The phone buzzing in my pocket pulled me out of a dreamless slumber the next morning.
I awoke with an even worse headache, one brought on as much from my cold as the nightmares. I barely recalled what happened after I dozed off in Taylor’s arms, but at some point, the nightmares crept into my slumber. I fell asleep cradled against him and awoke in my bed.
Irritated, I rolled enough to pry the phone free and checked the messages from Carter.
I’m thinking about how to explain space-time theory. Read the first of three messages.
“Ugh, Carter.” Not in the mood for science, I pushed myself up and looked around. Tea was waiting for me on the table beside the fire. I crawled out of bed and sat down to drink a cup.
The night weighed heavily in my thoughts, the demise of a good man like John and my shotgun wedding to Taylor. He’d been a gentleman last night and cuddled with me. Some of my suspicions about him melted as I realized how many times he’d had the chance to harm me and had done the opposite.
When my head had righted itself enough for me to return to Carter’s texts, I placed my phone on the table.
Short version: Someone is scrubbing his presence in the past from the history books. I do the same for you, which means he’s like you. Sent back but not by me. That means the person who sent him is the man trying to undo what I’m doing. Or I’m trying to undo what he is. Whatever. Either way, this Taylor guy is working against you.
I leaned forward and reread the note before going to the third.
So … I’d say to stay as far from him as possible now that we know the empathic memories can’t read him either. He’s likely there to stop you on the twentieth fourth.
“That might be an issue.” This time, my heart skipped a beat for a reason other than my admiration of Taylor’s fantastic abs. I dwelt on Carter’s notes, my instincts wriggling.
Taylor was hiding a lot more than how he knew to find me the night I landed.
“The mystery deepens,” I murmured and responded with a more pressing question. “How do you know John, Carter?” I sent the question.
“You say something?” Taylor called from the bathroom.
“No!” I shoved the phone under my napkin just as he emerged, dressed, freshly shaven and with a wet head. His green eyes were piercing. They traveled from the napkin I clenched to my face.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Better, thanks.” Not one to blush in front of men, I recalled his kindness last night with mixed feelings. Enemy or … what the hell was the alternative, if he was a time traveler lying to me about who he was?
The quiet between us was awkward. He cleared his throat finally.
“I’m, uh, headed into town.”
“I’ll be here,” I murmured.
Without another word, he turned and left. I watched him. He had a perfect body down to the tight, round globes of his ass. At least I married a hottie. I almost laughed, baffled by the turn of events.
The phone vibrated beneath my hand, and I uncovered it.
“Long story. Will tell you about it sometime,” I read the note from Carter aloud. “You have too many secrets, Carter.” I hesitated then responded. Slight problem about Taylor. Think of us as being the only people left on a deserted island. We can’t really escape each other. How dangerous is he?
My insides quaked at the thought of what Carter would say. His assessment of my situation made me wish I had never asked. His response was quick.
Very. As in, if Taylor didn’t get rid of your predecessors, his people did. Watch yourself.
“Shit.” I lowered the phone to my lap and sat thinking for a minute. Before John’s death, I had been on my way to the savages who were going to start a war. But if Taylor was here to prevent me from stopping the war … “I’m so confused.”
Taylor hadn’t been the one to take out the girls, though. That much I knew. Intense and able to smell my lies a mile away, he nonetheless was earnest in believing he was supposed to help my predecessors and me, not hurt them. He had also called Carter a madman for implanting chips in my brain.
It made me think whatever was between him and Carter, it was personal.
My thoughts drifted to the well behind the barn.
He hadn’t done it. The whispers last time had almost told me who did.
“Nell!” I called.
The servant was never far away. “Yes, Miss Josie?” Nell appeared wearing all black. My spirits dampened.
“I need some air.”
“Of course. Your dress is ready. We will lay your father to rest this evening.”
I sighed, depressed by the thought.
“Where would you like to go?” Nell asked as I brought in the black dress and corset.
“I feel like I need to be alone. I’m going to the barn.”
Nell raised an eyebrow.
“The animals make me smile,” I explained.
“Very well, Miss Josie.” Nell’s normal spark was gone.
I watched my nanny move efficiently as always, in constant motion while her eyes remained so sad. I had the urge to comfort the woman who had been in love with the man who just died but didn’t know what to say. Struggling with my own unexpected grief, I ended up not speaking at all as I dressed in black out of respect for my faux-father’s death.
Nell didn’t dog me out the door like I expected, another sign of her profound grief.
I went to the barn and stepped inside, breathing in the scent of horses, leather and hay. The smells were comforting, and I paused to rub the foreheads of a few horses before leaving the barn and circling it.
I went to the well. Its whispers were faint enough I barely registered them until I was in physical contact with the stone wall. I sank to my knees beside it and closed my eyes, focusing on the images.
Fractured visions floated through my mind, and I grappled with the message the stones were trying to give me. A woman with blond hair falling. The form of a man peering into the well more than once. It was dark when he came both times, his form and features hidden by the night.
One of the women had survived the fall and died slowly, I realized as I watched. There was a stream of memories illustrating the passing of day and night, of shadows that crept down one side of the well as the sun rose and up the other side as it set.
Three nights, I counted. The woman had lasted three nights and days before the memories stopped.
Stricken by what I saw, I took a break to ground myself before I closed my eyes and sought the memories for a second round. My hands trembled, and it took all my willpower not to let my thoughts dwell on what it would be like to lie, broken, at the bottom of a well for three days.
The form of a man was present only one of the streams while the other two girls were pushed from behind and never saw their attacker.
I focused hard on capturing what I could from the image of the man.
It wasn’t Taylor. At least, there was no sense of familiarity from the girl peering up at him, and all three had met him. I didn’t know why I was so relieved. How he was involved, I didn’t yet understand.
Carter’s text jolted my out of the recollections of others. I relaxed and wiped my face, exhausted and distraught. I checked my phone.
Then I suggest you run to the other side of the island. Fast. Stay away from him, Josie. He’s dangerous.
It wasn’t the response I wanted. Carter thought me in trouble of some kind, but I disagreed. If Taylor meant to do me harm, he’d had plenty of opportunities alone with me. There was something about him that made me uneasy, but it wasn’t this - mortal danger like that which threatened the others.
I hesitated before replying. What happened to the fifth girl? There are three in the well, me and … ?
What if she died in the house, in the room at the end of the hallway?
“They are your friends?” Fighting Badger’s voice startled me, and I jumped.
Twisting to see him, I couldn’t help the flare of fear that warmed my breast and made my heart race. He squatted a short distance away, dressed in breeches and vest, his long black hair down.
“No,” I answered. Sudden interest replaced the unsettled feeling I always got when he was around. “Can you hear them?”
He cocked his head to the side, listening. “Some. They are very faint. Very unhappy.”
“The girls in the well are … were … like me. From the future. Someone killed them,” I explained. “They’ve been trying to tell me who hurt them, and I just can’t see it.” I hesitated then motioned him forward. “Sometimes if you touch something, the memories are stronger.” I flattened my palms on the stones.
Fighting Badger took the invitation and sat down beside me, mirroring my movements. We were quiet for a moment. I watched the shadowy images of his twisted mind morph into the memories of the girls at the bottom of the well.
“I see me,” he voiced after a moment. “I heard two spirits one night. I did not know the third was alive.”
“She suffered a lot,” I whispered, stricken by the idea of such a slow death. “Can you see the man who did this?”
Fighting Badger was quiet for a moment. He stood, the bone necklace he wore clinking with his movements. He leaned over the well, straightened then did it again. “A child,” he said finally.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Look.” He took my arm and pulled me to my feet. “Lean over.” Uncertain what he was doing, I mirrored his movement. He bent with me over the edge. “A man has a longer shadow.” He pointed to me. “A child or woman much smaller. She saw two shadows: mine and one your size.”
“A woman,” I whispered. My eyes went to the boards beneath my torso. I straightened, pensive. The fifth girl sent back by Carter, someone who might be able to identify other time travelers on the spot.
“Yes.”
There were half a dozen female servants in the house and Nell. I didn’t see my governess doing this; she had been as ecstatic to see me as John. It made sense the first woman sent back to this era was close, that she might be hiding nearby or within the ranks of servants.
“He knew nothing about you except that you had to be stopped.”
I looked up at Fighting Badger’s words. “Who?”
“The man who tried to hurt my brother and you. He set fire to the cabin as a warning to my brother.”
“So he knew your brother?”
“He said he did.”
“What happened …” I stopped. His memories formed once more, and this time, they were absolutely horrifying. “Stop, stop, stop!”
They dissipated into shadows. Fighting Badger smiled.
I released a breath. “Okay. You found the one with blue eyes. What about the other?”
“Other?”
“There were two men in your head that night,” I said. “This one and one who was … think about that night again.” The memories were faint and very hard to distinguish, given how dark and stormy it had been. “You saw him. I couldn’t find him in your head if you hadn’t. He was camouflaged, a large shadow, one who had been following you. At one point you thought you heard him?”
“I did,” Fighting Badger was hushed. “I saw nothing.”
“I saw him, and I think you did, too. I don’t think you knew it at the time though.”
He snatched my arms suddenly enough that I gasped. “What else? Tell me who he is.” His dark eyes burned into me.
“That’s all I can see. That’s all there is.”
Fighting Badger glared at me.
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” I whispered. “Especially after you helped me.”
The fire faded from his dark depths, and he released me.
“Miss Josie!”
“I have to go,” I said and stepped back. “You shouldn’t be seen here.”
Fighting Badger didn’t budge. He was still enough to be a statue, his eyes the only part of him that moved. He was watching me.
“Thank you for helping me,” I added.
He shifted finally and turned away.
Of all the people here, I understood him the best and least. Our shared skill did nothing to shed light on the source of his depravity.
Hungry and unnerved, I left the well. It was near noon, and I had learned all I thought I would from the dead women in the well. Uncertain what to do with the knowledge of the location of their bodies, I dwelt on their memories while arguing silently with how to help women who were already dead.
At the very least, they deserved real burials instead of being discarded like trash. But revealing that I knew they were there would place me in danger without knowing the threat.
My lunch was waiting for me in my room. I sat down to eat without tasting much. I had the urge to talk to John, even knowing he wasn’t there. The house was too quiet with everyone in mourning.
Uncertain what to think about Taylor, I was relieved he’d gone to work rather than stay with me. His home had burnt down, or I’d search it.
Convenient timing. I lowered the glass of water from my lips and gazed at the hearth. My previous suspicions resurfaced: Taylor’s connection to the man who burnt down his cabin, his secret about the night he found me, how he knew what he shouldn’t about me. He was always around when I needed him most.
Unease stirred within me. He had also rescued me twice, held me when I was upset last night and had multiple chances to do something bad to me.
Stay away from him, Josie. He’s dangerous. Carter seemed pretty certain.
The more I thought about him, the more confused I became.
But the real danger was someone else. Someone in the house. That much I felt with certainty.
Sad and distraught, I flung myself onto my bed to stare at the ceiling before I sat up suddenly.
Without Nell looking over my shoulder, I had time to look at the phones the girls had left in more depth. I closed and locked my door before dropping beside the armoire and sliding the bottom drawer open. I carefully pulled the fake bottom of the drawer open to reveal the three phones.
I replaced the drawer and took the phones to the space between the wall and bed, where no one who had a key could enter and see what I did. I started with the oldest phone with the cracked screen. I flipped it on and off and then squinted at the screen to try to read any messages that popped up.
“Nada,” I murmured and set it aside. I reread the messages on the other two. Carter had been in a panic when he sent them. Taking a picture of one, I sent it to him with a note. Why did you tell her to get out?
The phones were in good shape, aside from the oldest one with a busted screen. There was no indication of who they belonged to, no stickers or personalized covers. Disappointed not to find more out about the mysterious women, I returned them to the armoire and sat back.
“Who the hell put you all there?” I asked the jewelry box with some frustration. “Why only three? Where’s the fourth?” And who was the fifth woman?
Would I be able to spot her if we crossed paths, or had she gone native? Determined to find out who wanted me dead before I ended up at the bottom of the well, I left my room.
I wandered the house. I went first to John’s room and stood outside it. He wasn’t there, but it still felt like he was. The enhanced memories drifted to me the way those from the well did, in splintered patches of randomness that were difficult to follow, except when it came to the images of his wife and daughter.
“He loved them so much,” I whispered, heart heavy. My eyelids drifted closed, and I watched the joyous memories of the old man that lingered with his energy in the place he passed away. Carrying real-Josie around on his hip, visiting the town square for a parade with his wife, stopping by the market at the edge of town …
I sucked in a breath, touched by the emotion that remained after John was dead. It was beautiful, pure, in a world that seemed to grow darker around me. I made another mental note to ask Carter what exactly he put in my head and how it worked when we met next.
For another ten minutes, I stood outside John’s door, the rhythmic tick-tock of his grandfather clock the only sound. I watched the happy memories. Not yet convinced I did the right thing by hiding the truth, I suspected John might’ve known, since he knew Carter.
I released my breath and left his room.
I could hear the dead. It was a good thing when I sought a missing person. I moved slowly through the house with its multiple parlors and sitting rooms, listening for any whispers or trickles of memories that brushed by me.
Tracking down every servant I could, I greeted them all and watched how they reacted. If time travelers had a tell, I wasn’t seeing it.
Hours later, I returned to my hallway and walked down it as well, realizing I had been avoiding the obvious: the source of my nightmares, the room at the very end. A whisper tickled the back of my neck, and I paused at the door.
Something terrible had happened there. The images were blurry, of blood and darkness. Two people … a fight … could that be what happened to the missing time traveler?
“Miss Josie!” Nell’s call made me jump.
I faced her.
“Why are you not resting?”
“I got bored,” I replied.
“That room is forbidden to you.” Nell shook her head. “Come. Let me fix your hair before the wake.”
I hesitated, intrigued by the idea she didn’t want me in the room beckoning to me. It meant she knew something about it. With another look at the door, I returned to my bedroom, where Nell waited behind my chair.
“Why is that room forbidden?” I asked.
“It was your father’s direction.” She raked the brush through my hair.
I winced. I couldn’t imagine her brushing the hair of baby-Josie like this. “You don’t know why?”
“It was not my place to ask.”
Her thoughts were … blank. The strange, brief gap fueled my curiosity. She wasn’t lying, but …
I hadn’t yet run into something like this. A block, one I didn’t think was purposeful, similar to how my uncle’s old school record player sometimes skipped.
Half an hour later, I left the house in a heavier than usual gown and black veil that reached my knees. A sleek back coffin was in the back of an elegant carriage, John’s best, if I had to guess. I frowned at the final resting place for the kindly man. It wasn’t anywhere near what such a beautiful soul deserved.
“Ms. Nell, Miss Josie.”
I turned at Taylor’s low voice, heart taking off for two reasons this time. He was dressed in a dark suit that appeared new and nothing like what he normally wore. He gazed at me, unreadable. He was sexy as sin in his worn, patched clothing and even more so in a new suit.
More people arrived as I waited, and I found myself moving towards Taylor as much because he cancelled out the memories accosting me as because of how much I admired his striking eyes and the way the suit fit him. I was attracted to him and had been since we met.
Half the town was here, to include Running Bear and several other natives who kept their distance from the others. Without Taylor’s presence, I’d be in a puddle on the ground from the onslaught of memories of the people standing so close. As it was, there was something I could almost read from him for once. A fuzzy vision of grays and black, of a sky and beneath it …
Almost … I released my breath. One tiny memory was trying to reach me from his mind and failed to make it the last step.
“How was your day?” I asked. I searched his handsome face for some sign of what he hid from me and how dangerous Carter claimed him to be.
“Well.” His attention was on the crowd. I had no trouble believing he wasn’t one who liked crowds or who knew how to handle his sudden fame in the small town. “Would you care to join me for supper?”
“We’re married. Aren’t you supposed to order your poor little wife around?”
He chuckled, a flare of genuine warmth crossing his features before it disappeared. “I can. Thought I’d ask first.”
“I’d like that,” I said, unable to help my smile. Just don’t be the bad guy. I almost sighed. “We can talk tonight,” I added. I didn’t have much more time to win him to my side and help me stop the native twins.
“Deal.” He offered me his hand.
Together, we walked behind the wagon through the property, trailed by half the town, to a small plot on the backside of a hill in a graveyard. There were five headstones present already with John’s grave dug out.
Grateful for the veil, I did my best not to cry too much. I was spent from the night before and just a little afraid of drawing the attention of Philip, who was always within about four feet of me.
I moved away from Taylor to go to the casket. The assault of memories from the townspeople hit me like a stiff wind.
Don’t faint. It took a moment for me to steady the foreign, swirling images and emotions in my head. I moved to the far side of the casket, where only the memories of two people were able to reach me instead of the dozen that nearly drowned me.
And then there were the rest. I turned to face the other tombstones in the peaceful, well-kept family cemetery.
The dead were talking again. Most were too faint for me to make out, and only one appeared to be … unhappy, as Fighting Badger might say. This one was close and, judging by the power of the whisper, somewhat … fresh.
Who would’ve been buried recently in the family graveyard? I resisted the urge to step towards the whisper. There was no grave where it came from.
“Miss Josie,” the preacher said.
Realizing everyone was watching me, I focused on John’s casket and bent to lay a wreath of flowers on it. Taylor’s arm was around Nell, who wept hard enough for her shoulders to quake.
As selfish as it seemed, I was grateful not to know that kind of pain. I ached for John more than I should, but Nell had no closure with him at all after years spent pining for him.
The preacher began speaking once more. The casket was lowered, and I whispered a final farewell and thank you to the man who showed me what it was like to have a father, even if only for a few days.
The throng of people returned to the area behind the house, where long tables had been overloaded with a feast of food. Bonfires blazed on either side for warmth, and the group sat around the tables, talking and eating.
Sticking close to Taylor so he cancelled out my empathic memory chip, I picked at my food, uncomfortable with Philip seated across the table from me and even less certain what I was supposed to do since Carter hadn’t messaged me in half a day.
I had the urge to return to the cemetery once everyone else was gone, to listen to the whisper I’d heard.
It was close to midnight by the time the last guest left, and I made my way up the stairs to my bedroom, trailed by Nell. My nanny helped me change and laid out the slippers once more.
I eyed them. The other thought I hadn’t dwelt on as much as I probably should have: what Taylor expected on our second night married. Instead, I was thinking about dead people.
I had slept with men whose names I didn’t know the next morning, but something about Taylor was different, and it wasn’t just Carter’s assertion he was dangerous.
It was the sense of familiarity, the fact I didn’t fear him, no matter how many times Carter told me he was a threat. It was almost like some part of me – whether instinct or magical chip – knew Taylor was what he claimed to be: someone who would help me.
The mischievous part of me looked forward to embarrassing him. I slid my feet into the slippers. Nell gave me an approving nod and led me out of the hallway and down John’s wing. We passed his room, and I released a breath, relieved we weren’t going to the chamber where he died.
Nell left me at the door of Taylor’s room, and I hesitated a moment before knocking.
He answered it, dressed in his pajama bottoms and a loose shirt. Stepping aside, he motioned for me to enter.
His room was as large as mine, decorated in manly shades of dark blue and red, with a bed that was closer to a king size than my full bed. I faced him, curious in the tense silence between us. The butterflies were back, along with the distant reminder that Carter seemed to think Taylor was bad.
I just don’t see it.
Taylor’s eyes swept over me quickly, as if he was afraid to look too long, before he crossed to a carafe of amber liquid I assumed was whiskey. He poured a glass and offered it to me.
I shook my head.
He poured himself one and tossed it back.
“You all right?” I asked.
“I am … new to this.”
“To what? Being married?”
His eyes went to the bed in a silent response.
“Wait. You’re a virgin?” I asked, astonished.
Red crept up his face. “Not a virgin. No honorable woman will consider someone raised by savages. I’ve visited the soiled doves once a year on my birthday and …” He drifted off and cleared his throat.
My unease vanished, and I tempered the urge to tease him. He had been uncomfortable but dutiful all evening long. The sight of the uncertainty dogging an otherwise confident man touched me. “I got you covered.” I grinned and went to the hearth.
He frowned but joined me. “Where you’re from … you’re … “
I glanced at him. Every once in a while, he said something that reminded me he knew more about me than I did him. I wasn’t always certain what to think about that. “Where I come from, men and women both try on relationships before they’re married. It’s like pretending to be married to see if it works.”
“Does it work?”
“Not usually.”
His brow furrowed.
“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking,” I supplied. “Have a seat. We can talk.”
He left the tumbler on the tray and sat beside me the way he had last night. Apprehension and desire eddied and spun through me. We gazed at each other. I found myself fiddling with the ties of my housecoat, as if it were my first night. I stilled my hands.
“I’ve never touched a woman meant to be mine,” he said softly.
The way he said it robbed me of any shred of amusement I had at being thrown back in time with a near virgin. To him, this wasn’t pretending or temporary. It wasn’t going to be another one-night stand for me, not when it was real to him. I didn’t want to hurt him when I left.
I also didn’t understand how he could know I didn’t belong here – and still believed this arrangement to be real.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I said. “You don’t seem comfortable.”
“I want to. I don’t know where to start,” he admitted. “I’ve been alone here for so long. I’m not sure what to think about all this.” He motioned to the room. “I’ve never had nothing, Josie, and now I have everything.” There was a familiar glow in his gaze, one that reminded me too much of the look John gave me often and stirred my guilt.
I hate lying to good people.
“Maybe I do need a drink,” I murmured and stood. I went to the whiskey and poured a shot, gazing absently at my reflection in the mirror of the dresser behind the table on which the tray sat.
How did I tell him not to get attached? He was somehow part of all this yet oblivious at the same time. Unable to make heads or tails of him, I likewise didn’t know why I was drawn to trust him.
Taylor rose. “If you’re not ready, I understand,” he said and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I am.”
And then he said something completely endearing, and I wasn’t able to see the danger Carter swore was there. I met his gaze in the mirror and replaced the tumbler. Despite what little I knew about Taylor, no part of me felt like walking away from him tonight.
“We could talk,” he offered.
“Oh, hell no. I’m ready, and I’m going to make you blush,” I replied with forced cheerfulness. I fumbled with the ties on my housecoat and pulled them free. I let the garb drop to my feet to reveal the near-sheer, sleeveless nightgown I took for being risqué in this era.
His cheeks were pink. Taylor’s eyes went down my yoga-toned form. He hesitated and then stepped forward, his heat warming my back. As if afraid to hurt me, he rested his hands lightly enough on my arms to make me shiver.
“It’s okay, Taylor. I won’t break,” I said with a small laugh.
“I know. I want to remember this forever. You only get married once.” By the earnestness in his words and face, he was serious.
I’m a piece of shit. Pretending to be one man’s daughter and another’s wife … I wanted to scream. Instead I drew a breath and closed my eyes, focused on Taylor’s caress. I could wear out my attraction to him or better yet, see if sex would motivate him to help me. I hated using people as much as I did lying to them, but if I wanted to succeed and go home, I needed his help.
He ran his palms down my arms and back up to my shoulders. Fingers tickled the sensitive skin of my neck, and I shivered. Fire bloomed in my lower belly. I relaxed and leaned against him.
He traced the tattoo at the base of my neck. “What is it?”
“Pink lotus,” I murmured. “I thought it was pretty.”
“It’s beautiful,” he agreed. “You have more?”
“Nope. Just that one.”
Taylor’s fingers moved to my hair, and I bowed my head so he could undo the simple bun Nell had made. Long, blonde curls toppled down my shoulders. He pushed them over one shoulder and I bared my neck to him, my head resting on his chest. His hand went across my collarbone and around my neck loosely before it strayed to my left shoulder.
His simple caresses were mesmerizing, his intent of memorizing every curve and dip of my body clear in the slow, sensual, light touch. I barely noticed when he pushed the nightgown over my shoulders and down to my feet. His hands traced my sides, hips and across my stomach. He pressed his hips to my ass, his hard erection long and thick enough for me to approve of it even without seeing it.
The brush of his fingertips over my sensitive nipples made my breath catch, and I resisted the urge to shove his hand down my belly to the place between my thighs that ached. I was experienced, but he was just learning.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Josie.” he whispered, awe and appreciation mixing with husky need.
I said nothing, lost in the tickling sensations of his hands exploring me. He turned me carefully, and I opened my eyes to gaze up at him. The intensity of his look stripped away my attempt to remain unattached, and I let myself dwell in wonder at the idea of belonging with a man like this, one who treasured every inch of me and wanted our first night to last forever in his memories.
There was nothing standing between us, not two hundred years, Carter or my mission. I was falling into the green depths of his eyes, the tender way he touched me.
But it wasn’t enough for me to want to stay.
I hesitated a moment before realizing I was already in too deep to want to walk away without one of us getting hurt. I slid my hands under his shirt and pushed the material up. Taylor’s hands left me to remove it before they returned to my hips. He pressed his to mine, and I rested my palms on his chest.
His body was perfect. Thick biceps, rounded shoulders, wiry chest and washboard abs. I traced his skin with the same restraint and gentleness he had mine, admiring the smooth texture and the muscles beneath. I wasn’t certain I had ever really noticed a man’s body before aside from the part below the waist I was normally concerned with.
“May I kiss you, Josie?” he whispered.
“You don’t have to ask, Taylor,” I replied and took his planed cheeks. I pulled his face to mine and rested my lips lightly against his. “Just kiss me.”
He cupped my cheeks in his hands and obeyed.
I melted into him. Initially unsure, he soon began to descend into hunger. His velvety tongue slid between my lips, and I opened for him readily, returning the kiss with passion. He tasted of whiskey and his own unique flavor. I nipped at his full lower lip playfully. Taking his hands, I slid them down my shape to my ass. He froze for a split second before digging his fingers into my cheeks and pressing me harder against his erection. He trailed hot, wet kisses down my jaw and neck.
“Ah, yeah,” I breathed, eyes closing. “I love that you want me that much.”
“I do,” he replied. “I have since the first day I saw you.”
He’s a good man. Guilt shot through me but was swallowed by the more immediate urge to feel his naked body pressed to mine. I may have hated lying to good people, but I was no saint. The furnace in my belly was demanding, my core aching with need.
Taylor’s ministrations remained measured and slow, rendering me breathless and so turned on, I trembled. My desire soon overcame my patience, and I pushed at his chest in complaint. “Taylor!”
He chuckled. “You’ve never broken a horse.”
“Did you just call me a horse?” I opened my eyes to look at him quizzically.
“No.” He was smiling. “The more time you take with a horse, the more rewarding the results.”
I started to laugh and then stopped, realizing a near virgin was schooling me on sex. “We’ll do it your way,” I murmured. A thrill of exhilaration rippled through me. “Break me, Taylor.” I grinned.
Lust flared in his gaze. His arms wrapped around me, and he kissed me hard and deep, until I was breathless and held up only by his embrace. Despite his intention to take it slow, Taylor appeared to be struggling.
The wicked side of me wanted to see him lose it. I rubbed his erection through his pants, nipped at his lips, and wriggled against him provocatively, pushing him closer and closer to what I craved.
Taylor responded by slowing his caresses, tapping his fingers against the mound of my pussy without touching the aching nub or dipping into my core. He licked and sucked on the peaks of my breasts and trailed kisses down my neck and back.
When at last he lost his pants and steered me towards the bed, I was close to panting, begging and barely able to walk. He laughed in response and pressed me onto my back, his kisses growing harder and more desperate.
I wriggled beneath him, moaning when his erection brushed the opening of my core. My hands went down his lean abdomen and around to his ass. I dug my fingernails into his cheeks. Taylor captured my mouth and entered me with the same slow control he used to tease every inch of my skin.
I arched beneath him, close to coming from the simple penetration. His dick filled me, stretched my sheath to capacity. Neither drunk sex nor sex with the man I was engaged to felt this incredible. Need and pleasure sizzled across every nerve ending and rippled through me as if this was the first time I had ever truly been aware when it came to sex.
“Yes!” I hissed. “Taylor …”
He kissed my neck. “You feel …” He ended with a groan. “Tight. Jesus. So tight!” His body shook from control and emotion.
“Show me what you got, cowboy,” I whispered and then bit his earlobe hard.
His control shattered. Taylor began to thrust hard and deep, penetrating me with desperation I shared. I clung to him, unable to recall when I last experienced sex like this. My orgasm built quickly, and I tensed beneath him as my muscles grew taut.
Even before it hit, I knew it was going to be unlike any other climax. I was too aroused, too aware of Taylor’s every breath, too connected to him for it to be anything other than a shattering of my body and heart at once.
My orgasm snapped, and I cried out his name, washed away in waves of pleasure that started in my core and tore through me with intensity that left me breathless, lost.
Taylor came shortly after me. He bucked and plunged into me several more times before collapsing, his hard breathing in my ears.
I panted and wrapped my arms around him, trembling from the intensity of the orgasm still working its way through my system. My sheath pulsed and rippled around his dick, and I wrapped my legs around his lean hips, crossing them at the ankle to keep him buried deep inside of me.
“Good, Taylor,” I whispered. “You can be taught.”
He lifted his head. His eyes glowed with appreciation and desire, his penetrating gaze searching my features. He touched my cheek gently and eased off me, a hint of his shyness returning.
“It feels different with you,” he murmured.
“I hope so,” I said and laughed. “You aren’t paying me, for starters!”
He smiled and hugged me against him. We lay in quiet long enough for me to slip into a doze before he began speaking.
“I’ll start. I’m from here, or at least, a similar time, which is why I came here to retire. I can’t remember how many eras I’ve visited or how many people I’ve met along my travels. They offered me the ability to retire where I wanted, and I chose here and now. It’s about fifty years before my time, but I wanted to see this era.”
I listened, startled he was diving straight into his secrets after avoiding speaking of them since we met. My fingers twirled through his tousled hair absently.
“I believe Running Bear is my grandfather.”
“You came back to see your family?” I asked.
“To see the last years of freedom my father’s people enjoyed.”
“I understand. But I thought you were four when they found you.”
“They did. I’ve lived around ten thousand lives in ten thousand times.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Technology has advanced a great deal in that amount of time. Used to, there was no way to bring someone from the past forward. It was a one-way trip, until the secret to moving forward in time was stumbled upon by someone at the agency I worked for. Once they figured it out, the old way of doing business was no longer in fashion,” he explained.
“Wow,” I breathed. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, by the way. Carter didn’t tell me anything before sending me back. I had no idea time travel existed before him.”
“Want me to start from the beginning?” he offered.
“Yeah.”
“Time agents are sent back in time to a particular point where there’s a disruption or sudden, dangerous change to history as we know it. We go native, as they call it, and are either raised in the era where we land as part of the culture and society or sent back at least five years before to give us time to adjust. The goal is to make us the ultimate sleeper agent who knows the ins and outs of his world. When we’re ten, we’re granted the memories of our past lives and where we came from. When we grow tired of the travel and relative immortality, we can opt to retire. This is my retirement cycle.”
Unable to voice any of the questions pummeling my thoughts, I was silent. Why his story seemed fantastical after knowing what I did already, I wasn’t sure.
“Our focus is to prevent men like Carter from modifying history for selfish reasons. There is a time and place where time travel is a way of life. But even if so, there should be no one permitted to change history for personal gain or revenge or any other of those human motivations.”
This sank in deeper than the rest. I didn’t know Carter’s motivation; I assumed he wanted what he said he did, to help people who needed it. “But … how do you live ten thousand lives?” I asked.
“We technically don’t. We live one life. I reached the age of thirty-three in my own time. Let’s just say … they sent me back in time on a Friday. I cease to exist in my own time from that Friday onward. But the day before, on Thursday, I’m still there. So the next life, they pick me up on Thursday and take me back in time. For the next one, they pick me up on Wednesday. Three hundred sixty four lives a year. When I arrived here, I was four. It’s roughly ten thousand days between the age of four and thirty three, which means ten thousand lives.”
“You remember them all?”
He shrugged. “After so many, you tend to keep those you enjoyed the best and forget the rest.”
“How is this possible?”
“How are you a hundred and fifty years in the past with an empathic memory chip?” he challenged gently.
I touched my head self-consciously. “You know about that.”
“It’s either that or you’re touched like Fighting Badger. Your language skills were another giveaway. Never met a white man who spoke with your fluency.”
“I had no idea there was an entire agency devoted to time travel,” I said. “I can’t wrap my head around that.”
“It’s a work in progress. Once they were no longer restricted to traveling strictly from future to past, it opened up the doors to more possibilities.”
“Carter … doesn’t work for them, does he?” I asked with some reluctance.
“No.” Taylor’s features grew shuttered for a moment. “The truth is we know little about him or what he wants or why he’s decided to use that immense intellect of his to change the past.”
Part of me was relieved that Carter wasn’t a criminal, while another instinct whispered that the unknown had the potential to be even scarier. “Then who the hell is Carter?” I ventured.
“We don’t really know. A genius for certain. He created the empathic memory chip, a marrying of technology and human brain power that’s theoretically impossible.”
My breath caught. “Oh, god. Am I going to explode?”
The sense of disconnect returned. I shook my head, and my ears buzzed.
“Focus,” he whispered. He rested his palms on my cheeks.
Just as fast, I was yanked back into reality. I released a breath. I was sitting up, a blanket wrapped around me, while he sat beside me. Enough time had passed for him to put on his pants again.
“I keep getting dizzy,” I said.
“Side effect of traveling,” he explained. “Look at me.”
I obeyed. Taylor’s hard green eyes grounded me once more. I took his hands. “You’re the only one the chip can’t read.”
“That I can’t explain,” he said, taking in my features. “Your nose is bleeding.” He rose and went to the basin, dipping a cloth in the water before returning. “Did you tell him about it?”
“Yeah. He’s researching it.” I accepted the moistened rag. “Thanks.” Running through all he’d told me, I giggled at a single thought. “You’ve probably had ten thousand wives by now!”
“No. Just one.”
“Ten thousand lives and only one wife?”
“Yes.”
Wow. This was definitely more serious than I wanted it to be. “Taylor,” I started, not sure how to say what I needed to diplomatically. “I’m going back.”
His eyebrows lifted. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. I’m going back to my time. The twenty first century, where Carter found me.”
“Carter didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I lowered the rag, gaze riveted to the chiseled features of the cowboy who’d just made love to me.
“My agency has been working to undo what he’s doing to history since … well, for a thousand of my lives at least. He’s sent back more people than I can count, but Josie, he doesn’t have the technology to pull you back to the future. Only we do, and only lately.”
“What?”
“I know you communicate with him. Ask him. Tell him Taylor told you.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in. In a state of complete denial, I couldn’t speak let alone refute him.
“I thought you came back to this era by choice. Nearly everyone Carter sends back chooses.” The look of pity that warmed his features was too genuine to ignore.
“No,” I mumbled and stood. “You can’t be telling me I’m not going home! Carter wouldn’t …” I was close to hyperventilating and caught myself against the nightstand before stooping to grab the housecoat I’d dropped. I fished out the phone and shot Carter a hasty note riddled with typos I didn’t care about fixing. “You’ll see, Taylor. You’ll see.”
Carter wouldn’t lie to me.
“There’s no way back, Josie. Not for you. There’s just here.” Taylor stood but didn’t approach me, his wiry form relaxed.
I stared at him, devastated. No matter what I had begun to suspect about Carter, the idea he’d been flat out lying to me about a way home wasn’t something I’d considered.
“I’m not going anywhere either,” Taylor said. “We have a place to live our lives comfortably.”
What the hell did I say to that? “I need a drink.” Please, please, please answer fast, Carter!
He did. I had just dumped four shots worth of bourbon into a glass when my phone vibrated. Heart pounding, I checked the message.
He’s right. But it’s not what you think. I have a plan for you.
“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded of the phone.
Taylor approached, one hand going to my back. He tilted the screen so he could read it. His expression was considering.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Taylor, I’m going home! Tell him I’m going home!”
“Josie, you’re not going home,” he replied gently. “And this makes me think you aren’t staying here, either. That chip in your head is rumored to be worth billions. Even Carter can’t afford to let you stay, if he’s got a reason to use you.”
His words warbled. Rather than the usual sense of disconnect, this was an all out break with reality. I was barely aware of collapsing, of Taylor catching me while my mind checked out in the worst way possible.
This must be what Fighting Badger feels like. It was … chaos. Shadows. Emotions.
Fear.
They were swallowing me, along with darkness I prayed put me out of my misery.