Temporal Shift (Entangled Select Otherworld) (12 page)

“That should cheer everyone up.”

“Rico is talking with his woman now. Hopefully, it will improve his disposition.”

“Don’t count on it,” Devlin said, pushing back his chair. “I’ll get started pulling that information.”

She didn’t want him to go. “Can I help?” She got to her feet, taking a last mouthful of ice cream.

Devlin’s gaze fixed on her mouth. His nostrils flared, then his jaw tightened. “No.”

It looked like dark and moody Devlin was back. As he stepped out of the room she called after him. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“Don’t think it makes us friends.”

Then he was gone.

Chapter Eleven

Erotic fantasies involving ice cream had been haunting him since he’d left her last night.

He’d had to go. If he’d watched her lick that spoon one more time he would have spontaneously exploded in his pants. He hadn’t felt this horny since he was a kid. He’d even wanked off in the shower that morning, but it had done nothing to dispel his lecherous thoughts.

He’d kept his distance during the morning—locked himself in his engine room again. But her words had niggled at his mind—the ones about not being able to shoot a laser pistol. After all, there was nothing more dangerous than a weapon in the hands of someone who had no clue how to use it. Somehow, he’d convinced himself that he had a moral obligation to teach her. While he was aware there was something wrong with his argument, he hadn’t delved too deeply.

Which was why he was standing with his arms wrapped around her waist and her body plastered against his. She wasn’t moving, though she must be aware of his erection. Harder than any laser pistol, it was pressed up against the swell of her ass.

“Tell me what to do,” she said, her voice breathy.

He wished he could, really he did. He’d love to tell her exactly what to do and it wouldn’t involve shooting laser pistols. No, it would involve them getting naked and hot and sweaty. It might even involve ice cream.

“Devlin?”

He shook himself. Stick to the matter at hand. He’d been demonstrating the best position for shooting a laser pistol, now he eased back slightly.

“The switch on the side changes from stun to kill mode. Right now it’s on stun. I suggest you keep it that way, but practice changing it.” He slid his hand over hers holding the pistol, positioning her finger on the switch, and pushed it down and then back again. Her hands were small, the bones delicate, the skin soft. He rubbed his thumb over the back, then stopped when he realized what he was doing. Releasing her hand, he stepped back.

They were in the docking bay, where there was plenty of room, and he reckoned she couldn’t do too much damage. And he’d brought along a hologram target. Now he flicked it on and the image of a dark-robed priest appeared halfway across the room.

“Raise your arm so the pistol is level, aim the little red light on what you want to shoot, and press the trigger.”

The red light swung around the opposite wall, but finally she got it fixed on the target. She pressed the trigger, and the target lit up. “I hit it,” she said, beaming.

“It’s actually almost impossible to miss.”

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Go again, get the feel of it.”

He stood back as she practiced, hitting the target each time—she was a natural.

“That’s enough,” he said, once he was sure she wouldn’t shoot anything or anyone by accident. “There are some simulators to help you practice. I’ll ask Daisy to pull them out for you.”

Her brows drew together. “Won’t they be angry that you’re helping the enemy?”

“No. We had a meeting last night.” Thorne had been right. Rico’s mood had changed once he had talked to Skylar. He still wouldn’t describe the vampire as happy, but they’d all agreed to see this through. He suspected that Rico was intrigued by the whole idea of time travel even if he wasn’t admitting it. “We won’t get in your way.”

The little line between her eyes smoothed out and she smiled. “Thank you. And for the lesson.”

He shrugged. “Just making sure you don’t shoot me by accident.” And now that was done, he should be out of there. But instead, he leaned against the wall and watched her. She was flicking the laser pistol from stun to kill, a frown of concentration on her face.

Finally, she shoved it back into the holster. “I’ll try not to. I’d hate to shoot you…by accident.” She flashed him a grin. “Did someone teach you?”

“I taught myself. I got my first laser pistol when I was fourteen and haven’t been anywhere without one since. Well, until now.” He looked pointedly at his laser pistol fastened around her waist.

“What happened when you were fourteen?”

Did he want to rehash old history? Maybe it would make her understand him better. Make her realize the fated love thing was highly unlikely with a man like him. “The Church killed my parents.”

“Why?”

“Because they were genetically modified. And that’s what the Church does.”

“It’s allowed?”

“I don’t think the Collective had thought through the implications of downgrading us to animal status or knew what the Church planned.” For the first time he accepted this. He’d always hated the Collective only second to the Church. Blamed them for the policy that had allowed the Church to kill with impunity. “They put a stop to the purge but didn’t revoke the law, and there were still execution squads from the Church that would hunt down and kill any GMs they found.”

“Why did the Church want you all dead?”

“They called us abominations in the eyes of God.”

“Oh.” She reached out a hand as if to stroke his hair, but then let it drop to her side. “I think you’re beautiful.”

No one had ever called him beautiful before. He’d always been conscious of being different, but he’d never been ashamed of the outward signs of his mixed heritage. In fact, he looked on them as badges of honor.

“There are also these.” He took her hand in his and moved her fingers so they pressed against the pad of his fingertips. A sharp claw emerged.

“Retractable claws—wow.”

He stroked the sharp claw lightly across her palm, and a visible shiver ran through her. “A little something from my mother,” he murmured.

“What was she?”

“Mostly human with a little jaguar DNA. My parents were scientists. They believed that genetic modification was the way to strengthen mankind. Anyway, the Church found them and killed them. I escaped with my brother Tris—he was only six at the time.”

“And what did you do? Where did you go?”

“Well, first I got myself that laser pistol, then I hunted down the squad who had killed my parents, and I returned the favor.”

“You killed them?”

She sounded shocked at the idea. “Sweetheart, I’ve killed a lot of people.”

“But they all deserved to die?”

“Some of them. Afterward, I took Tris and we joined the rebels. I worked my way up and took over when I was twenty-one. I’ve been killing Church people ever since.”

“What was your brother like?”

Oh God, Tris
. Tightness constricted his chest at the thought of his baby brother. The one person he’d allowed himself to love in the long years since his parents had been slaughtered. And look how that had turned out. It was something he would do well to remember.

“He was an idiot who died for no good reason.”

She blinked at the sharpness of his tone. “Did he have a bad reason?”

Tris had died trying to save Janey, the
Blood Hunter’s
beautiful tech expert. A futile act of bravery, as they’d both died anyway. Shot by Temperance Hatcher. That’s what happened when you cared for people.

The wound was still raw; perhaps it always would be.

Saffira was studying him, her expression so earnest as though she cared and hurt with him. He didn’t want that. Wouldn’t allow anyone else to have power over him. Be taken from him. “I have to go,” he said.

Walking out on her was becoming a habit. But he couldn’t seem to stay away. Once he was with her, she made him feel things he’d really rather not. So he couldn’t stay either.

Without waiting for her to say anything further, he whirled away and left her standing there.

…

Five days.

They’d been meandering the vastness of space with no clue where they were heading. Impatience gnawed at his belly. He wanted to get this over with, but he reckoned they could spend the rest of eternity wandering around looking for her bloody wormhole.

She studied the stars continuously, searching for something she’d seen in her goddamn vision. How long would it take her to realize that’s all it was—it wasn’t real—and let them head back?

Probably never.

Right now, she sat on a seat she’d placed in the center of the bridge and stared out at space as though she could will her wormhole to appear. Since his last weak moment, when he’d given her the shooting lesson—as an excuse to cop a feel or two—he’d managed to keep his distance and avoid them being alone together. Occasionally, he’d intercept a hurt look from her that did something odd to his insides.

“Well,” Rico snapped from the pilot’s seat. “Any fucking wisdom to impart? Any clue to where we’re fucking going? No? I’ve had enough of wandering aimlessly—I’m going to get some sleep. She’s on auto.”

He got up and stomped from the room.

“Do vampires sleep?” Saffira asked.

“No idea.”

He realized with a jolt of shock that they were the first words she’d spoken directly to him since the shooting lesson. And that if he’d been avoiding any situations that might make him give in to the temptation of her tight little body, then she’d been doing nothing to avoid him avoiding her.

The thought pissed him off a little. Because the truth was, he wanted her. Wanted to sink his cock into the hot, slick depths of her. The memory of how she’d felt—hot and wet on his fingers—stuck in his mind. How would that heat feel wrapped around his dick? He hadn’t jerked off this much since he’d been a teenager. He’d tried to keep busy, tuning the engines, getting to know the ship. While he might hate Callum and all he stood for, he was falling in love with his ship. He’d tried to keep his mind on thoughts of revenge—what he would do to Hatcher and his people when he finally got back on course. But even thoughts of revenge and how Saffira was delaying him couldn’t keep his mind and body from considering all the ways he could fuck her.

He’d found himself visiting the bridge more than was necessary. She was always here, studying the star charts the
Blood Hunter
created as they sailed through uncharted space. And she always looked the other way when he entered and then studiously ignored him. He’d wanted to do the same—but it was hard. She’d obviously raided the cabins for clothes and appropriated what she found. Presumably things Alex had left behind, going from the size and color. Alex and Jon were two more crewmembers who had jumped ship before they entered the black hole. Alex was pregnant and didn’t want to take the risk. She was also ex-high priestess of the Church of Everlasting Life, and after a lifetime of wearing black, she’d rebelled and now wore the brightest colors she could find.

Today, Saffira wore a yellow jumpsuit with orange piping. She’d gotten to her feet, and it was obvious she was a little larger than Alex. The material stretched tight over her curves, revealing the rounded swell of her ass as she stood with her back to him, once again ignoring his presence. Then she bent over the console, almost pointing that ass in his direction—entirely unintentional, he was sure. His dick didn’t care. It pulsed inside his pants and he shifted and bit back a groan.

What had happened to him being the love of her life? She seemed to have gotten over that very quickly.

“Have you been avoiding me?” He couldn’t believe he had actually asked the question.

She turned slowly at his words, and Devlin leaned against the wall behind him and tried to look casual. Her gaze raked over him but, luckily, she didn’t appear to notice his growing erection.

“Yes,” she said.

He should have expected that answer. She was one of the most direct people he’d ever met.

“Why?” He had an idea this was not a line of questioning he should be following. Just as he also had an idea that what he should be doing was going back to his engine room and playing with his engines. Or more likely playing with his cock while he closed his eyes and imagined those plump pink lips around him, that small pointed tongue licking him like he was her favorite ice cream flavor… He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I thought it was best. I thought you hated me.”

He frowned. Then shrugged. “I was pissed off with you. I told you I would be if you got in my way.”

“I had to.”

“I understand that. You do what you believe you need to even if it is misguided.”

“You still don’t believe?”

“In time travel—hell no. Every bit of logic argues against it being possible.”

“So how do you explain the visions? How do you explain that I saw the president? That I could describe him?”

“Just visions. Maybe some sort of racial memory carried through the generations.”

Frustration flashed in her eyes. “You will believe. You’ll have to once we find the wormhole.”

“Yeah, once we find it.
If
we find it,” he added just to rile her up, because he liked seeing her passionate.

As expected a wave of pale blue washed over her skin, and he had to fight the urge to stroke the soft curve of her cheek. To slide down the fastener of her jumpsuit, see if the blue went all the way. He was so tired of fighting what he could see was a losing battle. Why not give in?

“We’ll find it,” she snapped. “I just have to keep looking.” She moved away from the console and stood in the center of the room. For a few seconds she closed her eyes, then she blinked and glanced back over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Remembering the screens from the vision. This is where I stood.” She waved a hand at the screens behind her. “We must be close. Why can’t I see it?”

In the distance, he could make out the planet and the black hole. They hadn’t come that far in five days, nowhere near the distance the ship could have traveled at maximum power, but Saffira hadn’t wanted to miss anything. Or maybe there was more to it. Maybe she was really in no hurry to get there. Maybe she was taking her time, so she had longer to tease and torment him.

She returned to the console and leaned over, tapping something in, muttering under her breath, appearing to have forgotten he was there. Or was she just pretending? Was she playing with him, acting as though she no longer wanted him? Trying a new technique? He liked the old one better.

Silently, he glided across the space between them, not taking his eyes off the globes of her ass as the blood pooled in his groin. It occurred to him in the time it took to reach her that he might as well get something out of this whole fiasco. She owed him something for delaying his revenge. And that something was also something she wanted. Why not give it to her?