Richard forced himself to get off the bed. His muscles ached as he stretched. He grabbed the bedpost for balance and it splintered under his hand.
He drew back and his and brushed the splinters away. The strength was still there, still accessible. Good to know.
Now he had to control it.
If he were home, he would catch waves and battle the ocean. That opponent could take every blow and then some. But there was no one here to fight. Battle couldn’t be the way.
Instead, he settled on the floor and rolled his shoulders. Oddly, he didn’t remember much about the short-lived affair with the lovely blonde surfer girl other than the yoga she’d taught him. She had drifted away after a few weeks, to find another place with different waves to surf. Women came and went in his life. But learning something new like yoga was always valuable.
Out loud, he meditated by reciting poems in their native French. Most of the verses were lost to time but he loved them anyway. Or perhaps because he loved them because he was the only one who remembered the words and kept them alive.
Time passed, he stretched this way and that, and his muscles pushed and pulled. One last verse, and he stood, refreshed.
Now, he could move and think.
He called Marshal.
He wished the man would embrace technology. If he did, then Richard could set up a Skype call, see his face and determine if Marshal was lying or not. He had to know if Marshal knew about Rasputin’s monkish followers. Something was wrong at court other than the Queen’s illness. And maybe that something or someone was the cause of the Queen’s illness. It wasn’t lost on him that Marshal had come to him, an outsider, to complete this task. Richard bet Marshal guessed someone might be working against the Queen. He should’ve mentioned those suspicions, damn him.
Court politics. Edward was the master of those. Marshal was damn good too. And the Queen was the ultimate master of them all, but she could barely help herself now. Richard was over his head. The only way to untie this damned knot was blunt force.
Marshal answered after two rings. “Richard? Have you found something?”
No sign of anger. Richard would take a page from his angel and swallow down his frustration. Marshal was not the enemy. If he was, they were all truly lost.
“No, something found me. Did you give me all the information you had on Rasputin?”
“You have all the knowledge I possessed.”
“You failed to mention that the Mad Monk has a cult. A violent cult of monks. A cult that claims their leader lives.”
“What?”
“That was my first reaction. Then I was too busy fighting for my life.”
“Perhaps you should explain what happened.”
“No, perhaps you should answer my questions. What do you know that you haven’t told me?”
“I knew the story of Rasputin’s body being moved. The Queen was fascinated by his power all those years ago, so we sent in agents to verify he was dead. That’s how we heard the body was moved by Empress Alexandra. Edward remembered the story when the Queen was first ill and mentioned it to me. But he thought the DNA research was a surer way to cure the Queen than chasing a corpse.”
“Did this agent sent into Russia ever see Rasputin’s body?”
“You mean the remains? No, why should he? He reported those responsible for the care of the casket said prayers over it every day.” A pause. “Who attacked you? What happened?”
“A contingent of Russian-speaking monks with Imperial-style daggers attacked us today at Fontevraud Abbey.”
“At the abbey? God’s Eyes, why were you at the abbey?”
“Because our contact set up the meeting there. At the effigies.”
“No wonder you’re suspicious.” Marshal swore in ancient Norman French. He cleared his throat when he was done. “Whoever set you up as a target knew about our background.”
“That’s my conclusion, Marshal. So, I ask again, what are you keeping from me? Who knows what I’m doing?”
A long pause. Richard wanted to jump in, to tell them someone might be working against them at the Court. But let the older man stew on the fact the attack had taken place on Fontevraud, a place he considered the holiest of grounds.
It was no coincidence Rasputin’s monks had assaulted them there.
“I thought this would be only a search for a dead body. I hoped this would be an easy assignment. You know how dire the situation is.”
“Someone wishes to stand in our way. More, someone set us up. And as sure as the surf comes up in a storm, it’s connected to the Queen’s illness. Who’s aware of my task?”
“I said nothing of it to anyone but the Queen, though your return and then departure were noted by many. Our people are vetted and are from families that have served the Court for centuries. I don’t like believing anyone could be a traitor.”
“It’s someone who knows who and what I am, and more, what we are. It has to be one of us. Who gave Edward the idea to search for Rasputin’s body?”
“I thought it came from him. Now, I am…uncertain.”
“Someone works against us, perhaps someone in Edward’s circle of influence.”
“No.” Marshal bashed his palm down on something, causing a loud thud. Likely his desk, Richard decided.
“You’ve been gone too long from us. We’re loyal to each other. We support each other. We stay, rather than walk away, like you did. There’s another explanation.”
“We’re still human with all the human frailties. And you know how the age madness can affect some of us.”
“For what reason would anyone work against you on this?”
“The Queen’s death.”
“Without her, our whole enterprise collapses, as you well know, and all of us rely on it for our livelihoods. Whoever takes down the Queen also takes down themselves.”
“Anyone want to replace her? Anyone capable of it?”
“Edward. And you.”
“That’s not funny, Marshal.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. It’s the truth. The Queen has no rival capable of picking up the pieces. It would mean our destruction.”
“Then that may well be the point,” Richard said.
“But why destroy the Court? That makes no sense. You have one of the Phoenix Institute people with you. Are you certain they’re not behind this?”
No, Richard thought. “The monk we questioned raved about the coming of fire in the form of the devil. I’m guessing he meant Alec Farley. This threat comes from somewhere else, from whoever leads these monks, either Rasputin or someone who claims to be him.”
“I accept that. But that doesn’t meant there is a traitor in the Court.”
“Better make certain of that. Because if I succeed and we somehow cure the Queen, they’ll go after her again, and more directly.”
“There is no they, Richard, only your imagination.”
“I imagined this mysterious illness of the Queen’s, then?”
“I know your suspicions are caused by worry for the Queen,” Marshal said, speaking slowly. Holding in anger, Richard guessed. “Rest assured, I will protect my Queen, as I always have.”
“Are you sure you can do that?”
Again, a long pause. “I hear you. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
“Good.”
Another pause. “Were your companions hurt in this attack? Are they well?”
“Marian and Daz are fine. This time. I might send them away to keep them safe. Rasputin, if alive, could be the most dangerous man on the planet.”
“Do what you think is best.”
“I always do. And what of the patient? How does the Queen’s health stand now?”
“The doctor says there’s no change, though she seems sharper and more alert to me since you returned.”
“Then think on this problem. I seek a man who set off an explosion in Siberia as powerful as a nuclear bomb. He’s someone the Court thought too dangerous to approach back then, and the Queen only sent in agents after he died. If he lives, he could burn down the Court and the Queen instead of helping us. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe he wants to confront us and destroy us in person.”
“If Rasputin burns the Court down, the end will be quick, at least, instead of this long, lingering death.”
The defeat in Marshal’s voice was like a sword stroke through Richard’s heart. Marshal could not die. Marshal was a rock. A port in a storm.
A father.
“The Queen may sway Rasputin to her side if you could get him to court. You know how persuasive she can be.”
“And he might see her as a threat.” Richard closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I face, and my ignorance could cost all our lives.”
“We will never know if you do not try. You’re the only one who can. As you just pointed out, we don’t know who else to trust.”
“My people could be killed in the attempt.”
“Soldiers often fall in battle.”
“They’re not soldiers, and neither am I.” Richard ended the call and stared out the window at a landscape that was once part of his domains, at least in his second life. He scowled. With Edward’s death, he was now rightful King of England, if he chose to claim the title. He could prove genetically who he was.
But why? England offered little with its crown now.
He had ruled once, secretly, over these lands. How many people had died in his service? How much blood was in that soil? And how much was he responsible for?
How many more would die if Rasputin acted on his threats?
Richard closed his eyes to the thought of the Queen no longer existing. One more family member gone, and sure to take Marshal with her.
In his first life, his father, his uncle Anthony and his uncle Richard all died fighting over control of his person. Later, after he was presumed dead, he sat vigil over his sister Elizabeth’s deathbed. She had been so tired, so worn out by her marriage to a miserly man who showed her no affection that she had slipped into oblivion after her last child came into the world. Just as well she had not lived to see what become of her brood. He smiled. Though she would have loved her granddaughter, Elizabeth I.
Maybe he was as insane as Edward. Maybe he only thought he was sane. Maybe it was true of Marshal too. They were all mad, like Rasputin. Man was not meant to live so long.
Richard cocked his arm, slammed his fist into the wall and the plaster gave way before his hand. No pain. He looked down at his knuckles. No injury either. Of what use was this newfound strength if it could not be put to service to save the Queen?
The Queen. Marshal. I love them both.
“Richard? Are you all right? I heard a nasty thump.”
Marian’s voice came from the other side of the door that separated her room from his. She must have been listening. He opened the door. Her curls were loose over her forehead. Her cheeks were red, her shoulders straight. She looked girded for battle.
He could use a battle. Or something better.
“Come in, Angel. How long were you listening?”
She shut the door carefully behind her, so it made no noise. “Not long. I was worried about you.”
“I’m the same as ever.” Which was truly the problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t run from what he was.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Marshal. The head of our court, along with the Queen. I thought he might have withheld information from me about Rasputin.”
“Did he?”
“He knew nothing of the possibility that Rasputin could be alive or about this cult of monks.”
“But what he said upset you.” She walked closer to him and held out her hand. He grasped it.
“I left the Court to avoid being dragged into messes like this. And yet it appears I never really escaped.”
“I know exactly how that feels.” She squeezed his hand.
“Yes, you would understand.”
Her family asked the same of her as the Court did of him. He put two fingers under her chin and tilted it up so he could see her eyes. “Do you regret accepting me as a client?”
“Never.”
“Good.”
He pulled her to him and folded her in his arms. She hugged him back. He had not felt this alive next to a person in a long time.
“Angel,” he whispered in her ear.
“I should be braver,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I shouldn’t need someone to comfort me. My grandfather said I was a coward.”
“The woman who rose out of Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine’s grave and terrified our attackers is as brave as Eleanor herself.” How the Queen would laugh at Marian’s ploy of being a royal ghost. “And you are so much more. You are my angel and savior, truly.”
He bent his neck and kissed her.
She thought she had been giddy before, to be so close to a sun prince. Now, his touch wrapped her in light and desire, as if it welded them together.
She clung to him, kissing him back as he lifted her up. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he carried her over to the bed. He laid her head on the pillow and stroked her cheek.
“What?” Why the delay?
“I’ve forgotten how to savor moments. I want to remember this one.”
“I must look a mess, and I forgot to tame my hair, and I don’t have any make-up on.”
He kissed her again, and she decided he didn’t care about make-up. Besides, she was too busy moaning as he kissed her neck to mention it again.
She barely felt him slip off her sweatpants and underwear. She dared to let her hands roam lower, over his chest. His hand stroked her stomach, and she was glad of all those early-morning runs. It had taken her years to get rid of all the college weight gain but, oh, so worth it.
He pulled her shirt over her head, leaving only the loose pink camisole on her.
Watching her, he stepped off the bed and stripped.
Screw seeing him in swim trunks. This was so much better. He was so perfectly in proportion, slim waist and long legs and wisps of blond hair on his chest that led to even more in curls around, well…
She blushed. Great. That was a perfect way to show she didn’t do this often. “So, uh, I guess you think I’m okay.”
“When I call you Angel, it means you should be worshipped. And I intend to do so.”
“But you’re more beautiful, I mean, gorgeous, I mean, hotter than me!”
She grabbed a pillow and pulled it over her face. Gah. She was ruining this. At least she hadn’t called him cute. No chance of that. Cute didn’t apply when it came to Richard.
Fingers encircled her breasts. “I assure you, I want the entire package.”
She peeked up from under the pillow. “Really?”
“Is not my condition proof of my desire?”
Condition? Oh. The erection. She put her hands around his neck again and drew him closer. “Yes.”
He kissed her again, his tongue tasting hers as his hand caressed her breasts and between her legs. She gasped at the desire that buzzed through her. Her back arched. Her toes curled.
“Ahh…”
“Keep that thought.” Richard began kissing her neck, which sent more shivers through her body. She arched into his hand, wet and wanting more from him. He touched the right spot and all thought left her except one: more.
When his kisses went below her waist and his lips touched what his hands had been caressing, she went so wild that he had to hold her still so he could finish what he started.
The orgasm built, surging through her body. She bit back a scream, only just remembering Daz was on the other side of the door.
Overcome, she moaned and rolled to the side as Richard let her go. He slid back up to enclose her in his arms from behind. She felt his hard penis pressing into her back.
She faced him. “Don’t stop now.”
He kissed her, not soft and quiet as before, but overwhelming, intense, powerful. Her fingers dug into his arms and her body shivered all over again. The orgasm was less intense but not over.
He lifted her on top of him. “Show me you want this as much as I do.”
She slid over him, throwing her head back as she took him inside. She needed no urging. She rode him, let herself go as she never had before. He grabbed her hips and his arms moved with her. Curls fell in front of her eyes, obscuring her view of his face.
He moaned as he came. It triggered another orgasm for her. She leaned over him, clutching his shoulders, their bodies moving together. He wrapped his arms around her.
Let me die now, she thought, because this was the best there could be, ever.
He stroked her back with his fingertips. “Angel?”
“Mm…?”
“Are you worn out yet?”
She kissed him. Worn out? From this? “Never.”
“Good.” And he shifted so he was on top the second time. This time, she forgot Daz was in the next room and she did scream.
Richard slept with his angel wrapped in his arms, savoring it. How long since he’d had such lovemaking? Long enough that he knew how unique it was. Oh, the actions were similar to many other nights. It was the partner that made the difference.
Marian’s eyes flickered open. She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table.
“Oh, crap,” she said.
He kissed her neck. “Not the greeting I expected this morning.”
“That’s not, no, I didn’t mean that. Crap.”
It didn’t matter what she said because she made no move to leave the enclosure of his arms.
“What did you mean?”
“I, uh, well, I didn’t even think about condoms last night.”
“Ah.” Not that it mattered. The Court had long ago discovered procreation worked poorly for immortals. If he had stayed at court, he might have put their money into discovering why this was so, rather than creating babies from unwilling participants, like Edward tried to do. “I’m completely free of disease.”
She rolled over to face him. “Well, I know that!” She ran fingers through his hair. Lovely. He nuzzled her neck. She made some sort of noise halfway between a moan and a groan. A happy sound.
“I’m on the pill but I thought maybe your sperm might be like the rest of you, super-awesome, take-no-prisoners kind of thing.”
He smiled and wished this were true, that he could have this woman bear his child and heir. “Alas, no.” He took a deep breath. “Infertility seems to be a side-effect of immortality. Perhaps we heal imperfectly at the genetic level. I don’t know.”
She sat up. “But…all of it works so well!”
He laughed, and put his hands behind his head, a better way to view her nakedness. “Thank you.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m babbling again, aren’t I?”
He reached up to brush her nipple with his fingers. “I like your babbling. And it was a valid question. But I have a question for you, Angel.”
She enclosed his hand with both of hers and kissed his palm. “Anything, Richard.”
He raised an eyebrow, tempted to find out just what anything meant. But they should get moving soon. “Could you turn me into a phantom? I would like to know how it feels.”
Her eyes widened. Clearly not the question she’d expected.
“I can turn anything I’m touching intangible. That’s why my clothes go phantom too. I’ve learned to do that automatically.” She tilted her head. “You’re a little bigger than me but it’s possible. If…”
“If what?”
“If we stood up and you put your arms around me from behind, so that as much of you is touching me as possible. That will make it easier.”
“Good.” He rose out of bed and walked to the window. The sun’s rays told him it was just past dawn. He gathered her against him as they looked out the window together.
She put her arms over his. “Okay. Here we go. I’ll change first. Be still when I slip inside you.”
He probably should have asked her the dangers of this. It might just be something that could kill him.
That, however, was what made it all so interesting.
It took all his self-control not to flinch as she seemed to vanish from his arms. He could see the outline of her, especially her hair, but there was no other sign she existed, save for the lingering heat where they had been touching.
He held air.
Correction. He held air no longer because his arms became as ethereal as hers. He stilled his breath as he watched his hands vanish, fighting the urge to flinch. His arms contained no weight, no feeling, nothing.
Better to close his eyes. Sight was counterproductive.
In seconds, his perceptions shifted from solid to something less, something he could only compare to being on his board, in the eye of a wave, as the world ceased to be and he was as much water as human flesh.
He opened his eyes. He could see, yet it wasn’t the same. The world glowed in some small ways. His sense of smell became so acute that he could sniff the aroma of coffee wafting under the door.
The room seemed smaller until he looked down and realized he and his angel floated in air, the morning sun turning them into literal angel-figures.
They were one, in ways he could not understand as yet. Marian remained in his arms and yet not, connected and separate at the same time.
More. He wanted more. He moved his arm.
Weight flashed back into his body. His feet hit the floor with a thud. He toppled over, still clutching Marian tight. He took the brunt of the fall on his side. Several deep breaths assured him he was alive and normal.
She rolled out of his arms and knelt on the carpet, staring down at him. “Are you all right?”
“Stellar.” He blinked. “What happened?”
“You moved. I’ve never tested my limits and I didn’t want to push it.”
“What happens if we push the limits?”
“Best case? I manage to stay inside you for five to ten minutes, then slip out. Worse case? I lose concentration and become solid inside you, which might kill you. It’d definitely get messy.”
“Ah.” She had good reason for being cautious, then. “I wanted more.”
“You wanted to control it.” But she smiled.
“Yes.” Marshal’s words about his surfing echoed in his mind. A sword should be an extension of your arm. You always tried to battle the blade for control instead of letting it become part of you. You are doing the same with the waves. You fight the water, not merge with it.
Marian was exactly right. He brushed the curls away from her eyes. “Ah, Angel, what a gift you give me.”
“It was only for thirty seconds.”
“It was enough. To glimpse how you can view the world when like that, it was like…I don’t know.”
“Like being one with the universe.”
“And being one with you.” He sat up and brushed her cheek with his fingers. “You are extraordinary.”
She blushed and looked away from him. “I’ve never done that to someone conscious before. Well, anyone besides Aunt Eunice. I didn’t know that you would feel like that, what I feel.”
“I will cherish the memory forever.”
She stood. “I guess, coming from you, it might be forever after all.”
Something was wrong. Modern courtship was odd to him, still, and there were different rules in different communities. The rules in the surfer community were to keep it casual and always be honest about one wanted. Still, it had taken him years to master that simple philosophy. And not all the women adhered to it either, lingering long past his interest in them.
Marian came from yet another tradition. One, he suspected, that valued commitment. Commitment. He could not even stay committed to the Court and he’d not been married ever. No point to it.
Though he had no desire to walk away from Marian, neither did he know what commitment meant to her.
“Have I done something wrong?”
She shook her head, curls falling in her eyes. “I just realized how far over my head I am with you.”
“Then we are even.”
She smiled. Good. He must have made the proper response. He pulled her into his arms again. In his experience, lovemaking only helped this sort of situation. He kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his waist.
The sharp rap of knuckles sounded against the door. “Yo, lovebirds, breakfast is here. And we need to talk.”
Richard released her. He had nearly forgotten Daz was standing guard out there.
“How did he know I was in here?” Marian whispered.
“We were less than quiet last night.”
“Oh, hell.” This time, the blush covered her whole face. So lovely.
“I’ll go speak to him.” Richard reached for his pants. “Perhaps you would like to shower and freshen up first?”
“That would be perfect. Thank you!”
She enclosed his face in her hands, kissed him and then backed out the connecting door to her own room.