Fate Forgotten (38 page)

With Adam, lying beside him, loving him, kissing him, wanting him, she felt whole for the first time in far too long. It wasn’t only the way her body fit against his, her head resting perfectly within the hollow of his shoulder, her fingers lacing between his as if they belonged. There was something more, as if his spirit had left an impression upon hers, and his love filled in all the cracks, mending her heart, her soul.

It was the way she had felt with Thorgrim, and Reu before that. Reu, whose love for her had been God’s final gift, made perfect between them. She had no explanation Thorgrim. And as for Adam—

She wasn’t sure what to think of what she felt for Adam, what Adam felt for her. She wasn’t sure what to think, knowing that what they felt was so close to what she had known of Elohim. And if it were wrong…

Love should be easy. She had said it herself. Love should be easy, when it’s right, natural. Why would God, living all this time, allow for this possibility at all, if he had not meant for it to come to pass? Or was it all a test of faith, of obedience?

She had broken God’s law by tasting the fruit, and saved the world in the choosing. But Adam was right about one thing. Love had never been forbidden. What Elohim had told Adam, all those lifetimes ago, at the dawn of Creation, had not been
never.
Never had come later, from Michael, and the sword which no longer threatened them.

But Elohim? Their God, their Father, had only said,
Not yet.

Dawn came, sunlight creeping fingers through the blinds and bending over the bed. Eve rose, knowing as she crossed to the bathroom, that Adam’s gaze followed her. The mattress sighed as Adam’s weight shifted, but she didn’t look back. If she saw his concern now, she wouldn’t have the courage to go on. If she let him argue at all, let him use his not inconsiderable charm, his gentle persuasion, the threadbare cloak of her resolve would shred. And he would argue. He would fight. She had listened to his regret, his fears, all night.

But this choice was hers. As it had been in the beginning, as it had always been, no matter how many times he had tried to take it from her. In the Garden, as Paris in Sparta, when he had first come to her in their last lifetime, before he had married Mia.

She cannot love you, yet, and you are forbidden to force her.
Those had been Elohim’s words, and she had held them so close, grasped them tight for an eternity. And He had been right, then. The Adam she had known in the Garden, determined to make himself a God, to grind their people beneath his heel and turn them into slaves—she could not have loved him, could never have wanted him.

Eve splashed water on her face, glancing at the mirror over the sink only long enough to be sure he had noticed her. He was still watching, his gaze unguarded, heating her like a physical caress. She pulled the pajama shirt over her head, careful to stand where he could see her back. Her skin prickled, goosebumps rising on her arms, anticipating his touch. She could feel him standing behind her. Just standing there. She slipped out of her shorts, letting them fall from her hips to the floor in a puddle, and then the soft lace beneath. Her only indulgence, that lace, and when she turned to face him, his storm cloud eyes darkened with desire, she flushed.

Adam swallowed, licked his lips, dragged his eyes back to her face much, much too slowly. “You left the door open.”

He was flustered, she realized, taking a step toward him. She’d never seen him flustered before. Not while he was married to Mia, certainly not in the Garden. Always, he had been confident, arrogant, smirking, or at his worst, angry. Her fingers found the warm skin under his shirt, traced the lines of muscle hidden beneath the soft cotton. He made a soft noise, half-groan, half-objection, his hands closing around her wrists.

“Evey, I promised you—”

She stopped him with a kiss before he said something she didn’t want to hear, nibbling his lower lip. His fingers, vise-like with his determination, slackened, and it was all the opening she needed. A nudge of her thoughts against his, and he released her altogether, lifting his arms so she could pull the shirt over his head. His eyes sharpened, locked on hers with new realization.

Evey, love…

Once, he might have been stronger, when she was newly made, before the Fruit. But not now. Not when she had honed her power for millennia upon millennia. He fought, his thoughts fluttering defiance. Instead of stepping back, he reached for her. Instead of turning away, his forehead touched hers, their noses brushing. She framed his face in her hands, held him to her by force of will.

It’s my choice, Adam. My right. My love to give.

He closed his eyes, drawing her closer of his own accord. “This isn’t why I asked you here. It isn’t what I meant to happen.”

She lifted her face, pressing her lips to his. The heat of his skin against hers made her ache, and she didn’t want to talk. They had waited so long, and she could feel the strain of his body, hard and hot with need. She dropped her hands from his face, trailing them down his chest, his abdomen, his waist.

He let out a shuddering breath, and all his resistance went with it. His mouth claimed hers, demanding entrance, and his fingers dug into the softness of her hips, just short of bruising. He pushed her back until she was pressed against the tile wall, the shock of the cold sending a shiver down her spine, even while the rest of her melted with his heat, seeping deep and settling in the pit of her stomach.

Whatever sin this was, she thought wildly, as his lips left hers to follow her jaw line, whatever punishment came after, she would make it hers, and hers alone.

Then his teeth grazed her earlobe, sparks of fire lighting where the heat had been, until her whole body turned to flame. And there was no more room in her thoughts for words, no more thoughts, at all.

Just love.

She lay against his chest, after, and studied his face while he slept. His lips curved in just the slightest smile, his head turned to the right, toward her. One of his hands rested at the small of her back, the other tangled in her hair. As if he feared she might slip away while his eyes were closed. She pressed a kiss to his chest, smiling sadly.

“I love you,” she said, too low to wake him, but maybe just loud enough that it would linger in his dreams. Another kiss, at the pulse of his throat, and a gentle nudge against his sleeping mind, and she freed herself carefully from his grasp. She’d stayed too long already.

With any luck, he wouldn’t wake until she’d boarded an airship—there were always seats available, and once she traded in her return ticket by jet, she’d have money to spare. But it had to be now, before she lost her will to go and let herself be lulled to sleep by his warmth, and his comfort, and his love, still filling her heart to overflowing.

Eve dressed and packed, and let herself out of the apartment. Because if she stayed, she’d only want to make love to him again. Once had been dangerous enough, for him, for her, for her family and the world…

But she wouldn’t take it back. Wouldn’t give it up for anything, now. And the way Michael had haunted her in the past—the way he had threatened her even before she had known her own heart, her own mind—he should have come already to make good on her punishment. The moment she’d considered it, the moment she’d committed to following through.

She shook her head and started down the street. Two blocks to the nearest cardock, and then another fifteen minutes to reach the airport. She glanced at her watch, and broke into a jog. The next airship would be leaving in just an hour, and she’d lost more time than she’d meant to, looking for something to write on to leave him some kind of note.

Her heart twisted at the thought of how he’d find it, realizing she was gone, knowing he was too late. She had to believe he would understand, had to hope he would let her explain. He had to know she wouldn’t have left him if there had been any other way. Michael would come for her—just like he’d come for Adam, after that ill-advised kiss—and when he did, she didn’t want Adam involved. She’d tell the archangel she had forced him, used her power to persuade him. And then she would pray that she wasn’t carrying his child.

She’d had her implant, of course, but if there was one thing she understood after so many lifetimes, it was the vagaries of mother nature—of God, Himself. She shouldn’t have been able to conceive, should have been safe, and with anyone but Adam, she wouldn’t have been worried. But if he was right, if they were both right, and this had been God’s plan…

If it was Elohim’s plan, she didn’t have to be afraid. Not if he was alive, like Adam had told her. Not if the sword was gone, and Michael no longer held power over the world.

But she didn’t want to risk more than she already had, one way or the other. Not until she knew. And just as Adam could not have found Michael without her five years ago, she didn’t see how they would’ve learned the truth without acting as they had, now.

And if Adam was right. If they could be together, without fear. Eve swallowed hard, her throat thick and her eyes stinging. To be able to spend the rest of eternity with Adam, to go forward with the knowledge that she would always be loved, always be free to be herself, to live as Eve.

She was afraid to even think of it, because it would hurt so much more if she was wrong.

Chapter Thirty-seven: 1632 AD

Ra took Adam in after they returned his memory, nursed him in Egypt when it became clear he could not care for himself. Thor almost pitied him, would have, if it were not for Eve. It was only a matter of time now until his mind healed and once he remembered, understood his own power, his desire for Eve would only grow.

But Thor need not have worried Ryam. The rest of that first life, Adam had done nothing more than sit in a corner, twitching, his eyes flickering and unfocused. Lightning sent him into fits, making him weep like a child. Thor stayed only long enough to be certain he was no threat, then left again, to give Ryam what news there was. It was a thin excuse to catch some glimpse of Eve, even to his own ears, and it did not fool Ryam in the slightest. Those journeys almost always resulted in Thor drinking himself beneath the table with his brothers later, so he would not have to think of any of it.

The second life was a different matter. They had promised Adam wealth and power if he would leave Eve alone, and by some magic Thor had never understood, he had been born a son of the Sultan in the Ottoman Empire. Adam became known as Suleiman the Magnificent after he took his father’s place—Thor had no illusions as to what role poison had played in his father’s sudden demise, or by whose hand it had been delivered—and with the strength of the empire behind him, took to the business of conquering the world as if it were his birthright.

Thor was only grateful that Eve had been born in the New World, as the blossoming urge for exploration had spread her bloodline west to the Americas. Half of France was some relation of hers, and a good portion of Spain and Portugal as well. If what Buddha and Ra theorized was to be believed, every byblow of the explorers among the natives strengthened her ties to those discovered lands, and Thor could only hope she would remain there for some time, oceans apart from her brother.