Blue Abyss: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 3 (The Timewalker Chronicles) (20 page)

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and could not resist taking her hand in his own. Instantly the tingling in his body intensified into a fireball of heat that rocketed into his shoulder, down his spine and straight to his groin.

She gasped, and something dark and painful lifted inside him when her eyes fluttered open. Their gazes locked. She squeezed his hand. “Raiden. It wasn’t just another dream.”

“No. It’s not a dream. We’re in Bermuda, at Tim and Sarah’s home. They claim Sarah is a Timewalker, like you.”

Mari’s gaze strayed to inspect the soft pastels of the bedroom and Raiden felt the loss of her gaze viscerally.

“You look exactly like I remember.” Pain slashed behind Mari’s eyes when she returned her gaze to him. A shiver raced over her body. Whatever thoughts plagued her, they were far from pleasant. “I saw you many times in my dreams. It’s what drove me to the caves.”

Whatever Mari’s dreams may have been, they may have aided her in finding him, but they also led her straight to the Triscani cave, to his enemies. He squeezed her hand. “You said the Triscani had already killed you once, Mari. What did you mean?”

Her warm gaze shifted to stare at their joined hands. “When I found their cave the first time, they killed me. One of them shaped their hand into shards of black crystal and shoved it straight through my chest to my heart.”

Raiden was confused. “Then how…?”

“Celestina. She pulled me out of there and took me onto her ship. She’s the one that told me about your ship. Then she sent me back through time to do it all again, without getting killed.”

Raiden leaned forward, unable to resist tucking a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. He had fought many battles. He’d come face-to-face with the Triscani less than a dozen times over a century of war, and each time they had nearly killed him, would have if not for his mother’s lineage and his dark gift. Mari, a mere human, had faced them twice. “How did you survive? Why did you go back down there?”

“I had to. You were still there. And I have this.” Her hand began to glow in the center of her palm. The Angel’s Fire, a gift of legend indeed, and one so rare, it could only be bestowed by the most powerful of the Immortals, by a Mater Mortis, a Mother of Death within the Circle of Judgment. How did Mari get it and why hadn’t it killed her? She was no Immortal. Where was Celestina and why had the Seer risked Mari’s life so callously? What ship had the Seer taken Mari to? Did Celestina have access to a ship that could take him home? Back to the future? And if he tried to return now, would he return to the same life he left? Did he even want to? And even if Celestina could try to send him home, he couldn’t trust her. The Seer was a fool. Only a fool would risk the life of such a powerful healer. Any sane being would claim Mari, and if they couldn’t win her loyalty, imprison her.

“Why, Mari? Why did you come looking for me?”

“I don't know.” Mari looked away from him, and he knew by the way she bit her lip and avoided his gaze that was a lie. “All I know is Celestina saved me and told me to save you. She said that if I didn’t, the future she saw in her visions was too terrible to be born.”

A Mater Mortis must have gifted Mari with the Angel’s Fire, and Celestina was the most infamous Seer on Itara. By the gods, what had he stumbled into? “I don’t understand. This should not be happening. How did you get the Angel’s Fire, Mari? Who gifted you with such a powerful weapon? Are you a descendant of the Queen’s First Circle?”

“No. I’d never heard of Itara or the Queen before. I’m totally human, as far as I know.” Mari shrugged. “At least I used to be. So, I don’t know what to tell you. They didn’t answer all of my questions. Celestina told me that if I didn’t find you, everything would be lost and Earth would perish.”

Raiden studied her for a hint of deception and, this time, found none. “What is the date?”

“April first.” Mari smiled. “April Fool’s Day. It’s my favorite day of the year.”

He had no idea what she referred to, but he did, indeed, feel the fool.

Raiden stood, paced once more. He had no other choice but to believe what he suspected was true. He had traveled through time. These people did not remember the battle because it hadn’t happened yet. And that meant he needed to change it. The Triscani could not be allowed to win.

Perhaps he could help determine the ending of this war? Perhaps he could find the Dark One and keep the Black Gate sealed? Maybe there was a way to defeat the Triscani. He would not be able to unknow a century of war, his soul would remain stained no matter the outcome. But he could make sure that his friends and brothers did not suffer the same ill fate a hundred years from now. If he could find the Guardian of the Gates here, in this time…and warn him.

Mari’s eyes had been tracking him around the room but she looked away and placed the soul stone in her palm. Curiosity tilted her head as she studied it. He looked her in the eye. “Where did you get that soul stone?”

“In the Triscani cave.” Mari tossed it to him as if it meant nothing, as if she had no true concept of it’s worth. “What does it do?”

He plucked it from midair. “Many things.”

Unable to keep his distance, Raiden sank back down to sit on the bed beside her and placed it in her palm, wrapped her fingers around it. “It’s a soul stone, and it’s not mine. It’s yours. It must belong to a Timewalker. It bears the Mark.”

Mari held the small black stone and turned it over and over in her hands. “A soul stone? What does that mean? What does it do?”

“It traps or holds the essence of a soul, acts like a psychic anchor. Healers of old used them to separate and capture a piece of a soul when the body was dying. Immortals have used them to escape the pain of recovering from wounds, but no longer do. It’s considered too risky. Healers do, but only if they are desperate, and only on the royal family. The stone can grant a courageous healer time to heal a half-blood, but it’s very dangerous for both of them.”

“Why is it dangerous?” Sarah tapped her lip, thinking out loud. “And why don’t Immortals use them anymore?”

“Because true Immortals know that given time, they will always heal. Their bodies and souls are strong enough to survive almost anything. Placing their soul in the hands of another is not worth the risk. Half-bloods aren’t always so lucky.” Raiden knew from experience.

“How is it dangerous for them?” Mari’s huge eyes asked for an answer he was quite sure she must already know. She was the strongest healer he’d ever heard of, even in legend. But she wasn’t from his time, or his people.

“If the injured body dies, or if the healer isn’t strong enough to keep her own soul separate, the dying soul’s anchor will latch on to the healer forever. The legends say it’s like living with two different people inside your head. Eventually, the stronger soul destroys the weaker. Mythical healers of old used the stones rarely, and only on the royal family or people they deeply loved.” Raiden shook his head. “It’s best not to risk using them at all.”

“Well, someone obviously did.” She frowned and brought it close to her eye, as if she expected to see a tiny person standing at its center.

“The stones are illegal on Itara, an instant death sentence. They are not solely use for healing.” Raiden place his hand over hers and lowered it to her lap. “Some Immortals use a stone to send messages through time. They can hold power or knowledge. However, the soul has to be strong enough to endure the split. And from what I’ve heard, it’s not a pleasant experience.”

And yet, this was the second stone he’d seen in as many days. Two stones. Both pulsing with power. Whose soul did she hold in her hands? Whose soul was locked on his ship? Gerrick had claimed the first belonged to the Lost King.

That was highly improbable. A soul stone was serious business. If the stone were lost or stolen during a healing, the physical body left behind eventually went insane while the soul’s essence would remain trapped in the stone forever. An Immortal king would not need to take that kind of risk.

Unless the stone did, indeed belong to the Lost King, and it had been stolen. That would keep the king’s body weak and vulnerable for centuries. Perhaps the Lost King was using the stone to send a message through time. But a message to who?

And Mari’s stone bore the Timewalker mark. Interesting indeed. Could there be an Immortal Timewalker? Or a human Timewalker who had somehow convinced an Immortal priestess or healer to aid in creating the stone? Either way, it was dangerous. The owner of this soul had to be either desperate or insane by now. The stone reeked of age. A century or more. The dark gifts of his mother whispered this to him as he brushed the stone with his fingertips.

Soul stones were dangerous. And yet, he’d considered it himself once. But he’d had nothing to lose. He was prince to a people who did not offer him the crown, a son with no mother, a commander with no ship, no weapons and no crew, and a man with no place in this time. One look at his savior where she lay shivering, wrapped in blankets, and he felt a tinge of regret. She was beautiful, sacred, innocent, and had gifts many would kill to control. She would have kings on their knees begging for favor.

She had saved his life, but she was not his savior. Mari was not
his
anything. He owned nothing, could offer her nothing, and wanted nothing but an end to the war.

Raiden’s gaze was locked onto their joined hands. He knew he should move away, but couldn’t find the will. Her touch was the only thing holding him together.

“Raiden?” Mari lifted her hand to cup the side of his face and he allowed her to turn him toward her. Her lips were so close he could taste her sweet breath in the air between them.

“Yes?”

“Did you dream of me, too?” Her golden-brown eyes looked sad, and vulnerable. He wanted to lie to her, to tell her he’d dreamt of her every moment he’d spent locked in the tube.

“No, Mari. In stasis there is nothing. Just…nothing.” Raiden leaned over until their foreheads met. Unable to deny himself, he traced the soft angles of her lips with his fingertips. She was so soft. So incredible. “It’s a dreamless death.”

Mari’s hand trembled against his cheek and Raiden turned his head to place a kiss in her palm. “Thank you, Mari. Thank you for finding me.”

Mari’s breath hitched and Raiden wasn’t sure if she was about to laugh or cry.

“You’re welcome.” Mari’s palm held his jaw, then she shifted forward to splay her fingers through his hair and tighten her grip on his neck. That small act, her claim of ownership, ignited his blood and sent a streak of lust straight to his groin. She wanted him. Gods be damned, she wanted him in her bed.

Her gaze locked with his and she asked him a question. “Do you remember our kiss?”

Kiss? If he’d kissed this woman, he would’ve remembered it. “No. I have not kissed you, Mari. I would damn well remember it if I had.”

“No, you wouldn’t. It wasn’t in this time. But you did.” Her gaze dropped to inspect his mouth as he waited for an explanation. “And I do remember.”

He couldn’t move away from her and he was tired of fighting her siren’s song. Perhaps she would be courted by kings, promised riches and power. But not today. Today she was looking at a battered soldier, a bastard prince lost in time. For today, she could be his.

Mari tugged him closer and pressed her lips to his softly, a gentle entreaty, a tasting. All the while her hand remained at his nape. The conflicting signals, the aggressive claim of her grip yet tender exploration of her lips, lit him on fire. Raiden wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, demanded entrance into the sweet heaven of her mouth.

She opened for him and he couldn’t hold back the primal urge to stake his claim. Someday, should she be seated next to a king, he wanted her to be thinking about
this.

Raiden pulled her closer, right into his lap. She came willingly, her generous breasts pressed to his chest with nothing but his borrowed shirt and her thin swim suit to separate them. The tight peaks of Mari’s nipples rubbed him through the soft fabric in blatant invitation. She moaned as her arms wound their way around his shoulders. Mari’s grip was demanding and tight, but her body melted in his embrace. He explored the delicate skin of her back with hungry hands and traced her curves like a master sculptor desperate to learn every line and angle of a new masterpiece.

His cock swelled where it pressed beneath her wiggling bottom and he groaned as she moved against him. Raiden had taken a number of different women to bed in the last century, but none had moved him like this.

Mari kissed him like he was the center of her universe. She held nothing back in her kiss, her touch, or her sighs of pleasure. A spiral of heat was rising inside him like his body was a long dormant volcano set to explode. Power rose with their lust as their energies merged into one massive wave.

Raiden’s shoulder burned as if she branded him with a hot iron. And brand him, she did. The Mark, her claim on him, pulsed with heat and desire. For her. Only for her.

If he fucked her, he’d never be free. Never again. She’d own him, body and soul. He’d never be able to walk away from this. Even though he could give back her Mark, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength, not after he tasted paradise in her bed.

She didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve to pay for his mistakes.

He’d known her a matter of hours. He’d known and loved his brother, the traitor, for over a century. He couldn’t afford to make that kind of mistake again.