The Surviving Trace (Surviving Time, #1)

by Calia Read

“Does either of you care to explain what you are arguin’ about?” “No,” Étienne says at the same time I say, “Yes.” Livingston grins wickedly. I point at Étienne. “I need to talk to this douchebag, but he won’t listen.” Livingston’s brows raise. “I’m not familiar with the term douchebag, but it doesn’t sound nice.” He turns to Étienne. “Does it, brother?”

“This is what women wear.” “No, this is going to be what kills me!”

“I can promise you that the last thing I want to do is create a scene. But if that’s what I have to do to get your damn attention, then so be it.” He narrows his eyes. “Is that why you were late? I told you to be ready at twelve sharp.” The damn hat is in my way. I take it off and bat my eyelashes at him. “I was gettin’ ready,” I say in my best Southern accent. “Wanted to look presentable.” “Liar,” Étienne growls. “I would never lie to you, husband.” Bleh. That word tastes like bile. Étienne’s eyes flare. “Do not test me, Serene.” I step forward until my breasts brush against his chest. He tenses up. “Likewise, Étienne.”

“I was gonna see if you needed help, but it’s clear you don’t.” My head snaps up, and I see Étienne leaning against the open doorway. His hands are tucked into his pockets. He looks like a man of leisure, but his eyes are narrowed on Johnathan and his body is rigid. He looks seconds away from pouncing on Johnathan and beating the shit out of him. “How long have you been there?” “Long enough to watch you deliver a blow that, as a man, made me cringe.”

“Do you have an occupation in your time?” “Yes, I do.” His brows rise in surprise. “And it would be?” “I’m a porn star by day and moonlight as a stripper on the weekends,” I say without missing a beat. While Étienne struggles to form a coherent sentence, I pretend to inspect my cuticles. After a few seconds, I gaze at him innocently. “You do know what a stripper is, right?” He closes his mouth and sits up straight. A red flush starting from his neck spreads up to his jawline. “Of course I do.” “I’m sure you’re wondering about the whole porn star job title. That’s where you have sex on camera. It’s a very lucrative business,” I explain. Étienne says nothing, and it takes everything in my power not to break my stoic facade. “Do you…” He swallows. “Is that truly your occupation?” I throw my hands up and laugh. “Of course not. But I have to say, it was amazing seeing the look on your face.”

“Did your gut instinct also tell you to spend Étienne’s money on parties you have no business hostin’?” “No. But my gut instinct is telling me that I should knee you in the balls.” “I’m afraid she’s tellin’ the truth,” Étienne pipes in. “I’ve seen firsthand that she’ll make good on her word.”

“You can’t control me and tell me what to do.” “I can try.” “And you’ll fail. If I needed controlling, I would’ve come with a remote and an instruction manual.” Closing his eyes, Étienne pinched the bridge of his nose. “My God. You are insufferable.”

“What happens if I leave and the Old Serene doesn’t come back?” “I don’t know.” Étienne’s gaze never leaves my face. “If it was up to me, I’d never find out.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I whisper. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Because suddenly I’m not so sure I want you to leave my world.”

“Étienne, tell me what you want.” “I don’t want you to leave.”

He lifts his head, eyes blazing. “You belong to me.” His words ignite a small sense of fury in me. He thinks I belong to him, but can the same be said for him? Without a second thought, I switch our positions until I’m straddling him. Étienne blinks rapidly and stares at me with shock. My knees are tightly pressed against his chest as I stare down at him. His dick lays hard and wet against my leg. Étienne’s hands latch onto my hips as if he’s getting ready to lift me back onto his dick, but I grab his hands and press them back against the bed. He could push me off him with a simple flick of his wrist, but he doesn’t. I think he’s waiting to see how far this goes. If I’m perfectly honest with myself, so am I. Never have I been driven by need and blinded by lust like this. It’s making me do things I’ve never done before. Slowly, my fingers make an unhurried walk down his chest. “Will you ever be mine?” I ask, watching as his rigid abs become taut beneath his skin. When he doesn’t reply, I wrap my hand around his dick. I watch him as I rise to my knees and ever so slowly rub him against my slit. I’m trying to tempt him, but I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips. “Will I ever have the chance to own your heart and body?” Étienne bites back a curse. “You are gonna kill me, Serene.” His chest heaves as he pants. When the wait becomes too much for him, he makes a grab for my hips. Holding his hands close to my breasts, I look down at him. “Answer me.” His eyes open into thin ...

the cuffs of his white dress shirt. “I’m simply curious. When I arrived this mornin’, I heard two of the maids talkin’ about how they overheard loud noises coming from your room, Étienne.” Étienne, who’s in the middle of taking a sip of his coffee, coughs loudly while I fight the urge to slide under the table where I can privately die of mortification.

Love is hoarse cries. It’s anger. It’s sadness. It’s happiness and laughter. It’s everything wrapped into one. Love is one of the heaviest of words to exist. It’s a miracle anyone survives it. It’ll be a wonder if I survive it.

“If you were given the choice to stay here or go back, what would you choose?” he asks. “Don’t make me choose,” I plead. “I need to know.” I turn in his embrace and face him. “Why?” His hands curl tightly around my shoulders. “Because every day you stay here, the further I fall for you.” With my eyes on his and my heart pounding, I say, “I’d stay here.”

“Right now you don’t have to share me. Right now, I’m yours.” Étienne doesn’t smile back. He cradles my face. “It’s not enough for me, Serene. I want you to stay. Forever.”

“Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward.” ―Søren Kierkegaard

My mom once told me to find a man who gazes at me as though I’m the sun, moon, and stars. But what she failed to tell me was how to move on from a love that spans decades.

I BELIEVE THERE are many ways to lose your mind. But nothing consistently drives people to the brink of madness like love.

That’s the things about words. Once they slip from your lips, you can never get them back.

I more than loved her. She’s a religion, and I’m a believer. For the rest of my life, I’ll worship every single part of her.

“No matter what happens, I am yours,” I whisper fiercely. “And you are always mine. Nothing can change that.”

“No matter what happens tomorrow, I love you forever,” I say. Étienne squeezes my hand and kisses the crown of my head. “I know. Nothin’ changes between us. You’re my surviving trace.”