I had no more tears. God, I was no better than she was, breaking his bond, leaving him alone to suffer. On top of it, I’d asked for his blessing. And did that make it any better than her? No. No, it didn’t.

  I wiped my tears and texted Grace, needing her to kick my ass for doing this stupid, stupid thing. I told her I’d put things on hold with Marek, and I’d give him an answer later in the week. I couldn’t take it. I’d hit my breaking point.

  Grace: Oh, hon.

  Trembling, I asked: Am I stupid?

  Grace: No.

  I took a relieved breath.

  Grace: You’re stubborn.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Grace: And pig-headed. And a really bad girlfriend.

  I sighed and let my head fall back against the wall. Yes, I was all those things. My phone chimed again.

  Grace: And I love you anyway.

  That’s all it took for the dam inside me to overflow. Staring at the phone, I dashed more stupid tears away.

  Grace: And if he really loves you, he knows all that, too. And he will forgive you when you smarten up and crawl back.

  I shook my head and quickly typed: I’m not doing this to test him.

  Grace: Like I said, if he loves you, he knows all this. But pull it together. Figure it out. Okay?

  I nodded. Okay.

  One foster mom had once said that mistakes were a way to learn. I definitely had something to learn from all this. I just prayed I gained clarity in time.

  Skye

  Later that night after I’d severed the bond with Marek, tears streamed down my face as I dipped my brush into the blob of purple paint. I contemplated where the next petal should be. I had no clue why this little bundle of violets had upset me so. In the dream, it had fallen from my hand to a cobblestone street, the pink ribbon squished under someone’s foot. I’d been little. The bundle hadn’t fallen far.

  Somehow, I knew this wasn’t my dream. It had a different feel than the one when I’d been given away to foster care. I’d never seen cobblestones except in pictures and in Portland, but these looked different. This dream felt like…like her. It couldn’t be. I wasn’t a fraction.

  I captured the scene in black and white on MDF board, the only color being the muted purple of the violets and pink ribbon. Just like the dream.

  If this dream was hers, why did this bother me? I hated her. She could be sad every day of the week for all I cared. But the tears wouldn’t stop, and I couldn’t just curl into a ball and sob like I wanted. I had to paint to purge this.

  So…I did.

  Marek

  A few days after Skye dumped me, I went looking for answers.

  And what better place than the bookstore on Skye’s day off, hoping to talk to Grace. This could be a really bad decision. Grace scared me more than any bad guy I’d encountered on a dark night. The woman had a way of staring through me like she was inspecting my soul. And if I screwed this up, it would get back to Skye. But I was at my wits’ end.

  I hadn’t been sleeping at all, unable to come to a solution as to why my Skye had done this. I loved her. I’d tried to make her feel that. And I had no clue what else I could have done to make her feel I was the right choice. I had a few days left to somehow fix this, so I didn’t lose her forever.

  The bell rang over the door, and Grace’s dark-green head popped around the corner, the smile on her face dying as she saw me in the doorway. “I can’t talk to you,” she warned.

  “Of course you can. You’re an independent woman, and we have the same goal in common.”

  Her dark-brown eyes narrowed. “My goal isn’t to drag her somewhere she doesn’t want to go.”

  I sighed as my hands sank into my pockets, my shoulders rolling
under the weight of stress. I missed Skye—my Skye. “That’s not my goal, either. I just want her to be happy, preferably with me.”

  After a long moment, Grace rounded the corner of the fiction room and down the three steps to stand before me. She was taller than Skye and didn’t have to tilt her head far for her murderous gaze to meet mine.

  I wished for a white flag to wave in surrender. “I’m not the bad guy in this.”

  Her dark-green lips thinned to a hard line. “If she’s not happy, I’m not happy.”

  “Then how do I make you both happy?”

  Grace brushed past me to the front desk. Turning, she frowned, her glittery green nails drilling on the glass of the counter. “You give her time. Let her sort this out.”

  Could I give her time? I’d set a date. Could I extend it? No. If the timeline closed, it would be too late. The curse would be permanent. “My time is limited.”

  One slim shoulder shrugged in a way that said she didn’t give two shits about my time. “Then you figure out what other people have never given her, and you give her that.”

  I laughed, and it sounded a little crazy to my ears. “I have no clue what that would be. I’ve told her I loved her. I’m a rich man. I’d buy her the fucking moon if I could. But I don’t know what to do to, how to heal her.” I glanced out the window as if hoping she’d appear and smile at me and solve all my issues. That would be way too easy.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face and turned back to Grace. “How is she?”

  Her lips pursed as she weighed the consequences of telling me. “She’s tired. Sad.”

  Of course, she was tired. She’d severed the bond and had to be in pain. I couldn’t sleep. I doubted she could. And we were both sad.

  Her lips thinned again. “Tired, like she was in January.”

  Brows raised, I thought back to January when Skye had looked exhausted and beat, and I’d finally gotten some answers from her. I tapped a finger on the counter as my mind gnawed on the nibbles of truth she’d told me. “She has nightmares.”