More Time Kissed Moments Read online

  Alex closed his eyes as the small landslide reached him. He held his breath until the stones stopped rattling past.

  Rafe crouched down beside him, his gaze traveling over Alex’s body. Assessing.

  “Sorry,” Alex said, his voice weak.

  “How bad?”

  “I’ll recover.”

  “Not what I asked.”

  The heat stirred in Alex’s chest. “It fucking hurts, okay? Does that please you?”

  Rafe blinked. For the first time, his gaze met Alex’s. He looked away.

  Alex tried to push himself up on his hands. The grip on his ankle held. “Can you pull me up the slope, so my leg straightens out? It won’t heal at this angle.”

  Rafe straightened and thrust his hands under Alex’s shoulders and got a grip under his arms. “This will hurt,” he warned and pulled.

  It did hurt, although the symbiot was already soothing aches and pains. Alex breathed hard as Rafe dragged him in a semicircle until his broken leg laid straight. The cracked ends rubbed together with sharp intensity, making Alex groan.

  The grip on his ankle intensified.

  “Stars and suns…” Alex muttered, trying to sit up, to see what was wrong.

  “Your ankle is jammed between rocks.” Rafe’s tone was indifferent. “That’s what stopped you rolling all the way to the bottom.”

  Alex managed to sit. Now he saw his boot was rammed between two large gray-white rocks. Or perhaps it had been one rock, once, thrusting up barely half a meter above the dirt. Water, cold and time had cracked it through the middle, then filled the crack with twigs and pebbles and dried leaves, separating it more.

  Now Alex’s boot pushed deep into the leaf litter.

  Rafe gave a sigh, got to his knees and gripped Alex’s ankle and pulled.

  “Harder,” Alex said, when his boot didn’t move.

  “Help me,” Rafe said shortly.

  Alex shifted on his ass until his knees bent. The newly knitted-together femur gave out a throb, although the muscles obeyed normally. He got a grip on his ankle, above Rafe’s hands.

  “One…two…three,” Rafe muttered.

  They pulled steadily for thirty seconds.

  “Something shifted,” Rafe said, hope tinging his voice.

  “That was my ankle breaking,” Alex said, keeping his teeth together as new pain flared.

  Rafe dropped onto his rear with a disgusted sound. He hung his arms on his knees, his hands dangling uselessly, and glared at the crevasse. In the last of the lowering sunlight, his face was bathed with warmth.

  “We’ll have to move the rock, instead,” Alex said. He put his hands on the flat face of the crevasse and looked at Rafe expectantly.

  Rafe glared at him. “It’s outcropping, Alex! It’s a piece of the fucking mountain itself. We’re strong, but we’re not that strong.”

  Alex shook his head. “It’s cracked across. It might have been part of the mountain once, but it isn’t anymore. We only need to move it the smallest fraction. Just enough to free my boot. That’s all. We can do it.”

  Rafe shook his head in irritation. He got to his feet and crouched, straddling Alex’s lower legs, and put his hands on the lower face of the crevasse, as Alex did.

  “One…two…three,” Alex breathed.

  They heaved.

  They were of the Blood. It was nothing to them to move small boulders. Yet the rock didn’t move. Not enough of it was exposed above the earth. Even though it was cracked, they couldn’t determine how much of it laid like an iceberg beneath the surface. They might be trying to move something the size of a cathedral.

  Rafe swore and staggered to his feet, his back to Alex. His hands flexed and stretched. “Some forces are greater than us.” His voice was soft. The anger was gone.

  Alex turned his hands over and watched the nicks and scrapes heal. He wiped the blood away. “When did Sydney and I stop being enough for you, Rafe? Why did it happen?”

  Rafe whirled to face him, his eyes as wide and large as they had been when Alex fell. His mouth worked, but no words emerged.

  Then he turned and walked down the slope, sending more small runs and slides of earth down with him.

  “Rafe?” Alex called, fright spearing his chest.

  Rafe didn’t answer. He disappeared among the trees, farther down.

  “Rafe!”

  No answer.

  Alex pummeled the ground with his fist. His helplessness made it worse. He couldn’t go after Rafe. He couldn’t fix this. He could only sit here and wonder what had gone wrong.

  Darkness fell. The night creatures, who assessed correctly that Alex was harmless, scurried and flapped and went about their daily existence, unconcerned. The last of the summer cicadas gave chorus.

  Alex tried pulling at his boot a few more times but gave up quickly. He knew it was pointless.

  Instead, he listened to the night around him and fought to kill his imagination. Time stretched out, as precise and neat as it always was to a vampire, neither stretched nor compressed. Alex’s worry increased.

  He told himself that of course Rafe would return. He’d gone for help. Or for Sydney, or perhaps some of the others—Veris and Brody and Remy and Neven, even Taylor and Sydney… All of them together could shift this rock, enough to free him.

  Only the hollow assurance didn’t kill Alex’s growing fear that Rafe had gone and would never be back. He couldn’t dismiss the notion that he was alone and must find his own way out of this.

  As the minutes ticked over, Alex noticed the cold. Usually, his body temperature remained the same as that of the ambient air, leaving him neither hot nor cold.

  Now the chill crept into his bones. He wrapped the coat he normally didn’t need more firmly around him and hunched beneath it, his gaze on the slope.

  When the squirrel chittered furiously somewhere overhead, Alex jumped and clapped his hand over his mouth to keep in the scream. His heart thundered in his temples, muffling the sound of movement above. Too much movement for an evil, spry squirrel.

  The trees bent and shook.

  Hope flared. Alex twisted to peer up at the cliff from where he had fallen. His night vision gave him perfect clarity. He watched with a frozen, aching heart as Rafe lowered himself down from the edge, sliding hand-over-hand down the tow rope Alex kept in the trunk of his Mercedes.

  A nylon backpack hung from Rafe’s shoulders. It looked heavy and lumpy.

  He dropped the rope and clambered down the slope, setting up another small shower of stones. Then he dropped the backpack to the ground.

  It clunked, a heavy metallic sound.

  With a sigh, Rafe crouched and unzipped the backpack. He pulled out the black tire jack which lived under the floor of the trunk, and the handle which cranked it open.

  Alex stared at the jack, breathing hard. His eyes ached.

  Rafe picked up the jack, hefting it and studying the crevasse which held Alex’s boot motionless. He glanced at Alex, measuring him.

  Then his gaze snapped back. He lowered the jack. “Fuck, Alex. Are you…crying?”

  As soon as Rafe spoke the words, Alex realized he was close to it. He shook, his stressed symbiot withdrawing and leaving his human responses to carry the burden.

  “It’s just…I didn’t think you would come back.” His voice was hoarse. He put his elbow on his knee and shaded his betraying eyes. It was full night, now. Rafe would spot even more detail than his human vision could see in daylight.

  Rafe swore softly. His hand rested on Alex’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have said something as I left. Only…you shocked me.” His voice grew rougher. “And dammit, why on earth would you think I wasn’t coming back? You think so little of me? You think I would leave you here like this?”

  “I know, I know,” Alex whispered. “I told myself that. I know you wouldn’t, only it didn’t stop me from thinking…” He trailed off, feeling pathetic and small. This was the reason Sydney had sent them away to sort things out. She had known,
long before Alex realized it, that he could only share hard, core truths like this with Rafe when there was no chance she might hear him speak them.

  Just as there were truths he would share with Sydney which he could never speak aloud to Rafe.

  Rafe made a rough, impatient sound and caught Alex’s face in his hands. He kissed him, hard and swiftly. “Fool,” he murmured. “I’ll always return, Arab.”

  Alex couldn’t halt the trembling. Not now. Not until he had fed and his symbiot was back on-line. He shook his head. “Iberian,” he corrected.

  “As am I,” Rafe breathed, his mouth brushing Alex’s lips. “Of course I am…this is where the people who possess my heart and my soul live.” He kissed him again, taking his time. He rested his head against Alex’s. “The rest we can sort out later. When we’re off this bloody mountain and you can think coherently once more. Okay?”

  “Very much okay,” Alex whispered, as the pressure around his heart shifted and eased.

  Rafe picked up the jack again. His smile was grim and tight, but it was there. “Let’s go home,” he said, and got to work.

  More Time Kissed Moments

  [1]

  Canmore, in the Rocky Mountains, Alberta, Canada. A few hours later.

  Veris watched the Park Warden’s truck rumble over the iron bridge spanning the little ravine with a sense of inevitability. The truck was heading for the house. The road and the bridge led nowhere else.

  This visit was overdue. He had been expecting it for days, now.

  He put the axe down and shrugged back into the down-filled parka, for it was only thirty-seven degrees. Three degrees Celsius, the locals would say. Cold enough to make humans shiver.

  Moving casually, for he knew the man driving the truck would already be observing and measuring, Veris glanced over his shoulder and scanned the big log cabin house. No one was at the windows who shouldn’t be there. No one was standing on the verandah in short sleeves.

  Everything looked as it should.

  He turned back to watch the truck take the last steep curve up to the flat parking area at the side of the house, behind the blackberry brambles. He and Brody had spent days spreading gravel over the freshly plowed area and tamping it down, to prepare for the winter to come.

  The truck with its official shield on the side came to a halt, nose facing the brambles, nice and neatly. The Warden stepped out, put his hat on and nodded at Veris.

  Yes, he had been spotted already, even though he hadn’t moved from among the trees where the chopping stump was.

  “Morning,” the Warden said. “You live here, sir?”

  “I do,” Veris said, keeping his tone easy. He headed toward the man, his hand out. “Veris Gerhardsson. Doctor.”

  “Medicine or something else?” the Warden asked, shaking his hand with a firm grip.

  There was an air about the man, faint but distinct, of alertness and coiled wariness. The squareness of his shoulders and the alert air said he’d had a different profession, once. He was in his mid to late thirties, perhaps even early forties, with tanned skin, a high forehead under the flat brim of the hat, and dark eyes which missed nothing. He was only an inch shorter than Veris.

  “M.D and professor,” Veris said.

  “You’re a long way from your lecture hall,” the Warden replied. “I’m Kit McDonald.”

  Veris scanned the man’s face once more.

  Kit McDonald grinned, showing white teeth, and rubbed a thumb over his jaw. “Yeah, Kit is to spare the tourists trying to figure out how to pronounce the real name.”

  “What’s on your birth certificate then?” Veris asked curiously.

  “Kisecawchuck,” Kit replied, grinning.

  “Cree,” Veris concluded, for Kisecawchuck was one of the Cree nation’s great leaders.

  “Half-blood.” Kit didn’t seem embarrassed about it. “I think the name was meant to make up for it.”

  Veris touched the center of his chest. “Väinämöinen, on mine.” Which was a tiny lie. He didn’t have a birth certificate because he was born before births were registered. The name was true enough, though.

  Kit’s smile was easy and relaxed. “Good to meet you, Väinämöinen.” His shoulders squared again. His glance took in the house once more.

  “What can I do for you, Warden?” Veris asked.

  “It’s Kit. We’re tracking a bear which hasn’t settled for the winter.” He lifted his strong chin toward the gray, sharp peaks behind the house. “You’re right on the border of the park, here, and Smokey was heading this way. I wanted to warn you. Probably a good idea to stick close to the house for a few days. You have pepper spray?”

  “I do.” Not that he needed it. Bears recognized vampires as stronger and meaner predators and avoided them. Although he would insist Aran and Alannah and Marit wear the spray on their belts for the next few days, when they were here.

  Kit nodded. “Well, then…”

  “I expected the Mounties would be the first to show up and check us out,” Veris said. “Not Park Wardens.”

  Kit’s smile was still easy. “A good assumption, as you’re the new guys in town. I run into the Mounties at least once a day. We all like Tim Horton’s coffee.” In other words, he would pass his assessment of the newcomers to the Mounties.

  Kit’s eye nearly closed in a wink. Then he glanced at the house once more. “The construction of this place has kept the townsfolk’s tongues wagging since the first loaded truck trundled up here. You’ve got a great house.”

  “Thank you. Would you like to step in and look around?” Veris made the offer because sooner or later, McDonald would find a way to get inside and inspect the place. Veris wanted to make it easy for him. The Canmore people and the authority holders, like the Mounties, would be curious and likely wary of the new arrivals. It was simple enough to reassure them that Veris and his family were normal, ordinary people, and willing to be good neighbors. Only the second part was true.

  “I’d love to,” Kit said. “Only for personal reasons, though, so I won’t. I built a log house on the other side of the valley, five years ago.” He pointed toward the mountains on the southwest side of the narrow valley which cradled Canmore and the south end of the Banff National Park. “There are not too many big log houses in the area.”

  “Then you must come back when you’re off duty and meet my family,” Veris said. “I’d be pleased to show you around.” After they had carefully secured the house so it looked as innocent as it should be.

  The front door of the house opened and Taylor stepped onto the verandah. She wore a heavy overcoat and snow boots, which meant she had spotted Kit and had dressed to appear human. “Veris, you’re needed inside.” She glanced at Kit. “Sorry. A call from his faculty.”

  Kit touched the brim of his hat. “I’d best be getting along, anyway.” He nodded at Taylor.

  “My wife, Taylor,” Veris said.

  “Kit McDonald, ma’am,” Kit said.

  “Brody is in Canmore, picking up hardware at the moment, or I’d introduce him to you, too,” Veris added, deliberately invoking the question which would follow.

  “Brody?” Kit asked.

  “My husband,” Veris replied, meeting Kit’s gaze.

  Kit didn’t quiver or twitch. “He would be the rock star, then?”

  The gossips had dug deep. Veris grinned. “Former rock star. We’re staid married people now.”

  Kit’s gaze didn’t skitter away. “We all evolve, eventually.”

  Veris nodded. “Military, I’m guessing.” He let his gaze drift to Kit’s useful shoulders.

  “Something like that.” Kit’s tone was still easy. “I may take you up on that offer to show me around sometime. I like interesting people.”

  “Whenever you’re ready.” Veris didn’t bother trying to give him his cellphone number. Kit would find the number by himself, if he didn’t have it already. There were dozens of official forms, resident applications, building permits, zoning applications and more d
ocumentation which carried the number. Kit could wrangle his Mountie friends into showing him one of them.

  Or he could call the university and ask the Faculty of Medicine for Veris’ number and get it the official way.

  Kit moved back to the truck, his long legs swinging easily beneath the light coat. He backed the truck out and sedately rolled it down the curving drive toward the iron bridge.

  Veris didn’t move toward the house until the truck crossed the ravine.

  Taylor still stood on the verandah. She lifted a smooth brow. “I thought the RCMP would be first.”

  “Almost the same thing. He’s best buds with them. He had a legitimate reason to come here. It was very smooth and polite.” Veris tilted his head. “You wanted me to get rid of him?” Her comment about an urgent call from his faculty had implied that much.

  Taylor nodded. “Alex and Sydney are here. It’s not social.”

  Veris opened the heavy front door for her, bracing himself. Taylor stepped past him, shedding the heavy coat and dropping the boots by the door. Barefoot, she padded through the big front room, which was still mostly empty, and into the hall at the back of the house. The wide hall contained the master stairs up to the next floor, and a heavy-duty mud room which serviced the back entrance to the house.

  Beside the steel reinforced back door, there were five other doors lining the hall. One led into the dining room, which laid off the kitchen. Opposite, another gave access to the east end of the house, where their studies and utility rooms were.

  The other eastern door gave access to the attached garage at the back of the house. The garage contained four vehicles and was heated by the same powerful furnaces which kept the house warm.

  Under the stairs was a half-bathroom, which was the third door on the east side.

  The second door on the west side opened onto what appeared to be a deep closet. Taylor slid the pocket door to one side. There were hooks on the back wall, holding coats and scarves, and a rack holding boots and outdoor shoes attached to the bottom.