HAPTER TEN
Trying to think of a response to all that Jackson had said, I took a deep breath, then another, but I found I just couldn’t speak. I was too overcome by too many different things. For one, I was still utterly drained from the events of the morning. That made it hard to even fathom how I was going to make a decision about whether I’d go back to Detroit in the time machine, and soon, or stay in D.C. with Jackson. Also, I was still trying to wrap my brain around what he’d said about his desire for an heir having taken a distant backseat to my personal happiness. It was all just a bit too much to immediately process, to say the least.
Instantly seeming to sense that I was at a loss, Jackson moved his hands from my face to my shoulders, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Vivian. You’ve had a hell of a morning with recalling certain unpleasant things about your past, and then facing a dragon in order to save Celeste’s life, and now I’ve just completely put you on the spot. That was completely unfair of me, considering what you’ve been through. You’re going to need time to think things through; I get that.
And in the meantime, I need to go check in with my men and see about the wounded. So, I’ll go now, and give you the time and space to think that you deserve... but do keep in mind what I said. Although we might wish it were otherwise, you will need to make your decision fairly soon. The Gorgolians will attack again, I’m sure of it, and we can’t guarantee that they might not be successful in destroying, or at least damaging, the time machine at some point.”
I nodded, looking deeply into his inky blue eyes. “I understand. I’ll... I’ll think fast. I’ll try to make up my mind as quickly as I can.”
“All right. Do take a little time to rest and relax first, maybe. Though I know that may be easier said than done. But just try to make the decision that you think is best for you, knowing that at this point, I only want your happiness, and I truly mean that.”
As if to prove his point, he dipped his head and planted an almost painfully slow, tender kiss on my mouth, teasing my lips apart with his, just slightly before pulling away, much to my disappointment. I realized that despite my exhaustion, I wanted him to keep on kissing me, and I wanted our kissing to possibly lead to other things, even. With memories of our lovemaking of the night before still fresh in my mind, I couldn’t help but contemplate a round two.
However, I knew that shouldn’t even be crossing my mind at present. I had a decision to make, and I didn’t want the memory of how good Jackson’s hands had felt sliding along my skin, or the memory of how good it had felt to have him moving inside of me, to factor into that. A decision made with a mind clouded by lust might not be the very best one, of that I was pretty sure.
And so, once Jackson left, I put all those thoughts out of my mind. I tried to, anyway. But while I kicked off my tennis shoes and coiled my long brown hair into a messy topknot, securing it with bobby pins from my pocket, I wasn’t quite able to successfully pull my thoughts from the activities of the night before. With a little heat rising to my cheeks, I recalled how powerfully, yet without hurting me in the least, Jackson had moved himself inside of me while straddling my hips, with me on my stomach. And when I flopped down on the French blue couch in my “living room-within-a-living room,” those thoughts continued, becoming steamier still, while I recalled what heights of mind-shattering erotic bliss Jackson had ultimately brought me to.
Thank God for Celeste. Because while I lounged on the couch with the decision I had to make, the farthest thing from my mind, a tiny little micro-thought about what had happened to her suddenly pulled me out of my sensuous reverie. Though she’d been sedated when I’d left the hospital within The Arch, I knew I should call Irene to check on her, and now I felt ashamed that I hadn’t done so the moment Jackson had left my apartment.
After Irene had been paged, she told me that Celeste was just fine and still sleeping, and then she immediately asked how I was doing. “Are you sure you didn’t get any bumps or bruises from fighting off that awful Drago Stone?”
Recalling the Gorgolian dragon leader and his glittering green eyes, I suddenly got a chill and actually shivered, despite some of the living room windows being open, letting in warm May air and sunshine.
I shook my head, not even realizing that Irene obviously couldn’t see the action over the phone. “No. No bumps or bruises. He didn’t even touch me. In fact, our only contact was when I grazed his eye with the arrow point. But that was it. But....”
“But, what? Did you hurt yourself pulling Celeste off the ledge or anything?”
Again, I shook my head, staring up at the vaulted ceiling in my living room, without really seeing it. “No, no, I’m really not physically hurt at all. I just... Well, I just...”
I had no idea what I just.
I hesitated a moment or two before continuing. “I guess I just feel a little weirdly chilled or something, just thinking about Drago Stone and his eyes. They’re like... like sparkling emeralds or something, but with some kind of blackness behind them. I can’t really explain it. But they just make me....” After shivering again, I grabbed a midnight blue throw blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over my body. “I just get cold when I think about Drago Stone’s eyes, for some reason.”
“Well, that’s understandable, dear. Who wouldn’t? He’s an evil-hearted man and an evil-hearted dragon. Even some of Commander Wallace’s own men have reported feeling a little chill when looking into his eyes during battle. Pity he wasn’t killed during the fight today. But, as I’m sure Commander Wallace has already told you, there will be another chance for them to do just that, and probably very soon.
Our spies are reporting that Drago Stone is very determined to destroy our time machine, and some say he might even try to take it for his own, if he’s able. So, he’ll be back. And just you wait and see. Commander Wallace and his men will take him out, make no mistake about it. And then, maybe we folks here in the Confederation of Free States will finally have a little peace. And maybe even the poor, enslaved Gorgolian folks can finally become free. I suppose we’ll have to see about that, but wouldn’t that be nice?”
For some reason, I couldn’t respond. I was too preoccupied picturing Drago Stone’s jewel-like eyes. Picturing them and trying to remember something about them, though I wasn’t quite sure what. But whatever it was that was floating just at the very edge of my consciousness, it was making me continue to feel chilled, almost as chilled as I’d felt upon waking up in the hospital after having been thawed.
When I didn’t answer her question about the human Gorgolian citizens after a second or two, Irene continued, “Anyway, if you’re sure you’re all right, I suppose I should get back to Celeste’s room now. I think I’m going to wait by her bedside until she wakes up.”
Before we ended the call, I told Irene to call me right away when Celeste did awaken. Then I set my phone on the coffee table in front of the couch, I settled in for a nap, pulling the midnight blue blanket up under my chin, trying to fight off my chill, and also trying to fight off the memory of Drago Stone’s emerald eyes. Shivering again, I fell asleep within minutes.
It was some hours later, at the end of some long, vague, meandering dream-slash-nightmare, that I remembered. I remembered all I needed to know, at least. I knew all I needed to know. Drago Stone, the leader of the Gorgolians, had been a man named Daniel Stone before the nuclear blast that had decimated the world’s population and had created shifters. And the man named Daniel Stone had been my boyfriend. My boyfriend who had shoved me and slapped me and punched me.
I awoke from my dream-slash-nightmare feeling as if I’d been punched in the gut. I was certain about what I’d recalled. There was no mistaking his glittering green eyes; Daniel Stone and Drago Stone were one and the same. He’d been turned into a shifter and then had survived during the hundreds of years that I’d been frozen. And he’d survived, presumably, because the nuclear blast had affected the Gorgolian shifters differently and had made them into immortal shifters who didn’t die of old age or disease like USF shifters. I recalled Irene telling me that when I was in the hospital. Gorgolian shifters could only be killed in battle.
Dan. Sitting up on the couch, clutching the blanket to my chin, I recalled what I used to call him. I recalled how cruel he’d been to me. I remembered how at the end of our relationship, I’d been reduced to a constantly-apologetic, constantly-crying, constantly-shrinking mess. He’d nearly ruined me, I remembered.
I also remembered that I’d had a job as assistant director of a nonprofit serving single mothers in the Detroit area before the nuclear blast, and Dan had gotten me fired from it when he’d repeatedly called the board members, telling them lies about me. He’d been in the military, had been some sort of high-ranking officer, but had been home on an extended leave at the time. He’d wanted me home, too, so he could know what I was doing, and who I was speaking to, at all times.
Now sitting in the warm sunshine in my spacious apartment in The Arch, I remembered something else, too, related to Dan, something that I’d actually recalled earlier that day. But actually, it was a bit more related to Jackson. Before I’d been frozen, he’d chosen me to be the mother of his heir because he thought I was the bravest and gutsiest of all the women who’d volunteered.
But just that morning, before the Gorgolian attack, I remembered that I certainly hadn’t been brave and gutsy. I’d only “volunteered” because I’d been running from Dan, trying to escape from him and his abuse.
Now the decision I had to make was a bit more complicated. Jackson had “chosen” me under false pretenses, and he deserved to know that. He deserved to know that the woman he’d selected to bear his child hadn’t actually been the bravest and most confident; she’d actually been the most cowardly. She’d actually been fleeing, terrified. With my heart feeling like a sinking stone in my chest, I realized that once he learned this, he may not even want me to stay in D.C. to bear his child anymore. He might just gently and politely encourage me to immediately go back home to Detroit, probably mercifully through a parallel where Dan wasn’t present.
I knew I had to tell him. Continuing to have him think something about me that wasn’t true wasn’t an option. I still didn’t know everything about who I’d been, pre-freezing, but I knew I hadn’t been the type of person to hide the truth, and that hadn’t changed. And once I revealed everything to Jackson, maybe I wouldn’t have to make a difficult choice about staying put or going home, after all. Though for some reason, instead of making me feel relieved, this just made me feel hollow in a funny sort of way. Deflated. Empty. As if some shimmering bubble deep inside me had been popped.
Even though I felt like I wanted to talk to Jackson right away and confess the truth to him, at the same time, part of me wasn’t in a rush to do that. Also, I knew Jackson’s men needed him, and I didn’t want to selfishly take him away from them right after a battle where so many had been injured. So, I didn’t even attempt to talk to him that day.
After spending the rest of the afternoon sitting by a still-sleeping Celeste’s bedside, I had dinner with Irene and Liz in the hospital cafeteria. Not long after, I returned to my apartment and went to bed alone, not exactly sure why I’d begun to outright dread telling Jackson the truth about why I’d seemed to volunteer so boldly to be frozen. I knew enough to know for sure, however, that this feeling of outright dread didn’t seem at all like the way a woman who was still dead-set on returning to her home should be feeling.
By morning, my sense of being conflicted about telling him had only seemed to increase. Deciding I needed some fresh air and tranquility to clear my head, I went down to the Arch Gardens to take a stroll. Sunlight streaming in from the wide balcony and south-facing windows made all the green, growing things filling the gardens seem to glow. I breathed in the warm greenhouse air deeply, willing the sweet scent of roses and lilacs to quiet my mind.
But by the time I’d done three laps around the massive garden, walking along a wooden boardwalk of sorts that wound through it all, I still hadn’t even come close to achieving serenity. And in fact, I’d begun absentmindedly wringing my hands, twisting my fingers together, something I tended to do when stressed.
Unable to deal with my anxiety any longer, I had a seat on the wide stone ledge of the koi pond and took out my phone. I was going to text Jackson and tell him I needed to talk to him. Then, I was going to tell him exactly what kind of a woman he’d selected to give birth to his heir. The kind of woman who’d been nearly senseless with fear.
But, while the bright orange koi zipped around in their gurgling pond beside me, I didn’t send Jackson a text saying I wanted to talk to him. I accidentally sent one with a different message, a much racier one. And it really had been an accident.
*
The moment that the text I’d typed began to send, I stared at my phone screen in shock, disbelief, and horror, realizing just what exactly the text said. “No. No, wait!”
It was too late. Despite me furiously tapping on the screen, the text couldn’t be unsent, of course, and I knew it, though that didn’t stop me from trying in a knee-jerk reaction.
“Delete! Reverse!”
Needless to say, the text didn’t delete and it didn’t reverse. While two elderly garden caretakers, a married couple named Mary and Charles, looked up at me from where they were pruning roses in the distance, my phone made a quiet little tone to indicate that the text had officially sent.
“Oh, God.” Lowering forehead to palm, I looked at the phone screen while the reality of what I’d done continued to sink in. “Oh God.”
I’d meant to text Jackson I need to talk to you. But, it seemed that in my current state of anxiety, I’d typed too fast, hitting a few letters I hadn’t meant to, and I could only guess that auto-correct had changed the words talk to to the word touch. I’d texted Jackson that I needed to touch him. And I truly hadn’t realized my mistake until it was too late.
Swearing under my breath, I began tapping out another text, this time selecting letters slowly and carefully. I was going to text something to the effect of Please excuse auto-correct. That was meant to say “I need to talk to you.” But before I could even type Please excuse, my phone began going off. It was Jackson.
Cringing inwardly, outwardly, and in every other possible way, I answered, ready to explain, but Jackson didn’t even let me get a word out.
“Where are you right now?”
I cringed again, still determined to explain. “I’m in the gardens. But, Jackson? That text I sent—”
“I’ll be right there.”
He ended the call, and I pocketed my phone, sighing. Mary and Charles instantly went back to tending the roses, each of them humming quietly, like they’d been doing before my texting gaffe. I figured they were probably trying to act like they hadn’t heard a thing, hadn’t even been interested in hearing a thing, but if they were, they weren’t fooling me.
Everyone in The Arch, everyone living in the whole city of D.C. for that matter, from what I’d heard, had become intensely interested in me, and specifically, in me and Jackson. And even more specifically, in our personal matters, such as if we’d mated yet, and how soon I might become pregnant with an heir. The night before, Irene told me that even the older folks had become a bit wound up by all the speculation.
“And honestly, especially the older folks. See, there are many of us who’d like to see Commander Wallace have an heir before we pass,” she’d said. “Not that I’ll likely be passing anytime soon, I hope. I hope I still have another good ten, twenty years left in me if I stay healthy... but some of the very old folks would like to see our nation’s much-loved leader have an heir relatively soon, before they leave this world. But, you know...” Irene had paused, giving me a little wink. “No pressure or anything.”
Averting my gaze, I hadn’t responded, and after assuring me that no matter what, if anything, I ever shared with her about Jackson and me, she’d keep it just between the two of us, Irene had quickly changed the subject back to Celeste and the current state of her health.
Little did she know that I was actually contemplating going back home. Little did anyone in D.C. know that Jackson had basically said he was fine with me going back home in the time machine, even before giving him an heir, if that’s what would make me happy.
Before I knew it, he’d already made it to the gardens. When I heard the double doors swing open at the entrance, I turned my head and saw him striding in with the confident, purposeful way he always moved; head up, broad shoulders back. However, at present, he seemed to be striding a bit faster than he usually did.
Dressed in his all-black military uniform and black boots, and with his thick, dark hair glinting in the bright overhead lights, just the sight of him made my heart do a little stutter-step. One of the things I liked best about his uniform was the way the fitted black shirt showed off his muscular chest and arms to their best possible advantage, although the uniform showed off every single part of his body to its best possible advantage, really. I flicked my gaze from his chest to his long, powerful thighs, not even sure which body part I wanted to look at most.
But Jackson’s body wasn’t the only thing I feasted my eyes on as he strode over to the koi pond. I also surveyed his handsome face and his deep-set eyes with a funny little twinge in my chest. I’d realized it the day before, and it was still true—I wasn’t just enthralled by his body; I cared about him and his heart, too. Something about his humor, his whole general way of being, and his caring about me and my happiness, too, had made that so.
When he reached me, eyes twinkling just the tiniest bit, he didn’t say hello or talk to me right away. Instead, he turned his attention to Mary and Charles, who were still over by the roses, humming a bit louder now and doing a pretty good job at feigning interest in their gardening task. Charles was actually so into his act that he was getting a little too spirited with the pruning shears, lopping off several perfect blooms.
Standing in front of me, Jackson addressed Charles and Mary, his deep voice carrying across the gardens easily. “If the two of you wouldn’t mind resuming your gardening duties later, I’d be very grateful. I think Vivian and I would like some privacy right now.”
“Oh!” Eyes wide, Mary glanced at Charles before returning her gaze to Jackson. “Oh! Oh, of course, Commander Jackson. We’d be glad to give the two of you some privacy. Oh, of course.”
Already yanking off his gardening gloves to leave, Charles chimed in, echoing the same sentiments.
After the two of them had very effusively wished Jackson and me a good day, he and Mary began heading for the double doors, and Jackson called out after them.
“Please lock the doors if you wouldn’t mind, so that Vivian and I can have privacy to visit.”
Mary said, “Oh, of course, Commander Wallace,” with something like an excited little lilt in her voice.
Hot-faced, I looked at Jackson the moment I heard the double doors being locked. “They think we’re going to have sex in here.” Incredulous, I saw a faint flicker of confusion, possibly mixed with disappointment, cross his features. “Oh, God... You think we are, too!”
Frowning, he took a seat next to me on the stone ledge. “Well... your text did pretty clearly say that you need to, um... touch me... and I thought the gardens might be a beautiful, relaxing—”
“That text I sent was a mistake.”
He frowned even harder. “So... you don’t want to touch me right now?”
I wanted to say that that was correct; I didn’t want to touch him right then. But the problem was that I did.
With him sitting next to me, I could faintly detect a hint of his intoxicating scent, even above all the fresh, sweet, floral scents of the gardens. All forest and leather notes, with maybe just the smallest amounts of spice and soap, Jackson’s scent was downright intoxicating. Potent. All man. The kind of scent that a woman could fill her nostrils with for an hour and yet never quite get enough of it.
Also, with him sitting next to me, I now had an up-close view of his square-jawed face and his long, muscular thighs, which were only inches away from my own. With a little jolt of something that felt like an electrical current racing through my body, I recalled how his strong legs and powerful thighs had helped him to thrust his manhood so deeply inside me just the night before.
I didn’t just want to touch him right then; I wanted to touch him badly. I wanted to just about rip his clothes off and take his thick shaft in my hand right there in the gardens. And then, once I’d had a chance to revel in the feel of his hardness in my palm, I wanted to guide it inside of me and make love with him again, maybe with me straddling his hips right on the edge of the koi pond, facing him, so that we could look into each other’s eyes this time. I wanted to do this so badly at present, that my pulse had accelerated just from thinking about this scenario for a single moment.
However, even feeling like some kind of a sensual spell had been cast on me the moment Jackson had entered the gardens, I hadn’t yet lost my head completely. Considering what I had to tell Jackson, and considering that I may soon be taking a little trip in the time machine, either because of him wanting that, or me, or both of us, I knew that another lovemaking session would only complicate things. It would only make things harder than they already were. And so, in response to Jackson asking for clarification whether I did or didn’t want to touch him right then, I just stood abruptly, not wanting to answer truthfully.
“Sorry, it’s just really warm and stuffy here in the gardens today. I just feel like I need some air. Maybe just some fresh, outdoor air. So, I’m going to go out on the balcony for a while, and you can just go back to whatever—”
“I’ll come with you. If you don’t mind, that is.”
Considering that I wanted the temptation of his body as far away from me as possible at the moment, I kind of did mind. I knew it would be rude to say so, though, and besides, I remembered that my whole intent of texting Jackson in the first place had been because I wanted to talk to him. So, I told him I didn’t mind at all, and he followed me through a fern-lined path to the balcony. I didn’t walk beside him, where I could easily see him, because I wanted to give my racy thoughts a chance to simmer down a little.
However, once the two of us were outside in the bright spring sunshine, standing face-to-face with the balcony railing at our sides, the carnal-thinking part of my brain kicked into overdrive once again. Jackson just looked too damned handsome. Almost maddeningly so. To the point that I started talking right away, because I was slightly afraid that if I didn’t, I might rise to my tiptoes to try to kiss him.
“I’m not going to lie. I want to touch you just about every single second that I’m with you. But that text I sent was a mistake. I meant to text that I need to talk to you about something. I need to tell you something. Two somethings, actually.”
Jackson leaned against the railing, crossing one long leg over the other, which somehow made him look even more tempting than he already did. “Well, what are they? You can tell me anything.”
“Well, the first thing is that I recovered some more memories while dreaming yesterday afternoon after the Gorgolians’ attack. I remembered more about my abusive ex-boyfriend. And, well, I put a few things together, and I realized he’s none other than Drago Stone. Only, back in the day, hundreds of years ago, he used to be called Dan. But it’s him. The man who used to punch me and terrify me. It was him that I saved Celeste from here on this balcony yesterday. He seemed to maybe even recognize me just before I tried to stab him in the eye. He looked... I don’t know. At the time, I thought he maybe just looked surprised, but now I think it was more a look of surprised recognition to see me after all these hundreds of years.”
While I’d been speaking, Jackson had listened with a clenched jaw, eyes growing wider and wider.
Now he finally unclenched his jaw, straightening up from the railing. “And you didn’t tell me yesterday afternoon that Drago Stone is none other than your ex-boyfriend?”
Shrugging, I sighed. “I didn’t want to distract you from leading your men and looking in on the wounded. I knew that a few remaining Gorgolians were still being driven out of the city, and everyone needed you. And, besides does it matter that I waited a day to tell you?”
“Well, now a few things make a little more sense. Just this morning, some of my scouts reported to me that Drago Stone is not heading north to go back to Blackblood, the Gorgolians’ capitol city, as we thought he might. He and some of his men have been lingering just a couple of miles outside of town, not even bothering to hide themselves from the eyes of my border patrol men. And now I think I know why. He recognized you, surely figured out that you became one of the frozen women, and now he probably intends to get you back. He’s probably going to try to attack the city with his men again and kidnap you, or, if he can’t do that, which he won’t be able to, because I won’t let him, he might try to destroy the time machine so that you can never use to it to go back home to a parallel of Detroit where he isn’t present.”
“Which means....”
Stomach churning, I turned my gaze from Jackson’s face to the several dozen skyscrapers across from The Arch. I didn’t dare look over the railing, down at the city streets, knowing it would make my stomach churn even more.
Jackson finished my thought. “Which means that very soon, you need to make a decision about whether you’re staying here or going back to your home. You need to make a decision about where you want to spend the rest of your life. Back in a parallel Detroit where the world was never blown to hell in a nuclear blast; Drago Stone doesn’t exist, nor do any shifters; but your mother, and anyone else you ever knew and loved, does.”
Turning my gaze back to Jackson, I nodded. “I’ll make a decision soon; I promise. Just maybe give me three days. But first, I want to tell you the second thing I need to tell you. And maybe after I do, you won’t even want me to make a decision after all.”