Acknowledgements: Damn, I’ve used a whole library of quotes and lyrics. The wise men and women I have used are as follows. For quotes: Elias Canetti, Arnulf Øverland, George Eliot, Soflokes, Betrand Besigye, William Shakespeare & Stig Johansson
The poem quoted by Lauren’s mom is a part from Ulysses by Tennyson.
The lyrics used are Our Lady Pace, `Lying Awake` from the album Happiness, Heather Nova, `London Rain` from the album Siren, Halvtan Sivertsen, a song I cannot remember the name of, from the album ‘Light All Night’, Finger Eleven, ‘For the Ocean’ from the album ‘The Greyest of Blue Skies’.
“A strange lullaby it is, For it is my own” is inspired by the movie The Piano, where the main character makes a similar observation at the end
Disclaimer: Lauren and Henry, Jonas and Erik are my creation, but the wonderful characters of Nick, Amanda, Rachel, Frank, Jack and Helen are all borrowed. Not for profit, mind you, and if the creators of Highlander: The Raven, or Water Rats wish to sue me, I doubt they’ll get anything valuable. And since they don’t take properly care of the characters anyway, I’m more than willing to take them into my care.
Author’s Note: Don’t ask me where the idea to mix Water Rats and HL:TR came from.. I have no friggin clue! I’ve been suffering from a dreadful flu the last 3 weeks, and this story is pretty much written in a fever haze. So any complaints about this story can be addressed to “Nasty flu virus, permanent residence Camilla’s body, nowhereville, a friggin cold country.” Due to the rather heavy mythology of Highlander, I’ve picked elements from it I found interesting, and ignored the rest. Author’s privilege. If you’re new to either show, I recommend reading the mini-guide I created
Thanks to Nikki for a little nagging, and to Amanda for bothering to be test subject.
Lastly, I owe a huge THANKS! To Rach W. for patiently helping me with this story, encouraging me on the way, and listening to endless explainations about a show she’d never watched.
See you in Brisbane!
By Camilla Sandman
***** Prologue *****
All you have forgotten, screams for help in your dreams
~~~~~~~~
Rachel Goldstein awoke with a start, barely withholding a cry of pain. It hurt, it hurt so very much. The pain scourged through her, but it was only an echo of the real pain. She wasn’t in a dark warehouse, her life bleeding away. She was on a boat, on the open sea, sleeping next to a man she thought she’d never see again.
The Footloose was rocking gently as the waves hit against its side. Although not a very big boat, it didn’t feel crowded. She spent most of the time on deck anyway, watching sunsets and sunrises and endless amounts of water. While thinking her decision over and over, wondering if she’d done the right thing. Jack’s word echoed in her mind still.
But the words were dead. She was dead.
Frank let out a sigh in his sleep, rolling away from her. She watched his back, noting scars and the fresh bruise from the other day when they had been diving. Her bruises had already healed. She’d hid it from Frank, along with almost everything else. All but the fact that she’d come to stay. Forever, at least forever for him. Forever for her could be so long she didn’t even dare consider it.
He still seemed deliriously happy about it, asking no questions. He’d gently probed her, but knew her well enough to not push. And questions were easily silenced by a simple kiss. She lay down next to him, feeling his warm skin against hers. A small part of her brain whispered about Jack, but she silenced it as Frank’s arms encircled her warmly.
Rachel Goldstein was dead. She had been stabbed, and had died in Jack‘s arms. There was no going back. Never again would she hear David call her “mum”, or see Helen smile up at her after solving a hard case.
No. They were the things she had to put behind her, the things that had died with her body. Rachel Goldstein was dead.
What remained, she wasn’t quite sure.
*****
Nick Wolfe awoke with a start. It took him a few seconds to realise hat had woken him, and then the full force of a Presence threatened to make his head explode. Amanda had called it a gift. He called it a bloody curse. As he had learned since dying, and waking up as an Immortal, he could always sense other Immortals when they were near. This one was very close, practically on top of him. He cursed loudly, reaching for the only defence he had brought. A gun. In his refusal to accept his new fate, he hadn’t even considered getting a sword.
He wasn’t a part of the game. Their stupid, wrenched game. He’d cursed it often enough when Amanda went out to face an Immortal, and only one would come back. He remembered how grateful he’d been every time it was her who came back. Their deadly game.
He wasn’t part of it!
He’d spent the last four weeks denying it, trying to run from it, and here it came slamming into him. The “gift” of Amanda. To live forever, until someone literally took his head off. Which could very well happen just now.
He got on his feet quickly and quietly, staring intently into the darkness. The only light was the dim starlight from the window and the city lights of London. He could barely make out the door, the open door that had been closed when he’d fallen asleep.
Confused thoughts ran through his head at the same time as the Presence filled his head and the gunshot smashed into him from the side. He span around, seeing but a brief shadow by his side as he fell. The floor greeted him hard, and as the presence dissipated, pain grew. He heard a faint scream, probably one of the other guests at the cheap bed and breakfast. The wound was burning, as his vision grew blurry.
He was going to die, he realised.
He thought of Amanda thought of her smile, her laughter, her wink and the tears on her face as he’d thrown harsh words at her.
He thought of Amanda and both cursed and missed her at once.
Then he died.
***** Chapter One *****
I'm here to wear you out
I'm here to watch you hide
Nothing to figure out
I'm here to watch you die
~~~~~~~~
The sun rose over London, but it seemed pale and lifeless. The winter still had its grip on the city, refusing to let ago a minute too soon. But a hint of green on the ground hinted that the cold grasp of winter would be broken.
Cars were beginning to rouse, coughing and spitting in the cold, but obediently powering up and filling up the streets. A few honks could be heard here and there, faint shouts, but it all seemed so distant.
She missed the sound of the ocean more than anything. Waves crashing against the beach, birds circling over her. She’d like to scream with them, just for an afternoon. She’d tried telling her father, but he’d only looked sad and patted her hair. He seemed to do that more and more these days, as the doctors again and again told him what she’d known the second she had coughed up blood.
She was dying.
He refused to see it, instead talking about medical science and miracles, and lately, living forever. She let him talk, waiting for all excuses to have been used. Maybe he would cry then, she wanted him desperately to cry. Not one tear had he shed yet. Instead he would sit by her side whispering her name over and over, as if trying not to forget it.
“Lauren..” It didn’t feel like her name anymore.
She barely felt the faint tickle of a needle bringing new medicines into her already battle worn body. Her mind was far away, running on a beach with her mother.
Her father got up, leaving her bedside to look out at the waking city. It gave him no pleasure anymore to see life start anew. It only mocked him, mocked her.
But somewhere out there.. was the power to life forever.
There could only be one decision.
**** Paris ****
Amanda turned in bed for the hundredth time that morning. The fainting moon was shining down at her and she found herself wondering if Nick was looking at that very same moon. Four weeks, and not a sound. She wanted to hate him for it, but the urge to just hold him and kiss him senseless until he had to forgive her, was just too great.
The bed was warm. She threw the sheets off impatiently, but it didn’t seem to help. Her body was burning. Pushing herself up, she walked over to the window and opened it. The wind caressed her smooth skin, her silk gown and her short blonde hair, but instantly turned cold. Even in Paris, it was winter. Impatiently, she shut the window again. Maybe she should let her real hair colour grow back again, she pondered. Change, she wanted something to change, anything.
Anything but lying in bed, tossing and turning and worrying.
The phone rang.
It was a shrill sound; she almost shuddered at it as she reached for the phone.
“Yes?” Her own voice sounded strangely unfamiliar to her.
“He’s in London,” a male voice informed her.
“Who?” she asked, but instantly knew. “Nick?”
“Yes,” came the quiet reply and then the click telling her the caller had hung up.
She stood with the phone in her hand for an eternity, her mind racing over her choices. A faint laughter reached her through the window, and she realised she’d taken the choice a long time ago.
Ten minutes later she’d booked a seat on the next plane to London.
***** London *****
Nick had woken with a start. His head was pounding, and he had found himself in a car in a body bag. He’d quickly got out, making as little sound as possible. He didn’t particularly want to explain his resurrection to the local police. A sudden flashback to Amanda doing it to him hit, and he smiled bitterly. So this was what it felt like.
He’d slipped away quietly, and now he was pondering his options. The police would be looking for a body, not a living man, but he didn’t wan to risk being seen by any officers who might have been on the scene of his death. Best to avoid the police for now.
But he couldn’t leave London. Not yet. His killer puzzled him. If it had been the Immortal who’s presence he had felt, why did he still have his head? Why had he only been shot? Strange. It didn’t make sense. Unless..
He reached into his pocket, and indeed, there was a small note there.
“Trafalgar Square. 8 a.m. Wednesday.” It wasn’t signed.
Games. The Immortals and their games. He cursed loudly. He should have known better than to think he could escape them. He needed help. From someone he could trust. Someone from before he’d met Amanda and his world had changed.
It felt so long ago, so distant, even though it was hardly a year ago everything had been so very different. Only a year ago..
***** Sydney morgue, a year ago *****
With a sharp intake of breath, Rachel Goldstein awoke. As she slowly exhaled, she felt the coldness of steel against her back. She was cold, so very cold. Lifting her head, she immediately realised she was in a morgue.
And then the full force of memories slammed into her.
I love you.
Frank.. Is it Frank?
Sharp pain. She was dying; she was dead.
Darkness.
She stared with disbelief at her abdomen, which showed no signs of being stabbed. But she had been. She had been dead.
Pushing herself up, she put her feet on the cold floor. Her thoughts were a mess of contradicting feelings, but she did know one thing.
She couldn’t stay there.
An hour later a Watcher had replaced her body in the morgue and as far as the world was considered, Rachel Goldstein was dead.
***** Somewhere in the Pacific, present day *****
Birds were flying over the Footloose, as Frank let the anchor drop. It was a quiet day, as had yesterday been, and the day before that, and the day before that.. He was beginning to wonder if all the relaxing was getting to him. Of course, there were upsides.
Rachel Goldstein in a bikini, for once. He grinned at the memory, storing it in “Not To Be Forgotten” in his mind. They’d be in port tomorrow. Maybe he could..
He was torn from his thoughts by a speedboat coming at them. Some damn American tourists, probably.
Rachel heard the boat approach too, but didn’t acknowledge it at first. She felt warm, comfortable, and almost happy just sitting there in the sun. Then suddenly something slammed into her head with the force of a locomotive. Her ears ringing, she looked up, right into the eyes of someone she had not seen since that fateful night a year ago.
Jonas Sanderson.
He smiled at her as the boat slowed down, going to an all-stop beside Footloose.
“Hello, Rachel,” he said, not unpleasantly, but all she could hear were her walls crashing down at her feet.
***** London *****
Walls. Nick had a feeling it was all he kept finding. More walls to bump into and knock his head against. This last death had the worst timing. It didn’t make any sense to him, least of all this mysterious note that had been left for him. He considered for a moment retreating to Holy Ground and waiting it out, but quickly decided against it. Better to face it head on.
Turning the corner, he headed for the first pay phone and didn’t notice Amanda just walking out of view into the next street.
Henry did. Carefully following Nick this morning, he’d almost hoped they would have bumped into each other then and there, but there was always Wednesday. He knew the importance of patience. Years of watching had taught him that.
Catching up with Amanda, he slipped a note in her pocket as he passed, then hurried into the subway crowd. He felt her eyes follow him, but she didn’t. She knew what he was, or rather, had been. A Watcher.
No more. He had sold out. Their lives for Lauren’s. At least he was giving Nick a chance; he defended himself with, sending another Immortal to teach him.
He was still selling them.
Clutching his daughter’s picture in his pocket, he forced himself to think of it as buying time. That was all it was. Buying time. The little voice inside him who kept calling him a murderer, he ignored.
***** Chapter Two *****
Pain is not an evil until it overcomes us
~~~~~~~~
“Hello, Rachel,” Jonas said, watching her face. The initial surprise had vanished; instead something sad had taken over. She was probably remembering how they had met the last time. The first death was always the hardest.
“Rachel?” her companion called out, worry in his voice. Jonas threw a glance in his direction, but saw no threat there.
“You never told me you had a son,” he continued.
“Look, mate..” Frank began, casting another worried glance at Rachel, who seemed to have frozen. He got cut off.
“What if I do?” Rachel interrupted.
Jonas smiled.
“Immortals don’t have kids,” he answered, and shot her.
***** London *****
Morning came, but the sunrise was hidden behind a stack of clouds. An ominous reminder of coming rain, or maybe even snow, but for now the clouds held onto their water. Nick Wolfe wasn’t particularly worried about rain. He barely glanced at the sky as he stepped out of the small motel where he had set himself up. A bit rundown, yes, but it served his purposes. As he began walking towards Trafalgar Square, he wondered why he was bothering playing this game. Curiosity, probably. Before he could deal with whoever was challenging him, he had to know who it was
Amanda was walking so fast she was in constant danger from slipping onto the iced pavement, but gracefully managed to keep her balance even when a car seemed to aim right for her. Drivers in London were the worst; some things didn’t change from one century to another.
Turning a corner, she entered Trafalgar Square and stopped dead. A Presence filled her head, and she scanned the area until she saw the source. A dark man, with his back to her, walking away with a familiar determination.
“Nick!” she cried out, “NICK!!!” For a brief, horrible second she thought he didn’t hear her, and then he slowly stopped. He stood silent with his back turned for another horrible second, and then he turned. Their eyes locked, his was dark and filled with anger, annoyance, surprise and something else she didn’t dare to acknowledge.
“Amanda,” he said quietly. She’d taken several steps towards him before even realising she had, and then she ran. Ran until she was in his arms, clinging to him with all the strength she had. He didn’t try to push her away, but didn’t show any signs of welcoming the embrace either. After a while she finally let go, looking into his face.
“You could have called!” Anger suddenly engulfed her. He was standing there, so calmly, and she.. she..
“What’s the point?” he said coolly. Instinctively, she slapped him. A short spark of amusement appeared in his cold eyes, and then it was gone so fast she wasn’t sure it had really been there. Silence ensued. And then, suddenly, she was kissing him. Or he was kissing her, she wasn’t sure. But he was the one deepening it, bringing his hands to her waist, pressing her closer. She let him, loosing herself in the feeling. She’d missed him so much, even if she were unwilling to admit it. Not even under torture would she admit Nick Wolfe had crawled under her skin.
He was kissing her possessively, his hands starting to roam her body freely. She broke off a second to catch her breath, her heart pounding widely.
“Amanda,” he whispered hoarsely, then felt the familiar pain of a Presence slam into his skull. By the way Amanda widened her eyes, he gathered she had felt it too. Looking around, he quickly determined its source.
He looked no more than 20, his size causing him to loom over the nearby people. A long read beard he’d have to have grown for at least ten years made him seem a bit older, and that was probably what he was hoping for.
Amanda seemed to have turned to stone by his side.
“You know him?”
She nodded as the man seemed to stride towards them, people walking out of his way rather than into it.
“Erik. His own people called him `the Bloody`, which is saying a lot for Vikings. He’s good Nick, very good.”
“You honour me.” Catching the last part, Erik gave her a head tilt, then turned to Nick.
“Nick Wolfe. All recovered from that shooting?”
“You were there.” Even as he said it, Nick knew the answer.
“Yes.”
“To kill me?”
The Viking led out the loudest roar Nick had ever heard. As laughters go, it didn’t feel very comforting. Neither did his next words.
“If I wanted you dead, you would be.”
***** The Footloose *****
There was no slow motion, no significant loud music warning of danger. There was simply a sickening plop as the bullet dispensed from the gun and went into Rachel. She fell forward, her body collapsing as blood fell into the clear, clear ocean. He remembered the colour of the ocean very well; she had told him long ago it was the colour of his eyes.
He wanted to run to her, but he seemed frozen in time even as the gun was turned towards him. He couldn’t feel his legs move, but they had to have moved anyway, for suddenly he found himself in the water. Diving, he barely felt the bullet sizzle into his arm.
Rachel tried to breath, but the air had turned to flames, burning her throat. She tried to focus on something, but everything just seemed blue. She wanted to scream to Frank, but her body did not seem to listen anymore. Exhaling, she died.
Jonas waited. When, with a gasp, Rachel came back to life, he knew he had what he needed.
***** London *****
“I don’t need a teacher!” Nick snapped for what felt like the 100th time. Amanda just looked at him, and he knew he’d lose this fight. Erik was looking out the window from Amanda’s hotel room, obviously waiting for them to finish arguing.
He was a strange guy, this Immortal. He’d simply said that he’d been told Nick needed a teacher because another Immortal was after his head, and that was it. Probing had proved as futile as trying to empty the ocean with a spoon.
It still didn’t explain who had shot him, Nick thought with a sigh. Erik said he hadn’t seen whoever it was, of course that needn’t be true. And then there was Amanda. She had come bouncing into his life again, as surprisingly she had the first time.
“How did you know where I was?” he suddenly asked as the thought occurred to him.
“Someone told me.” She took a step towards him, but he took a step backwards, keeping his distance. Being close to her seemed to only complicate things further.
“Nick..”
He turned away, refusing to listen to the plea in her voice.
“Someone’s after your head. Nick, you need a teacher..”
“No!” he cut in, “I won’t get involved in your Game!”
“You are involved! You will be involved as long as you keep your head!”
He looked at her angrily, but she refused to back down.
“And if someone is after yours, I won’t let him take it Nick, I won’t!”
They stared at each other and finally he lowered his head. He didn’t know why he bothered. Fighting with her was impossible. Even when he won the arguments, he lost. She’d turned his life upside down, causing him to leave his work as a cop, move to Paris and make a new life for himself.
“Damn it, Amanda,” he said, but it didn’t sound half as angry as he’d wanted it to be.
***** London *****
“I have her.” The words seemed to echo over and over again in Henry’s head as he sat by his daughter’s bedside. She was sleeping, sometimes she’d let out a small gasp in her sleep. Even asleep she felt pain.
No more. No more pain. Soon, very soon, he would find life. Lauren would laugh in her sleep again, like she used to when she was a baby. Other babies cried in their sleep, but Lauren laughed.
“I have her.” Jonas had kept his word. He’d found the Immortal, an Immortal unlike all the others. Soon, she would be here. Jonas would have Amanda and Nick, as agreed, but he refused to think of that.
Henry would have Lauren again. He’d take her to the beach and to all the oceans in the world, and she would laugh again.
No more pain.
***** Chapter Three *****
I'll close my eyes and sleep, sleep
To the sound of London Rain
~~~~~~~~
***** The Pacific *****
Numbness.
Somewhere inside his skull he was screaming, but all Frank could feel was numbness. His body ached as he slowly got up from his hospital bed, but the pain couldn’t penetrate the numbness. Dressing, he saw the worried looks of the doctor, but he had been discharged, so he ignored it.
Outside it was sunny. It was an insult. Rachel was dead. He’d seen the shot, seen her exhale one last time. A part of him almost wished he’d died there with her, or maybe he really had. He didn’t feel alive.
He’d been found floating by the Footloose, unconscious. No sign of Rachel’s body, or the killer. He’d been sited on a plane to London, and he would surely be caught. Or so the authorities said. Frank tried to care, tried to hate, but he felt only this strange numbness. It felt like a rock in his chest, clogging his breath.
He had to call Helen.
He didn’t want to. He wanted to sleep until this nightmare ended, sleep to the sound of waves rocking the Footloose gently. He wanted to have nightmares, and wake up knowing they were just that – nightmares.
He didn’t want to call Helen. He didn’t want to tell her he had failed. He’d killed Rachel. She would never forgive him. Never.
He'd never forgive himself. Rachel would never forgive him. He had failed. Rachel was dead.
He had to call Helen.
He didn’t think he’d remember the number, but his hand dialled it for him and a second later her familiar voice filled the receiver.
“Helen Blakemore.”
“Helen, it’s.. Frank.” He tried finding the words, any words, but they seemed so hollow now, so pointless.
“Frank!” She sounded delighted, but a bit sad too.
“I’m calling about Rachel,” he rushed out before she could ask.
“I’m so sorry Frank. How did you find out?” She sounded distressed now; her words didn’t make sense to him. He tried to say something, but his voice seemed lost.
“She died a year ago Frank, we have tried to contact you ever since..”
“Helen,” he breathed.
“I’m so, so sorry Frank,” she continued, but he couldn’t hear her voice anymore. He felt cold, and then hot, and then he couldn’t feel anything.
“Rachel?” he whispered, without knowing it, shaking his head furiously.
“Frank? Frank?”
For a split second he wondered if it was a sick joke, then if he’d seen a ghost this last year. No. Her skin had felt warm and creamy under his touch. She had been real. She had been alive. He couldn’t have imagined kissing her. No. No.
He remembered the smell of her hair, her scent. Closing his eyes, he could still remember it. Fresh, a hint of sea and that uniquely her. Smells were real. You couldn’t hallucinate smells. He’d read that somewhere. It was real.
She hadn’t been dead. She had been dead, and then alive again. She died, and..
She could still be alive!
Hanging up, he ran and ran until he almost fainted, but finally he reached the airport.
***** Sydney *****
“Jack?”
He looked up at Alex’s face, and knew something was wrong.
“It’s probably just a prank..” She exchanged looks with Mick, their faces made of stone. ”The New Zealand police are investigating Rachel’s murder. They’re asking us for family details and such.”
He jumped at the name, feeling the familiar touch of guilt, anger and sadness jump at him.
“Only they seem to think she died yesterday,” Mick continued, and Jack felt his own breath stop dead in his throat.
“And they seem to think Frank was the eyewitness.”
******* Place Unknown *******
Rachel woke slowly to the sound of rain. She’d been sedated much of the journey, ever since she had woken from the gunshot and hit Jonas squarely in his private parts. He’d seemed more amused than hurt, really.
As the daze slowly lifted from her brain, she could see they were in a car and that it was indeed raining outside. It hurt to see, so she closed her eyes again.
Immediately, she envisioned Frank’s face. She shouldn’t have come to him. She shouldn’t have.. But it had felt so good to rest in his arms, and to take comfort in him. A single safe haven in a storming sea.
Opening her eyes ago, she realised Jonas was beside her. Her ears were ringing with him so close.
“Good morning,” he said, not at all unfriendly. She was tempted to deck him, but her limbs had no strength.
“Where are we?”
“London.”
“Time to sleep again, my dear,” he said, and even as he said it, she felt her vision fade into blackness.
***** Enroute to London *****
He remembers..
A night, about a year ago. He was sleeping peacefully, dreamlessly, when suddenly, there she was.
“Rachel!” he’d called out, but she only stood at the foot of his bed, blood pouring from her abdomen. He screamed – or at least he thought he’d screamed. She only looked at him, her eyes filled with pain.
“Frank?” she whispered, “Is that.. Frank?”
“Rachel? Rachel!” She turned, as if to go, but he grabbed onto her hand, holding her back. He had the strangest feeling she was leaving forever.
“I have to go, Frank.” Her voice sounded clearer now, but she seemed to disappear slowly into air before his very eyes.
“No!” He held onto her for dear life, clinging to her hand, wishing he could take her pain, her blood. He couldn’t live without her, he couldn’t..
“Rachel!” he screamed again, “Rachel!”
He had woken screaming, and for a moment, he had thought she was still there, on his boat. But the feeling had left, and he had convinced himself it was only a nightmare.
He wondered how many other nightmares he’d forgotten.
***** London *****
“Tomorrow then,” Erik said as he walked out the door. Nick just nodded, closing the door as the Viking left. The room fell quiet. He could hear Amanda breathing behind him somewhere, and he heard the first drops of rain falling as it began cleaning the city of winter.
He felt strange, as if he was awake and dreaming at once. Everything had happened so fast, he’d been holding his breath all along. Now, he could finally exhale.
“Nick?” Her voice sounded so small suddenly, and he turned to look at her. She seemed unsure of herself, something he was unaccustomed too. She seemed small, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her.
He stared at her for a long time, savouring the sight. Tomorrow things could be very different. Tomorrow they could be at each other again. But that was tomorrow.
He took the two steps needed to close the distance between them. She stood completely still; as he leaned so close to her he felt her breath on his chin. She was breathing rapidly, her eyes closed.
“I’m still angry with you,” he whispered, before grasping her lips with his. Their hands clasped, as the kiss grew more intense. She kissed him with such fire all-rational thoughts escaped him. He wanted her. And by the way she was pushing herself against him, he had a fairly good idea she wanted him too. Her eyes remained closed as he kissed her again and again, but he wanted her to look at him. Wanted her to acknowledge it was he she was kissing breathless.
“Look at me,” he muttered against her ear, kissing it while at it. “Look at me.”
She let out a quick breath, but did open her eyes. They were dark with desire and as they locked with his, he saw something beyond that. A wild feeling of ownership came over him. She was his. His. And he pushed her against the wall, pinning her between him and it. He felt her every curve and began eagerly exploring them with his hands. She smiled into his neck, his hair tickling her.
His hands felt warm on her, but she wanted more. Much more. She ripped his jacket off and began tearing at his shirt. And suddenly he had locked her arms to her side and wouldn’t let her.
“Nick,” she protested half-heartedly, but as soon as she opened her mouth, he had covered it with his own. He was much more demanding now, kissing her with such fire she almost went weak in the knees. And yet it wasn’t enough. She struggled to get her hands free; to pull him even closer, but his grip was too strong.
Suddenly he paused, grabbing her shirt and tearing it off. She let out a quick breath as a rush of cold air swept over her, but his mouth was already warming her again as it descended on her breasts. She panted, her hands finally freed caressing his neck.
When he pulled back, he was breathing as hard as her. The rest of their clothes were thrown in a pile on the floor as skin touched skin.
“Amanda,” he gasped, pushing her up, letting her legs encircle his waist. She was freefalling and flying at once as she went higher and higher until it all exploded in a white light and Nick embraced her.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
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