Roman cut the engine on his motorcycle, taking off his sunglasses and stared at the massive house in front of him. The heavy thump of music blared and several bikini-clad women ran here and there on the elegantly landscaped lawn. Giggling. Shit. He didn’t have time for this. Deep down, he knew this would end one of two ways: either with his fist crunching against flesh or an argument. He wasn’t in the mood for either.
Apparently, Blaque didn’t take his guardianship seriously. But, did he ever? Their elite team consisted of one playful ass and one silent as a rock ass—and him—standard “I’ll-kick-your-ass.” He was the more responsible one, or so he thought. Both of his wingmen needed an attitude adjustment, but he didn’t have the time to babysit the Time Warriors regarding their work ethics. Blaque was easier to deal with while Cannon… “Loose” should be his middle name. He was the brooding kind. The “I-hate-everyone” sort.
What an excellent beginning to their mission.
Grabbing his keys, he got off his bike, stowing them in his leather jacket. He hooked his shades in the neckline of his T-shirt, his boots thumping heavily against the concrete as he made his way up to the house. Several women stopped to stare or a few were bold enough to caress his jacket covered arm with leer comments. He was impervious to their suggestions, having iron focus. Roman didn’t need them and he was damned sure they couldn’t handle him. Women were a luxury and he didn’t have time to play. Not now, anyway.
A party was going full throttle and he didn’t bother knocking as he entered, while his gaze searched for Blaque, barely touching over the scantily dressed men and women. Or the skin-orgy couples covered in an alcohol haze and hideous music.
Stomping through the house, he found Blaque out by the pool, smothered by at least seven women. They were smearing chocolate and whipped cream on his chest, legs, and arms, then licking it off.
He rolled his eyes. Anger burned through his chest. The fate of the humans rested on three warriors and two of them couldn’t be trusted.
He stood stoic as Blaque looked up. “Ladies,” he said softly. “Meet Roman.”
There was a shift of attention, all eyes roaming over him, but he didn’t care. A couple of hands caressed his thighs, yet he held Blaque’s gaze. “Time visited. We move now.” His message was slightly cryptic, his tone arctic.
Visibly, Blaque tensed, his face losing all playfulness, but he covered with a grin. “Time’s up, pets.” He winked at Roman. “I have to go.” Pushing their hands away, he ignored their whining and sighs, standing to face the other Time protector. “Now, now. We can all play another day. Find another friend and enjoy the party.” In a blink, the women were dismissed, and he faced the Time Warrior. Other than a small wisp of his black swimsuit, he stood mostly naked and muscled, his blond hair brushing his shoulders. “What’s up?”
Roman lifted a brow. “Did you not understand my words ten seconds ago? The mission is ON. We need to gather the daughters and take them home. Now.”
Blaque winced, looking away, his unease obvious.
Irritation nettled Roman, and he asked, “What is it?”
The other guy met his gaze again. “Here’s the thing,” he began, hesitating. “Avyn… disappeared.”
That was the last thing Roman expected to hear, but not surprising considering Blaque. Fury unloaded in his gut. All three Time Warriors had one charge and one goal. How could he mess this up? Something so fucking simple? “Did you look for her?”
Blaque inclined his head. “Of course, but her host family died.”
He rounded on him, ready to land his fist in his face. “How long ago was this? Why didn’t you call me? Did you ever think to consider Draco could have her? I mean, if he brings the daughters together, he could force them to do his bidding and we’re all screwed.” He leaned at the waist, the action bringing him nose to nose. “The planets will align soon.” Then, he straightened. He didn’t have time for this. How could they not take this seriously?
Raising his chin, Blaque appeared offended. “I know, okay? I get it. I had a few things to take care of, and then I was going to—”
He swiped the guy’s shoulder with his gloved hand, holding up a dollop of whipped cream mixed with chocolate on his index finger. “Yes, the evidence of your busy life is all over you.”
“Hell, Roman,” Blaque began.
“Just get ready,” he gritted out. “We still have to track down Cannon.”
Blaque grimaced. “No chance you can do that dance by yourself? I’m not in the mood for his bullshit.”
Shaking his head, Roman sneered. Blaque and Cannon didn’t get along, but he didn’t have time for their drama. “No, so get over it. We have a job to do. I’ll be waiting out front.” He spun around, trekking back the way he came, grumbling under his breath. From the time it took him to reach his motorcycle, he found Blaque leaned up against his own bike, cleaned up and fully dressed.
That didn’t surprise him.
Time Warriors were gifted with stopping time. It was one of the perks bestowed to them by Father Time, though that was all. They couldn’t change anything that had already happened.
Roman didn’t even bother commenting on the quickness of Blaque’s arrival, climbing on his own bike. There wouldn’t be any discussion—just the way he liked it—some open road and blessed silence. They would go, pick up the first Time daughter, and then send her home.
Copyright © 2020 Beth Mikell
All rights reserved.
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