Hearts in the Sand: A Legacy Prequel

  Hearts in the Sand

  A Legacy Prequel

  Allyson Lindt

  This book is a work of fiction.

  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Allyson Lindt

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 9781949986433

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Acelette Press

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Hearts in the Sand (Legacy)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  For my eternal dragon

  Chapter One

  Even the gods weren’t meant to fight one war after another, in a string of unending battles, for eternity.

  Gwydion watched the water run over his hands. It wouldn’t rinse away blood that wasn’t there. He couldn’t erase the centuries of memories. Of death. Of the soldiers who had died on his operating table.

  Hide hands were red from the heat and scrubbing. Unlike the men he treated who lived out their final hours attached to a morphine drip, Gwydion would heal the instant he shut off the water.

  Immortality wasn’t always the gift people expected. While he was never grateful for war, he was glad this one had a much lower mortality rate than most.

  He turned off the faucet. He should call it a night. The second shift surgeons were in, and he needed to cleanse his mind. As much as that was an option.

  He headed toward the exit of the hospital tent he worked in.

  His blood ran hot and cold at the same time—a woman’s voice, irritated but familiar. A voice he hadn’t heard in nearly half a century.

  The woman at the front desk bed wore the same BDU’s that everyone on base wore. Captain bars and a black cross graced her collar, and a purple band circled her arm—she was clergy.

  “I was told an evening appointment wouldn’t be a problem.” The thread of tension running through her voice betrayed her otherwise calm tone.

  The flustered private at the front desk flipped through a stack of papers that had nothing to do with appointments. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have a record of that, and we don’t do evening physicals.”

  “Who did you make the appointment with?” Gwydion tucked away his reaction. Maybe it wasn’t her. He was tired. It was late.

  She turned, and Gwydion’s heart paused when he saw her face. He should have expected it. He’d know it was her the instant he heard her. But seeing the confirmation.

  Kirby. He’d found her.

  The irritation in her face faded to a light smile. Either way, she was stunning. But no recognition flashed in her clear blue eyes. “A Private Johnston. He told me they could make an exception for my schedule.”

  He’d make an exception for her schedule. He’d be happy to pull her into an exam room right now and give her a full-body whatever she wanted.

  Gwydion mentally winced at the tacky proposal. He’d loved her across several lifetimes, but she didn’t know that yet.

  As far as she knew, this was her only reality. At least until her memory came back.

  “Private, put Captain...” He paused for her last name.

  “Pastor Kirby is fine. Rank only matters in the appropriate situations.” Her smile grew.

  “Pastor Kirby on the schedule with Dr. Gregory first thing tomorrow morning. I’m sorry,” he said to her. “We don’t do evening physicals.”

  Her sigh was exaggerated, and it took a great deal of willpower to not watch her chest rise and fall. BDU’s had never looked sexier. “All right. I guess I’ll have to play by the rules. I just wish someone had explained that to me the first time around. Thank you, Captain...”

  “Gibbons. But Gwydion is fine.” He’d love to shrug off rank the way she had, but some things were ingrained in him.

  “Gideon? How biblical.” She never quite got his name right when they were re-introduced.

  “Real close. Put a faint W after the G. And it’s Welsh.”

  She furrowed her brow, and mouthed the name a few times.

  He did love watching her lips move. And he wasn’t going to stare. Instead, he turned to the private, who watched them silently. “Is she all set?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fantastic. He should send Kirby on her way, and head to his cot. “Can I walk you back to your chapel?” The question came out without his permission. He wasn’t interested in taking it back. He’d seen the tent several times, but never gone in. Like most gods, he preferred not to pay tribute to other deities.

  “That does seem safest.” Her smile had turned almost playful.

  How did she undo him every single time they met? The desire that pulsed through his veins was hotter than the sand outside on a scorching day.

  She fell into step beside him, and they strolled into the warm night. She was almost his height, and her blond hair was just long enough to pull into a ponytail at the base of her neck.

  He couldn’t keep from glancing at her every few seconds. It was really her. Moving with the grace of a panther. Looking up at him with a gaze that stole his breath.

  “You haven’t stopped staring at me since we met,” she said. “Do I have spinach in my teeth?”

  “You’ve got stunning blue eyes.” It was the first response that came to mind. “Like the sunlight hitting a frozen lake on a winter morning.”

  Pink dotted her cheeks. “I bet you say that to all the pastors you walk home at night.”

  “I don’t. It’s been decades since I met a woman as beautiful as you.” Which was a half-truth. The last time it had been her, in a previous incarnation. No one ever caught his eye the way Kirby did.

  “It’s a good line, but I’m not that easy.”

  “It’s not a line, and I’d never dare to assume.”

  They strolled in silence for a few minutes. Shouts echoed in the background, mingling with the roar of engines. Sand kicked up around their feet. Now that the sun was down, the heat wasn’t so stifling, but it was still too much for him. Nights like these, he missed the weather of Wales.

  “Why clergy?” Gwydion asked. He’d tell her anything she wanted to know, but he had to be careful with the way he framed it. He didn’t want to lie to her, but some things wouldn’t make much sense until she got her memory back. In the meantime, he wanted to learn where she’d been in this life.

  Like most of the troops deployed to Iraq and Kuwait, she looked to be in her twenties. The few times he’d seen her start to become a Valkyrie, she’d been about this age. Given he was almost two-thousand—and the youngest of the men who had loved her in past lives—that made him quite the cradle robber.

  She let out a long breath. “It’s complicated? Or rather, it’s hard to explain without sounding wacko.”

  “No judgment from me.”

  Her laugh was hesitant, but still an amazing sound. “My father is a pastor. Unitarian. The whole worship thing ne
ver really spoke to me. I was JROTC in high school, majored in anthropology in college, and when it looked like we were heading to war... You don’t want to hear my life story.”

  “I don’t mind. I’d bet you listen to people all day every day. Let me return the favor.”

  She gave a tiny shake of her head. “War is its own religion. Suddenly I understood where Dad’s faith came from, and I’d found my own. Warriors riding into battle on metal steads. Defending the things they love. The things they believe in. It called to me. Like I said, it sounds wacko if you can’t feel it for yourself.”

  “No it doesn’t. I get it.” And he wouldn’t expect any less from a Valkyrie. “What’s your least favorite part of the job? Besides the celibacy.” He didn’t know if her current faith required it, but this was an easy way to find out. Being this close to her after too much time, walking near enough their arms brushed, sang to his senses.

  “Oh, I’m not celibate.” Her chuckle was lighter this time. More carefree. “I love fucking way too much to serve a god who doesn’t approve of it.”

  He couldn’t fight his grin. “That’s a hard stance to argue.”

  “You’d be surprised how many people see the cross on my collar and try to do exactly that. But to answer your question, the hardest part is probably...” Another long sigh. “Seeing the people this breaks. Soldiers who become lost souls. Wandering. Looking for peace they’ll never find.”

  He knew that feeling. She might as well be describing him.

  “If it was in my power, I’d given them their own kind of rites. Not a prayer to see them to the afterlife, but one that carried them through the rest of this one. A blessing for them to have more.”

  The sentiment and the idea itself hit hard, squeezing his chest. “I should have stuck to the tangent about sex.”

  “It’s never too late to go back.”

  Her words struck another dark chord inside. With Kirby, it was always too late to go back. There was only forward, to try to save her the next time. “I’d hate to force it. Unless that’s your thing.”

  “Hmm...” She twisted her face into exaggerated contemplation. “I’ve been known to kneel in the right circumstance, but I’ve also required the same.”

  Her innuendo was enough to break down the dam struggling to contain his memories. The past flooded in, complete with visuals and every other sensation. Her lips wrapped around his cock while she looked up at him with wide, hungry eyes. Him in front of her, worshipping her pussy with his tongue.

  Scents. Sounds. Sensations. It was all there. Here they were talking about faith and fury, and he was fantasizing about fellatio.

  “I wouldn’t mind bearing witness to either,” he said.

  She licked her lips. “Are you one of those people with deep-seated religious fantasies? Fucking the priest on the altar kind of thing?”

  “No. Definitely not. These are all right near the surface.” If they were throwing vagueness out the window, in favor of being direct, he was taking advantage of it.

  She laughed lightly, and the music drove straight to his cock. She turned to face him. “I offer services to any faith, including hearing confessions, if you’re feeling the need to unburden your soul.”

  They were paused outside the tent designated as the chapel, near the back side where here room would be located.

  A reply hovered on the tip of his tongue, flavored with need. The need to taste her again. To feel every inch of her body. To inhale her familiar scent, and tell her everything he wanted to do to her.

  He stepped closer, and her breath caught. She watched him with wide eyes, but it was anticipation rather than fear that stared back. He dipped his head to hover his mouth near her ear. “Good night, Pastor Kirby.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Captain Gibbons.” Disappointment lingered in her words.

  He knew the feeling. Why did he do that? Why hadn’t he taken advantage of the moment?

  She gave him one more glance and disappeared inside.

  Because the pull to her was stronger than it had ever been. If he gave in now, he wouldn’t want to let her go. And until she knew more about herself and him, his affection might come off more as obsession.

  Whom was he kidding? It was completely obsession. Strong enough it had lasted for centuries and so potent that if she’d nudged him one more time, rather than walking away, he wouldn’t be able to turn her down.

  Chapter Two

  Kirby didn’t know what it was about the man outside her tent, but in the short time since she’d met him, her pulse hadn’t stopped screaming, and her heart kept racing. She unlaced her boots and set them in their spot.

  She’d never seen the man with the reddish blond hair and piercing hazel green eyes before. But it felt like she’d known Gwydion for a lifetime. Or longer. If she closed her eyes, she swore she could picture exactly where to touch to make him groan. Exactly how it felt to have his hands roam her skin.

  She unbuttoned her BDU top, and shrugged out of it, leaving her in just a black tank top. The cooler evening air rushed in, kissing the moisture from her skin, but not soothing the heat that rushed through her veins.

  He was interested. He didn’t make any secret of that.

  She shouldn’t even be considering hooking up with him. Their conversation was somber, rather than arousing. And for discretion’s sake, she needed to be careful whom she slept with.

  Gwydion though... She’d never seen sex as dirty or sinful, but right now her body screamed at her to let him do anything and everything filthy to her that he could imagine.

  There was one guaranteed way to cure the feeling.

  She tugged her tent open again, to find him loitering just a few feet away.

  “Do you want to come in for a glass of wine?” she asked. “I know, it’s a dry country, but this is communion wine, and I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t drink.” Yet, he was still here. So that wasn’t a brush-off.

  She stepped aside enough to hold the tent open wider. What was she doing? She had zero desire to stop, whatever it was. She needed him here. Fuck that. She just needed him. He obliterated her reason until the only thing she could focus on was him. How irrational was that? She didn’t care. “Coffee then? Cookies? Sex?”

  “All right.” He stepped inside.

  She zipped the flap shut behind him. “To which one?”

  “All of the above. But not in that order.” The gravel in his voice made her breath catch

  She whirled to find him watching her with that same heated gaze he’d traced over her since they met. “Where would you like to start?”

  In response, he knotted his fingers in her hair, under her ponytail, and crushed his mouth to hers. She swore lightning spilled between them, dancing on her skin and sparking in her thoughts. She groaned against his lips. He deepened the kiss, driving his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers.

  The entire world faded into the background until there was nothing but him. His touch. The intoxicating sound of his groans.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, and fuck him right here and now.

  Her thoughts, her body’s response, none of it made sense. She shouldn’t be throwing caution to the wind because a smooth-talking doctor made her panties damp.

  She wasn’t in the mood to listen to reason. She felt frantic and desperate and unhinged.

  The way he dragged his mouth along her jaw, to suck on her neck, implied she wasn’t the only one.

  Kirby needed to be closer. She pushed his shirt up.

  He broke away from her long to tug his top off, then scraped his teeth along her shoulder. He bit the strap of her tank top and dragged it down to expose more skin.

  She licked up his chest. He tasted faintly like sand and sweat and desperation. Or that last one was her.

  He barely had her pants unzipped before he shoved them to the ground.

  She undid his belt and worked him free. He bucked aga
inst her hand when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He was as hard as she was wet. She draped her arms around his neck.

  “You should know,” he murmured against her lips, “I don’t make a habit of this.”

  “So I should feel special?”

  He glided his hands down her back, to cup her panty-clad ass. “You’re better than special. You’re exceptionally extraordinary.”

  It was a cheesy line. But the sincerity in his throaty answer stole any witty response she had. “Okay.”

  He turned them both so her back was to the bed. He lifted her enough to steal her balance, but managed to gracefully lower her onto the mattress, leaving her legs hanging over the edge.

  Gwydion knelt at her feet.

  Anticipation jammed her heart in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to take the kneeling thing so literally. Not that was complaining.

  Especially when he kissed the inside of her knee. The feather-light brush of his lips skittered over her entire body. He nibbled up the inside of her thigh. There was just enough of a five-o-clock shadow on his chin to add a delicious burn. He scraped his teeth over her panties, the licked along the cotton covering her mound.

  The build-up was enough to make her squirm. With him so close to the core of her need, so attentive, but still so far away.

  He nibbled, nudged, and teased through the thin cotton covering her mound for several minutes.

  She grabbed fistfuls of her blanket, and her hips thrust in time to his licks. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together to mute the pulse, but that wasn’t happening with him between her legs.

  He hooked his fingers in the elastic of her underwear and dragged it off.

  The warm evening air against her damp skin was another layer of sensation, adding to a build toward overload.

  When he slid his touch along her slit, she groaned in anticipation. He wrapped one finger on either side of her clit, the licked across the head.

  Sweet mother of all that’s holy. She raised her ass off the bed to get closer.

  He licked and sucked and squeezed.

  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out. Tent walls weren’t exactly known for their ability to mute sound. Pleasure built in her skull, swelling until it forced out everything else. Lightheadedness swam in, and a rainbow of sparkles danced behind her eyelids. She came hard, pressing into his mouth.