White Fire: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 5 (9 page)

She just didn’t want him.

“Come get me when the meeting starts.” Emma rose from her chair and headed away from the house, the fire, and the overload of males on the beach. She held up the hem of Katherine’s white skirt and walked along the edge of the water in bare feet. The white gauzy skirt hit Katherine just below the knees. On Emma’s much shorter frame, it touched her ankles. The Bohemian-style top Katherine loaned her was too long as well, but it reminded her of the yellow roses in her mother’s garden.

None of the women had shoes that would fit her, so she walked barefoot in the sand rather than traipse around in her high-heeled boots. Katherine had promised to take her shopping tomorrow. There was a small shopping center in Tavanier, a few minute’s drive from the house. The clothing she had arrived in was stacked neatly in the corner of the guest bedroom, the notches in her boot heel, a sad joke to her now. She’d burned the souls of at least a hundred Triscani from Ajax’s body. She didn’t have enough space on her boots to make notches for that.

Soon it wouldn’t matter anyway. If Bran and Teagh were telling the truth, in a few days either there wouldn’t be any more Triscani, or they’d all be dead. Either way, those boots were toast.

“Emma. May I walk with you?” Nicodemus called out from a few paces behind her and she stopped, turned around.

“Sure.” She waited for him to close the gap and started walking again. Sure. Why not?

He fell into step beside her in the sand, careful not to touch. They had all been very, very careful not to touch her.

“I am Nicodemus.”

“Yes, I know.”

He seemed stumped, but determined to talk to her. “Where are you from, Emma?”

“Everywhere.”

“I’m sorry, I meant, where do you live? Now?”

“Portland, Oregon. West coast.” She grinned then, because all these guys were like lost Dukes from another century. Noble. Honorable. Very proper.

Clueless.

She decided to take pity on him. “I’m not from anywhere. No one place is home. I grew up on Itara, but I’ve spent time on both worlds, in so many places I’ve lost count.”

“You’re so young. How is this possible?”

She smiled and walked with her toes tickling the edge of the surf. “I’m older then I look.”

“But you are human? A Timewalker?” Emma glanced up at him from the corner of her eye and decided that he looked like a lit candle in the darkness. He was dressed head to toe in black, like a Goth rocker, but his golden hair fell to his shoulders and danced and the wind like a golden flame.

“That’s what they tell me.” They walked in silence for several minutes before Nicodemus spoke again.

“Thank you, Emma, for what you did for our King.” When she said nothing he continued. “Do you love Ajax? Do you intend to Mark him?”

“I used to believe that I would love him, but I think now I was mostly in love with an idea, never a man.” She stopped walking and turned out, toward the sea as if the massive amount of water could wash away her mistakes. “And no, Ajax went to collect his Marked Mate. That is why he is not here, why we’re all stuck waiting for him.”

Nicodemus faced the water as he stood next to her. But when he turned to face her, she knew her reprieve was over. “Emma. I realize that we do not know one another. But perhaps it is time for both of us to take a chance on something new.”

Emma rotated to study his face, the soft play of the oceans waves on her left and the forgotten beach fire far behind her. He was asking for her touch, asking her to Mark him, to choose him. He stood before her, a stranger, and offered her the world, when Ajax had offered her nothing.

“May I?” Nicodemus held out his hand but made no move to get closer. The decision was hers.

“You’re asking permission to hold my hand?”

“An honorable male never touches a female without permission.”

God. She was tempted. She was. He was big and beautiful and strong. And he wanted her. It was in his eyes. He’d treat her like a goddess.

Which did nothing to help her cause, because what she wanted more than anything was to free of the whole lot of them. No Immortals or Triscani. No fate or destiny or duty to a people who would hate, resent and reject her, just like Ajax had rejected her. She’d Marked him, felt the heat and lust roll through her blood, and he’d returned the Mark almost immediately and adding insult to injury, gone off in search of his real Queen. She felt like a fish that had just slipped the hook, but the hole left behind was too raw to be healed just yet. It had been a big hook, and she’d swallowed it whole when she was a very little girl.

She smiled at him, but shook her head. “I’m not ready for that yet. I’m sorry.”

He lowered his hand and studied her. “You were in love with the idea of Ajax?”

She saw no reason to lie, when he’d already figured her out. “Unfortunately. Since I was about four years old. But honestly, right this minute, I just want to punch him in the nose.”

Nicodemus looked up briefly, and a grin played out over his lips. “You say Ajax went to collect his Marked Mate and bring her here?”

“I assume so. I doubt he’d leave her behind. You all seem a bit overprotective and territorial to me.” Except when it came to her, of course. Ajax had no trouble at all leaving her behind.

“Well then, though I will deeply mourn the loss of our star-crossed love, I am happy to help you get a little revenge.”

“What?” He looked like a mischievous five-year-old.

“He broke your heart?”

“Yes.”

“Would you embrace an opportunity to teach him a lesson?”

He wasn’t making sense. At all. But Ajax was an idiot. She’d Marked him, felt the burn all the way to her toes, and he’d given it back. Refused her claim. Shattered decades of dreams in an instant and left her behind to chase after another woman. It was petty and small, but she wanted to hurt him, wanted him to regret his choice, at least a little.

“Yes, but how?”

“He is watching us. Kiss me. Now.” Nicodemus lowered his face to hers and stepped in close. The heat of his body wrapped around her and his hands framed her face. She nodded, the smallest movement of her head, and he kissed her. Kissed her with fire and regret, kissed her like she was the only woman in the world.

Kissed her like he wanted to keep her for himself.

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Ajax paced in the sand near where Bran sat in a chair and tried to ignore the byplay going on farther up the beach.

Nicodemus was walking with Emma. Talking to her. Holding out his hand.

Mine.

He told the stupid voice in his head to be silent. He couldn’t claim Emma. If Angeline had been right about anything, she’d been right about that. The Triscani couldn’t turn his Queen to ash if he didn’t have one.

Nicodemus and Emma were facing each other now. What were they talking about? As much as he strained his hearing, they were just beyond reach.

“I told you, snooze you lose.”

He wanted to punch Bran in the face. Where had he heard such a ridiculous expression? These humans and their odd way of speaking were driving him mad. “She will not offer her Mark to the Darkwalker.”

“She might. You didn’t want it.”

Then Nicodemus placed his hands on Emma’s face, lowered his head.

Kissed her.

“Nicodemus!” His roar could have been heard for miles.

He watched, fuming, as the Darkwalker lifted his head and whispered something in Emma’s ear. She wrapped her hand around his wrist as he held her head still. Did she touch the male to keep him at a distance, or to hold him to her?

Had Nicodemus felt the fire of her touch? Did he now carry Emma’s Mark? Or had she denied him?

Gods be damned. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it.

Nicodemus took his sweet time escorting Emma back to the fire, where he held a chair for her and stood behind her like her private guardian angel. He had no answers to the question of Nicodemus carrying her Mark. The Darkwalker’s boots denied him even the smallest clue.

Ajax wanted to scream, but didn’t have the luxury. The music was off and every face was serious. And they were looking to him.

“We have less than forty-eight hours until the new moon rises.”

Aron interrupted. “Forty-six hours, three minutes and seventeen seconds, as of now.” Zoey grinned and silently mouthed the word “superpower” to her male.

Raiden sat in a chair with his Marked Mate, Mari, leaning against his legs where she sat in the sand. “That matches what Mari found in the cave, give or take a couple hours. I’d have to do that math.”

“Don’t bother. Aron’s never wrong.” Zoey shrugged.

“From what all of you have told me, the goddess plans to open the Gates and force all of the Triscani out of their false kingdom, into this one. And it’s up to us to find a way to capture and ash every single one of them.”

“There will be thousands.” Katherine shuddered. “They’re all over, over there. In the dark. Too many for me to count. But maybe Robbie can take them. Just line them up and suck them dry like the goddess did in Colorado.”

Nicodemus spoke from his place of honor behind Emma’s chair, his hand resting along its top, near her shoulder. Ajax had to look away so he could hear the male’s words.

“That will only work if Robert is here. And he is not. We will be a small force, a handful of males, against an army of Hunters. And they will not come alone.

“Nor will they stand idly by and allow us to turn them to ash. They’ll come with swords and claws. Outnumber us several hundred to one. And that is just the Hunters. If they are forced out of their realm, the younger males will arrive also, those who have turned, and those who have not. What would you have us do with them? The younger sons who have not yet tasted the dark gift? Would you ask us to kill them as well? Boys. Five years old? Ten? At what age does murdering our own become acceptable?”

“When I command it.”

“No.” Nicodemus shook his head. “We will track the Hunters if they roam Earth’s plane and destroy them, every single one of them. But I will not ask my men to stand in front of an army and die for a King’s pride.”

“You will, if that is what I ask of you.”

“We serve because Katherine requested it of us, because the goddess honored us. We will honor and defend her to our dying breaths.” Nicodemus rose to his full height and snarled his last words. “But you are less than nothing to me.”

“I am your King.”

“You are ash under my boots.” Nicodemus turned and walked away, all four of the other Darkwalkers with him. They summoned a portal and were gone.

Chapter Seven

Early-morning light filtered into the bright kitchen and Emma did the one thing she knew would prevent her from pulling every single strand of hair out of her head.

She made breakfast.

Aron and Zoey were staying at Mari’s house, Bran had vanished back to his spaceship, which left her hosts, Katherine and Teagh, and the other one here to eat breakfast.

She refused to even think his name.

Instead she entertained the idea of kissing Nicodemus again. It hadn’t rocked her world, but it hadn’t been bad either. The boy knew how to kiss. And he was gorgeous, sex on a stick. Katherine hadn’t lied about that. It wasn’t his fault she just wasn’t into him.

But maybe she could be. He was sexy and had no problem telling that other male to go to hell. Maybe if she got out of this house, went to stay with Mari for a while, or, even better, left completely, she’d start to feel like she could function again.

One more day. Then this Crux would be over and she could vanish into the woodwork. Go start a new life in Hawaii or Paris. Leave her former destiny and duty far behind her and start her life. A real life.

Alone in the well-stocked kitchen, she decided to make cinnamon crepes and poached eggs.

“Jumper still broken?”

Emma startled at the softly spoken question and swung around with the frying pan in her hand, ready to attack.

An Immortal female stood before her, and from the long hours of Bran’s description, she recognized the Seer, Celestina. Long blonde hair like liquid sunshine, eyes like blue ice, about the same height as Emma, who’d crowed in celebration when she’d broken five foot two. And, true to Bran’s word, she was dressed in blue. Not a dress, but dark blue jeans, a powder-blue sweater and blue leather boots bright enough to make the sky jealous. It was weird. And kind of adorable for a two-thousand-year-old Immortal.

“You’re Celestina.”

“Yes.” The petite Immortal looked into the bowl where Emma had been mixing the batter for her crepes. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Crepes.”

“Yum.” She poked at the batter then looked back up at Emma. “But not why I’m here. Your jumper still broken?”

“Yes. But how did you know about that?” Emma hadn’t told anyone, not even Bran. If he knew that she couldn’t just pop herself out of trouble, he’d never let her out of his sight.

“Because I had to borrow it.” Emma felt her eyes round, but Celestina held up her finger in front of her lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone. It has to be our secret. I needed it. But now it’s time for you to have it back so Droghan doesn’t cut off your head.”