Kiss Across Chaos (Kiss Across Time #10) - Tracy Cooper-Posey Page 0,31

pathway to the old house. The house had a thatched roof, she realized distantly as they approached it, which imparted a sense of the surreal, and hammered home even deeper the differences between them.

“I just want to go back to Washington,” she told Aran. “I don’t want to stop off anywhere, not even for coffee. I’ve got work to do.”

“I said I would get you back there so you don’t miss a minute,” Aran said and opened the door for her. His black-eyed gaze was steady. Confident.

“You can’t just use time like this!” she protested, moving through. Now she had been outside, she could smell old ashes, the ghosts of winter fires, coming from the black stove, faint, but distinct.

“Why not?” Aran said, his tone reasonable. He moved over to the hearth and reached in behind the firewood and felt around.

She turned to face him. “It’s dangerous!”

“You think I don’t know that?” His jaw shifted and an emotion flickered in his eyes and was gone too fast for her to guess what it was. He straightened, withdrawing a small suede bag that jingled as he put it in his pocket. “I watched my mother take a bullet in the gut, fired by a six-year-old war veteran. I saw…” And he halted and closed his mouth abruptly. “I’ve seen way too much to be casual about jumping,” he said instead.

Jesse wanted to ask him what he had been about to say, but what he’d said instead was too outrageous to go unchallenged. “Not casual?” she said, her breath snatching away. “You use time, Aran. I don’t know how, but I’ve seen enough—hell, you brought me here to demonstrate just that. You use it, manipulate it. You don’t respect it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said softly. “I respect it as much as anyone in my family. More, even. I’ve been places they wouldn’t dare go. But that’s where I’m different from them. I respect time, but I refuse to let it intimidate me.”

“That’s even worse! You expose yourself to high risk every time you jump, and I know something about that. I know what it’s like to head into battle time after time. The more times you do it and get to breathe afterwards, the more you let down your guard. You get casual.”

Aran crossed his arms. His eyes were narrowed but he wasn’t angry. “How did you get around that?” he asked, his tone one of curiosity. “How did you stay ready every time?”

“That’s beside the point—”

“You’re the one who drew the parallel between battles and jumping, so answer the question. I’m trying to make a point. How did you keep your edge sharp?”

She pointed at him. “Just that. It’s an edge. You keep it honed.” She pushed her hands through her hair. “Training. Preparation. Ritual.” She dropped her hands. “Remembering the fallen,” she added softly.

Aran nodded. “And how would you prepare your unit for time travel?”

She tried to think it through. “I guess…there really isn’t a training program, is there?”

“Except jumping itself,” Aran added. “And listening to those who also jump.”

“But you’re never there to listen to them.”

He scowled. “I had over twenty years of it, growing up. I could repeat all their adventures to you verbatim.” He gripped her elbow and drew her toward him, which made her body thrum. “You really think I’d put you at risk?” he added, his voice low.

Her middle jumped. As he put his arm around her back, she scrambled to find something to say in response.

“I wouldn’t risk anyone,” he added. “Not even me.”

The let down was almost physical. She dropped her gaze as time took them, glad of the black nothingness that dropped over them, halting all her thoughts.

Chapter Eight

It took a moment to regather her thoughts, and sound was the first thing to register, but the stench of something unspeakable registered even before she identified the clop of horses, somewhere behind her.

Jesse wrinkled her nose. “My god, what is that?”

Aran stepped away from her. “A dog died in this alley a few days ago. It keeps people away. That’s why I used it.”

Not being squashed up against him let her hear the ambient sounds clearly. But she forgot to listen to the charming sound of horse hooves and the jingle of harnesses, as she took in Aran’s appearance

He wore…well, it was a suit, but not any suit she’d ever seen on a man except in the movies. “Victorian?” she guessed.

Aran looked down at himself. “Close,” he said as he lifted the