Time Raiders: The Whisper (7 page)

She rolled off the altar, grabbed the medallion and pressed her hand to the bracelet on her wrist. “Do you trust me?” she cried out to Gunnar.

“Of course,” he answered.

“Then hold me. Hold me like we’ll never be parted again.”

Gunnar stared at her as though she’d grown horns.

Her unrelenting gaze captured his. “Trust me.” Marisol held her arms open to him.

Letting go of the control he valued most, he fell into her arms and hugged her to him. He braced himself for a knife or spear in his back and prayed to the sun god that Marisol would be spared.

Footsteps pounded up the steps behind him, shouts grew from the crowd, rising into a roaring crescendo. The light from a weak sun burst into a radiant glow so brilliant he closed his eyes to avoid blinding. The roaring in his ears grew louder, far stronger than the shouts of an enraged crowd.

He felt as if he were being hurtled through the universe, his body spinning out of control. But no matter what happened, he refused to let go of Marisol.

After what seemed an eternity, they landed with a thump on a cold hard floor. Gunnar took the brunt of the fall, cushioning Marisol with his body, his head banging sharply, making him dizzy.

He edged his eyes open, one at a time, the light more subdued, the noise gone, an ache spreading from the point of impact on his skull all the way around to his forehead.

All the pain could be ignored when he saw Marisol staring down into his eyes, her own awash with worry. “Are you all right?” She rolled to the side, her hands skimming over his body. “They didn’t stab you? You weren’t injured in the landing?”

“I am fine.” He blinked to keep the gray fog of darkness from creeping in around him, struggling to stay alert as he stared up at strange walls, the furnishings in the room nothing like he’d ever seen. “Where are we?”

An older woman with soft brown hair and emerald-green eyes similar to Marisol’s smiled down at him. “Welcome to the twenty-first century.”

The room spun in circles and Gunnar slid into the darkness.

After drawing the images she’d absorbed from Imac’s memories, Marisol dressed in comfortable jeans and a T-shirt and sat beside Gunnar where he lay on the leather couch in Athena’s office.

The medic had been in to check for a concussion and recommended a trip to the hospital if he didn’t come out of it soon. It had taken four men to lift and carry the big Norseman to the couch where he lay sleeping like a baby.

“Wake up, Gunnar,” Marisol whispered, rubbing his hand with hers. For a man she’d just met, she couldn’t deny how attracted she was to him. More than just a physical attraction. Just as with Imac and Pachacuti, Marisol knew this man was her mate.

Her heart alternated between skipping beats and racing every time Gunnar twitched. She hadn’t had time to ask him if he wanted to come with her on her time journey. Would he be angry? Would he insist on returning to the fifteenth century? If he did, would he want her to go with him?

Marisol twisted all the options around. When it came right down to it, she wanted to be with Gunnar. This century, the fifteenth, it didn’t matter. She wanted time to get to know him and for him to do the same. Never in her life had she felt this strongly about a man. Never had she been willing to commit to one…until now.

She had to admit a lot had to do with what had happened when they’d made love. The experience had been more than just sex, binding them with a connection that could not be ignored.

At least on her part.

Marisol blew out a long sigh. She was firm in her thoughts about Gunnar, but she had no clue as to his.

“Did you know your eyes are greener when you frown?” Gunnar reached out and cupped the back of her neck in his large palm, drawing her down to where her lips were a breath away from his.

“Glad you’re back among the living.” She kissed him, her lips brushing his lightly.

Gunnar dragged her closer, crushing her to him in a mind-blowing caress that could have gone even further if the door to Athena’s office hadn’t been wide-open so that anyone could walk in.

Marisol broke the contact first. “We shouldn’t…you shouldn’t…” She laughed, her hand slipping down over his belly, bumping into the hard ridge rising to tent his tunic. “Are you feeling better?”

“You tell me.” He clasped her hand, holding it over his jutting member.

“I’d say you’re feeling better there. But what about your head?” She smiled at him. “You had a hard landing.”

“It was better than being a sacrifice to the sun god.”

“You don’t mind?”

“That you brought me to another time?” He shook his head and winced. “No. I don’t mind. I did not belong in Pachacuti’s Empire. Since you appeared, I have found new meaning. I would have gone to the stars to follow you.” Gunnar captured her hand and held it to his chest. “I haven’t known you long, but what I do know is that you are the center of my universe. I don’t know why. I just know it as the truth.”

A huge weight lifted from Marisol’s shoulders and she hugged him to her. “Thank the stars.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I took the choice from your hands without explaining what was going to happen.”

“You did the only thing you could, and for that I’m eternally grateful.” He lifted her face, brushing the tears aside with his thumbs. “Now kiss me.”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Wait.”

Marisol jumped up from the couch and ran for the door to Athena’s office.

Her boss reached it at the same time. The older woman peered over Marisol’s shoulder at Gunnar lying on the couch. “How’s our time traveler?”

Anxious though she was to return to Gunnar and pick up where they’d left off, Marisol couldn’t ignore Dr. Athena Carswell. “He’s better. Were you able to locate the next medallion?”

Athena nodded. “We were able to decipher the alien hieroglyphics. They indicated a location off the Black Sea in ancient Scythia during the reign of Queen Hippolyta.”

Marisol tipped her head to the side. “I thought Hippolyta was a Greek myth.”

Athena smiled. “Apparently not or the aliens wouldn’t have left the clue.” She patted Marisol’s arm. “Don’t worry. We have another recruit in mind for this mission.”

“Beware of Centurians. I believe Pachacuti’s advisor, Kentar, was one. He wanted the medallion and almost got it.”

“Our recruits have been warned.” Athena glanced at Gunnar. “In the meantime, you will have plenty of time to assimilate our friend into his new environment.”

“Speaking of assimilation…” Marisol glanced back over her shoulder. “I’d like to borrow your office for an hour or so, if you don’t mind. I’m in the middle of—” she cleared her throat “—assimilation exercises.”

Athena’s lips turned up at the corners and she waved at Gunnar. “I have a meeting to attend. I’ll be back in two hours. Will that be enough time?”

“It should work out just right.” Marisol’s cheeks burned as she closed and locked the door, turning her attention back to Gunnar. “I’m to assimilate you into our society. Where should we start?” She ripped her T-shirt up over her head and unhooked the front of her bra, dropping the two items to the floor.

“I believe you’ve started in the right place. Please instruct me more on your modern customs.” He rose and removed his clothing. “I learn quickly.” Gunnar stood, tall, proud and beautiful.

Marisol’s breath caught in her throat, her body on fire. She stripped her jeans off and stood in front of him naked. “I’m counting on it.” She melted into his arms, her hands roaming over his shoulders and down over his chest, pausing to tweak hard brown nipples, before continuing down to take his thick, hard length into her palms.

Not to be outdone, Gunnar’s fingers traced a line from her chin down over the curve of her breasts and lower to the thatch of hair between her legs, parting her folds and teasing that nerve-filled nubbin.

Marisol sank to the couch behind her, dragging him down with her, guiding his cock to her core.

He thrust deep, driving her over the edge, rocketing her to the heavens and thus they began their journey back to the stars.

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ISBN: 978-1-4268-8557-0

Time Raiders: The Whisper

Copyright © 2011 by Mary Jernigan

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