Lion of Midnight (27 page)

She exploded beneath him. Nik kissed her and ate her cries of passion. Cleo stiffened and quivered again, the velvet muscles around him rippling and pushing him over the edge. His balls tightened, and he thrust hard and deep until he, too, erupted with a deep bellow. Completely spent, he collapsed on her, his heart pounding out one hell of a tattoo in his chest. He began to move, only to stop when she grumbled and tightened her legs around him.

“Don’t go. I like your weight on me.”

“I don’t want to crush you,” he reasoned before rolling them so she lay upon him.

“I like that feeling.” Still, she didn’t protest the new position, even when he covered them. Instead, she seemed to burrow closer yet.

“I love you, Cleo.” His whispered words were unanswered. He’d remained silent until the candle hissed its last and ended, cocooning them in darkness. Nik enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, and that’s how he fell asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Cleo stirred and sighed contentedly. She was comfortable.
It was all a horrid nightmare.
Her face pressed against something hard. Familiar but hard. The masculine scent, which screamed Nik, floated over her, and she snuggled closer. His arms tightened around her, and she felt his lips brush her temple.
No rush to get up.
One hand idly ran up and down his chest when something froze her solid.

Children running and laughing.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“Just realized where you were?” Nik asked in a comforting voice.

“I was
seriously
hoping this was all just a bad dream.”

He kissed her before climbing out of bed and walking without shame across to where his pants must have been for he bent down and pulled them on. Despite her frustration at being where she was, Cleo still wasn’t about to miss Nik in a partially dressed state. She rose up on her elbows and smiled at him.

Shafts of morning light poured through the slats of wood shutter-like objects and streamed over his godlike body. His arms were sinewy hard and could hold her as gently as if she truly were that which he called her. A snowflake.

His torso nothing but rippled strength, covered by scars, old and new, Nik gave new meaning to washboard abdominals. Drifting lower, she lingered over the way he wore those black leather pants. Moisture hit her, and she bit back a whimper of longing. Sex. Pure, raw, unadulterated sex was what he reminded her of. With that physique and the heart-stopping eyes he had.

Nik turned his head to wink at her. His eyes heated to near boiling, and a sensual grin lifted one corner of his mouth. She shuddered as her belly clenched with wanton need.

“What are you thinking about,
snežinka
?” he asked, prowling toward her.

“How freaking good you look,” she admitted.

“Hmmm.” He put his arms out, one either side of her, and pressed close. “Is that so?”

“So,” she squeaked when he nibbled along her neck.

“I like those thoughts. But I have to get going. Time to get you home,
snežinka
.” Nik kissed her lightly and rose. He slid on a shirt before he disappeared through the door.

Cleo got up and dressed in her own clothes. Running a hand through her shorter hair, she sighed.
Wish I could shower.
With a deep breath, she left the room and couldn’t stop the smile from coming when the kids ran to her.

Kids.

Children.

Eighteen years of responsibility, at the very least.

One she’d never wanted.

Until now.

She struggled to fight the urge to cover her womb with one hand. The craving to carry Nik’s child within her nearly blindsided her. Along with the unequivocal knowledge she was head-over-heels in love with him.

The door opened, and Nik stepped through, morning’s light gleaming in his hair. His intense eyes zoomed to where she stood holding the youngest daughter, Ianna, in her arms. The intensity faded to be replaced by tenderness, which brought tears to her eyes. Ivan followed in behind him, but Nik never took his gaze off her as they talked. Cleo could feel her body reacting to his endless gaze.

Nikolas.

Sending him a smile, she dragged her eyes from him, needing to focus on something else before she turned into a pile of mush. And, so, she paid attention to the child she held. Breakfast was a simple fare, after which she stood by while Nik readied his horse, Tyr. Cleo watched him say farewell to his friend, her own goodbyes over. Seated before him on his horse, a touch on her leg grabbed her attention. Mariska stood there, holding out a small wrapped package.

“What’d she say, Nik?” Cleo questioned, without taking her eyes from Mariska.

“She wants you to have that.”

Cleo took it and smiled at the blonde woman who had been so kind to her. “Thank you.” Mariska’s gentle eyes shone with tears while she patted Cleo on the hand. “Nik, tell her I’ll never forget her kindness.”

Nik relayed the message, and soon, they were heading out. After riding in silence for a while, Cleo asked. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m going to call him and get him to send you home.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. “No. I won’t go without you.”

They stopped at a wide, open field and Nik slid off. “You will.”

Scrambling down from Tyr’s height after him, Cleo grabbed his arm. “No.”

His eyes were hard as he stared at her. She immediately knew before her was the uncompromising warrior. The dominant, overbearing alpha who got his way. Nik sighed heavily and gently touched her face.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Loki!” Nik thundered in the next millisecond. “Show yourself.”

“Nik, don’t,” she whimpered.

“Loki! I know you can hear me.”

Fear raced to the surface, and she shivered when the air shimmered before them, only to become Loki. Handsome and coldly calculating. Cleo trembled again.

“Send her back,” Nik bit off.

Cleo could feel the anger radiating from Nik’s powerful body. He kept himself between her and Loki, even though she could see the god. Nik remained unarmed, not even reaching for his sword.

Crossing his arms, Loki sighed. “Why?”

“What would it take for you to return her,
safely
, to her own time and home?”

“Are you saying what I think you are, mortal?”

Cleo looked frantically at Nik, who refused to meet her gaze.

“Yes. On the condition she is sent home, safely, and you stay away from her.”

“Nik, no!”

An eerie gleam filled the god’s chilly gaze. “I can do that.”

Cleo’s heart plummeted.

“Give me your word as a Norse god.”

Loki lifted a finger and made an ice blue X in the air. “My word as a god. I will send her home safely, and I stay away from her, causing her no injury.”

Nik faced her. In his eyes, she read his love for her. Soft Russian flowed from his mouth while he used one hand to cup the side of her face. His callused thumb pad trailed lightly over her lips.

“Goodbye,
snežinka
.”

Tears filled her eyes. “No!” Cleo gripped his wrist with both hands. “We’ll find another way. Don’t do this, Nik. Please, don’t.”

“Pledge your loyalty to me, mortal.” Loki’s icy voice intervened filled with a perverse bunch of glee.

Cleo held on tighter, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. “No. Nik. Don’t.”

He swallowed hard, and she saw pain edge into the depths of his amazing brown eyes. “I love you, Cleopatra Yurandol Laurens. Never forget that.” His mouth descended upon hers, lighter than a feather. “I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Goodbye, my love.”

Cleo clung harder, but it was no use. She couldn’t feel him, anymore, nor could she see him. “Nik!” she wailed. Everything spun out of control, and when she felt well enough to open her eyes, Cleo found herself back in her room. Alone.

Nik was gone.

Nik!
The tears flowed fast and furious. Stumbling to the bathroom, Cleo puked. When there was nothing left in her stomach and the dry heaves stopped, she got up and rinsed out her mouth before sinking into a ball and crying until she had no more tears. Time had no meaning for her, and she was curled up in her bed, wearing one of Nik’s shirts when the phone rang.

Cleo glanced across the bed to where the light flashed on the cordless. Drawing a pillow closer, she turned her back to the phone. With a sigh, Cleo reached up and adjusted her necklace before settling back into her cocoon. Two seconds later, she bolted from the bed, moving at a fast sprint to her laptop.

“I will find a way, Nik. I
will
.” Cleo put on her headset and pressed a preset number. Her fingers drummed impatiently while waiting.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kenya.”

“Cleo. How are you?”

Tears threatened at Kenya’s comforting voice. “Staying busy. How are you doing?”

“We’re fine here. What’s up?”

“I need some help.”

“What?”

“Your programmer friend. Do you think he could, or would, give me a call and talk me through something?”

“What’s going on, Cleo?”

Forcing her tone to be as normal as possible, Cleo said, “I’m trying to decode some old script. Meroitic script, actually. The problem is, I can’t figure out how to put it all on my computer.”

Kenya’s sigh of relief reached her. “I was worried there, for a moment.”

“Don’t be,” she said, truly touched her friend was worried. “I’ve been buried in this every free moment, so I just—”

“No explanation needed. I’ll call Deacon and give him your number.”

“Thank you, Kenya. So much.”

“No problem. Oh, and Cleo?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll expect an honest explanation, later.”

“About?”

“About why a Russian history professor is translating a language born in the Kingdom of Kush. We’ll talk soon.” Kenya ended the call.

Cleo disconnected on her end and ran a hand over her eyes. She forgot, at times, just how intuitive Kenya was. She jumped when the phone rang, a few moments later.

“Hello?” she asked after seeing “Private Caller” on the ID screen.

“May I speak to Ms. Laurens, please?” a man questioned.

“Speaking.”

“Ms. Laurens, this is Deacon Trask, Kenya asked me to give you a call. She mentioned something about script translation on your computer.”

Damn, that was fast.
“Thank you so much for getting back to me.” Licking her lips, Cleo began to explain what she was looking to accomplish. Twenty minutes later, she raced through the apartment to get dressed for Deacon was on his way. He’d been in Madison, Wisconsin and had said it would be no trouble to stop off in Cheyenne on his way to Seattle. Her heart felt hopeful when she met Deacon at the airstrip. It was even more so when she dropped him back off. Deacon Trask was a very giving man. He’d brought her a brand new computer with the capacity to handle what she’d told him she wanted to do.

In fact, at the very moment, her new computer was decoding while she took him back to the airfield. With a sincere hug and wave, Cleo watched until his plane had taken off before she left. Then, she headed home and kept a close eye on the translation. Well past midnight, and it stopped.

Cleo sat down and scowled at the translations sitting before her on the screen. She turned her attention first at the one from behind her pendant. There was no exact match, so with a scowl, she clicked on the one from the pommel.

“What?” She read it a few more times with the same reaction. Clicking open the one from the hilt, Cleo read that translation, as well.
Can this be?
Brows furrowed, she opened all three and shared her attention between them.

“I wonder,” she murmured. Cleo pulled up the images Nik had sent of his sword and zoomed in on the six stones. “I knew it!” There behind each stone sat more of the script. It took a bit, dropping the resolution so she could see it but soon those parts were being run against the computers databank.

Midnight.

Immortal.

Lion.

Of.

Guardian.

And finally—
Love
. The last word showed up when she put her piece in there. Staring at them sitting in the sword, she read it aloud. “Love. Immortal Guardian Lion of Midnight.”

Shoving away from the desk, Cleo dressed in warmer clothes and headed back to her living room where she placed some calls. Moments later, she was speeding toward the airport to catch a flight back to Moscow.

Her belly was in knots as she walked through security, and they checked her ticket, passport, and one bag of luggage. The flight did nothing to calm her. Each minute that passed her anxiety grew. Sleep eluded her. Instead, she tried to keep calm. Seriously jet-lagged and exhausted, Cleo grabbed a taxi at the airport and had it take her to the museum where she first saw Nik in the weaving of the tapestry.

Heart in her throat, she entered the building, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cleo moved purposefully toward the small room. There were a few others inside, and Cleo had to clamp her lips together to keep from demanding they leave.

Freya.
She frowned.
How the hell am I supposed to call a goddess?
Cleo swallowed a few times.
Freya. Please, I need to talk to you.

“Hello again, Cleo,” a male voice said.

Glancing to her right, she saw Serge standing there, holding his hat before him in his hands.

“Serge!” She smiled at him and hugged him, uncaring if she made a spectacle of herself or not. “It’s so good to see you.” Her gaze narrowed slightly. “What are you doing here?”

A kind smile filled his expression. “You called for me.”

Cleo shook her head. “I called a taxi. But it…” She trailed off as Serge’s eyes changed color to an intense blue. “Oh…oh, no…no, no, no, no.”