Kiss Across Time (Kiss Across Time Series) (7 page)

Hot cum spilled into her. She felt it. Both of them came as she did and that tripped off another secondary climax in her, a small shock wave of surprise and pleasure as the two cocks jerked and spasmed in her channels. She clung to Brody and leaned against Veris, glad that both of them were there.

She knew before she opened her eyes that they had returned to the hotel room. Something about the air changed and grew smaller, warmer and more closed around them. The kind of air that only ever came with a self-contained room that was never opened to the outdoors.

Taylor opened her eyes, breathing hard, sadness touching her. “We’re back,” she whispered.

“Then you’d better speak English again,” Brody murmured, in English. She could hear the difference. English was harsh, sharp and ugly, but until now, she had never noticed.

They were on the bed where they began and both men were on their knees, cradling her between them. Taylor turned her head to look at Veris. “What
were
we speaking?” she asked and it was an effort to speak English. She had to concentrate.

“Brody and I used the local language then, as we do wherever we go. Medieval Latin with a Tuscan dialect.” He kissed her brow and gently withdrew from her body, as did Brody. They lowered her to the mattress, so that she was kneeling next to them.

“Will I forget it again?” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to.”

“We don’t know,” Brody told her. “There’s too much about this we don’t know.” He glanced at Veris questioningly.

Veris shook his head. “I don’t know either.” He spoke slowly, as if he were puzzling through ideas as he spoke.

Taylor stifled a yawn.

Instantly, they both turned to her and gathered her in their arms. She was tucked beneath the sheets and their long bodies bracketed hers before she could gather the energy to protest. But she really didn’t want to protest, if tiredness produced this result. She could hardly think of a more comfortable way of falling asleep.

She snuggled against Brody’s chest as he stroked her brow, soothing her into sleep and looked up at Veris. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I hope so,” Veris said, his eyes dancing. “How else can we convince you to stay?”

Sleep was already claiming her, or she was sure his words would have caused more alarm, or at least more surprise. Instead she felt nothing but inevitability.

“Tell me, Taylor,” Veris murmured. “The one thing you wouldn’t share when we spoke last week. Why have you spent seven years on this academic fool’s errand, trying to prove the existence of Inigo Domhnall?”

“You’ll laugh,” she murmured, her eyes slipping shut.

“After all we’ve seen in our lives? Try us,” he coaxed.

She reached back in her mind to the old memories. “So long ago,” she murmured. “My father’s business partner. Twenty years ago. He would come to dinner and tell stories about King Arthur. Stories that I’d never heard before, or heard ever since. He told me they were stories written by a man call Inigo Domhnall, who lived in King Arthur’s castle. I remember those stories as if he’d told them to me yesterday…”

She must have slept a little for she woke up with a small jerk. She was alone in the bed and from beyond the room, she could hear Veris and Brody talking in hot, angry, low voices. From the shadows moving across the doorway, she could see they were gesturing too. Tempers were high.

But sleep was grabbing at her. She was too short on sleep and they had spent centuries resolving differences. Her problems would wait.

A little later she woke again and felt a big male body curled around hers. She didn’t care which. She smiled, pushed back into him so that her ass was against his pelvis. A hand curled over her breast. Long fingers.

Brody.

She sighed. Sleep instantly reclaimed her.

She woke slowly, the third time, to the feel of Brody’s hand on her breast, stroking the nipple erect, his lips nuzzling her neck.

“She’s everything we could have asked for,” Brody whispered. “And then some.” There was a note in his voice than made her heart ache.

“I know, Brody.” Veris’ voice was filled with terrible wisdom. Then, “I think she’s awake.”

“I don’t care.” Brody’s hand shifted and brushed her temple. “Taylor?”

“I
am
awake,” she confessed and opened her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Eleven in the morning,” Veris told her, his blue eyes drilling into hers.

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re talking about?” Brody said, sitting up so he could look at her face.

“No, she’s not,” Veris told him, his gaze steady on her face.

She swallowed. “I can hear pain in your voices. Why would I add to it by probing?”

The pair of them exchanged another look.

“I see you two have sorted out your differences,” she said sleepily.

Veris looked startled, then annoyed. “We woke you, last night.”

“Yes.”

“How much did you hear?” The question had an edge to it and made Taylor wake up a little more.

She tried to sit up and Brody helped her. “I deliberately didn’t listen,” she said. “Why? Was it about me?” Her heart lurched.

“Indirectly.” Veris pushed his hand through his hair. “Taylor, we must ask you to do something for us. Something that is rarely done among our kind.”

Taylor gripped her hands together, sensing that this was part of what they had been arguing about, last night. She drew in a breath that seemed thick and hard to swallow. “What do you want me to do?”

The concrete canyons of the Los Angeles Financial District had never looked so foreign and yet so familiar to her. Taylor stared at them from behind the heavily filtered glass of the stretch limousine, her nervousness increasing. No one was paying much attention to the limo, for which she was grateful. Limousines were commonplace in downtown L.A.

“No one can see you from the street, so relax,” Brody murmured, picking up her hand and kissing the knuckles. His lips tickled her flesh. He wore what she labeled his rock star disguise—the leather pants and black designer death metal shirt with heavy chains and hand-painted designs. It went with his long black hair and brooding Celtic looks but the tanned, healthy flesh and wide shoulders beneath the clothes did not. It was a good thing he was so tall, for it helped offset some of the width. He also wore a big pair of wraparound sunglasses.

“Besides, you look like you belong inside this vehicle,” Veris said from the other side of the bench. He wore aviators with mirror lenses and the effect was disturbing. Of the pair of them, she had more trouble figuring what was going on inside Veris’ head. The glasses increased the effect. So did the black suit, black shirt and gray silk tie and black overcoat. He’d even tied his own collar-length blond locks at the back of his neck with a piece of leather. Veris’ careful attention to his attire impressed upon her that they really were going to meet royalty.

That and their nervousness. The two of them had positively dithered over her appearance and preparations. A big flat white box and smaller boxes and parcels had arrived with the hotel bellboys along with the meal Brody had thoughtfully ordered for her. The pair of them had arranged for the delivery of clothes and accessories suitable for her to attend a queen.

Taylor smoothed her hand over the lace covering her thigh. It didn’t cover very much of it…but that was what happened when men chose a dress for you. However, she had to admit that these two men seemed to know something about elegance.

The dress was made of green stretch lace that almost exactly matched her eyes, with a high halter neck that looked like a polar neck cuff. The cuff was covered in white Swarovski crystals, attached in a waterfall of graduated sizes that looked like a necklace, that glittered as she moved and breathed. Beneath the cuff the dress split open to reveal her cleavage and the split swooped down to just above her waist. The dress hugged her figure, all the way down to her thighs, where it stopped short just below the top of her stockings.

The back of her dress didn’t exist. It scooped out to just above her ass, leaving her back bare. It wasn’t possible to wear a bra with this dress but there were built-in cups, for which she was grateful, for her breasts were at least a C cup and she needed the support. In addition, there were separate, tight-fitting sleeves to go with the dress, that slid up her arms and flared out over her knuckles.

They’d even ordered stiletto shoes to go with the dress—strappy sandals with ties around her ankles, also covered in crystals. There was a thick crystal-encrusted cuff to go around her wrist, that showed every time she lifted her arm and the flared sleeve fell back.

One of the other boxes contained a replacement leather bustier and mini-skirt for the clothing Veris had ripped from her the night they’d met. Nothing was said by either man. The box just arrived with the others. Taylor smiled when she saw what was inside, and put the box aside.

By the time she was fully dressed, with her make-up applied and her hair backcombed and sitting just right, Taylor felt sinfully sexy
and
incredibly elegant. She walked into the sitting room, feeling a touch nervous. “Will this do?” she asked.

Both Veris and Brody got to their feet.

“You look like a million dollars,” Brody said, picking up her arm and licking her shoulder.

“All except for my neck. I don’t have any cover-up for the teeth marks you guys left there.” She could feel her face flushing hotly at the reminder.

Veris smiled. “There’s a reason we picked that style of dress. Don’t cover up our markings.”

Brody’s tongue slid up her neck to her ear and probed inside, hot and wet, making her clit bloom and swell. “We want everyone there to know you’re ours,” he whispered in her ear. “Especially the queen.”

While she had been transferring a few of her essential pieces of ID from her old handbag into the handsome leather clutch that had come in one of the boxes, she had quickly checked her phone and been amazed to see nearly a dozen text messages from Jeoffery.

She scrolled through them, absorbing their increasingly more alarmed and concerned tenor.

the courier returned with your stuff…where are you?

are you that pissed with me you can’t return a simple text message?

where ARE you?

14 hours.
 
Officially concerned.
 
Call me.
 
I mean it.

She bit her lip.
 
She
had
dived off the face of the planet.
 
The only person who knew where she was wouldn’t think to tell anyone else, and Jeoff wouldn’t dream that she knew Andy well enough to even know his name.

“Problems?” Veris had murmured, standing next to her shoulder.
 
“Do you need to reach out and call people?”

“He doesn’t deserve that much courtesy,” Taylor told Veris truthfully.
 
She started thumbing out a reply text.
 
“You don’t fire someone then expect to be treated like a decent human being the next day.”

Veris’ eyes narrowed.
 
It was the sum total of shock he allowed to show.
 
“Because of me,” he said flatly.
 
“They fired you over me.
 
The timing is too perfect for it to be anything else.”

She shook her head.
 
“You were the perfect excuse they needed, that’s all.
 
If you hadn’t shown up, they would have found another way.
 
I was an embarrassment.”
 
She hit ‘send’ on her text message, shut the phone down and shoved it in the clutch and smiled at him.
 
“And now I’m done with that part of my life for another day or so.”
 
She touched Veris’ arm.
 
“I’m fine,” she assured him.

He nodded.
 
“Very well,” he said reluctantly as Brody came into the room carrying coats.

Taylor blinked as the limousine came to a halt, dispelling the memory. They were somewhere in the financial district. San Pedro? She had been so busy with her own thoughts and nervousness, she’d failed to pay attention. She wrapped the faux fur coat around her. “I wish I had sunglasses,” she groused.

“We need them. You don’t.” Veris picked up her hand. “I’d rather see your eyes.” He helped her out of the limousine.

As they crossed the busy plaza, she saw from the corner of her eye that they were garnering startled looks and many people were tapping each other on the shoulder, digging their friends in the side with their elbows and pointing. Whispering to each other. Brody was drawing huge amounts of attention.

Then she heard a whisper as they passed a pair of women close by.

“Who do you think she is?”

“Gotta be a movie star,” the other said.

“And look at the two men she’s with…lucky bitch.” A deep sigh followed.

Startled, Taylor nearly tripped as she lost track of her footing. Brody’s hand was suddenly under her elbow. “I heard,” he murmured in her ear. “Keep walking like you didn’t hear it. Look straight ahead and don’t react.”

She was shaking. Veris’ hand slid under her other arm, strong and supportive. “Your old world can nag all it must, but you belong with us,” he said quietly.
 
“Even strangers can see it.”

Fresh shock slithered through her as the meaning of his low words sunk home.
 
“Appearances mean nothing,” she told him.

“True. But you didn’t go home this morning, did you?”

She couldn’t think of an answer to that. This time yesterday she had been visiting her Goth ex-student, to borrow a leather bustier to wear to a concert she didn’t want to go to because she had been fired two days ago. Now she was here. “Life has me on a carnival ride. I just have to see where I end up before the ride finishes.”

Brody gave a low laugh.
 
“I’ve been on this ride for centuries.
 
It doesn’t end.
 
The view keeps changing and it keeps going round.
 
You have to throw yourself off if you really want this ride to end, Taylor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
 
“I never did like carnival rides, anyway.”

Veris gave a low chuckle as they stepped into the building.
 
He took off his glasses and put them in his breast pocket. “I’ve always said women were stronger, when it came to pure courage, haven’t I?” he said to Brody.

Brody stabbed at the top elevator button. “There’s a reason we have a queen and not a king.”

The elevator doors opened and the people inside would have hurried out, except they all paused when they saw the three of them standing waiting for the car. There was a collective hesitation, then the occupants all carefully streamed past them, glancing sideways at them.

Once the car was empty, they stepped on and Brody produced an electronic key card that he slid into a slot on the control panel, before punching the penthouse floor button.

The elevator rose swiftly through the floors and neither man spoke. Taylor could feel their growing tension. Brody took off his glasses and squared his shoulders. Veris smoothed his tie and fussed with the knot. Both of them looked exactly like high school kids about to face the principal for transgressions known and unknown.

What had they done that they were about to get busted for?

When the elevator opened, Taylor almost squeaked in alarm and that told her that their nervousness had communicated itself to her. She was wound up, just as they were, and expecting trouble.

They stepped out into a perfectly normal foyer of a business suite, just like millions the world over. This one was a touch more elegant that most, given the address.
 
It was empty except for a male receptionist behind a curved desk. He looked up from the computer he was working on but didn’t show any surprise at their appearance. Instead, he simply nodded. “You’re expected and everything is ready. Boardroom C.”

“Thank you,” Veris told him. He opened a door beside the reception desk and held it for Taylor. “This way.”

She followed him, with Brody behind her, through wide corridors that were just as empty as the reception area, into a wood-paneled boardroom. The walls were hung with what looked like classic nineteenth century original art to her, that glowed in beautiful frames each lit by their own small overhead lights, while the cherrywood board table gleamed with pools of light from the overhead spotlights spilling upon it. The light in the rest of the room was very low, leaving shadows.

At the top of the table where the chairman would probably sit, a shapeless mass lay beneath a piece of soft white opaque plastic sheeting. One of the overhead spotlights was shining directly upon it.

Brody’s hands were on her shoulders, removing the coat. Veris was shedding his, dropping it over one of the leather chairs lining the table. The room was utterly silent and empty except for the three of them.

Taylor was almost afraid to speak. Her heart was thundering but she had no idea why she should be afraid.

“Come,” Brody murmured, tugging her arm, leading her toward the top of the table.

Veris pushed the big chair that was behind the table well out of the way and stood before the nameless mass, looking at it. He glanced at Taylor as she stepped beside him.

“We owe you an apology, Taylor,” he said softly.

She realized her hand was gripping her chest. “Why?” she breathed.

He lifted the almost weightless plastic sheet away from the thing beneath. “This is why.”

It was a book. A very old…no, an ancient book. Hand-written of course and illustrated with loving care by some monk at a monastery. Then her gaze fell upon the script and she automatically began to translate.

Then she realized what this was and began to tremble. “This is Inigo Domhnall. This is his work.” She pressed her hands against the table for support. “He really did exist. He really was a playwright…oh my god….”

Brody’s arm was there, holding her up. “Veris, she’s gone white.”

Veris’ shoulder slid under her cheek, his fingers soothed her brow. “I’m sorry Taylor. I should have eased you into this.”

She blinked as a tear stung in the corner of her eye. “He was real,” she repeated, as Brody stroked her shoulder.

“Yes, he was real, my lover.” Veris’ voice rumbled against her, deep and comforting.

“They fired me at the university because they finally got too embarrassed about my thesis—I kept insisting he was real but I couldn’t find any proof and it was here all the time.” She clutched at Veris. “You knew, when you came to see me that night. You knew and you let me think I was chasing a shadow, just like all the other experts.”