I can't believe he kissed me.
And worse, that I kissed him back.
Why the hell did I kiss him back? What was that? That's not me.
Maybe I've just been single for far too long, because this is just insane. He's a stranger. I don't know him. For all I know, Garrick might be telling the truth. Maybe Marcus really is a criminal wanted for murder. And...and...Dr. Madakwe knew about this.
God. I kissed a murderer.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel as the traffic light turned red. I slowly pressed the brake, Dr.Madakwe's car coming to a quiet stop.
I turned my head toward Marcus.
He was gripping the edges of his seat, his eyes squeezed shut like he was trying very hard not to look at anything around him.
Right. I had forgotten how overwhelming this must be for him. Even when we were still in the outskirts of St.Albans, it was still modern by his standards. Not to mention the cars, then the noise.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
Marcus leaned his head back against the headrest, breathing slowly through his nose.
"I am fine," he said, after a moment. "Allow me to rest my eyes. My head aches from...everything."
My jaw tightened slightly.
I reached into my bag and rummaged around until I found the small bottle of ibuprofen I always carried. Years of night shifts and lack of sleep had made migraines a regular companion.
"Here," I said, holding one out to him.
Marcus opened one eye and looked down at the small white tablet with clear suspicion.
"What is this?"
"It's medicine," I said, placing it in his hand. "You swallow it. I've got water if you need to wash it down. It should help with the headache."
He studied the pill for another second.
"How do I know this will not kill me?"
"You don't," I replied dryly, turning my attention back to the road as the light turned green and the car rolled forward again.
"You can take it," I added, "or keep suffering. Your choice."
He took it, of course, swallowing the tablet without so much as a sip of water. He must've been made of sturdier stuff, because despite my age, I still needed water to get a pill like that down. And I'm a nurse.
"You are angry," he said as I merged onto the highway leading to London.
"No, I am not," I replied, steering the car into the fast lane.
Marcus tipped his head back again, eyes closing, his brows furrowing like he was trying very hard not to get sick.
Oh god, please don't get sick.
For one thing, this is not my car. And for another, it would cost a fortune to have this cleaned. Fortune that, frankly, I do not have.
"You are," he insisted through clenched teeth. "I know women. I can sense these things. I simply do not understand why you would be angry. Was it because of the kiss?"
I kept my eyes fixed on the road and chose to say nothing.
"In any case," he continued after a moment, his voice quieter now, "I apologize. I did not ask if you belonged to another, nor did I ask if such a thing was the custom."
"Apology accepted," I muttered. "And no, I do not belong to anyone."
"Your past love seemed to believe otherwise."
I stayed silent at that, unsure what to say, when my phone suddenly rang. The generic ringtone shattered the quiet inside the car.
Marcus's eyes flew open. He froze. "What sorcery is that?"
"Sorry," I murmured, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as I tapped the speaker button.
"Girl, what the fuck?" Pippa's voice blasted through the car.
Marcus's brows drew together as he stared at the phone like it might explode at any moment. But I ignored him for the moment, keeping my eyes on the road.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Are you for real?"
"What, Pippa?"
"Garrick stopped by our flat a few minutes ago," she said, lowering her voice as if he might still be there, listening. I felt my stomach drop. "He said you're harboring a fugitive. Then right after he left, my dad called, asking me to drop everything and come over because you'd be there...that there's something he wants to talk to us about?"
My eyes flicked to Marcus before returning to the road. We were almost there.
"Here's the thing," I said, exhaling slowly, "It's a long story. But I'm heading to your dad's place to tell you everything."
"What does the great Aloysius Cheung have to do with this?"
I chewed on my bottom lip, glancing at a sick-looking Marcus, flicking on my signal and taking the exit off the highway.
"Let's just say..." I murmured, "it has something to do with the work you're doing."
She was silent for a few seconds.
"Please," I said. "Just meet me there. I'll explain everything, I swear. And if Garrick follows you, lose him."
"Fine," she bit out.
I swallowed, unable to keep the nerves out of my voice.
"And bring the sword," I added, "if you can."
The moment the call ended, my eyes drifted to Marcus. They were still shut tight.
I couldn't blame him. He had been taking everything remarkably well so far. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it must feel like, to wake up in a strange world.
"She has my sword," he breathed as I guided the car gently through the roundabout, just in case he couldn't hold it in any longer and needed to hurl.
"She was the one who found it," I said. "She's my flatmate—" I caught myself, suddenly remembering that he wouldn't understand. "Someone I share a home with."
"Alright," he said after a moment. "Is our journey almost over?"
"We're close," I said, navigating through the crowded streets. It was mid-afternoon, and Pippa's dad lived near the museum, which meant parking was nearly impossible.
Not to mention the tourists.
"Are you feeling alright?" I asked. "Do you need—"
"I will be fine once I can climb out of this strange...contraption," he muttered. "I would much prefer traveling on foot, had I known it would be this uncomfortable."
"Sadly, we don't have the time," I murmured, spotting an empty parking space directly in front of Dr.Cheung's flat. "And I highly doubt you'd feel comfortable seeing all the...metal contraptions either."
"You are right in that regard," he bit out.
I pulled into the empty parking space before the words had fully left his mouth, easing the car into a stop. The engine hummed for a moment before I turned the key and the world settled into the sudden quiet.
"We're here," I said softly.
Marcus didn't move at first.
Then, slowly, he pried his eyes open.
The moment he did, his entire body went still.
The street outside was busy with people passing by. Cars crawling through the narrow road. Tourists drifting toward the museum with cameras slung around their necks. Glass storefronts reflected the afternoon sun. A red bus rumbled past at the end of the street.
His gaze darted from one thing to another, widening with every passing seconds. From the buildings, to the cars, to the people. His breathing growing uneven.
Oh no.
His hand tightened against his seat as if he was bracing for something, shoulders drawing rigid as the noise of the street seeped into the car.
"Marcus—"
His head turned sharply toward a passing motorbike, the roar of the engine making him flinch. His chest rose faster now, breaths turning shallow. His eyes beginning to dart in a way that told me he was seconds away from completely unraveling.
I reached over and placed my hand over his.
His skin was cold.
"Hey," I said gently. "Marcus."
He looked at our hands first, like he didn't understand what I was doing.
"Close your eyes," I said softly. "Trust me."
Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes slid shut again.
"Good," I murmured. "Now breathe. Slowly."
HIs chest rose sharply.
"In...and out," I said, matching my own breathing to the rhythm. "Just like that."
Outside, another car passed. Someone laughed on the sidewalk. A door slammed somewhere down the street.
Marcus's breathing steadied, just a little.
"The man we're about to see," I continued quietly, "he might be able to help you."
Marcus remained silent.
"He might even be able to send you back," I added. "Back to your own time. Your own life."
For a moment, the only sound in the car was the faint ticking of the cooling engine.
Then Marcus opened his eyes.
Slowly, he turned his head toward me.
My breath hitched.
Because for the first time he had woken up in this strange world, there was no confusion in his expression. Not awe, not even disbelief. No, only something darker.
Something haunted.
It was like the thought of going home frighten him more than the idea of staying.