Timeless (Pandora Book 1) (17 page)

She knew she missed Vane when he left, and when they were apart, like now, it felt as if he’d taken a piece of her with him. Her heart fluttered when he kissed her, and the idea of seeing him in another woman’s arms made her physically ill. She worried when he worried, hurt when he hurt. Wrapped in his arms felt like being home, and when she looked into his eyes, it was like she’d been wandering aimlessly, just waiting for him to find her.

They barely knew each other, though, certainly not long enough to call it love.

“Stop trying to make a thirtieth century relationship on an alien planet fit into an Earth time capsule from nearly a thousand years ago.”

The words Vane’s mother had spoken to her that day in the glider came back to her, and Charli looked down at her feet and smiled.

“My dear, when it pertains to matters of the heart, nothing is ever simple. You just have to decide if it’s worth it.”

Taking a deep breath, Charli kicked her shoes to the side and peeled her sweater off over her head. Then she pushed her pants down her hips, letting them pool on the floor around her ankles. Under different circumstances, she might have been excited to slip into the strapless, black dress.

The silky material molded to her curves from chest to hips before flaring out around her legs and brushing the tops of her bare feet. The diamond inlay along the hem sparkled in the waning sunlight, casting rainbow prisms across the marbled floor.

Charli felt nothing.

As promised, Ezra arrived right on time to escort her to dinner. Since she hadn’t been given a pair of shoes to wear, Charli followed him through the spacious corridors in her bare feet, shivering occasionally as the cold of the hardwood floors seeped into her soles.

Ezra didn’t speak, and Charli found for once, she had nothing to say, either. They made several turns, but each hallway looked exactly like the last—bare, plum-colored walls with gold-plated baseboards and mahogany floors.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ezra led her to a set of double doors with writings in a language she didn’t recognize carved over the entryway. The heavy doors opened inward, revealing what looked more like a banquet hall than a dining room. Entering the room, Charli counted twenty-two chairs along either side of the long, glass table, but only three place settings grouped together at one end.

Another set of doors opened from the other side of the dining room, and heavy footsteps echoed off the high ceilings as Vane marched across the marbled floors. Though she couldn’t see him well from the distance, he appeared unharmed, and he even wore a smile on his lips as he approached.

Joy and relief filled her heart, and Charli beamed at the sight of him. “Vane!” Lifting her dress so she wouldn’t trip over it, she ran across the room and threw herself into his arms. “I was so worried about you,” she whispered, burying her face in his chest and inhaling his scent. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Several seconds ticked by, and only when he didn’t respond did Charli realize he hadn’t embraced her back. Hesitantly, she removed her arms from around his waist and took a step back to look up into his eyes. “Vane?”

He looked startled, maybe a little embarrassed, but she saw no light of recognition in his eyes. “Princess,” he said, locking his arms at his sides and bowing to her. “There’s no need to be worried. Your staff has been more than gracious.” Straightening, his eyes slid past her to Ezra, and the corners of his lips curved into a warm smile. “Ezra, thank you for the invitation.”

Charli’s pulse raced, and her head began to swim as the blood drained from her face. “Vane?”

He returned his attention to her immediately. “Yes, Princess?”

Her heart sank to her stomach, and then tried to climb back up into her mouth. Morphlings stood guard at both exits, cutting off her escape, and her knight and shining armor clearly hadn’t come to rescue her.

“Excuse me for a minute, Vane—um, Lieutenant Schiva.” Rounding on Ezra, Charli took his wrist and dragged him a few feet away. “What did you do to him?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he lied smoothly.

“Why is he acting like that?”

“Oh, that.” Ezra’s cold smile sent a shudder through her. “He’s fine, unharmed.” His smile grew a little brighter. “He just has no idea who you are.”

Vane needed to return to Nekron, but when the princess had asked him to stay, he’d been unable to refuse her. His commander had sent him on a dignitary mission to greet Atrea’s new princess and begin talks of a lasting alliance. Turning down her request for him to spend the night wouldn’t advance that cause.

Or so he told himself.

In reality, he’d been mesmerized by her throughout the meal, unable to take his eyes off her, even when his staring bordered on rude. He’d been stunned into paralysis by her wholly inappropriate greeting, but Ezra had warned him the princess was young and exuberant. Still, when she’d pulled away from him, he’d had the insane urge to drag her back into his arms.

During dinner, he’d experienced a torrid of odd emotions, ranging from anxiety to hopelessness. He had no reason to feel any of those things, and a small voice in the deepest recesses of his mind had whispered they weren’t his emotions. It made little sense, but he’d shrugged it off, chalking it up to the stress of the situation. A lot rested on his shoulders, and his people counted on him to provide a shining example of his race.

A political alignment with Atrea meant more food for the outlying villages, especially since they could only grow crops for six months of their year. Atrea also provided the iridium that powered the hyperdrives in their space crafts. Most importantly, however, an alliance with the Atreans meant an added level of security against rogue Morphlings and other defectors.

Standing in the middle of the guestroom, Vane titled his head to the side and frowned. All day, he’d felt as if he’d forgotten something, like he’d misplaced something important. Maybe the sunlight was messing with his head. After so many centuries, his body had naturally adjusted to a certain amount of darkness, and it wouldn’t be daylight on Nekron for several more months.

Unsatisfied with the reasoning, he wandered over to the patio doors and pulled them open, hoping the fresh air might help to clear his mind. Almost an hour later, he still stood in the same place, staring out over the stone gardens and shimmering wading pools, and he still felt…lost.

A soft knock pulled him out of his thoughts, but before Vane could cross the room to answer the summons, the door opened and his heart flipped over in his chest.

“Princess?”

“Stop calling me that,” she demanded, peeking out into the hallways before easing the door closed. “Vane, you have to snap out of it.”

He didn’t understand what she meant, but he’d listen to her talk until the stars fell. “Snap out of what, Your Highness?”

Sighing, she hitched up the skirt of her dress and crossed the room, stopping only inches away from him. “I don’t have very long before they realize I’m gone.” Her voice softened, and crystalline tears shimmered in her sapphire blue eyes. “Vane, you have to remember. Please, I need you to remember.”

A buzzing started in his ears, and his heart beat a little faster. “Remember what?”

“Remember that you love me,” she whispered. “The Morphs messed with your head. I don’t know what they did or how to fix it, so I just need you remember, okay?”

Vane shook his head. “I love you?” Even as he said the words, his chest began to ache, and his stomach tightened uncomfortably. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true. You love me, Vane. You call me
prya
. You saved my life, and now, I’m going to save yours. I belong to you, right? And you belong to me.”

Her words conjured images, just quick flashes, almost too fleeting for him to identify. Silky, raven hair fanned out over his pillow. Warm, pink lips pressed against his own with the sweetest sigh. A flash of white, lace curtains. A picture, his back turned to the camera.

“It’s okay,” the princess whispered, taking another step closer to him. “It’s going to be okay.” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and slanting her mouth over his.

The first caress of her tongue against his sent a jolt of electricity down his back, and a feral growl rumbled through his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be kissing her, and he definitely shouldn’t contemplating taking the princess to his bed and tasting every inch of her smooth, supple skin.

“I’m going to find a way to make this right.” She rose up on her toes and nuzzled the side of his neck, skimming her lips along the vein that pulsed there. “I’m so sorry, Vane. I’m so sorry this happened.”

In his mind, Vane saw the lights of an unknown city, shining on the horizon across a muddy river. Rain plinked off the surface of the water, and jazz music played somewhere in the distance. He’d drank coffee.

“Café au lait, to be exact. You like it?”

He remembered those words spoken to him, but he couldn’t put a face to the voice.

He remembered…a small, red flame.

“I’m sorry.” Her arms tightening around his neck. “I love you, Vane. I’m so sorry.”

Then, the sun exploded inside his chest. At least, that was how it felt to Vane. With shaking arms, he pulled Charlotte against him, holding her tightly while he stroked his hands down her back, her arms, her neck—anywhere he could reach.

“Vane?”

“Yes, my
prya
.”

“Oh, thank the stars.”

“Spoken like a true Nekros,” he teased, though he still couldn’t let her go. “How did you get away?”

She sniffled twice and rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I was in the infirmary, and when the doctor went to check my lab work, I snuck out.”

Lowering his chin to the top of her head, Vane closed his eyes and groaned. “Why were you in the infirmary,
prya
?”

Easing out of his arms, Charlotte held up her left hand to show off a white bandage dotted with drops of crimson. “I cut my hand, and then I convinced the doctor that I probably had an infection since I’m part human, and you know how we’re so fragile.” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned. “Thanks for the heads up about being an Atrean princess. That might have been nice to know.”

“Yell at me later.” Once he got her back to Nekron, he was never going to let her out of his sight again. Taking her injured hand, he cradled it gently and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss in the center of her palm. “Let me see it.”

“I will,” she answered, even as she pulled her hand away. “And I promise you can heal me later,” she added when he glared at her. “Right now, we have to figure out how the hell we’re going to get off the planet.”

“The Morphs,” Vane answered immediately. “I know how the Atreans are controlling them.”

He didn’t like the demons poking around in his head, but one of them had slipped some valuable information in along with his altered memories. He’d known he couldn’t trust that lying sack of shit, Asa Brax.

“That’s great.” Charlotte held her hands out to the sides and shrugged. “How does it help us?”

“It doesn’t,” a familiar voice answered from behind them. “But I can.”

Spinning on his heels, Vane pushed Charlotte behind him and reached for the dagger on his hip, only to come up empty. “Shit.”

“Don?” Charlotte peeked around him and frowned. “Or, whatever your name is.”

“Torren,” the Morphling answered. “My name is Torren.”

“And why would you want to help us?”

Vane resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Quiet,
prya
.”

“Don’t mistake this for kindness.” His bronzed skin rippled, slowly transforming to its natural mottled black, and twin horns appeared at his hairline. “I’m proposing an alliance, not a friendship.” He folded his arms over his chest, his muscles straining the fabric of his fitted, black T-shirt. “The Nekros once stood idly by while my people were imprisoned and enslaved. The time for neutrality is over.”

His father had been right. No matter what they did, war was coming.

Charlotte squeezed his arm, and he felt more than heard the breath catch in her throat. “It’s okay,” she whispered against shoulder. “We can trust him.”

Vane didn’t trust the demon, but he did trust Charlotte. “You’re sure?” Her gift had a tendency to be a little sketchy, but on the other hand, they didn’t have many options. “Charlotte, you have to sure.”

Pressing more tightly against his back, she peeked around his shoulder. “I’m sure.”

Vane had no weapons, no communicator, and no ship. He couldn’t fight his way through an army of Morphlings and Atreans while keeping Charlotte safe, and even if he did, they had nowhere to go. He didn’t like it, but had no choice but to accept Torren’s offer of aid.

“Okay, Morph.” Rising out of his defensive crouch, he reached behind him, wrapping a protective arm around his mate. “I’ll get you a meeting with the elders, but that’s the best I can do.”

Gods, his father was going to shit purple kittens.

Torren nodded. “I guess you’ll be wanting this back.” From his pocket, he pulled a sparkling red diamond and held it up by a delicate silver chain.

“Wow,” Charlotte breathed. “Is that it? Is that the Jewel of Atrea?”

Vane ignored her. “Where did you get that?”

Snorting, Torren tossed the neckless to him and shook his head. “I stole it. You were there.”

Vane caught the necklace by its chain and held it up to the light. “Yes,” he growled. “I remember. We were informed the Atrean High Council was in possession of the jewel.”

“They were.”

“And?”

Torren grinned, his white, elongated fangs shining against his black lips. “Now they’re not.”

If Torren could manage to infiltrate Division Eight, it stood to reason he’d have no trouble taking back the jewel from the pampered Atrean Council. The more important question what why he’d bother and what he hoped to gain by returning it to Nekron.

Outside the room, footsteps thundered down the hallway, shaking the floor beneath them. Panicked voices shouted in Atrean, yelling orders as they searched for their missing princess.

Charlotte jumped, pressing closer to his back. “Okay, guys, really, time to go.”

“Your word, Nekros.”

Looking the Morphling in the eye, Vane held his gaze for a moment and nodded. “You have my word.”

When Torren offered his hand, Vane reached for it hesitantly, bringing Charlotte with him so she could place her hand on the Morphling’s arm. It took everything in him to hold back his growl.

“Hold on,” Torren said with a smirk, just as the bedroom door burst open and three Atrean guards rushed across the threshold. “This might get bumpy.”

* * * *

“Charli!”

“Xavian!” Bounding into the commander’s office, Charlotte wrapped her arms around Xavian’s neck, squealing when he lifted her off her feet.

Stomping across the carpeted floor, Vane grabbed his mate around the waist and hauled her behind him, placing himself between her and his best friend. “Watch it,” he warned.

He could practically feel Charlotte rolling her eyes at him. While he trusted Xavian, he couldn’t always control his instincts when it came to his familar. Seeing her in the arms of another male, even one she viewed as something akin to a brother, made him see red. Sometimes, he thought the pair of them did it just to drive him crazy.

Lowering his head, Xavian took a deep breath and threaded his fingers through his long, ebony hair. “I’m not good at this apology shit. Every part of me said we shouldn’t trust that little Atrean bastard.” He lifted his head and rested his hands on his hips. “So, are we cool?”

“That’s it?” Charlotte moved to stand beside him, slapping at his arm when Vane tried to push her behind him again. “That was a really crappy apology, Xee.”

Vane had known Xavian long enough that words didn’t matter. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“I’ll make it right,” Xavian vowed.

“I know you will.”

A quiet huff drew his attention to Charlotte, and he laughed when she shook her head and grumbled under her breath. “Men.”

The Jewel of Atrea had been returned to Division Eight immediately upon their arrival in Pandora. Torren had offered his assistance in helping them fortify their defenses against other Morphlings, which went a long way in smoothing the commander’s ruffled feathers.

“Where’s the Morph?” Xavian asked.

“At the Hall.” The elders had called an emergency meeting and were currently deliberating on whether or not to offer Torren sanctuary on Nekron. “The Atreans?”

The office door slid open, and Commander Schiva stalked into the room with a disgruntled frown. “We’ve filed sanctions against the Atreans for their part in Charlotte’s kidnapping.” He nodded at her as he rounded his desk. “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

“Hi, Bael.” Rocking up on her toes, Charlotte gave him a little wave. “Bad day?”

Vane’s mouth fell open when the commander winked at her. Maybe it had been a trick of the light. Probably his father just had something in his eye, because Commander Bael Schiva did not wink. Hell, he barely blinked.

“The elders have decided to grant the Morphling sanctuary,” the commander announced. “I don’t trust him, and I want him watched. Understood?”

“Understood,” Vane and Xavian answered together.