warm and hard, spooned against my backside.
so good, comforting and real.
around my waist, cupping the underside of my breast. A cool sheet slid off my
in bed. A snippet of memory interrupted my appreciation of my husband’s hand.
from something . . .?
along my spine, heading south. The touch was wrong, unfamiliar and rough.
wasn’t Ian. I shouldn’t feel the warmth of sun against my skin either. We lived
on Mars, where it was colder than a witch’s tit.
who was touching my inner thigh?
snapped open like a shade on a spring. Bolting upright, I bared my fangs and
grabbed the man’s wrist.
was in bed with another man. I rolled away and slammed into a different body.
Shit, make that two other men. Two eye-poppingly gorgeous men.
dead, but I’m not dead dead.
I displeased you?” said the man whose wrist I was about to shatter. Stunning
blue-gray eyes. Dark stubble lined his chiseled jawline. His dark hair was
mussed and complimented his swarthy skin tone. Dried blood smeared his neck. A
red trail led to puncture marks.
brown muscled chest rose and fell in rhythmic sleep. His body was fully exposed
on the white sheet. Puncture marks lined his neck, his groin and his very erect
like a furnace. Clearly, we’d had a good time.
Both of you go to your rooms.” I dropped his wrist. The man woke his drowsing
companion, and they left as I’d commanded.
could get the other men in my life to be so compliant.
were other people important to me. Why couldn’t I remember them?
if he was messing with my mind again.
idea didn’t feel right.
dead corner of my memory, this moment seemed familiar. Jonathan, sensing my
unhappiness with our “arrangement,” had spent the early years of our relationship
attempting to please me.
been my slut phase, where we’d bring home gorgeous men and I would feast and
fuck while he watched. I enjoyed knowing it bothered him that I wouldn’t sleep
with him. Only the mortals that we found in gaming dens, brothels, even at
society events. The only other thing I would take from Jonathan besides his
money was his blood, and only out of necessity.
Ian’s go-to phrase—I remembered him now—helped resurface the reason why I was
reliving this not-so-proud moment in my past.
Lost Ship. The time stream. My daughter.
hoped she was safe.
my pet.” Jonathan read a page of the morning newspaper while sipping tea from a
dainty cup. He sat on the balcony situated outside my bedroom. From his vantage
point, he could view the bed and my doings in Technicolor glory.
at the sight of his arrogant beauty. I had forgotten how full of life he’d
been, especially in this time period. And, oh, how handsome he was. His raven
hair glossy with blue highlights sparkled in the early morning sunshine. The
strong line of his jaw and perfect Roman nose coupled with full lips made it
hard not to stare at him. He hadn’t yet acquired the weariness that having a
Family would place on him.
after much bitterness between us, I no longer saw him anymore. The beauty was
tarnished, and we became as passionate as two coworkers passing the time until
their shift ended. He had become someone I had to endure rather than enjoy. Not
that I ever really “enjoyed” him because of the circumstances surrounding our
of his death, when he’d knelt, offering Thalia his head, shattered the peaceful
moment. With a plaintive look, he commanded that I accept his fate and mine. We
both knew that Thalia, the dead queen’s heir apparent, was a vindictive bitch.
She blamed me for her mother’s death and Jonathan refused to bow down to her.
So, he did what he always did. He protected his Family by sacrificing himself
so we could escape. In his last moments, regret had filled his eyes. The wish
that we could have been different together had been silenced forever.
again and remembering was worse than reopening a wound and rubbing salt in it
with a lemon juice chaser. If only I could apologize to him for how awful I’d
been. I hadn’t been blameless in wrecking our relationship. I could have tried
harder to accept my fate instead of punishing him at every turn.
to blurt out the truth bubbled inside, until I had to force myself to look away
from him. Would this Jonathan be willing to help me? Or would he use my current
predicament to his advantage?
wouldn’t chance it. Not with the entire colony’s lives hanging in the balance.
Could’ve, Should’ve. Sew it on a patch and you’d have my life’s motto.
the teacup down and smiled. “Did you enjoy yourself? You seemed a bit surprised
when you awoke.”
cover how I felt. That word was too puny, too inadequate. After a few seconds,
I found my voice again.
good time. Thank you.” It sure looked that way.
finding his wife in bed with other men was no big deal. It wasn’t like I would
keep them. To him they were more like pets or meals with legs.
century of wisdom tucked under my belt, instead of relishing in his annoyance,
I realized something. He was sad. With himself or me, I wasn’t sure. And it
didn’t matter. I had a mission to accomplish. A future to save.
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