Shadow Boxer: NA Fantasy/Time Travel (Tesla Time Travelers Book 2) (20 page)

A cold press of steel against my shoulder freezes my wiggling and my eyelids fly open. He holds a knife in his left hand, the blade dipped beneath the fabric of my shirt. I can’t read his face but there’s no menace there. With a flick of his wrist, he splits my shirt from sleeve to hem. I gasp as the cool air mingles with his warm breath across my cleavage. He cuts my other arm free and slips the blade beneath the front of my bra. He hesitates. “Seems a shame. I like these.”

I lean forward, sliding the fabric along the blade. “I have more.”

My bra pops open, spilling my full breasts, and his smile vanishes, replaced by raw lust. He presses a soft kiss on my collarbone. My head falls back and he slides the bra straps over my shoulders, trailing their path down my arm and over my fingers. Wobbly, I let my elbows give and land on the tabletop. Constantine follows my body, his lips never leaving my skin. His fingers trace the entire length of each rib, slowly working his way up. I lift my hands to his hair, tracing the soft edge of his ears and the length of his neck.

He teases my nipples to tight peaks, switching between his mouth and fingers. I bite my lip and tug at the shoulder of his tunic. He lifts his head and raises an eyebrow in question. I fumble around the table for his knife. He smiles and straightens then makes quick work of my pants and tosses them over his shoulder.

His fingers play softly across my skin, and his face is a kaleidoscope of emotions. Lust follows longing, anger is swallowed whole by a tempered joy, and sorrow is diminished by satiation. I reach for him, but he holds up a finger. I lean back and allow him his slow perusal. He lowers his finger to my hip and brushes it across the edge of my panties. When he crosses beneath my belly button, my stomach quivers, making him smile, but he continues tracing my skin. His other hand covers my knee then glides north, skimming my thigh and dipping behind me into the small of my back. He lifts me into a sitting position and runs his fingers along the insides of my arms, making me raise them above my head. He kisses my elbow, the bruise on my bicep, and the outside curve of my left breast. My eyes never leave him, and he studies every inch of my body like he does his maps.

I smile, eager to be plundered like he takes his enemies. With the level of his intensity, it’s going to be a slow, sure assault.

He leans closer, and I tip my face up for his kiss. But then he reaches past me and fabric is sliding over my arms and head.

“What are you—” I mumble into the fabric.

“Shh,” he whispers.

I comply and relax into his fingers.

Soft linen drapes my body and he lowers a shallow pool of it into my lap. With tender fingers, he tugs my braid from under the fabric and lays it against my back. His strong hands grab me by the waist and lift me off the table. I mold against him and lift my arms to pull him down for a kiss, but he traps my hands, entwining our fingers. I’m confused about why he just undressed me to dress me again. While I’m trying to figure him out, he crouches and slides his fingers around the back of my knee and down my calf, and encircles my ankle, applying pressure for me to lift it. I lean my hip against the table and shift my weight. He slips something warm and soft around my ankle and under my foot, but I’m busy running my fingers through his hair. He repeats the process with my other foot and I notice there’s gray woven among the blond.

 
He stands and runs a finger down the side of my cheek then takes my hand and leads me outside. A moonless sky blends with the shadowed earth, enfolding us in a blanket of darkness. Our motions are barely discernable above the swishing leaves overhead. Tonight’s quiet is rounded edges of noise, nothing sharp, nothing distinct, just a handful of noises blending together in a soft lullaby.

“Where are we going?” I whisper, even as I’m becoming aware he’s dressed me in a fighting tunic and sandals and we’re headed toward the field.

The very field where I meant to arrive.

In the middle, he stops and turns. Our fingers are the only skin touching now, and I want to wrap myself around him and rewind us five minutes. I should have paid more attention and stopped him before we came out here.

The atmosphere has changed. He’s all business right now.

And that’s never to my advantage.

“I can’t do this,” he says softly. “I waited up night after night for your return. Paced the training ground, lay awake in my bed… waiting, always waiting. There are pages and pages of my journal devoted to you. To us. To the way you make me feel. I’ve read them enough to memorize them. I know you’re coming back for that time, but this now… where I still seem to know you… want you… ” He shakes his head in a slow defeat. “It’s destroying me.”

He drops my hand and takes a step away.

“Wait!”

“Tonight, I forgot when we were. I thought this was then. Not now, when we only train.”

“No, but, I—” The strain around his eyes stops me. This really is killing him, me popping in and out of his life, letting him kiss me and promise to protect me, and then leaving him for an entire year.

He protects what’s his.

Always has.

In his world, solutions are simple. If he can’t protect me, he doesn’t want me.

The ache in my chest is as real as if he cut me open. I’ve done this to myself. To us. I don’t blame him really… I’ve told him I don’t know how to be here on any reasonable schedule, and that doesn’t work for him.

“I will still train you. If you wish,” he says with a strained voice.

Do I?

My eyes burn and I can’t swallow. This is what I’ve been trying to accomplish—no emotions, no strings, just teacher and student. What I screwed up last time. What I tried to screw up this time.

What he’s managed to put back together for us, even though it’s held together with pain and tears. For the best, really…
 

So why does it make me hurt?

I don’t know why I hesitate. Any time with him is a gift. Or is it? By staying, I only torture us both. Maybe I should find someone else to help me figure out the colors—Nikola or George.

He waits for my reply and I don’t know what to tell him. Finally, I settle on a nonanswer, something that works for this moment.

I throw a giant ball of lightning at his head.

C
HAPTER
22

H
E
SIDESTEPS
MY
attack and slices the ball in half. He lunges, and I counter, spilling all my emotions into the movements. My love for him, my frustration that we can’t have a simple relationship, my anger at his control.

I scream and thrust both arms toward him, releasing a huge ball of lightning. That’s the part that really pisses me off. His control. Always in control. Nothing out of place. No mess. No fuss. At the first hint of emotion, he tucks it away before anyone sees it. Even tonight, when his control slipped a fraction, he pushed me away. All along, I thought it was Aurelia’s death that made him closed off, but now I see that’s never been the case. I snap a thin rope at his sword arm.

He rolls and throws a dagger. I fling it aside with a burst like he tossed a towel. On his knees, his face is a mask, devoid of a single emotion raging in me. Another dagger flies at my head and I deflect it. He pops up on his feet and unsheathes his sword in one precise movement. As his thighs flex before he attacks, I leap to the side and whip my lightning toward his chest.

He stumbles.

In that one motion, the one falter of his strength, I lose it.

“Damn you!” I throw a monstrous red bolt of lightning to the left of him. A giant section of ground flies into the air, raining dirt down on us.
 

He teeters on the edge of a ten-foot crater. “You already have!”

Chests heaving, fists clenched, we glare at each other.

“You think I wouldn’t change it if I could!” I shout across the expanse.

“No. I don’t!” He slams his sword into the dirt and steps onto solid ground. “I think you like our arrangement. You don’t have to give anything, don’t have to commit, don’t have to sacrifice!”

“I’ve sacrificed my entire life for this!” I clench my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms. Jagged purple streaks of lightning squeeze between my fingers.

“No you haven’t. This is a job. You’re still living the same life. You see your family, you come here when it pleases you. Nothing’s changed for you!”

“Everything’s changed!” Pulses of the purple lightning erupt from my hand and fly sideways, incinerating a section of forest.

“Still lying to yourself,
that
sure hasn’t!”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

He circles the pit. “I know everything about you.”

“You can’t possibly.” I’m shaking so hard I can barely get the words out.

He steps inside my comfort zone and crosses his arms. “Inside… and… out.”

“Words on a page don’t mean anything.”

“No, but your actions do.”

“Exactly. I saved your daughter, put up with your bullshit training regimen, and follow you into battle. How’s that for actions?” I cross my arms and glare at him.

“Fine. For a warrior.” His voice is dark and dangerous, mimicking how I feel. “Is that all you are?” He looms over me. “Is that all there is to you? Is there a goddamn heart behind your fucking armor? Do you care about me at all? Ever?”

“Look who’s talking.” I step away. My stomach clenches and I can’t swallow or breathe. Why is he doing this? I make it another step on my trembling legs before my they give, sending me to the dirt. I don’t bother trying to break my fall. Cheek smashed into the dirt, I stare across the field, focusing on the darkness, wishing I had the courage to leave. Wishing I could exist without him.

“I hate needing you.” His words are so soft I’m not sure if he really said them or if two branches merely rubbed together in a horrible taunting exclamation.

“More than air,” I answer, barely moving the grass beyond my quivering lips.

He’s next to me, gently rolling me over.

I want to look away, hide my shame. But I know he needs to see it, needs to know I do feel. I fold my hands over my stomach, afraid to touch him. Afraid he’ll shove me away. Again. In this moment of terrifying vulnerability, I’d rather have him throwing daggers. Those I know how to handle.

He covers my hands with his and sighs. “Is there a way to make this work?”

I shake my head, grinding bits of dirt and grass into the back. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I’m sorry I yelled.”

“I’m sorry I threw lightning at your head.”

He smiles, but it’s sad at the corners. I turn my hands over and link our fingers. “So now what?”

“I think we’ve covered my bullshit training regimen for the day,” he says.

“Sorry about that.”

“You’re not the first to label it as such.”

“I did learn about purple and red.”

He swirls his thumb across my skin. Shadows and hints of emotion play across his features. “Do you have to go?”

I swallow. “I’d like to stay.”

He stands and tugs me upright. A whisper separates our bodies. Every breath feathers my chest against him. I stare into his eyes, desperate to uncover his thoughts. His fingers play against my cheek, cup my jaw. I tremble again and the corner of his lips lifts in a genuine smile. He brands a heated trail down my arm and clasps my hand tightly, as if he’s afraid I’m going to disappear.

No chance of that this time.

We stroll back to the house, another pair of shadows in the blackness. Lonely night birds serenade us with their dark notes, no longer silently watching. Half a step behind him, I mourn the new moon, unable to make out the sinewy grace of his muscles.

Inside, he releases my hand long enough to load the fire, and then he’s beside me. We drink each other in, and I hammer at my walls, preparing them for his attack. Today they must fall.

Neither of us makes the first move, but our bodies slowly gravitate closer. I lift my hand to his cheek and stroke an errant curl behind his ear. He turns his face into my palm. His hand fumbles for my other one, grabs it tight, and lifts it to his chest, covering it tightly as his eyes close. When his eyes open, the warrior mask is gone, replaced by a tenderness, a vulnerability I’ve seen only a handful of times.

My breath quickens. I’m afraid to let myself want for things right now. I quell the fear. Here I am safe. For this moment, we are in the right slice of time. I lean forward and kiss his hands, pressing my cheek into the back of his palm. I breathe in his power, his strength, his willingness to let me see it all fall away, so that I can have the courage to do the same. His fingers curl around my neck and he presses my face upward with his thumbs.

My lips tremble and I lean forward, kissing his chin and then his lips, wandering across his cheek and closing his eyes again with a kiss. “I need you so much it scares me.”

His hands tremble beneath mine.

I step away and lead him to the fire. With his eyes still closed, I press him backward into the chair. He settles and I lean forward, arms braced on either side of him. I suckle his earlobe. “I ache with it.”

He wraps his fingers around my ass and pulls me on top of him. I settle my legs on either side and trace his features, memorizing them for nights when I can’t be here. “When I’m gone, yours is the face I see when I close my eyes.”

His loud exhale tickles my face. I draw my finger along his eyebrow and kiss the scar in the middle of it. “There are not enough lifetimes for me to get my fill of you.” My voice catches.

Golden eyes open and spear me. In their depths, my own emotions and fears are mirrored back. He yanks me to him and crushes me against his chest. His words are harsh and clogged with emotion in my ear. “All I think about is how I can’t protect you when you’re gone. I don’t know the dangers of your time, yet I’m still plagued by thoughts of losing you.”

“Never.” I press my lips into his neck. “Never,” I whisper.

He relaxes and trails his fingers down my arms, coaxing my arms up again. This time he slides my tunic over my head and drops it to the floor. His mouth bends to my breasts and I clasp the sides of his head and throw my head back. “You are my always.”