Exiled (5 page)

“Looks like you’re stuck with just me,” Callum murmured.

She searched her mind for some way out of this, but came up blank.

“I’ll be good,” Callum said. “I won’t ask for anything but your company. At least not today.” How she wanted to. As she finally acknowledged that, some of the tension eased from her body. Being close to Callum made her feel good, as though something was right with the world. It was a feeling that had been absent for so long, it had taken her a while to recognize it. A feeling she remembered from so long ago when she had first set eyes on Callum back on Arroway and known instantly he was the one. She’d seduced him that day, and they’d made love under the witches’ moons and she’d known he was hers forever.

Less than a year later, Malachai had murdered him. A faint echo of remembered pain washed through her.

She hadn’t even noticed the other two had gone and they were alone. For a minute, she wished he would defy her, taker her in his arms, try and kiss her. Occasionally, she’d taken lovers from among men from Earth. It had sometimes satisfied her body briefly, but had always left her with a deep sense of melancholy, which was worse than before. In the end, she had given up. It had been centuries since anyone had held her and she realized her loneliness was bone-deep, a part of her now.

She wouldn’t risk releasing those darker emotions, but perhaps she could just spend some time with the man she had once loved more than life itself. As long as she kept her defenses firmly in place, she would be safe. Wouldn’t she? She suspected she might be fooling herself, but still she stepped closer. “Okay. So what do you want to see?”

“Everything. How you’ve lived, the people, the places...”

“Come on then, let me show you this world.”

“So what is this place?” Callum asked as she led him out of the training room toward the elevator.

“It used to be an office block—where businesses took place. I bought it around ten years ago and converted most of it. I have an apartment on the top floor. There are places for the other witches who escaped, if they want to stay. Training rooms, a shooting range in the basement... I run my business from here.”

“Your business.”

“I’m a private investigator. People come to me if they have a problem or if they’ve lost something or someone.”

“And you find them?”

“Yes.” The elevator door closed behind them, and they headed upward. Cass leaned against the wall and watched him, but he was on his best behavior.

“Why?” he asked.

She frowned as she thought about it. “I don’t really need the money—I’ve made investments which will last me for another thousand years, but I need something to keep me busy. At first, all I did was survive. Then there was a period when a lot of witches escaped Arroway. Settling them in this new world, teaching them to blend in, took all my energy. But life became easier, fewer witches came through—there’s been none for two hundred years—and I need to keep busy.” The elevator stopped, and she led him out onto the open rooftop. “I have to move on every twenty years or so. It’s not safe for me to keep the same life for long. People would notice I don’t age.

So I leave, change my identity, do something new. But I like this job.”She’d done all sorts of jobs in her time on Earth, trained as a doctor, ship’s captain back in the time of sailing ships, pilot, student, teacher...she’d had her eye on being an astronaut, going into space. She guessed that wasn’t going to happen now.

She had a suspicion she wouldn’t return from Arroway this time. Something told her a price had to be paid for what she had done, and the time to pay was almost upon her.

That would have been easier to accept if Callum hadn’t returned. She gave him a quick sideways glance; he was staring out across the rooftop over the miles of buildings surrounding them.

“You did well to fit in,” he said. “This world is so different from Arroway. It must have been hard.”

“Actually, not so hard. When I first arrived here, the place was very like Arroway except without the magic.”

“There’s no magic?”

“None. At least not then. Though some of the witches who came through have had children, and some of them showed small amounts of magic. It didn’t always go so well here. Many were persecuted as different until we taught them to hide what they were.”

“So there was nothing like this when you came?” He waved at the buildings far below them.

“No, no technology at all. Stone buildings, rich people traveled by horse, poor people walked. It was a feudal system much like yours.”

“Ours.” She didn’t comment on that one. Arroway was no longer hers. “The only problem was in those days, people moved around much less so it was hard for a stranger to blend in, but I soon learned and things changed.”

“They must have changed fast. From what I can make out nothing much has changed on Arroway in that time. At least nothing like this.”

“I know. I think maybe humans on Earth have such short lifespans that things change faster here.” Those on Arroway with no magical powers tended to have lifespans little longer than their counterparts on Earth. But the witches and warlocks could live hundreds, even thousands of years, their lifespans determined by their power. “The people here have the need to make some sort of difference in the short time they have. Also, on Arroway I would think the Order has kept things from changing. Technology like this gives power to the people, and Malachai is hardly likely to want that.”

“No.”

“Here we are.” She came to a halt beside the helicopter.

“What is it?”

“Well they may not have magic, but they make up for it in other ways. Climb in.” She opened the door and ushered him in, gave him a helmet with a radio so they could talk. Callum sat back and allowed her to fasten his harness; the breath hitching in his throat as she pulled it tight and accidently touched him.

Cass drew back quickly, strode around, and climbed into the pilot’s seat. After starting the engine, she switched on her mike and cleared them for takeoff.

Callum remained silent for a few minutes as they rose into the air. They hovered for a moment and then headed off. He stared out of the window as she gave him a commentary, pointing out places of interest. He started asking questions and she answered, explaining how people lived, worked, died on this world. She flew along above the motorway for a while. It was rush hour, and the roads almost at a standstill with the constant flow of traffic.

“So many people,” Callum murmured. “But it must have been wonderful to see the changes.” In so many ways, he was right. The wonders she had seen.

Great sailing ships, the first airplane, the first space ship—how she would have loved to go into space. In some ways, her existence had been defined by the guilt and loneliness that were a constant presence. But looking back, she could see there had been many times when for years on end she had pushed those emotions deep inside and got on with her life.

“It was,” she said.

She turned the helicopter around and headed home. They were both silent on the journey back, though it was a companionable silence, and she found his gaze glued to the passing scenery.

She touched down lightly on the rooftop, switched off the engine, and waited while the whirling of the blades slowed.

“Thank you,” Callum said as he climbed down. “I’m glad you showed me. It’s always good to see a new place in the company of someone who truly loves it.” She glanced at him in surprise. Did she? The truth was yes, she did love so much about this world, but she had never really given it a chance.

“It’s not home.”

After their trip in the helicopter, Callum had sought her out many times and Cass had given up trying to avoid him. His being close gave her a measure of peace she hadn’t ever known, except maybe for those few months she had shared on Arroway before his death.

Her emotions were too confused to make sense of—excitement, hope, abject terror.

The night before they were to return to Arroway, sleep totally eluded her. Finally, she gave up trying. Instead, she climbed the wrought iron staircase from her apartment onto the roof and stood staring up at the stars, searching for some elusive sense of peace, but a thought nagged at the back of her mind.

This time tomorrow, she would be back on Arroway. Or she would be dead. Either way, there was no future with Callum.

Once back in their own world, her magic returned to its full power, she couldn’t risk being around him. Couldn’t risk what she would do, should she allow herself to love him, to let down her barriers, and allow her emotions free rein.

More than that, deep inside her, she knew she didn’t merit a happy ending. No way did she deserve her old home and the man she loved. So tonight was all she would have of him. A deep longing rose up inside her. To be held by him, his strong arms around her. His body on her, in her.

~*~

Almost without conscious thought, she was heading down in the elevator. Somehow, without making a decision she found herself standing outside his door. She raised her hand to knock.

Doubts niggled at the back of her mind. Ignoring them, she bought her hand down, and tapped lightly.

Show

ers, with their copious amounts of hot water, were one of the good things on this world. Callum stood with his head bowed, letting the rivulets run down over his back, trying to convince himself he should leave Cass alone to sleep tonight. Tomorrow would be an exhausting day—if they weren’t all killed as soon as they set foot on Arroway—and she needed her sleep. But he’d finally acknowledged his failure and admitted to himself he was going to see her and attempt to smash those barriers, when he heard a light tap on the door and went instantly still.

He grabbed the towel, wrapped it around his waist, and headed for the door. He knew who it was. He could sense her presence. Adrenaline surged through his bloodstream and his heart rate increased.

Taking a deep breath, he blanked his expression—if she saw how he was feeling, she might very well run again—and opened the door. His eyes drank her in. In the tight pants and fitted gray top, he could see every line of her body. He tugged the towel tighter at his waist.

“Cass?” Her eyes widened as she took in his nearly naked form, and he was suddenly glad he hadn’t taken time to dress.

Even after all these years, he remembered the telltale signs of her arousal. Her eyes darkened to midnight blue. He saw her swallow, shift from foot to foot, then lick her lips with her small pointed tongue.

“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice husky and low.

She’d given in. He wanted to throw back his head and scream in triumph. Instead, he moved aside and gestured for her to enter.

Cass stepped into the room and stood just inside the door. He closed it gently behind her.

“What is it, Cass?” She shook her head.

He fought the urge to grab her, make her admit she was his.

He needed to take this slowly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.” Her hand came out and she rested it flat against his bare chest, above his heart. Could she hear it beating? He could. Drumming in his ears. He tried to hold back his hope but it brimmed up inside him, followed by a rush of happiness.

“You’ve always had me; you know that.”

“Then show me.” He stepped closer, stroked his palms up the length of her arms, felt her shiver in response. When he reached her shoulders, he wrapped his fingers around her and pulled her against him.

For a minute, he stood savoring the feel of her. Her long, lean body pressed against his, her small breasts nudging his chest. His cock was already hard, had been from the moment he saw her standing at his door, now it jerked in response to her closeness.

Her face burrowed against his throat and her lips touched his skin, the tip of her tongue stroking him. He stepped back slightly, putting some space between them, so he could stare down into her eyes. Lowering his face to hers, he kissed the scar on her cheek, then her soft mouth.

Her lips parted and she felt his tongue pushed slowly inside. At the remembered taste of her, memories flooded his mind; making love to Cass in the open air on a bed of flowers, crimson moons hanging overhead. His body tightened in response, and he deepened the kiss. He pushed her back so she came up against the wall behind her and ground his hips against hers. She moaned low in her throat, and he shifted his hands to cup her ass and draw her closer. She gave a little jump and wrapped her legs around his waist. Balancing herself with her back against the wall, she pressed up against his shaft and a scalding wave of pleasure washed over him.

He gripped the material of her shirt in his hands and tugged it over her head. She was naked underneath, her breasts small and firm, the nipples hard little points. He licked until they glistened 38 Nina Croft with moisture, then sucked one into his mouth and she whimpered with pleasure.

Raising his head, he looked into her face. “I love you.” He needed to hear her tell him she loved him in return, but while her eyes were dark with desire, there was no love. She held some part of herself aloof from him, and his rage—always close to the surface these days—flared into life. Hands tightening on her waist, he held her still.

“Tell me you love me, Cass.” Shock flashed across her face, followed by fear and something close to despair. He put her from him and stepped back.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“So why are you here? Why come to me?”

“I wanted...” She shook her head. “I thought we could comfort each other.”

Comfort!
Once she’d shared her whole self totally with him. Now she thought he would settle for
comfort
? He gritted his teeth, attempting to keep his anger leashed. But it was too late. She didn’t want his love. She merely wanted a few hours of forgetfulness.

“You don’t want me,” he said, his tone icy. “You just want your very own pleasure slave. Perhaps you’d like me to kneel before you?” Her eyes widened. She tried to take a pace back, but the wall was behind her. “It’s not like that.”

“So what is it like?” She bit her lip and glanced away. “I told you, I thought we could comfort each other.” His fury burned hotter and this time, he made no attempt to cool it down. “I don’t want your fucking comfort. And I don’t want to comfort you.”