Timeless (Pandora Book 1) (4 page)

On top of sleep deprivation, he also had to contend with the local environment. His body, like all Nekros, had the ability to adapt to the varied conditions on other planets. Still, processing the higher levels of carbon dioxide and external pollutions, as well as contending with the increased gravity, took its toll.

“That’s better.” Entering through the swinging doors behind the counter, Charlotte gave him a wiggle of her fingers in greeting. “How about that coffee?”

Vane nodded and stepped around the counter to follow her into the back of the shop. Dressed in an oversized sweater and a pair of ripped jeans, she still left him speechless. She’d pulled her damp hair up into a floppy bun, exposing the delicate curve of her neck, and if possible, Vane found her even lovelier without makeup.

Fuck.
He needed to find the Morphling and get the hell off the planet. According to the timer on his watch, he had just under seventy-eight hours before the time rip closed. The rules of his assignment had been clear, allowing no margin for error.

Vane couldn’t afford distractions—no matter how beautiful and charming the package.

Removing the pan of cinnamon rolls from the refrigerator, Charli pulled off the plastic wrapping and dusted the shaped dough with another sprinkling of cinnamon-sugar. She didn’t say anything while she worked, and while she could feel Vane’s eyes on her back, he, too, remained silent.

Once prepped, she slid the rolls into the pre-heated oven, set the timer, and paused. Gripping the handle on the oven door, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply as she counted to ten. When she felt steady enough to face him, Charli pasted on a bright smile she didn’t feel and turned.

“How do you take your coffee?”

Sitting at the small card table near the window, Vane jerked upright like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. After a pregnant pause, he lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug and gave her a lopsided grin.

“Surprise me.”

Nodding, Charli poured the coffees and took her time doctoring them with steamed milk and a teaspoon of sugar. Then she carried both cups to the square table that sat against the back wall and took a seat across from her guest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Though his expression remained neutral, the muscles in his jaw ticked. “Okay,” he answered slowly, taking the mug she slid toward him and curling both his hands around it.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

Bringing the mug to his lips, Vane sniffed at the contents twice before taking a sip. Then his eyes drifted closed on a quiet, sexy groan that did funny things to Charli’s stomach.

“This is coffee?”

“Café au lait, to be exact.” His reaction amused her. “You like it?”

“I do.”

Charli let him enjoy the brew in silence for another moment before she pose her question again. “So, about me being crazy…”

“You’re not.” Slouching back in his seat, Vane folded his arms over his wide chest and regarded her through narrowed eyes. “I think you’re too trusting, maybe a little reckless, but not crazy.”

“Then tell me what’s going on. What’s all that stuff you were saying about a jewel? Who’s Don? Why did he want me to go into the church?” Once the dam broke, every question she’d been holding back came flooding out of her mouth. “Is he coming back? What does he want with me? And where did you even come from?”

After a long, uncomfortable silence where he simply stared at her, Vane shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.” Nothing could be worse than the nightmare scenarios she’d been concocting in her head. “He disintegrated those doors, just by touching them. Then he disappeared in a cloud of freakin’ smoke, and you!” She jabbed a finger at him. “You appeared out of nowhere with your talk of jewels and other nonsense.” Charli stopped and tilted her head to the left. “What’s a Morph?”

Vane’s nostrils flared, and his eyes tightened at the corners. “You ask too many questions, female.”

“That right there!” In her irritation, she slammed her hand down on the tabletop, causing coffee to splash over the edge of her cup. She paid little attention to the mess. “Who even talks like that?”

“Quiet.”

Irritation dissolved into self-righteous anger. “I think I deserve some answers.”

Ignoring her, Vane rose from his chair in a movement so swift and predatory, Charli felt a chill race down her spine. She didn’t fear him, but she did worry for whoever or whatever had put that look on his face.

“What is it?” She stood but didn’t move away from the table. “Vane, what’s going on?”

“For the love of everything holy in the universe, can you please stop talking?”

“Sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

Turning back to look at her, Vane arched an eyebrow and snorted. “Either you’re always nervous, or that’s a misrepresentation of the facts.”

“I…don’t…did you just call me a liar?” She didn’t know how she felt about that. On one hand, he was probably right. She did seem to maintain a constant litany of words and random sounds. On the other hand…screw him. “Are you always such a jerk?”

“Yes.” Then he went right back to ignoring her as he crept closer to the rear exit of the kitchen.

Torn between wanting to kick him in his perfectly shaped ass and fearing for his safety, Charli bit down on her bottom lip and rocked up on her toes. “Be careful.”

“Woman!”

“I know!” Linking her fingers together, she pressed her knuckles to her mouth while she continued to bounce on the balls of her feet.

Vane positioned himself to the side of the door and peeked through the slit in the floral curtains. Pressing his right index finger to his lips, he looked her in the eyes and jerked his head to the side.

With her knuckles still pressed against her lips, Charli nodded her understanding and hurried behind the small island. Her heart hammered against her breastbone, and her lungs burned from trying to control her breathing, but she remained silent as she crouched down behind the prep counter.

Flattening himself against the wall, Vane reached out for the tarnished, brass doorknob. His thigh muscles flexed through his leather pants, and his shoulders tensed as he turned the handle in slow, controlled increments. 

Charli gripped the edge of the island countertop until her fingers ached and her joints cracked. Then, just as Vane pulled the door open with a creak of the hinges…a loud, electrical buzz rent through the room at a startling volume.

Popping her head up over the counter, Charli winced when Vane turned to glare at her. “Shit, sorry.”

“Charlotte…” Vane straightened, pressed his fingertips to the center of his forehead, and groaned. “It’s a wonder you’ve stayed alive this long.”

“So, false alarm? Or are we under attack?”

“There appears to be a large rodent in your trash bin.”

“Probably a feral cat from the park.” Her hands shook and her pulse race as she hurried to turn off the timer and remove the pan of cinnamon buns from the oven. “Thank you for checking. I mean, I know it’s your job and all, but I still appreciate it. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Charlotte?”

“Yes?”

“I apologize for yelling at you.” Vane circled the island and moved closer, bringing with him the intoxicating scent of a burning campfire. “That was very rude of me.”

Keeping her back turned, Charli busied herself by transferring the rolls to a cooling rack. “It’s okay. I guess you were right. I do tend to babble when I’m nervous, and the past couple of hours have been filled with a lot of nerve-racking stuff.”

“Stuff” didn’t feel like a strong enough word to describe the inexplicable and slightly terrifying things she’d seen during the night. It was, however, a good word that wouldn’t make her sound crazy, paranoid, or worse—weak.

His heavy boots scuffed against the tiles when he took another step closer, crowding her into the corner of the L-shaped counter. “Are you nervous now?”

“Are you trying to say I’m babbling?”

“Now who’s being evasive?” Curling his fingers around her elbow, Vane tugged gently until she finally turned to face him. “Do I make you nervous, Charlotte?”

Surprised to find him standing so close, and a little dazed by the heat pouring from his bronzed skin, Charli blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” The cocky smile that stretched his thin lips said otherwise. “I don’t mean to make you nervous.”

“You scare the hell out of me,” she said, continuing her streak of blunt honesty.

The smirk melted from his visage, and he took a step back, giving her room to breathe again. “I understand. You don’t have to be scared, though. I won’t hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else harm you, either.”

Charli nodded. “I know.”

She probably shouldn’t, but she trusted this stranger. At the very least, she trusted him to keep her safe. The feeling had settled over her the moment they’d met, and since then, she hadn’t been able to shake it.

“Vane, please tell me the truth.” She’d grown up with stories of vampires, ghosts, zombies, and voodoo. Nothing could be stranger than that, and not much would surprise her. “Look, I’m not stupid, okay? I know you’re not really on a top secret mission to save some shop-owner nobody like me. Please, just tell me what’s happening.”

Sliding his fingers through is mane of golden hair, Vane fisted the locks at the crown of his head. “You’re right.” He paused, clearly trying to decide how much he should tell her. “I’m not on a secret mission, but I am here to protect you.”

That much, she believed. Bending her elbows, she held her hands out in front of her, palms up. “Protect me from what?”

“From the man at the church. Don, you called him?”

Charli bobbed her head, grateful to be getting some answers. “Who is he? What does he want with me?”

Vane didn’t answer her right away. With his hands clenched at his sides, he paced to the table and back twice before he stopped and leaned against the counter. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Vane nodded as if he’d expected the answer. “You knew you could trust me when we met. Am I right? You could feel it.” He took her hands, holding the knuckles against his palms as he stroked her wrists with his thumbs. “You can still feel it.”

“I…yes.” The intensity of his gaze startled her, and Charli averted her eyes, looking down at their joined hands instead. “How do you know that?”

“Tell me, what am I feeling right now?”

“How would I know that?” More to the point, she didn’t see how this pertained to Don or what had happened at the cathedral. Charli continued staring at their hands, watching the way his thumb drew little circles over the jumping vein at her wrist. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Look at me, Charlotte.” Releasing her left hand, Vane moved to hold her chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger, urging her face up to his. “Tell me what I’m feeling.”

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and electrical currents rippled down her spine from his touch. The muscles in her shoulders tightened, and though it had been a while, she recognized the familiar flutter of desire in her lower belly.

“What do you want from me? I don’t know what to do, Vane.”

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, his deep, velvety voice like a balm to her frayed nerves. “Good. Now clear your mind and don’t think.” He released her chin and skimmed his fingertips down the column of her throat. “Just feel.”

The problem with this plan, however, was that she felt
too
much. Her breasts tingled with a heaviness she hadn’t experienced in ages. The muscles in her stomach tightened, and a lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe, let alone think.

Blood roared in her ears as her heart thundered in her chest, and her tongue felt too big for her suddenly dry mouth. The woodsy scent of a smoking campfire wafted from Vane’s sun-kissed skin, intensifying until she could almost taste it. A rush of wet heat pooled between her thighs as she blinked opened her eyelids to rake her gaze over Vane’s chiseled jaw, down his thick, corded neck, and across his muscles shoulders.

Sweet baby Jesus, the man’s muscles had muscles, and the way his black shirt clung to him highlighted every damn one of them. Charli couldn’t deny she found Vane attractive, but given the circumstances, her arousal felt too…extreme.

“Lust,” she whispered, and her cheeks flamed with the confession. “For me.”

If he found embarrassment in her words, he didn’t show it. “Yes. What else?”

Her eyebrows drew together, and the muscles in her back tensed. “Anger.” Charli stopped and shook her head. “No, not anger. More like…frustration.” Her pulse stuttered before picking up a different rhythm, and her breaths became quick and shallow. “Fear. You’re afraid.”

“Good.” The warmth of his touch lingered, even after he pulled away and crossed his arms. “I’m not afraid, though. Concerned, maybe, but not afraid.”

Typical guy answer.
Charli ignored him. She had more pressing questions to address. “How did I do that?”

“Because you’re different, Charlotte. You’re special.”

She’d been called many things in her life—odd, quirky, eccentric—but never special. “Okay, let’s say I believe you.” She didn’t, not fully, but in her desire to keep him talking, she decided to play along. “Is that why Don wants me?”

“Yes.”

He hid it well, but Charli still detected the hesitancy in his answer. “There’s more to it. What aren’t you telling me?”

“There’s a pendant, a red diamond, that’s been passed down through your family for generations. It’s very rare, very valuable.”

“I must have missed the memo, because I don’t have anything like that.” She’d never seen pictures or heard stories about such a jewel, either. “Don thinks I have this diamond?”

Restlessness overcame her—whether hers or Vane’s, she didn’t know—and she suddenly needed to busy her hands. So, while she waited for him to speak, she gathered the ingredients to prepare the icing for the cinnamon rolls.

“Can I help?”

Charli smiled but shook her head without facing him. “I’ll mix. You talk. Tell me more about this jewel I’m supposed to have.”