Echoes in Eternity (The Pella Series Book 1) (14 page)

“Once...” he says softly, and then pauses. “A very long time ago, before I pledged my friendship and existence to Marcus... Look
at how you have waited for this one woman for all of eternity and have never allowed someone else into yours. Because, someone else would never do, 
could 
never take her place!” he says fervently and adds, “But unlike yours, mine is never coming back. And if she was, you could bet your very long existence that I would do 
everything
 in my power to recapture her heart. So, 
you
, my friend better succeed in recapturing her affection, reveries, attention and her heart with the same passion and gusto like you've made your way into three continents when you were merely 20 years of age, conquering most of the known world in eleven fucking short years when people can’t even finish one single battle today despite the fact that it involved parties possessing all the modern machinery and weaponry. Because, Alexander, they don’t have your heart, your passion, your resilience, your courage. You are indeed one of a kind my friend; so do it for the rest of us who wish we had another chance!” he says sternly as he looks at me pointedly. He also conveniently leaves out the fact that, my success was partly due to the fact that I’m ruthless when it comes to my enemies.

I press Elissa to my chest even closer, rubbing her hair, looking at her yearningly. I’m close enough to her not to let air pass through between us, yet our distance is still centuries away. How do I close the gap? What if something happened to her? Even the speculation of it is harrowing. I have to have her close to me at all times! The need to protect her is so overwhelming, thinking of her going out of my sight is excruciating.

“Mind your thoughts, and words Alexander... She’ll be hearing us soon even though she won’t wake up yet,” Doc reminds me. I can break through the memories, because I’ve existed long enough to develop the capability, but she can’t. She has to experience it all like the fledgling plants coming out of the ground in the first of spring.

I am so focused on her; the knock on my door startles me.

“What?” I bellow. James enters.

“Apologies
sir,” he answers chagrined. “Miss Angelique Montesquieu and Miss Kimberly Collingsworth are quite insistent on meeting with you, sir.”

“Do you realize that I’m attending
to an emergency?” I say, my gaze dark, completely forbidding, and intensely focused on him. He withers and lowers his voice. Had he not worked for me for over a century, he wouldn't be able to withstand my wrath.

“No... I mean, yes,
sir. They’re just high profile clients who are each intending to spend fifteen million dollars out of their own funds at the auctions next week, they have said, and they’re also representing some high bidding international companies. And, they were hoping to...” he starts explain, but I have no patience for them.

“Every investor and prospective buyer must follow a certain protocol regardless of how much money they intend to spend next week! They are no exceptions to the rule, and I want to imprint this bit of information in to your mind that the client’s bra size or their spread legs do not provide an access through my doors! Our clients don’t buy aircrafts from us because
 
I
 need something from them, but because 
I
 possess what they need, and what they can’t get elsewhere. Do you get me clearly James?”

“I perfectly understand
sir. They insinuated that they know you...” he says, but I cut him mid-sentence.

“I don’t give a fuck that they know me or how they know me!” I grow angrier, and Henry’s voice interjects.

“Perhaps, Anthony and I should go to talk to them, Alexander. It’ll give you a minute to be alone with Ellie...”

“No! By the way, how did they get a 35
th
 Floor pass?” I bellow. Henry looks amused, his eyebrows are slightly elevated looking at me, and shakes his head. James looks mortified.

“Miss Montesquieu is representing a French client as well as her father’s company, the MTG Power, and Miss Collingsworth is representing a South American company in addition to her personal interest in purchasing a luxury jet. The companies
made appointments to discuss the aircraft acquisitions last month sir.”

“Like their fathers, they’re arrogant to the point of asininity which I have no tolerance for! I approve all the meetings beforehand. They’re not scheduled to meet with
 
me
!”

“No
sir, you’re quite right. They’re scheduled to meet with Mr. Monroe. But Mr. Monroe departed early for Arizona per your instructions and his assistant tried to reschedule the meeting with the young ladies, but she was unsuccessful in reaching them or their assistants in her effort to reschedule. In short, they’re here, sir,” he explains on a single breath. I sigh exasperated.

“Have Anthony meet with them, then. Henry stays...” I say and there is a slight movement from Ellie in my arms,
 and she moans, sounding distressed. Is she in pain? I'm pure attention, worried that I can’t get her out of her suspended state in our past. 

"Ellie!!! Ellie! Wake up!" I urge her. She doesn't open her eyes, but continues to moan. I look up at Henry with concern lacing my gaze.
 James opens his mouth again without consulting his brain. 

"Should we call a doctor
sir?" he asks. What does he think Henry is? I look at him pointedly.

"The doctor is already here!" I snap in a menacing voice.
 Even though my voice is low, it reverberates around my office, making my meaning clear.

By the time Anthony leaves my office with James in tow, Elissa shudders in my arms, and jerks violently as if she’s resisting something. My arms automatically hold her up closer to my chest to calm her, and I find myself rocking her, whispering to her in my old language soothingly. Henry nods at me reminding me that she’s coming back to her senses.

“Miss Duncan? Wake up... You’re alright. You've just passed out in your car. Wake up,” I try coaxing her out of the clutches of our past memories. I want her to wake up so I can hear her voice, and see her reactions to what I have to say to her, but then keep her in my arms to calm the aching I have for her. As my right hand holds her close to my heart, my left hand rhythmically runs over her soft hair. Her arms automatically snake around my neck, stilling me. There’s a tender gleam in Henry’s eyes. I am barely holding onto my self-control. Nothing short of taking her in my possession, pumping my aching cock in her so deep to make up for all our lost time, reuniting our souls in our kisses, branding each other for days would barely sate and also fuel the desire I have for her. I want to feel her under my skin, touch every inch of her with soft kisses, caresses, suckling, teasing, and loving. It’s not just being sexually aware of her presence, but she calls to me from the depths of my abyss that I am helpless but to respond to her call. I feel like a caged beast; my disquiet about Elissa would take over me had I lost control for one minute. I have dreamt about seeing her again hundreds of times; our first union, our first kiss. I lean in and whisper. “Elissa!” but she won’t open her eyes, I softly kiss the top of her head, my lips lingering in contact, but she won’t budge.

“Doc?” I ask, my anxiety growing. He shakes his head, and his eyes lock with mine reminding me that she is conscious enough to hear, and comprehend but my mind is barely tethering between control and losing it. He explains what transpired in the parking garage to redirect my attention, but finding out in detail that one of my own men could have caused injury to her brings me to the edge of my already eroded patience.

“Fuck! How could he not see a woman walking in a huge parking lot? What was he looking at?” A shudder goes through Elissa’s body, shaking me to my core. I believe she’s coming out of her dream state. The rest of our conversation is a blur as all I can think about or see is Elissa. But when she shows the signs of coming to herself, Henry nods at me, making sure I lay her down on the sofa and then makes himself scarce, leaving me alone with Elissa. After I lay her down, I take an extra minute; reluctantly unlocking her arms from the embrace she’s been holding me in.

I’m determined that she stays with me tonight; I never lose any negotiation I desire to win. Right now, there’s nothing else I would rather succeed in other than convincing her to stay with me. She moans on the sofa, and her beautiful eyes crack open painfully. When she groans, and tries to sit up, I immediately order her to remain resting, and horizontal. In fact, I’d like to keep her horizontal, vertical, sideways,
 every way in my own discretion for an indeterminate amount of time. I explain to her that she was nearly hit by one of my security personnel, but she immediately shares the guilt of her near accident. She tries to move to get up and leave! Leave me! She groans holding her head and concern grips me, choking.

“I don’t think you’re up to driving for two hours Miss Duncan. I will have someone drive you to your home,” I insist. As she protests my suggestion, her hands grip her head giving away the pain she’s experiencing. My hands fist nervously, trying to gain my composure and control against her innate stubbornness.

“Just as I thought! I don’t want to be the cause of my new assistant’s injury before she has started working for me,” I say in a stern yet a sensual tone. I’m not a man one wishes to cross. Only less than a handful of men dared to do that in all my existence. But whenever she contradicted me or crossed me, it just turned me on. I became predacious in each case. With my enemies, my razor’s edge menace became evident and I became focused until I’ve overcome the obstacle they've created and they’re fully defeated.

With Elissa however, her disobedience always makes my desire
become fever pitched, getting my blood boiling hot, and my patience stretches far too thin to resist the animal magnetism, of our ever-growing attraction, making me want to hold her in my arms, kiss her and lick the curves of her lips in a slow and sensual roll, incite her to taste me in my mouth. I want to thrust my tongue so deep into her pouting mouth and make her whimper her pleasures; make her ache for me, for my touch, my lips, my mouth over her sex with a deep, pleasuring suckle and conquer her both inside and out. Her simple opposition makes me want to demonstrate to her sheet clawing ecstasy that she can experience with me by taking control of her body, and making her follow the rules that I set to protect her.

It is excruciating to sit in the same space with her, remembering how we once were, and not be able to touch her. The thought that there are
Fallen Angels
after her life blood and the possibility that she may like someone else are killing me inside. How can I show her that we once were inseparable? How can I tell her that there’s no one for me but her?

My desire for her is so overwhelming at this moment, all I want to do is to thrust in
to her so deeply and hard, sink into her sex in such an irrevocable manner until our thighs are united in a tight embrace, making her moan her pleasures, and let her forget everything even her name! Then remaining in her core motionless until neither one of us can no longer handle being without friction, pulling out of her painstakingly slow, making her beg for me, for my cock, and finally filling her again to make her remember what we had, what she still means to me. Writing our history together with each stroke, each movement, each swivel, each friction, touch, kiss, penetration so much so that her euphoria drives her out of this world and into the throes of ecstasy; making her crave me, writhe under me, on top of me, on my lap,  uniting our bodies and souls, making both of us whole again. 

Her hands are still holding her aching head, and her eyes are closed. She answers me again with another contradiction: “The assistant on trial...” Fuck! I think my penis just went on full attention mode like my former Praetorians. I can’t help but smirk at the familiarity of her response.

“Anthony will drive you home, and he will also pick you up,” I say; this is the best concession I can make for her.

“But...” she protests, and I immediately interrupt her without giving her another inch of room for her to oppose me.

“I told you earlier Miss Duncan: If I intend to keep a good employee for a long time, then I do whatever is in my power to secure that employee’s well-being for his or her maximum productivity,” I say in a low, confident, I-always-get-my-way tone.

“It’s kind of you,” she replies, her voice sarcastic, but I know the fight is out of her. She’s in pain, and I don’t want her out of my sight. I want her in my vicinity with such intensity that I can’t tolerate our distance even for an evening. I glide close to her, leaning into her ear, but still not touching her. I whisper in a lascivious tone, “Do you wish to stay? The Doctor said that you need some rest. I can...” I say. I can barely keep my desire in check now; if I stay with her in the same place, I’d be torturing myself. However, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe, make her want me on her own. I exhale a breath slowly without detection, and add in a gentle, caring tone, “I can take you to my apartment in town, and make sure you get some care.”

‘Please say yes! Please Elissa!’ I beg her in my mind. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you! I force my hands to remain on my lap, fingers splayed so I don’t make any attempt to touch her. My gaze is morose, concerned and anxiety grips me by the second; a feeling I’m not accustomed to. Please look at me! Let me see your sapphire blue eyes! As if she heard my inner pleading, she finally looks up at me.