Triple Infinity (2 page)

She backed up, her calves
hitting the bed, and went down, back arched, pulling Triaten with her. Her left leg slipped up about his waist, clasping his body hard into hers. He buried his head in her neck with the arch, taking full advantage of skin open to him. The antiseptic smell of the cheap soap on Charlotte’s arms warred with the true essence of her, sweet and salty. A set of moans, soft but begging in intensity, escaped from deep in her chest, vibrating under his mouth.

Triaten had only moments to enjoy the pleasure, the taste of her skin, still salt-laden from the earlier battle, before Charl
otte flipped over onto him. She pushed him down, holding his chest to the bed as she brought herself upright, straddling him.

Triaten’s
hands trailed up from her hips, pausing at every beautiful curve, holding, caressing each inch in his palms. His right hand ended at her chest, and under his fingers, Triaten could feel the pounding, the ache in Charlotte’s soul. It gave him pause, but only for a moment, as Charlotte, strong thighs clasped on either side of his waist, eased herself slowly onto him. The tight lingering of her body closing in around him was excruciating.

There was no going back. 

Her eyes closed as her head tilted back, reveling in the motion she set forth. Triaten deep within her. He watched her body move, up and down, sucking every bit of pleasure she could from the friction. Her movements hypnotized — elegant and smooth, her long muscles straining, her body curving.

Charlotte’s mouth fell open in gasps, her chest heaving as she quicken the pace on Triaten, her head still back with her eyes shut tig
ht. Triaten wondered in a flash of clarity if she even knew he was under her. In her. But then her throaty cries of satisfaction filtered through the pounding in his ears, and he could do nothing except let his own body release into hers.

Tri
aten’s body vibrated in satisfied agony as Charlotte collapsed onto him. She still had not looked at, or acknowledged him. Instead, she buried her head deep into his neck. Her hot breath, still uneven, moistened the skin behind his ear. Triaten didn’t move, didn’t speak. His brain had clicked back in before the final throes had reverberated past. And he was unnerved. He wasn’t sure what this was. How to react, or how Charlotte would react.

But he didn’t need to wonder.
Didn’t need to come up with a plan. Her body went limp with sleep on him as soon as her breath steadied.

Hours later, Triaten sat
in the dark, the skin on his back stuck to the vinyl-covered chair in the hot room. Only a trickle of air managed to come in through the air conditioner, and barely cold at that. But he didn’t even note the suffocation around him. He was staring at the lump in the bed and still trying to place what the hell just happened.

It was wrong.

Every bit of it had been wrong.

Triaten’s eyes moved over Charlotte, still out cold, having not even rustled when he rolled her off his chest two hours ago. He had pulled a sheet up over her, and she hadn’t moved since.

Charlotte was obviously fine with what had just happened between the two of them, but Triaten was not. Sex was always just sex for him, but the sex that Triaten had just had was unprecedented. Unprecedented because he had never before had a woman so clearly disregard his presence during the action. Charlotte may have had his dick in her, but she was nowhere near him. In body, yes. In mind or heart, no.

Used was the word for it. He had been used. The second he had entered her, she
had left in mind, and just used him for release. And he didn’t know what the hell that meant. If it meant anything at all.

Now it wasn’t just Aiden out
of control. He and Charlotte had just embarked into mayhem of a different kind, without anywhere solid to land their feet. He wasn't even sure how to deal with Charlotte now. Not after everything had just changed.

Triaten
cringed with the knowledge that he hadn’t made anything any better for Charlotte. And he wondered if he had been selfish for dragging Charlotte along after Aiden in the first place. No matter — they had a responsibility to Aiden’s current state of mind that Triaten was determined to fulfill.

He hoped Horace got to Skye soon.
He had almost let it slip to Charlotte that he knew where Skye was, and that he had sent Horace after her — but if it didn’t work, killed hope would be hard on Charlotte, and Triaten needed her strong. He couldn’t save Aiden from himself, alone. Horace was his only hope at the moment, and he knew he was getting to the end of the favors the elders would allow him.

Charlotte’s arm
suddenly flew up over her head. “Thomas…Triaten…I’m sorry…Make it stop…”

Triaten winced. She was talking in her sleep. Ever since they were little, she had done it. And Triaten knew her subconscious spoke of things she would never say conscious. Thomas.

Triaten’s head fell back onto the grimy chair, but his eyes didn’t leave Charlotte’s form. Damn his mind. It was his job to think, to work through every possible angle. It was what he had been trained to do. He excelled at it. And it was getting in the way of crawling back into bed, and laying down next to his naked, exquisite, best friend.

His other best friend took that moment to enter the room through the
door from the adjoining motel room. Aiden stepped into the darkness, fully dressed in black. He scanned the room, Triaten in boxers in a corner, Charlotte asleep, no top visible above the sheet. If he noticed anything, he made no mention. Triaten guessed Aiden would notice very little, his mind was laser-focused into killing Malefics, and as many as possible.

Aiden took a few steps in, standing in front of Triaten. “I have a line on where that one Malefic that got away earlier from the warehouse is at. I’m he
aded out.” His voice dropped down a notch in deference to Charlotte’s sleeping.

Triaten stifled a sigh. He had hoped for at least another co
uple hours before Aiden’s injuries healed enough for him to be walking. “Your wounds ready for it?” he whispered. “That last blade was pretty deep. Is this guy going anywhere? Do we need to do it now?”

Aiden looked over at his sh
oulder at Charlotte’s still form, and then back down at Triaten. “Coming or staying.”

It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement, and Triaten knew that meant Aiden was leaving now, dammed if he had back-up or not. Triaten stood. “Coming.”

Aiden nodded to the bed. “Charlotte?”

“Leave her be.” Triaten walked to the corner
of the room and grabbed his shirt. Gaping rips were still in it from the last battle, but he threw it over his head. “I’ll leave my jeep for her, if she wakes up. She can track us on GPS if she needs to.”

Aiden was out the door before Triaten had his pants and shoes on, and a blast of sticky
, summer-night air filled the room behind him. On the table next to him, Triaten quietly moved Charlotte’s sword off of his own, and grabbed the handle of his blade and two of the daggers next to it. He sheathed one dagger at his waist, and put the other next to Charlotte’s head on the pillow. He followed Aiden out the door, not looking back at the still motionless Charlotte.

The
flame moon was on fire above them. Triaten, Charlotte, Aiden, and Skye had just exited Hotel Auric. Horace had done what he had promised — found Skye at the top of the mountain and convinced her to turn back time. She had shifted time just as Aiden had raised his sword to slice the head off the Malefic that had escaped the blade earlier.

Watching Skye get
onto the back of Aiden’s bike, Triaten marveled again at her power. She had erased more than a month and half of time. Disintegrated the past into nothingness.

They had all known her power was coveted by both the Pa
nthenites and Malefics, but no one had guessed it was so substantial. Sure, five or ten minutes here and there, even going back an hour was impressive — but a month and half? It raised the question about how far she could actually send back time. Was there a limit? Triaten knew instinctively that the evolution and implications of her power were going to be fascinating, and dangerous.

Triaten glanced over his shoulder at the hotel, silently contemplating the elders inside. He hoped he had bought enough time with Horace for Aiden
to train Skye. The elder Panthenites would want more out of them — want Skye’s power at their disposal — that, he was sure of. It was just a matter of when. Triaten knew Aiden needed more time with Skye to get her combat-ready. She was still too vulnerable, too weak.

Sure,
she had done well against Mary. Staying alive was her first victory. But Mary was a half-breed. And a small one, at that. Skye had no clue what combat with a Malefic would really be like. 

Charlotte’s shiver brought his attention back to the street. Her eyes were fixated on the blazing moon above them. He had her shoulders firmly under his arm,
having drawn her in the second they saw the sky, but he knew it did little good in easing the terror running through her. She was always going to react this way to a flame moon. And rightfully so.

Aiden started his bike, and with
in-sync waves from Aiden and Skye, they were off on up the street, back up the mountain. Skye melded into Aiden’s back, and in the dark, it was hard to tell where one body ended and the other began. The time spent, then lost in the time shift, had righted most of what was wrong between the two. But Triaten could only momentarily pat himself on the back for his part in reuniting the two, because in that same time frame, he feared that he had managed to ruin the other most important thing his life, Charlotte.

It was a shame the time shift couldn’t erase what had happened between Charlotte and him. Technically, they had never had sex, since that timeline had vaporized. But no matter how he tried to play it in his mind, he couldn’t avoid the fact that it had happened. And Charlotte hadn’t said a word about it
in the entire day since the time shift.

Not that Triaten had managed to broa
ch the topic either. There honestly hadn’t been time, and additionally, he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.
Did I service you well? Whose dick did you imagine was deep inside you? Who were you thinking of when you came — cause it sure wasn’t me?

Charlotte shook under his arm. “I jus
t want to go home.” Her voice was small. The mental exhaustion of the last month and a half, physical combat almost daily, killing Malefics, keeping Aiden alive, healing the frequent wounds of both Aiden and Triaten, had clearly hit her. All that, and she was still staring at the flame moon above them like a death sentence had descended.

Triaten tightened his a
rm around her and steered her to his jeep, parked at the curb. Within minutes, they were down the mountain, a half-mile out of town, pulling up to Charlotte’s house.

Parked at her door, Charlotte made
no movement to the door handle; her eyes, instead, locked on the moon through the jeep’s open roof. She was worse off than Triaten had figured.

He got out and guided Charlotte from the vehicle in through her
front door. The moment they were inside, out of view of the creep-inducing moon, Charlotte blinked hard, waking herself up from her trance. She took a step away from Triaten’s guiding arm. She looked silently around her living room, getting her bearings, and then her eyes landed on Triaten. Not even a moment passed before she stepped back to him, grabbing his neck with both hands and pulling him down onto her lips.

Not
a second was given to resist or react. Charlotte moved backward, pulling him with her deeper into the room. One hand curved on his neck, while the other moved quickly down his body. He did nothing to curb her.

Hell. He still hadn’t figured out what the first time they had sex meant, and now he
found himself right back in the same situation.

Charlotte turned and pushed him down on the couch, and followed, legs straddling his thighs. Her hands were deep in his crotch, unbuttoning, caressing, as her mouth covered his neck. Triaten was ready for her without any preamble, springing forth, and seeing that, she didn't bother to wait, reaching under skirt and removing her underwear.

She repositioned herself on his lap, and grabbed the back of the couch, hands on either side of Triaten's head. As she slid down onto him, her head tilted back, eyes closed. Her thighs lifted her up and down, smoothly gaining rhythm. The exact replay of the night before. A different location, a different vantage point for him, but the exact same for Charlotte. She had left him in every way possible, except for where their bodies were joined.

Her moans increased, and
low, guttural, her voice begged. "Oh god, yes, just make it go away."

It was what made Triaten break. And, for the life of him, he couldn't stop his hands
or his growl. He grabbed Charlotte's hips and lifted her off of him, setting her down next to him on the couch. 

He stood up a
nd shoved himself, still hard and straining, back into his pants. Charlotte blinked in shock, confusion. Stunned, it took her a second to come back to the moment in front of her and focus on Triaten.

Her mouth was
agape, eyes vulnerable, as Triaten looked down at her. But it didn’t lessen the harsh clip in his voice. “Charlotte, I love you, you know I do, but you can't use me like this."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Use you?"

Triaten bent over her, hand on her cheek. "Char, we can't walk around with my dick in you all the time, just so you'll be able to forget how real life works."

Her face tightened as though he had slapped her.  Fury flashed through her body as she stood up, facing Triaten. "Don't be crass, Triaten."

"Don't change the subject, Charlotte."

She grabbed his arm just above his elbow. "I wasn't using you. You wanted this too."

"Did I? Did I really? I let it happen, and when I did, I wanted you, Charlotte, not just my dick in you.” He shook his arm loose of her grasp. “You. All of you. Your body. Your mind."

"I was right here."

"Wow. Really? Were you?” Anger was not in Triaten’s nature, so his voice, even though he was seething, remained even and calm. But it had a clear edge. “Tell me, what was flashing in your mind when your eyes were closed? When you were thrusting? Moaning? ‘Cause it sure as hell wasn't about me or you would've had your lips on mine. Your eyes in my eyes. What was going on in there, Charlotte," he motioned to her head, "or really, who was it? Thomas?"

S
tung, Charlotte turned and staggered away from Triaten, collapsing down onto the couch. She didn't have an answer. Her head bowed into her hands.

Triaten hadn't been able to stop himself from mentioning Thomas. And he had dared to hope Charlotte
might deny it. But it was clear she wasn't going to try. He had hit the truth.

There wasn't anything more to say. He spun and stepped to the door.

"Triaten," Charlotte's voice, horrible and weak, stopped him. With his hand not moving from the door handle, he turned around, only to see her standing, crushed — the most vulnerable he had ever seen her. Worse than when Thomas died.

She stopped and started several times, words trying to escape but not making their way from her chest. Finally, the
words slipped out in a whisper. "How could you do this to me?"

Triaten swallowed hard
against the instinct to rush to her and envelop. With no answer, he pushed the heavy wood door open and walked out.

~~~

He got to the airfield just before she approached the boarding stairs to the jet. Triaten threw his jeep into park on the tarmac and burst out, running over to Charlotte. He grabbed her arm, just as her foot landed on the first step leading up to the Gulfstream.

Her head spun, having been so focused on leaving, she didn’t even hear Triaten pull up or run over to her. The instant her eyes caugh
t his, she jerked her arm away and stepped quickly up, her low heels clinking on the metal stairs.

“Charlotte wa
it,” Triaten yelled at her back. “You owe it to me to stop and listen. You don’t have to talk, just listen.”

Her feet slowed, and
at the top of the stairs, just before she disappeared into the airplane’s cabin, she paused. She looked back down at him. Silently, she turned and came reluctantly down the stairs. She stopped at the stair that afforded her the height to be eye-level with Triaten.

He could see pain still etched in her brow,
and her mouth stretched tight. The dark circles under her blue eyes were evidence of a sleepless night. A small acknowledgment of the situation, Triaten thought. At least it wasn’t just him — he hadn’t slept all night either, and when he went to her clinic this morning to see her, only to find out she was planning on leaving, planning on flying half-way around the world to avoid him, it didn’t help his mood in the slightest.

She stared at him, mouth closed, waiting.

Never at a loss for words, Triaten paused. He had nothing. How to begin now that he had her attention? “I stopped by the clinic.”

A crisp nod. “I presume they told you I was leaving, and where I was going?”

“Doc Smith told me. Charlotte...you don’t need to go...not now.”

“Actually, I do. I got the
call from Doctor Saima early this morning. She’s in desperate need of extra medical hands right now. Her camp has been overrun in the last few months with another thousand refugees. She sounded overwhelmed — the women and children coming in are in poor state. And I’m not needed here now that things have been righted with Aiden and Skye.”

“And what about us?”

“What about us?” she choked a sarcastic chuckle. “I think last night was pretty self-explanatory.”

Just then, the pi
lot stuck his head out of the plane. He cleared his throat, garnering Charlotte’s attention. “Ms. Martin? Do we have an estimated time of departure?”

Charlotte glanced at Triaten, then looked up and answered, “Five minutes, tops. Thanks, Gary.”

Triaten grabbed her hand and nodded to the jeep. “Just come and sit with me, in private, for the five minutes.”

She didn’t move.

“Five minutes.” Triaten implored.

She adjusted the chocolate leather bag she had over her shoulder and stepped off the stairs, allowing Triaten to lead her to the vehicle.

Both sitting in the front of the jeep, Triaten stared at her, wondering what he could do, what he could say to make her stay. Charlotte’s eyes were averted off to the plane, the sun reflecting golden shards off the silver panels.

“Charlotte, I still haven’t figured out what us being together meant, what it could mean. But I don’t want to try to figure it out alone.”

“Why does it have to mean anything?” She rubbed her forehead, her elbow resting on the jeep’s door. She was not about to look his way.

Triaten’s hand went gently onto her forearm. “It doesn’t, but it could.
You are my best friend, Char, and I love you. Since we were kids we have been together through the worst pain and fantastic happiness. And for you to run off with this hanging between us — there are too many what-ifs attached to it — too many possibilities.”

Charlotte finally turned her head to him. Anger still tightened her lips. “Really Triaten? Of the thousands of women you’ve had throughout the years, why does this have to be any different? I’ve never known you to confuse sex with emotion.”

“Because it’s you Char.” Triaten’s voice cracked. “It’s you.”

He held her gaze for seconds before he was presented with a blond ponytail as she turned her head full away from him,
back to looking out the open window.

Triaten wasn’t going take that as an answer. “What if some part of you really wanted me
— me, those times — not what was in your imagination?”

Silence.

Silence until slowly, her head shifted and she looked at him again. All anger had disappeared. Beaten. Now she just looked beaten.

“You were right.
” She choked on her words. “I was thinking of Thomas — both times. And you were also right — I was using you, and I can’t stay here and do that to you.”

"So stay and don’t do it to me. It’s a choice, Charlotte. I don’t know why, after all these y
ears — a quarter of a century — Thomas still has a hold on you. You've elevated him to a pedestal of perfection — and you’re not willing to let go of that dead perfection.” Triaten paused.