Parallel Attraction Read online

  Then it hit him with the force of a pulse cannon: Kelsey wanted to die with Jared, was even willing it to happen somehow. And he didn't have time to fight her will, or it would be the end of them all. He raised his binoculars and took a quick reading of the landscape. The sound of gunshots hammered the night—total chaos was erupting. But so far no one seemed to realize he'd dropped his shield.

  That was the precise moment Jared's energy cooled. First it turned from its usual fiery golden color to a softer yellow—and then a muted green. All the while Kelsey clung to him, her body atop the roiling cauldron of energy that was his natural D'Aravnian form. Then Jared's power retracted visibly, growing smaller and cooler, fading to a cool blue-green until only a cold, soft cobalt blue remained. Kelsey was lifeless atop him, facedown and immersed in his fading energy pool. She would dissolve right along with him if Marco couldn't get her to release her mate. And he could not. No matter how many times Marco pulled and worked to separate Kelsey from Jared, he could not force her to relent. In horror, Marco saw Jared's energy fade sharply.

  Soft blue yielded to gray then gave way to black. Until nothing, nothing at all remained of J'Areshkadau Bnet D'Aravni except a large red stain in the snow. And Kelsey had been consumed right along with him.

  A piercing scream raged within his soul, but Marco quelled it. He had done this. He had killed them both. Marco felt his energy waver at the thought, and made a risky decision. He could make his move now if he acted quickly. Glancing at the stain in the snow—all that remained of his king and queen—he made his decision.

  And he ran with all the life left in his soul.

  Marco's hands trembled as he took hold of the coiling device. He'd gone over every setting and adjustment three times to be certain, and yet using the mitres still scared the hell out of him. He understood exactly how much rested on his getting this right—and also that what he was attempting was far from an exact science. The energy within the unit still glowed the vibrant orange-red that it had attained when Kelsey began powering it an hour earlier. It appeared to remain at full power.

  Marco prayed the device would work without her here to link with it; they'd left it in mid-launch, which meant that he at least had a chance. It seemed a miracle now that, in trying to help her open an exterior portal during their connection earlier, Jared had misguided her in the mitres' usage. Instead, he had unwittingly instructed her in the opening of a time portal. None of them knew the mitres full capabilities yet—in fact, it would be several years before they did know how to precisely use the weapon anyway. Yes, that fortuitous turn of events had created instability in the dimensional space that might just save all their lives.

  He tapped in the codes, they locked into place, and Marco stepped back, waiting, and hoped with all of his protector's soul that this mission would succeed; that he would be catapulted back a crucial five hours in time.

  Chapter Twenty

  Five hours earlier . . .

  Jared's bedroom took shape, the vibrant blue of inter-dimensional space dissolving into the familiar landscape of Jared Bennett's chambers. Marco's skin and muscles and sinew tingled all over. He stared down at his trembling hands and cautiously moved his fingers, surprised to find himself still solid and alive. The experience of traveling through time and space had left his body feeling thinner somehow. Transparent. Insubstantial. Perhaps these sensations were the cumulative result of making two journeys so close together through a portal, or maybe it was just traveling to such a relatively close place in time. Five hours was a much less stable leap backward than the ten years he'd bridged on his first journey.

  Shaky and nauseous, he felt as if every cell in his body had been shuffled and randomly rearranged. And yet here he was. Taking a tentative step, Marco felt his feet almost give out beneath him before he collapsed on the edge of Jared's bed. In the bathroom, he heard Kelsey splashing and humming in a light, joyous voice. Sweet Kelsey, blissfully unaware that in this time his other self had already manned the inter-dimensional weaponry to its full power in order to transport himself the short distance from Mirror Lake to Jared's compound without detection by security patrols.

  It seemed inconceivable now that he had believed himself capable of hurting her, the only woman who had ever truly claimed his heart. Burying his face in his hands, he let his thoughts travel ten years into the future, to their last moment together in the mitres chamber and to the vicious battle they'd fought. Pressing a hand to his eyes he tried to blot out the image of how he had hurt her there. With bone-shattering clarity, he recalled the feeling as he stamped down on her hand, knocking Jared's strake stone from her grasp. She'd thought him her enemy, feared him her killer. Even worse, he'd given her nothing but proof of those beliefs.

  She knows now, he reassured himself. This Kelsey knows the truth. Only that wasn't actually true, he reminded himself. The Kelsey who knew the truth had died as a result of his actions. Thick bile rose in the back of his throat as he recalled watching her dissolve to ash before his very eyes. His body shook with tremors as he pictured Jared's energy fading to cold blue, and then to nothing. Dead, both of them dead, the two he'd pledged to protect above all others. Tears came to his eyes, ones he'd choked back for more than four long years. Gods, they'd trusted him once. How had it all come to this?

  You serve them now, his protector's voice reminded him. You're here to save them, to shape their destiny. Marco dropped his hands away from his face, resolved. He had come to this room—to this precise moment—for only one reason: to prevent these other, deadly futures, and to stop his own role of betrayal in them.

  A glance at Jared's bedside alarm clock revealed the time: 12:04 a.m. Only twelve minutes left. Upon his first arrival five hours earlier the red digits had burned like the hatred he carried in his heart. The display had read 12:16 a.m., which meant that if everything played out exactly as it had the first time, Marco would confront the other version of himself at exactly 12:16 a.m. Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes to unfurl a destiny, to remake a ruined future. All their fragile hopes now rested on his lone shoulders. It was what he'd been born for, bred for, this moment alone.

  Of course, he couldn't be sure he had arrived on the right day. A quick glance around the room revealed the same casually discarded clothing, the rumpled throw pillows on the floor, the cooling fire in Jared's hearth. Everything seemed exactly as it had the first time, and he'd been so careful in his calculations—he had to proceed in the hope that he had succeeded.

  Future Jared had been highly determined in sending her back to this time—and yet Marco still had no idea as to why. Not really, though he imagined it was to stop them from meeting each other at Mirror Lake. Jared had likely hoped to prevent the mitres data from fusing with Kelsey's mind. But, gods, when had Jared gotten so stupid? Didn't he know that without Kelsey by his side he was incomplete, a mere shadow of the leader he was called to be? That he needed her—the connection he had with her—in order to stay in balance and be king? Had he thought to prevent their falling in love, or had the plan been even simpler?

  Marco could waste his precious twelve minutes endlessly speculating, but none of his imaginings would matter to the Jared and Kelsey who would soon enter this room. Future Jared's plan had failed, as had Marco's own murderous one.

  But something else niggled at Marco too. Had Jared perhaps intended to send Kelsey back to Thea, to avert her own betrayal? Jared had always believed that if Thea only understood who she really was, she would rise to her destiny. She was royal-blooded, with unique gifts and abilities, and possessing strength of will matched only perhaps by her king and queen's. He grimaced, recalling who Thea had become after Jared had mated—and then married—Kelsey.

  Marco stood cautiously, but found his feet much steadier beneath him now. He strode to Jared's small corner desk, pulled open a drawer, and rumbled through his books and papers. His hand settled on a small, leather-bound volume of Shakespearean sonnets, a collection Jared had treasured for as long as he'd known the man�
��not just the one poem inscribed in their matching wedding bands, but an entire treasure trove of human language that the king had valued. In the poems, Jared had once told him, he found a reflection of the species' beauty, something he could hold on to as he fought to defend the humans. Jared had always been a king with a heart of compassion—until the day he had turned his back squarely on Marco.

  Marco shoved the book aside and rummaged through the drawer quickly, seeking a decent sheet of paper. When he found an open notebook with a clean page, he grabbed a pen. He pulled the chair out, sat at Jared's desk, and began writing a letter he had not believed possible earlier today. My Dearest Jared and Kelsey . . .

  Marco had been writing furiously for a good five minutes. He'd never tried to pen anything so quickly in all his life, and hoped they would be able to read his scrawling words. One consequence of being left-handed was that no one could ever read his damned writing. Jared had told him so dozens of times—Kelsey, as well. He glanced back over his hastily scribbled words, and hoped the letter would be at least somewhat legible. His message would be shocking enough to all of them.

  He jerked his head in the direction of the clock: 12:11 a.m. Five minutes to go. So much left to explain. He'd give anything for just a few hours with Jared and Kelsey, time to sit with them and answer their inevitable questions. But he hadn't dared borrow that kind of time, lest he risk missing the other version of himself, which meant his only choice had been to arrive as close in proximity as possible to when he'd first appeared. It was the only assurance that he could subvert his own betrayal.

  He glanced at the clock and resumed his furious scribbling.

  Marco slipped the letter into an envelope he'd found in Jared's desk drawer, and sealed it firmly, pressing his thumb along the backside for good measure. He wrote their names on the front of the envelope, and propped it against the book of sonnets. He hoped that Jared would notice it there immediately when he returned to the room.

  Twelve fourteen a.m. His heart began to hammer within his chest. He felt as much trepidation about facing this other version of himself as he would any enemy. But it would be swift. Easy. Without bloodshed or incident. But not painless. When they encountered each other, both of his selves should disappear. Two versions of one person could not exist at the same place in time, so he hoped he wouldn't actually have to battle . . . himself. But he was prepared to do so, to the death, if necessary.

  How could a heart change so thoroughly in a mere five hours' time? He'd begun this day filled with so much hatred and roiling resentment toward Jared, and he was ending it... someplace else entirely. All the intervening years had evaporated. Seeing Kelsey as such a young woman, younger than he'd ever known her to be, and Jared, before his years of Antousian captivity, had opened Marco's eyes again. Made him remember things he'd long ago cast into a well of forgetting. This was not the legacy he wanted to leave, no matter what Jared had done to him four years ago; nor was it the man Marco had been designed and trained to be, and that was the true lesson of this day.

  Marco stared down at his hands again, and turned his right wrist over slowly, feeling with his fingertips for the quickly beating pulse. Lifting his other hand, he allowed a tiny beam of light to flow upon the underside of his wrist, and allowed himself to see what he'd believed would no longer be there—couldn't possibly still be there after so much betrayal.

  And yet it leaped to life just as it had eight years ago, when he'd first explained to Jared who he was.

  A holographic image appeared in the air just above his wrist. It was Marco's seal, marking him as a royal protector. He wasn't the only one—there were a number of them— but his mark proclaimed his place in an elite and ancient line, branding him for life as primary protector to the royal family.

  He stared at the swirling pattern where it hovered in the air just above his wrist. Magenta, gold, purple. Such beautiful colors. Royal colors. And he smiled softly to himself; Sabrina would be so pleased to know that he hadn't disappointed her in the end.

  He allowed his other hand to drop away and the seal vanished.

  Twelve fifteen a.m.

  He took a deep, steadying breath.

  One minute left A single minute that seemed to last an eternity. It had hung in the air for so long already, he thought he'd go mad with the waiting. All his senses were on edge, and he was ready to face whatever happened. He had come out on the other side of something today, a journey that had begun four years ago, in fact. He smiled faintly to himself, knowing that he had won this siege, waged by some unseen force against his very soul. He had reclaimed himself in the course of battle this day.

  And now he was going to die.

  That much Marco did know—but as strange.as it might seem, he didn't mind. He was proud to do so. Proud to walk out his destiny, to be the man he'd been called to be.

  He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, his last moment. And thought of Kelsey. Her beautiful smile, her luxurious, flame-touched hair. The air around her had always been electrified for him, different from when she wasn't with him. That feeling had intensified incredibly when he'd begun to feel her connection with Jared, as he'd caught those brief glimpses of what the two of them shared. Their bond had begun to seep over to him somehow, and he'd had the tiniest glimmer of what it would have been like if Kelsey had loved him.

  In hindsight, Marco understood what had happened with their connection, how he had begun to intercept it, his natural gifts of intuition playing havoc with his mortal emotions. It had come first in tiny gossamer shimmers, later in huge powerful waves. What had been intended to better equip him to serve—that he should have been able to connect with them whenever they were in danger—had instead transformed into something twisted and tormenting. He'd felt all their love, and yet been left standing outside, gazing in at something beautiful that he could never be part of, and could only yearn for in the deepest recesses of his heart and mind.

  He opened his eyes again and his thoughts floated to Thea. That relationship had been a poor imitation of love, yet he'd felt something in her arms, those few times they'd been together. She had come to him that horrible night four years ago, just after Jared had thrown him out and offered comfort, a place to stay. Thea had seduced him that night—in every possible way—and he'd been more than willing, because he'd never felt so desperately alone. Only later did he understand that Thea wasn't just seducing him physically, but was leading him to the darkest side of his nature, and straight into the enemy's camp. By the time she offered to take him to the Antousians' highest realms, he'd been happy to follow her lead.

  And in the process he'd lost what was left of his soul. Until tonight.

  Perhaps if she hadn't already lost herself so thoroughly ... perhaps if things had played out differently. But things hadn't been different, and she'd used him completely. It had never been love for her, even though somehow he'd felt a dim reflection of it in his own heart.

  He shook the thought aside, clearing his mind.

  Twelve sixteen a.m. The time was at hand.

  He felt a quake within him, and drew in a sharp breath. There was a throbbing pain in his head, pounding now, demanding and incessant.

  A vaporous form appeared just in front of him, an apparition that quickly took shape as hazy edges became solid boundaries. And he found himself staring into the dark eyes of his other self.

  Gods, those eyes. Was that what he'd really looked like just five hours ago? So lost, so cold—so very dead?

  His other self became more concrete, totally solid; the deathly eyes widened, the mouth opened, and then both he and the other man collapsed simultaneously to the floor of Kelsey's room.

  The pain was unbelievable. His other self reached a hand out to him weakly, as Marco struggled for breath, gasping over and over in a desperate effort to fill his lungs. But he couldn't seem to draw in any air at all.

  "You ... will not hurt them," Marco choked out, staring into those other black eyes. "I will not allow it."


  His other self opened his mouth to speak, his jaw working to form words, though only a hollow, "Oh," sound escaped his lips. The man staggered to his knees, crying out— and again opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, he disappeared before Marco's very eyes.

  Marco crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe.

  And yet I am still here.

  He clutched at the floor, clutching at life itself, aching to go back and change so many choices. His head hammered with excruciating pain. Why was he still here? Shouldn't he have disappeared at the same moment as his other self?

  His very last thought was a quiet, gentle answer: Because you now have a greater will to live. A reason for being. Your other self did not.

  Marco rested his cheek quietly against the floor, knowing he'd achieved his destiny. He had given everything to protect his king and queen; they were safe now. He was restored.

  With that thought, and gasping desperately for air, Marco felt himself begin to fade away— one second, one cell, one molecule at a time, until only a shadow glimmered in the darkness, an echo of the soul who had once stood in that place. And then, fixing his memories on Kelsey, he disappeared completely.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Jared descended the stairs to his quarters with the quiet stealth of a mountain lion. Often one of his soldiers could be found in the media room, and he hoped to pass by undetected tonight—or at the very least without arousing gossipy interest. Word of the royal mating would travel throughout the ranks faster than a forest fire, and the last thing Jared wanted or needed was to be the one who struck the first match.