Time Raiders: The Whisper

Elle James

Air Force officer Marisol Vasquez was chosen for a dangerous time-travel mission for her ability to see through the eyes of animals. Sent back nearly six hundred years to the Incan empire, she’s committed to finding the precious alien artifact she’s been assigned to recover.

But Marisol’s mission hits a snag when she’s given as a gift to the emperor’s shaman, a mysteriously sexy man who is determined to seduce her. Suddenly Marisol’s devotion to her task faces an entirely unexpected threat: the hazard of fierce, all-consuming lust….

Contents

The Beginning

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

The Beginning

Fifty thousand years ago, after discovering that human females carried a nascent genetic potential that might one day develop into the ability to star navigate, The Pleiadian Council planted a dozen pieces of a bronze disk across the Earth, hidden in darkness until mankind advanced enough to travel through time and find them.

And then, out of the ashes of the mystery-shrouded Roswell Alien crash in 1947 arose a secret research project called Anasazi. Its improbable goal: learn to use the recovered alien technology for the purposes of time travel. General Beverly Ashton was the last to command this project before a dozen time travelers were inexplicably lost and the project disbanded.

However, the recent discovery of an ancient journal, known as the Ad Astra, has given Professor Athena Carswell the information she needs to begin sending modern time travelers back through human history in search of the twelve pieces of the Pleiadian medallion which, when fully reassembled, will send a signal to the Council indicating mankind is ready to be introduced to the rest of the galactic community.

Project Anasazi has secretly been reactivated, and General Ashton, now retired, and Professor Carswell are continuing the project’s work. They are carefully recruiting and training a team of military men and women to make the dangerous time jumps.

But threats loom on the horizon, both from humans who would see the project ended—or worse, steal its work and use it for nefarious ends—and from the Centauri Federation, which will do anything to stop humans from learning how to navigate the stars….

Chapter One

Marisol Vasquez fell into a grassy field feetfirst. Though she’d done everything she’d trained for in the Air Force Pararescue unit she’d been recruited from, the landing knocked the wind out of her.

She lay for a moment, rocks pressing into her sides, the colorful, woolen native dress she’d been given to wear hiked up around her thighs.

With her pulse pounding in her ears, she felt for the bracelet that was her only link to the twenty-first century, her only way back to her world, her time, her life. Not until her fingers wrapped around the cool metal did she breathe a sigh and push to a sitting position to take in her new surroundings.

The field was a small plateau nestled in the Peruvian Andes near the Urubamba Valley of what she knew to be South America. Below her stretched the center of the ancient Incan Empire, the divine city of Cusco, founded and expanded by the great Incan ruler Pachacuti.

Marisol stood up, her gaze taking in the view of the sprawling city below. Spread out before her, bigger than she’d ever imagined, was the reason for her journey across time and distance. She found Cusco’s sheer size and density to be much more intimidating than she’d originally anticipated. For the first time since Marisol had agreed to this extraordinary mission, she wondered if she was in over her head.

She’d traveled from Arizona to Peru and over five hundred and sixty years back through time in the blink of an eye. Marisol was a highly trained Air Force Combat Rescue Officer with a special ability to communicate with animals and “see” through their eyes.

“Now all I have to do is walk right into the city, locate Pachacuti’s palace and find what I came here for. Easy, right?”

“Depends on what you are looking for,” a voice said behind her.

Marisol spun toward the voice, crouching in a fighting position. Sure of only one thing—the language translator implanted behind her ear was working.

A man lounged across the lush green grass, a woven cloth spread with a variety of fruits, cheese and bread arranged before him. What struck Marisol wasn’t that he was a man but that he wasn’t what she’d expected to see in Pachacuti’s Incan Empire.

He wore sandals and a short wool skirt that exposed amazingly thick thighs. His top half was bare but for two large gold bands around his upper arms. He had a bright red cape slung across shoulders so broad they could have easily filled any modern doorway.

Marisol gulped at the breath catching in her throat.

It wasn’t his clothing or his jewelry that took her aback. The long, white-blond hair hanging past his shoulders and his ice-blue eyes captivated her. Where had this Norse god sprung from? The Spaniards weren’t due to arrive for several more years and even they weren’t as pale as this man who was a freak among the dark Incas.

“Who are you?” Marisol wondered if she’d landed in the wrong time or place.

He raised his eyebrows. “You are the intruder to my peace. Perhaps you should be so kind as to gift me with your name, first.”

Seeing no reason to withhold her identity, she answered, “Marisol Vasquez.”

The man tipped his head in a regal manner, a smile twitching his lips. “I am Gunnar.”

“That tells me a lot.” She cast another glance around at the hillsides and the metropolis stretched out before her. “Am I right in assuming that the city below is Cusco?”

“You are correct.” He remained in the supine position, tossing a mango in one hand.

“What business have you with the Incan ruler?”

Marisol’s eyes widened. “Do you mean Pachacuti?”

Gunnar nodded. “Everyone in the land knows of the great Pachacuti. It surprises me that you must ask. Are you a stranger from a foreign land?”

“Yes. I am.” She glanced toward the city. “I need to get to the palace.”

“Ah, yes. To find something.” He plucked another fruit from the assortment on the blanket in front of him. The muscles in his arm and shoulder rippled, sending corresponding waves of awareness through Marisol. His full sensuous lips closed around the fruit as he bit into the flesh.

Mesmerized by the slow, deliberate tasting, Marisol could only watch as the man called Gunnar consumed the sweet, his jaw moving as he sucked the juices out of the fruit.

An image of those lips caressing her nipples flashed through Marisol’s mind, knocking her back a step. She shook herself, forcing back any sensual thoughts of the stranger, his lips or the fruit he suckled.

Long, broad fingers twirled the half-eaten fruit in his hand, his gaze on what he held, not her. “You will not get into the palace by walking in. There are guards at every entrance.”

She suspected the palace of a ruler would have tight security, but hearing a stranger tell her she couldn’t do something, coupled with her unwanted desire, got Marisol’s hackles up. “You don’t know how determined I can be.”

“As a woman, you’ll be challenged unless you have a proper escort.” He sounded bored, unconcerned about whether or not she’d gain entrance into the ruler’s inner sanctum.

Marisol wasn’t certain she could trust this stranger who seemed all too willing to share the palace details. Was he an enemy to the great Pachacuti? “Are you volunteering to be my escort?”

“Not at all. However, an escort is needed and if you want one, I do know how you can attain one.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Please, the suspense is killing me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Rather the suspense than the guards, pretty lady. They can be quite merciless to women of the Incan Empire.”

Marisol clenched her fists. She’d anticipated the lowly role of women in Incan society. Men ruled, women were relegated to day-to-day household chores, farming, general labor or sexual consorts. Some were not as fortunate, offered up as sacrifice to the deities the Inca worshipped.

Taking a deep breath, Marisol forced her voice into a pleasant tone that unfortunately bordered on insolent. “How can I enlist the assistance of such a fine and trustworthy escort?” Just because she found the man extremely attractive, she didn’t have to like him.

Marisol was all about the mission. The distraction of a man with the body of a Norse god wasn’t in the plan. Once she ditched the diversion, she could continue with her mission.

The man nodded his blond head toward a road below. The artery led from deep in the mountains down into Cusco. A group of men led llamas laden with bundles and baskets. “Those men are from the northern suyu, bearing gifts for the emperor.”

Marisol glanced down at the group. “You think they will agree to be my escort?”

The man shook his head. “No.”

Marisol glared at Gunnar. “Then why did you bother to mention them?”

“Do you see a young woman with them?”

Marisol strained to pick out a woman among the men. They were all big, brawny and muscular. “Should there be a woman among them?”

“The leader of the suyu sent word to Pachacuti that he was sending gifts to the emperor.”

“So?”

“One of the promised gifts was a woman of great beauty and purity.” Gunnar’s lips quirked. “Rumor has it the warriors escorting the ‘gift’ lost her. Or rather, she ran away.”

“Good for her,” Marisol said before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, reminding herself she wasn’t in the twenty-first century. Men of the fifteenth-century Incan Empire wouldn’t respond well to a strong-minded woman.

Again, Marisol wondered if she was the right woman for the job. Perhaps they should have sent a man. Men had more flexibility and maneuverability in the Incan culture.

“Are you suggesting I volunteer for the job?” Marisol’s eyes narrowed.

The Norseman stood, tossed the remaining fruit to the side and gathered the corners of the wool blanket, folding it over his arm. “If you want to get into Pachacuti’s inner circle, what better way than as a gift?” He nodded toward the men below. “Look, they are stopping to discuss their options. When their leader learns of their failure, they could be sentenced to death.”

Marisol found it hard to feel sorry for the warriors. What would Pachacuti have done with the beautiful virgin? Offer her as a sacrifice in some barbaric ritual? She stared down at the group of Incan warriors gathered in a circle, their voices rising with their anger.

“But I’m not a virgin.” She knew it, but would they? Probably not. If she wanted to get into the palace, this was as good a solution as any. She’d figure out how to avoid being sacrificed once she was in. Marisol sighed. “So, how do you propose I go about offering myself up as a ‘gift’?”

Marisol turned back to Gunnar, but the Norseman wasn’t there. With no better ideas for getting into Pachacuti’s palace, Marisol considered Gunnar’s suggestion. She must be insane to trust the stranger.

Straightening her dress, she pushed her shoulders back and marched down the hillside, her feet slipping on the grassy slopes until she reached the road below. As she worked her way toward the warriors, she concocted a story she hoped they’d buy. If they didn’t, what was the worst that could happen?

They could kill her.

Chapter Two

Marisol kept her head lowered, forcing her feet to shuffle slowly, hoping she appeared exhausted, lost and dejected. As the sun set, she stumbled into their camp from the west, the light behind her silhouetting her against the sky. She told them she had lost her parents to the mountains and had been wandering around, lost and alone until the sun god led her to them.

The warriors’ eyes lit up as they examined their “gift” from Inti. They promised her a home filled with riches and food if she agreed to go along with them to Pachacuti’s palace. Marisol agreed, schooling her face into a serene and grateful smile. All the while, she smirked inside. The men wouldn’t harm her as long as they hoped to present her to their ruler.

The night passed uneventfully. She even managed a few hours’ sleep. In the morning, she changed into the ceremonial dress the warriors had saved for their arrival. She hoped this stunt would gain her access to the ruler’s inner sanctum. Somewhere in the palace lay the next piece to the Pleiadian puzzle she was to find and return to the twenty-first century. When the pieces were found the bronze disk would be complete and give them the means to communicate with other civilizations across the universe.

When they reached the palace, the warriors were led into a great hall lined with nobles dressed in robes, adorned in beads and gold. Everywhere she looked, Marisol saw gold—statues, jewelry, urns, in hand-carved furniture, or pounded into the intricate designs on the surrounding walls.

At the end of the great hall was a gilded chair. A barrel-chested man with dark, swarthy skin and high cheekbones sat with his hands resting on the ornate jaguars’ heads made of gold. He wore a white tunic, with a colorful collar made of feathers around his neck. Gold disks the diameter of Marisol’s fists hung from the man’s ears and the grapefruit-size golden disk on his headdress marked him as someone of great power and influence. His brown-black eyes bored into her and the warriors who escorted her.

Marisol’s heart fluttered in her chest as she realized she was in the presence of one of the great rulers of history, a man who’d built a great empire during his time.

One of the warriors knocked into her, forcing Marisol to her knees. At first she resisted, her battle instincts kicking in. Then she remembered her mission. As she waited for the warriors’ turn to speak to the ruler, Marisol kept her head bent, letting her hair fall down over the sides of her face, casting a guarded glance around the room.

Other men dressed in similar garb stood around the emperor. Their gold headdresses were not quite as large or elaborate as their leader’s. A woman sat on a bright red cushion at Pachacuti’s right, her head lower in deference to the ruler’s status, her hand draped across his knee.

A presence nudged at Marisol’s consciousness and she shot another glance around the room, searching for the animal pushing into her thoughts. She closed her eyes and looked through the animal’s eyes in order to get a perspective of the room and thus pinpoint the creature.

When she tried to push into the animal’s mind, it shoved back, throwing up a wall of darkness Marisol couldn’t penetrate.

Strange. She’d never had an animal throw up a barrier to her. They hardly knew she was there unless she planted a suggestion. No, this animal sensed her and wasn’t allowing her in.

Marisol opened her eyes and panned the room again, her gaze returning to the ruler and his entourage. This time when she squeezed her eyes shut and pushed into the animal’s mind, she caught a brief glimpse of a woman on her knees in a brightly colored woolen dress, dark hair hanging down over face, her eyes tightly shut.

Marisol gasped, her eyes opening. The animal staring at her stood in front of her, among the ruler’s party. But where? Marisol lifted her head to study the group. No animal stood among them. Then she spotted the woman sitting beside the ruler.

Unlike the other women she’d passed in the city streets, this woman sat up straight, her head held high and proud. Her long black hair fell down her back in a straight black sheet. A gold band circled her forehead, the face of a jaguar imprinted on the gold emblem at the front. She wore a tawny tunic that almost matched the extraordinary gold of her eyes.

The warrior who’d led her little party into the city stepped forward. “Pachacuti, great warrior and leader of the Tawantinsuyu empire, our suyu leader sends word of his progress in the north and with it gifts befitting his great ruler.”

The warrior yanked Marisol up by the arm and thrust her forward.

Marisol stood with her head down, taking everything in through her peripheral vision.

Pachacuti chuckled. “Your leader sends me a scrawny waif? What use do I have for such a creature?” He pushed to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest, the power and confidence of his position emanating from every part of his body. He stepped down from the dais and crossed to Marisol. A man dressed in a white tunic and red robe stepped down with him.

The woman who’d been sitting quietly beside him, rose to her feet with the grace of a cat. Her long legs picked their way down the steps as if she chose each step with care.

Pachacuti’s large brown hand rose to cup her chin, turning Marisol’s face right then left. “Her skin is pale. Are you sickly?”

“No.” Marisol’s answer was short and sweet, the less she said the better.

“Open your mouth, girl.”

Anger rose quickly, and just as quickly Marisol squelched it and opened her mouth.

“She has all her teeth.” He dropped his hand to the swell of her breasts and lifted them.

“What do you think, Kentar?”

“Too old for virgin sacrifice, but not too old for other pleasures.” Kentar’s eyes narrowed.

“Her eyes are different. Not like the people of Tawantinsuyu. Where did you say you got her?” he asked the warrior who’d led her in.

On the spot, the man shifted his sandaled feet. “We brought her from the north.”

Marisol hid a smile. The warrior spoke the truth even if the north he spoke of was just north of the city.

“Eyes the color of jewels.” Pachacuti squeezed her breasts hard enough to hurt. “Hmm. And well-endowed. I might have use of such a woman in my bedchambers.”

The woman with the golden eyes laid a hand on Pachacuti’s arm. “You might consider sacrificing her to the sun god, Inti. Your Inti shaman seems unhappy lately.”

Kentar shook his head. “The shaman holds enough power already. Why credit him with more by offering a sacrifice?”

Pachacuti’s fingers squeezed again as he considered his advisor’s words. “I allow him only as much power as I deem necessary. After all, I am as close to Inti as anyone can come.”

Marisol inhaled deeply and let out the breath, closing her eyes to remain calm. Again a flash of her own image entered her thoughts. Much closer. Close enough to touch her face.

She opened her eyes and stared into the tawny gold, unblinking eyes of the woman on Pachacuti’s arm. Why? She’d never been able to see through another human’s eyes, until now. Why this woman?

“The Inti shaman’s displeasure has dire consequences. If he is happy he will continue to help you in your plans to expand your great empire.” The woman whispered into Pachacuti’s ear, her finger circling the large gold earring suggestively.

Kentar’s nostrils flared. “You listen to the ranting of a jealous woman?”

Red stained Pachacuti’s cheeks. “Imac is more than just a woman. She’s a trusted leader of my elite jaguar warriors. Dare you insult her?”

Imac’s hand dropped to her side and she shot a steady, challenging stare at Kentar, remaining silent. In her silence she won the first round between Pachacuti’s advisors.

Marisol sensed in Imac a deep anger and distrust of Kentar.

“No. I speak no ill will against the warrior. However, she is still a woman, prone to the womanly weakness of jealousy.” Kentar cast a condescending smile at Imac, the equivalent of patting a dog on the head before returning his attention to his leader. “Are you not the emperor of all of Tawantinsuyu?”

A flood of annoyance swept over Marisol, surging through her from another consciousness. Was Imac jealous? No doubt, the woman didn’t want Marisol as a prize for Pachacuti’s bedroom pleasure.

Pachacuti’s eyes narrowed, his back stiffening to ramrod straight. “I am the emperor of all you see and much you do not, and I do not need you, Kentar, to remind me. If I were not already satisfied with the woman who warms my bed, I would keep this one for myself. I am in need of a little entertainment.”

“I will show you entertainment,” Imac purred, her hand skimming over the bare skin of Pachacuti’s forearm.

Marisol’s stomach tightened. On the one hand, entering Pachacuti’s bedchamber might be just what she needed to find the medallion. Then again, she’d rather sneak in as a spy, not be forced into sexual intercourse with the Incan ruler in the name of the mission. And did giving her to the sun god mean sacrificing her in a barbaric ritual?

Imac’s lips quirked as though she could hear Marisol’s rampaging thoughts.

Warmth curled around Marisol’s insides, calming her.

Leaning into Pachacuti, Imac spoke in a low, sensuous tone. “You want to keep the Inti shaman happy. He has done much to further your cause. You cannot afford the sun god’s anger.”

The emperor’s gaze went out across the great hall as though seeing another place, another time. “Yes, we must keep the shaman happy. His abilities are undeniable.” Pachacuti’s hand dropped from Marisol’s breasts. His gaze panned over her body one last time before he turned and ascended to his golden throne. “Give the woman to the shaman.”

Kentar nodded. “Very well.” He clapped his hands and two of the guards standing watch at the end of the raised platform moved forward. “Take her to the chamber of the Inti shaman.”

Marisol was led away. She couldn’t fight now, not when the great hall overflowed with Pachacuti’s followers, his soldiers and dozens of his subjects. If she hoped to escape, it had to be after they left her in the shaman’s chambers. Any way she looked at it, she was in trouble. Damn the Norseman for sending her into the lion’s den as a gift. She’d made a bad decision to follow the stranger’s advice. Marisol prayed her decision wouldn’t cost her life.

The emperor’s warriors marched her down a long, narrow hallway. The corridors were much like the great hallway, tall, arched and lit by well-placed sconces inlaid with gold.

Out of range of the roomful of people, Marisol waited for her opportunity to escape, counting the doorways along the hallway, checking for exits, not seeing any along the way. If they were taking her to the chamber of the shaman, would it be in a ceremonial building outside of the palace? Would she have trouble reentering when she escaped the shaman?

Just when Marisol decided to make a break for it, the guards stopped in front of a heavy wooden door decorated in ornate carvings, most of which depicted an animated sun complete with a face engraved at the center of geometric rays.

Curiosity stayed Marisol’s flight instinct. Ever since she’d arrived in the ancient Incan capitol, she’d taken in the sights like a tourist. What kind of ceremonial chamber had she been led to, what rituals were performed here? Following her curiosity was a rush of fear that made her stumble. Would she be tied up, drugged, forced to strip?

The door opened and a young servant girl held it wide for the guards. Her head down, the servant slipped out as the guards escorted Marisol into another chamber, more like an apartment with colorful woven rugs strewn across the floor and ornate woolen tapestries hanging against the stucco walls.

“What brings you to my chambers?” a voice said from around the corner leading into another room.

Both warriors dropped to their knees, dragging Marisol with them. “The Great Pachacuti brings tidings and a gift for Inti, the greatest god of the sun.”

“Leave the gift and go back to your master.”

The warriors rose to their feet.

When Marisol attempted to rise as well, they pushed down hard on her shoulders keeping her on her knees.

“If you wish to live, you will do as the shaman instructs.” The warriors backed out of the room, closing the door behind them.

As soon as the door closed, Marisol sprang to her feet and ran after them. She reached for the door handle, but a large, strong hand clamped down on her shoulder, stopping her.

Her training kicked in. She dropped low, dodged to the side and slipped free of the hand. Then she ran in the opposite direction into the next room, fully expecting to see a ceremonial pit or altar.

Instead, she tripped over a llama skin pallet, strewn with fur and soft woolen blankets, obviously a bed for sleeping…or other nefarious activities of the Incan shaman.

Marisol refused to be the next offering. A shuttered window on the other side of the bedding offered her the only avenue of escape. She leaped across the skins and blankets and reached for the wooden shutters.

Arms grabbed her around her waist and lifted her off her feet.

Marisol kicked and twisted, unable to loosen the ironlike band around her waist. “Let me go.”

“Silence, woman.”

“I will not be silent, nor will I be some sacrifice to a god I don’t believe in for a religion so barbaric it escapes comprehension.” She kicked out, her feet connecting with the wall. She pushed off the solid surface, sending her and her captor flying backward.

He tripped and fell, taking her with him. They landed with a thump on the bedding.

For a moment, the man beneath her lay still.

Marisol fought to free herself of his grip, but even if he’d had the wind knocked out of his lungs, he wasn’t letting go.

With a mighty swing, Marisol landed an elbow in his gut.

He grunted and swore, then he flung her to the side.

As soon as he let go, Marisol crab-walked backward, attempting to put space between him and her.

But her captor wasn’t done. He rolled over on top of her legs, his arms wrapping around her middle, pinning her to the hairy softness of an alpaca skin.

Marisol’s legs were trapped, so she swung out with her hands, catching his hair in her fists. White-blond hair. The same hair she’d seen on the Norseman.

“Gunnar? What are you doing here? And don’t feed me any more of your lies. I’ve had just about enough of them.” To emphasize her point, she pulled hard on his hair, yanking his head up so that she could see into his pale blue eyes, while she ignored the effect he was having on her.

A smile spread across his face, even as he winced. “Could you loosen up on the hair?”

With her insides warming at his every movement, Marisol couldn’t afford to let go of his hair or her anger. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I would think that was obvious.” He stared down at her breasts, on eye level with his position across her body. His breath heated her skin beneath the wool dress.

“Humor me and spell it out.” Marisol’s voice wobbled and sounded more breathless than before. Damn the man and his broad shoulders, naked but for the golden armbands around his thick biceps.

“You’ve been given to Inti as a gift.”

“And how do you fit into this picture?” With every breath Gunnar took, his chest rubbed against her belly, sending electrical currents coursing through her veins.

His grin broadened. “Let me introduce you to Inti’s shaman.”

Marisol frowned. “Go on.”

“I am the Inti shaman.”

Chapter Three

“What?” The green-eyed beauty pulled harder on his hair.

“Let go of my hair and I’ll explain,” he said.

“Damn right you’ll explain.” Mercifully, she released her hold. “And get off me.”

With his hair freed, Gunnar found he wasn’t in such a hurry to move from his current position between her legs. His cock strained against the fabric of his tunic as though rooting for the prize. He eased his way up her body until he leaned over her, his hands planted on either side of her head. “Who are you, fire angel? And where have you come from?”

“I told you my name.” She expressly ignored his second question. “Now get off me.”

“You seem to forget. You were a gift to me from our emperor, Pachacuti.”

“He’s not my emperor and I am not bound by his word.”

“While in Cusco or any province within the Tawantinsuyu you are subject to the edicts of Pachacuti.” The fruity scent of her hair tantalized him and he dropped low, his chest skimming hers so that he could drink in her fragrance.

Marisol’s hands pressed against him. “What are you doing?” Her words came out in a thin whisper.

“You smell of fruit.” He captured her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled. “I am but sampling it.”

“What if I don’t want you to sample my fruit?” Her back arched, pressing her breasts more firmly against his chest, her hands caught between, providing little resistance. “Stop, please.”

“You feel it, don’t you?”

“No. I feel nothing. I don’t know you. You look like a Viking. And as far as I know, Vikings hadn’t explored this part of the world at this time in history.”

His brows rose. “History? You don’t speak as the others of Cusco. Where did you say you came from?”

“I didn’t.”

“Perhaps you can tell me why you behave so differently than most women, and how you appeared before me out of thin air.”

Marisol Vasquez gasped, her eyes rounding. “You saw that?”

“Yes, indeed. At first I thought I’d imagined you, but when you spoke, I knew better. Teach me this trick.”

“It wasn’t a trick and I’m wasting time. I need to get into Pachacuti’s chambers.”

“Why? Just what are you looking for?”

“Who said I was looking for something?”

“It was a guess.” Gunnar lowered himself over Marisol until his lips hovered over hers.

“Perhaps I can help you?”

“No.” Her breath warmed his lips. “I need to find it on my own. Then I’ll be out of here.”

“You don’t understand. Once you enter Pachacuti’s court, you don’t leave. The great emperor has bestowed a gift upon me. If I refuse or…lose…my gift, he will grow angry.”

“But he thinks you are the Inti shaman, in direct communication with the sun god.”

“And you don’t?”

“No, of course not. You just look different.”

“Pachacuti would not keep me around because I look different.” Gunnar frowned. “He keeps me because of my intelligence and magical abilities.”

“Magic?” Marisol snorted. “Really?”

“You do not believe me capable of great magic?”

Marisol’s brows wrinkled, her mouth twisting. “Of course not. There’s no such thing as magic.”

“And what brought you to me on the hillside above Cusco, if not magic?”

The woman with the soft green eyes and the dark brown hair clamped her lips tight, refusing to answer.

“Shall I give you a sample of my magic so that you too will believe me a god?”

Marisol laughed out loud. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

Gunnar wasn’t sure what she meant, but he took her answer as a yes. “First I need inspiration.” His abilities relied on nothing other than concentration. But he used this excuse to steal a kiss. His mouth closed over Marisol’s.

Her lips were full, soft and pliant beneath him. His tongue slid along the seam. His body ached to take more than just a kiss. He didn’t let her resistance dissuade him from sampling her. Slowly, gently, he trailed kisses along the firm line of her jaw and down her long, beautiful neck to the pulse beating swiftly at the base.

She wasn’t as immune as she pretended, her chest rising and falling against his as though she’d been running.

Gunnar returned to the lips that had filled his imagination from the moment she’d appeared before him. With his body on fire, he captured her face in his hands and kissed her more firmly this time, enjoying her struggles that grew less with each passing second.

When her hands reached out to weave through his hair and bring him closer, he slid his tongue between her teeth and toyed with her own. He basked in the exotic taste of her mouth as she gave in to the kiss and returned the pressure. The deeper the kiss, the less he was aware of his surroundings, feeling as if he soared above the city, above the heavens, into the vastness of the sky and beyond.

His cock swelled, nudging against the fabric of his tunic, urging him to take more, to press into her, sheathing himself in her warm, wet channel, achieving ascension to bliss.

But not yet, not until she was as hot and willing as he was.

He lifted his head and stared down into eyes so green he could lose himself in them. “Do you feel the magic?”

She sucked in a deep breath and skimmed her tongue across swollen lips. “No.” Her eyes widened with her lie.

Gunnar smiled and traced his finger along her cheek. “Then feel this.” He reached deep inside, concentrating his mind and soul on the earth beneath them.

The tremors started in rhythm to the beat of his heart, a faint shimmy, the ground barely moving. “Feel that?”

Marisol frowned. “I feel you lying on top of me, if that’s what you mean. Is that the best you can do?”

With a frown, Gunner increased the ripple beneath him until the earth rumbled. A clay pot in the corner of his room rocked. He stared down at her, raising his eyebrows. “And now? Surely you feel the earth move?”

Marisol swallowed hard. She’d felt the tremors before but attributed it to Peru’s location on the circum-Pacific seismic belt. Not magic. “I felt the earth move, but this area is prone to tremors.”

“Maybe so, but I called that tremor. I made it happen.”

“I don’t believe it.”

Gunnar’s lips tightened. “Woman, if I shake the earth much more, the walls may come crashing down. What more proof do you need?”

“Okay, okay, big guy, you’ve made your point. Now will you get off me? I have work to do.”

“The only work you have to do is to please me.”

“Spoken like a true man of your time.”

“And are you not a woman of the same time?” He dropped down beside her, his leg trapping hers beneath, an arm looped over her middle. “As I see it, I own you. You are my slave.”

She shoved at his arm. “Get this straight…I am no man’s slave.” The iron band was in place and couldn’t be budged. “Move.”

“You are a strange creature. Do they have warrior women where you come from? Women like the emperor’s Imac?”

“Yes. There are women where I come from who aren’t ruled by men, who have minds of their own and are not afraid to use them.”

“I should be interested in visiting this land. Perhaps we can set out tomorrow on the journey to your home.”

Marisol’s heart fluttered. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you work for the emperor? Didn’t you just tell me that once you entered the emperor’s domain you never left?”

“I seem to recall saying such a thing, but I am a free man, subject only to my own whims.”

“Is Pachacuti in full agreement with you?”

Gunnar’s eyes narrowed.

Marisol smirked. “Or do you plan on using your magic to convince him to let you leave?”

“I could, should I need to. However, I prefer not to harm innocent lives proving a point.”

“Then you are just as trapped as I am in Pachacuti’s palace.” Marisol wiggled her legs in an attempt to shove Gunnar’s brawny thigh off hers.

With each move, her hip nudged against the hard, ridge beneath Gunnar’s tunic, sending jolts of heat throughout her body. Awareness built inside, growing and surging low in her belly. The man’s naked legs against her own only managed to make her want to explore beneath the Norseman’s tunic and see how impressive that ridge was when unleashed.

Thoughts of making love to this large, pale-haired stranger had her gasping more than her effort to gain her freedom. “Please, let me up.”

“You do realize that to move about the palace you will need an escort, do you not? You are new and not a trusted servant.”

“The last time you advised me on an escort, I was almost offered up as a sacrifice. No thank you. I will find my own way.”

“This time, I offer you my services.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Your behavior reflects on me. If I cannot control my ‘gift,’ I will be held in Pachacuti’s contempt.”

Marisol snorted. “I thought you were a god. Why should you live in fear of Pachacuti?”

“I am a god trapped in the body of a mortal. Should my body expire, I too will expire.”

Marisol tipped her head. “You mean if I stabbed you, you would die?”

Gunnar frowned. “Do not get any untoward ideas. I am the man, capable of subduing my woman.”

“I am no man’s woman, and I will not be held as a captive and treated as a concubine. Are you going to let me go, or will you prove yourself a man by raping me?”

She held her breath in fear of the Norseman’s answer, half-afraidhe’d follow through and half-afraid he wouldn’t. She’d never been this confused by a man in her life. In fact her track record with the male gender hadn’t exactly been stellar. She always managed to fall for the wrong guy, men she could easily intimidate and whom she had thought would be kind and gentle. They’d turned out to be weak-willed and spineless.

Gunnar, on the other hand was neither. But as a strong-willed woman, could she remain submissive to a man from a time where women were regarded with less respect than cattle?

Gunnar laughed out loud. “You are a feisty creature. I will prove to you that I am a man, but I will not have to rape you to do it.” He forced her to sit up, one hand on her thigh holding her in place. With the other hand, he ripped her dress up and over her head, tossing it to the corner.”

“Some man you are.” Marisol sat amongst the animal skins, the alpaca pelt soft against her naked skin. She covered her breasts with her arms, wishing she’d disobeyed orders and worn a bra and panties beneath the native costume. “So, rape it is?” Anger mixed with excitement, making her words come out sharp and stinging.

Her heart beat faster, not from fear but more anticipation.

“Stay.” He pointed at her and stood, dragging his tunic up and over his head in one fluid motion. He stood over her with nothing adorning his body but the gold bands clamped around his biceps.

The man truly was a god. Platinum hair fell down in a straight sheet around his shoulders; his skin, though considerably lighter than Pachacuti or any other Incan descendent, was tanned to a rich golden brown. Every muscle bulged in blatant definition, from those in his neck down to the solid muscles of his calves. And the places in between… That massive rod that had hidden beneath his wool tunic sprang free, thick and engorged, raising its head to the sun, giving credence to Gunnar’s claim as a great shaman.

Marisol’s breath escaped her, leaving her light-headed, unable to take advantage of her temporary freedom to make a run from the arrogant man.

When her wits finally returned, it was too late.

Gunnar hadn’t meant to frighten Marisol, but her actions showed that she obviously needed more convincing.

Before she could climb to her feet, Gunnar flew at her, tackling her from behind, the thick cushion of alpaca and llama hides cushioning their fall. He landed on her back, his cock pressing against her buttocks.

Gunnar’s arms wrapped around Marisol’s waist, his hands brushing against the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Let me go.” Marisol’s body hunched beneath him, his effortlessly holding her down.

“You will see that I can be a very gentle lover.”

Her elbow connected with his ribs in a sharp upward jab.

He grunted and maneuvered her arms above her head, pinning her wrists with one of his. Then he flipped her onto her back, straddling her thighs.

He smiled down at the green-eyed witch whose full, naked breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath. How could any man resist the temptation of such a beautifully shaped woman?

“You are a beast,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I am your master.”

“Not while I’m alive.”

“What? You prefer the sacrifice option? I could offer your heart to Inti. Pachacuti would not begrudge me the sacrifice.”

Marisol’s green eyes flashed like gems in the sunlight. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Gunnar refused to answer, letting her worry the idea.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, then sighed. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be still and quit hitting me.”

“That’s all?”

“It will do for a start.”

“Then will you rape me?”

“If you wish.”

“I don’t.”

“Then we will continue with the demonstration of my sexual prowess.”

“If that’s a challenge, you will fail.”

He leaned over her, his hand holding her wrists above her head, his lips hovering above her own. “I make it a habit not to fail.”

Chapter Four

Marisol held her breath as Gunnar’s lips descended on hers, capturing her mouth in a kiss firm yet gentle, unexpectedly tender and completely sucking the fight right out of her.

His tongue traced the line of her clenched lips, urging her to open to him. When she didn’t, he lay down beside her, freeing his other hand to explore the other sensitive areas of her body, starting with the curve of her breast.

Her core heated, sending bursts of fire blasting through her veins. Where his fingers connected with naked flesh, her nerves tingled and the tips of her nipples hardened into pointed peaks.

She gritted her teeth as his lips slid down along the curve of her cheek to the long line of her throat. “In case it makes a difference, you should know that I’m not the least bit attracted to you.”

“Liar.” He nipped her neck where her pulse beat a thousand times a minute.

He called it right. At the moment, she could think of nothing but the way his cock nudged between her legs, the hardness encased in smooth, silken skin. How would it feel to have him thrusting deep inside of her? How would it feel to have a real orgasm after a thirteen-month sabbatical? Had it been that long?

Yes! Marisol threw her head back, her body lifting up off the pallet, her heels digging deep into alpaca hair.

His mouth moved lower to take a nipple between his teeth, rolling the taut nub gently on his tongue.

Her back arched, pressing her breast into his mouth. Marisol couldn’t stop a moan from rising up her throat.

Gunnar moved to take the other breast, applying the same torture. “I believe you fell out of the heavens specifically for me.”

“If you believed that why did you send me…to Pachacuti with those warriors?” Her voice caught when he sucked hard on the nipple and then moved lower.

“In order to secure you as mine, Pachacuti had to give you to me.” His words whispered across her belly and stirred the curls lower still. “He needs to be the one in charge.”

In charge…like Gunnar was in charge of her body? “How did you manage to get him to give me to you? Oh, my… You weren’t even in the great hall.” Her last word came out as a groan.

“By planting the idea in the ear of his most trusted advisor.” The fingers of his free hand threaded through the thatch of hair between her legs until he found the spot.

The spot that made her come completely unglued.

It was several moments before she could think straight and several more after that before she could breathe enough air to ask, “Kentar, the eagle warrior?”

Gunner circled the nubbin at the center of her universe, stroking gently. “No. Pachacuti’s lover, Imac.”

Marisol struggled to regain her focus as Gunnar settled between her legs, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue continuing the steady thrusts against her throbbing flesh.

“Ahh, you played on her jealousy.” Could they really be having this conversation while he played her body like a violin?

“I knew Pachacuti would find you as unique and irresistible as I have.” His fingers delved into her channel, swirling around the juices and digging deeper while his tongue laved her folds.

“The only way for him to release you was to give you to someone else, preferably me.”

“And Imac didn’t find it troubling that you manipulated her? She didn’t strike me as a fool.”

“She’s anything but a fool. She’s a very talented tactician, able to read a battlefield before anyone has actually seen it. She’s the most brilliant woman of the empire.”

Marisol’s gut spasmed, drawing her away from Gunnar’s magic. The man obviously admired Imac. “I didn’t think that women were allowed to lead armies in the fifteenth century?”

“They aren’t. Imac started as Pachacuti’s camp follower when he led the people of the Cusco Empire against the attacking Chancas. Because of her ability to ‘see’ into the enemy camp, she became invaluable to Pachacuti’s army. He honored her by making her the commander of the jaguar warriors.” Gunnar moved up over Marisol, sliding his hand over her arm and down her body.

“You aren’t from here,” she said, struggling to maintain focus on her situation and mission. But her body ruled her mind.

“No, I am not,” Gunnar said, his lips following the path of his hands. “My people came from a land far away and were unable to return. They rebuilt their lives in the other side of the mountains to the east. Like my forefathers, my wanderlust led me over the mountains and into the world of the Incas.” He cocked his brows at her. “Is your curiosity satisfied?”

“Perhaps.”

“Good. We talk too much.”

When Marisol would have asked another question, he moved up to cover her lips with his, stemming the unending flow of questions.

Not that she could concentrate when his body lay flush against hers, his cock pressing against her entrance. Yes, this was the point at which all thought fled, replaced by the flood of lust.

The universe revolved around her and Gunnar. Nothing else existed beyond.

“Do you wish me to stop?” He kissed her lips, her chin, her cheek and each of her eyelids.

In answer, Marisol wrapped her legs around his waist, bearing down on his buttocks, urging him closer, wanting him inside her.

“No.” Gunnar eased his member away from her entrance even as she strained to bring him in. “Tell me you want me.”

Marisol sucked in a breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to slow her pulse. She’d never been this desperate. She felt such a strong pull to Gunnar, it frightened her. She shook her head, though her legs tightened around his waist. “Don’t make me beg.”

He held himself away, his face set in stone, his blue eyes flashing. “Say it.”

Her body screamed for her to comply, her head telling her she was a soldier, specifically recruited for her drive and dedication and her impeccable professionalism. “Oh, yes, I want you!” she cried out. “Please, now!” Her words ended on a sob; she so craved him, she’d pushed aside all that was important to her. The mission.

He slammed into her, his rod thick, heavy and hot, filling her, stretching the walls of her channel until she thought she might split in two.

Her world spun out of control. With him inside her she could feel his emotions, if not his thoughts, sense his excitement, the fiery passion driving him deeper.

Marisol’s ardor mirrored Gunnar’s, taking them to an entirely different level—beyond anything Marisol had experienced.

She reached orgasm with Gunnar, her nerves exploding into in a myriad of sensations, each more intense and powerful than the last.

Afterward Gunnar lay down beside her, his lips pressed against her ear. “Breathe.”

Marisol opened her mouth and gasped, sucking in a long, deep breath, filling her lungs so full they hurt. Her heart kicked into gear, sending a flood of blood rocketing through her system. “What the hell just happened?”

Gunnar smiled, brushing the hair from her face. “Magic.” His hand slid along her shoulder to cup one of her breasts. After a few moments, his breathing deepened and he slept.

She should get up and find her way to Pachacuti’s quarters. After traveling across over five hundred years, hiking into the city and engaging in the most mind-blowing sex ever, she couldn’t bring herself to move. Her arms and legs lay limp and unresponsive, her thoughts hazy, her eyelids heavy.

She blinked. When she opened her eyes again, the room was dark. The only light came from a sconce on the wall in the far corner.

Marisol lay for a time staring at the stone ceiling, her mind whirling. Her eyes widened, and she became aware of a brawny arm around her middle, brushing against the underside of her breast. She couldn’t move her legs with the weight of a massive thigh sprawled across hers.

Her body warmed, the feel of his skin on hers awakening all the desire she’d felt when they’d come together. Her breasts ached, the nipples tightening into turgid peaks.

He’d called it magic.

She could swear she’d been transported out of this solar system into space, outside of her body, outside of time as she knew it. Others who’d completed previous missions had documented these out-of-body experiences, describing just what Marisol had experienced with her own senses. They couldn’t explain it, not given twenty-first-century technology. Yet it had happened to them and to Marisol.

She turned her head to study the man sleeping soundly beside her. Why him? Why Gunnar? Was Gunnar a god as he claimed?

Her core throbbed with the aftershocks of their lovemaking and the need to do it again. Having had sex with Gunnar, she’d never find satisfaction with other men. And once she completed her mission, she’d leave Cusco, never to return, never to see Gunnar, or feel this extraordinary again.

Her chest tightened. She’d only known the man for less than a day. She didn’t know where he’d come from, why he’d ended up in Cusco or how she’d manage to leave him without suffering an acute withdrawal.

She’d been recruited because of her dedication to the mission, her ability to overcome the odds, no matter how dangerous. Yet, here she lay falling apart over a man she barely understood.

Her sense of duty and self-preservation kicked in. The mission came first, which meant returning to her time where women were valued and independent. Where she intimidated men and couldn’t manage a decent relationship.

Carefully, she slipped from beneath the leg draped across her thighs and lifted the arm lying around her middle, laying it gently on a woolen blanket. He rolled to his back, his member flaccid in sleep.

Every fiber of her being shouted for her to lie down beside the Norseman and touch him like he’d touched her, awakening him to the passion they’d shared a few hours ago.

Marisol crossed her arms over her chest, the metal bracelet that brought her to this place pressing against her naked breast, a cold reminder of her duty.

She had to find the medallion, one of many pieces scattered across the planet during varying times. Her team counted on her to retrieve this one, to bring it back to complete the puzzle that might one day link them to civilizations more advanced.

Marisol gathered her clothing, slipping the dress over her head. She quickly braided her hair into plaits on each side of her head, hoping to blend with other females of Pachacuti’s palace.

Dressed and ready to continue on, she cast one last glance at the sleeping god, regret and longing tugging at her to stay. Marisol eased the heavy wooden door open and slipped outside before she could change her mind.

She stood in the deserted corridor. The great hall lay to the right. That was all she knew about the maze of passages. How could she find Pachacuti’s quarters? She couldn’t ask. Someone might report her to the emperor.

Imac. For some reason, Marisol had been able to connect with Imac. If she could enter the other woman’s mind again, perhaps she’d see the way to Pachacuti’s chambers.

With a quick glance right and left to make sure no one was coming, Marisol closed her eyes and reached out with her mind.

The fingers of her consciousness spread. But as far as she could reach in the confines of the palace, Marisol couldn’t find Imac. She was about to give up when she felt her moving through a garden, her steps light, her body low to the ground. She paused beside a wall. A light shone through a window high above her, and voices carried through. Male voices. Imac’s body hunched low, then she sprang up to sit on the window ledge and peer inside.

Other voices sounded in the hallway where Marisol stood. She opened her eyes.

Servants moved toward her, carrying a tray laden with food.

Marisol ducked into a shadowy vestibule, hiding behind a stone pedestal with a statue of a jaguar perched atop. She closed her eyes and sought Imac.

The jaguar warrior still perched on the windowsill, the heat of anger radiating through her.

Marisol’s heartbeat quickened, her own anger rising in response to Imac’s.

Through the other woman’s eyes she could see Pachacuti standing with another man whose back was to the window.

“Beware, great emperor, the shaman’s power grows daily. Did you not feel the earth tremble earlier?” Though his back was to Imac, Marisol recognized the voice as that of Kentar, the eagle warrior.

Pachacuti frowned. “I felt it.”

“He could bring the city of Cusco down in seconds, decimating the kingdom you’ve worked so hard to build.” Kentar’s voice rang out, echoing off the stone walls. “Yet you allow him to live in your palace.”

“His power is undeniable, but he communicates with Inti.” Pachacuti stood tall, his chin lifting. “He could be a formidable foe if angered. What do you suggest?”

“Send him to Machu Picchu. You’ve heard rumblings that Ollantay will attack your kingdom. Tell the shaman he is needed at your temple.”

The emperor stood silent for a long moment. “I need his power here in Cusco. I am called ‘The Earth Shaker.’ If the truth is known…”

Kentar straightened. “Oh great emperor, you can have the shaman’s power.”

“How so?”

“Alert the shaman at Machu Picchu to prepare for a great sacrifice.” Kentar turned toward the window, his eyes glowing red.

The hairs on the back of Imac’s neck stiffened.

Marisol reeled backward against the stone wall. Did Kentar plan to sacrifice Gunnar so that Pachacuti could assume the shaman’s powers?

Marisol had to get back to Gunnar and warn him, but she couldn’t until she knew Imac was safely away from Pachacuti and Kentar.

“How will I get him to Machu Picchu? He is a shaman. Won’t he see through your plan?” Pachacuti asked.

“You are a master tactician, Emperor. How have you conquered so many thus far?”

The emperor stared straight ahead, a scowl hardening his jaw. “Imac. She is my most trusted warrior.”

“Send her and the jaguar warriors to Machu Picchu. Tell her that if Ollantay is successful against General Rumi-Naui, Machu Picchu could be next. She needs to be there to defend it. Assign the shaman to Imac as protection. She will not suspect a thing. You will have the shaman out of Cusco and have protection for Machu Picchu.”

“Imac will be gone for many days.” Pachacuti’s scowl deepened.

Marisol felt Imac’s anger lessen, the rumble in her throat turning to a purr. The woman obviously had feelings for her lover, Pachacuti.

“Use the time to plan the future expansion of your empire, unencumbered by a jealous female. A great warrior is Imac, but first and foremost, she is female and very demanding of your time.”

Pachacuti stepped toward the window.

Imac shrank back against the stone wall, ready to leap to the ground should the emperor come closer.

The Incan ruler crossed his arms over his chest. “I could use time to think, and I greatly desire the power of the Inti shaman.”

“Your greatness, you might consider also that Imac’s power grows, as well,” Kentar persisted.

Imac hissed quietly, her fingernails digging into the stone.

“Careful, Kentar,” Pachacuti warned. “Imac is my heart, my soul.”

“Beware she is not also your mind.” Kentar’s tone was low, intense.

The hairs on the back of Marisol’s neck rose as did Imac’s. Kentar’s words were meant to drive a wedge between Pachacuti and Imac.

Kentar’s gaze shifted from Pachacuti’s back to the window where Imac perched. His eyes narrowed.

Kentar stepped around Pachacuti. “The air grows cold. Let me close the shutters.”

Imac leaped to the ground and padded through the garden, careful to stay in the shadows. As she passed a pool, she stopped to drink, dipping her face close to the water’s edge.

The moon chose that moment to break free of clouds, shining down on the garden, creating a reflection in the pool.

Marisol considered breaking contact and hurrying to warn Gunnar of Kentar’s plan. But as Imac paused beside the pool, Marisol peered into the water through Imac’s eyes and stared into the golden eyes of a black jaguar.

Marisol jumped, her head hitting the rim of the pedestal with the statue. Pain radiated from the point of impact and for a moment, she lost contact with Imac. When she returned, Imac was on the move, weaving through the bushes and trees to a doorway leading into the palace.

She stopped in the shadows, stretching her muscles, straightening to stand upright. She shivered, gooseflesh rising on her arms. Until that moment, the cool night air had not affected her. The pause before entering the palace had given Imac the necessary time for her anger to cool.

Then Imac bent to sift through a pile of clothing at her feet, slipping a tunic over her head and shoving her legs into wool pants. She lifted a medallion dangling around her neck to adjust it before tucking it back beneath the neck of her tunic.

For a brief moment, Marisol could see intricate carvings in bronze. Shock rippled through her.

When Imac stepped through the doorway, Marisol could feel the other woman’s lips curl into a smile. Then a wall of darkness rose between them, shutting Marisol out.

Marisol crouched behind the pedestal and statue, her mind reeling, her breaths coming in short ragged gasps. Two truths had been burned indelibly into her mind.

Imac had the medallion Marisol sought, hanging on a leather strap around her neck.

The second truth was that Imac wasn’t human.

Chapter Five

Gunnar sat up straight when servants entered his chamber bearing a tray of food. At first all appeared normal, just like any day in Cusco. Until he remembered what had happened right before he’d fallen asleep.

Marisol Vasquez and the most amazing sex he’d ever experienced. Never had he felt so close to the heavens.

His gaze shot around the room, his stomach twisting when he realized the woman who’d sent him to the stars had disappeared.

Gunnar leaped to his feet.

The young servant girls’ eyes widened and they backed up so quickly the golden goblets on the tray teetered and tipped over, falling with a splash to the stone floor.

One of the girls dropped her tray and burst into tears. The other ran from the room, food bouncing off the tray she still carried.

Guilt pulled at Gunnar, but he didn’t have time to waste on the servants’ feelings. If Marisol got caught snooping through the palace, Gunnar might not be able to stop Pachacuti from punishing her, and the emperor was known for sentencing offenders to death.

Gunnar ran for the door, so intent on finding Marisol it never crossed his mind that he wore no clothing.

The young woman on her knees backed into the wall, her body shaking.

Her fear made Gunnar pause in his headlong rush to the door. It was then he noticed he was naked. He was about to turn back for his clothing when the heavy wooden door slammed open and Marisol stood poised on the threshold.

Gunnar let out the breath he’d been holding since he realized she’d disappeared. Then his gut tightened as he registered her ashen face. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into the room.

To the young woman crouched on the floor, he ordered, “Out!”

She stumbled to her feet and ran from the room, leaving the tray and its spilled contents strewn across the floor.

Gunnar let go of Marisol and shut the door behind the departing servant. “What happened? Were you discovered?”

Marisol had her back to him. “No.” She shook her head and walked deeper into the chamber. After several paces, she spun and faced him. “I just can’t believe…I don’t know what to say.”

Gunnar laughed. “I’ve only known you for a short time, but from what I’ve witnessed thus far, you are never at a loss for words.” His laughter died as he stared into her pale face. He closed the distance between them, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. “What has frightened you, my precious?”

She gazed up into his eyes, her forehead creased, her mouth pinched into a straight line. “Did you drug me while I slept?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I fell asleep. When I woke, you were gone. Why would I drug you?”

She shook her head, her gaze dropping to his chest. “I don’t know. I just…I can’t…What I saw…” She shook her head again. “Unbelievable…” Marisol leaned her forehead against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him so close he could feel the rapid beat of her heart.

“Where were you?” He stroked the loose tendrils of hair from her face, his fingers sliding over her head to the braids falling down her back. He liked her hair loose, flowing around her shoulders.

“I was going to search Pachacuti’s quarters.”

Gunnar gripped her shoulders and shook her. “Don’t. If he catches you spying, he can kill you, and I could do nothing to stop him.”

“I didn’t go there. I didn’t have to.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked up at him. “While I was out, I learned that Kentar is pushing Pachacuti to send you to Machu Picchu.”

Gunnar frowned. “You said you didn’t spy on Pachacuti.”

“Listen.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Kentar warned him that you were becoming too powerful. He wants you out of the city.”

“The man is poison. I am disturbed that Pachacuti listens to him.”

“Kentar also talked Pachacuti into sending Imac, as well, and she’s not happy about that.”

“How do you know all this if you were not spying on Pachacuti?”

Instead of answering right away, she stared up into his eyes. “You believe in magic, don’t you?”

“I have to. I live with it every day.”

“I know I told you that I didn’t believe in magic, but I lied.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was crazy. I wasn’t sure what they do with crazy people in this time.”

“This time? What do you mean by this time? You talk in riddles.”

She raised a hand to Gunnar’s face. “That’s not important now. What is important is that I can see through the eyes of others.”

He stared down at her, trying to wrap his mind around what she said. “How can this be? Do your people have powers like mine?”

“Some, not many, have powers different than mine and yours.”

“Yet you can see through other people’s eyes?” He shook his head. “Anyone?”

“No. Usually I can only see through the eyes of animals, not people. Then I saw through Imac’s eyes today in the great hall.”

“Imac? But she is human. Yet you say you see only through animal eyes?”

“Yes. I didn’t know why I could see through Imac’s eyes until tonight when I saw Imac’s reflection in a pool of water. I saw the reflection of a jaguar. Imac is a jaguar.”

“How can that be?”

Marisol spun away and paced across the room. “I don’t know. I thought shifters were myths.” She stopped and faced Gunnar. “Aren’t they?”

Gunnar sighed and pulled her into his arms. “You just asked me if I believed in magic. If I can shake the earth with my thoughts and you can see through the eyes of animals, why shouldn’t Imac shift into the shape of a jaguar?”

“I suppose.” Marisol leaned against Gunnar’s chest.

With her in his arms, he could believe in anything. “So Pachacuti is afraid of me?”

Marisol pushed him to arm’s length. “He wants your powers.”

“I can’t give them to him.”

Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. Marisol laid her face against him.

“Don’t go to Machu Picchu.”

“If Pachacuti wants me out of Cusco, perhaps it is time I left.”

“You don’t understand.” She looked up into his eyes. “The Inca offer up human sacrifices to their gods.”

“I know that. It is a barbaric custom.”

Marisol shook his head. “You can’t go to Machu Picchu. Kentar told Pachacuti to have the shaman there prepare for a sacrifice. I think he means that sacrifice to be you. He’s convinced Pachacuti that he can take your powers.”

“Pachacuti is not a fool.”

“The emperor will eventually think of himself as Inti.”

“You see into the future, too?”

“I studied Pachacuti prior to coming here.”

“From where?”

Marisol sucked in a deep breath and laid her hands on his naked chest. “I’m from a land far north of here, and a time almost six hundred years in the future.”

Gunnar gripped her arms. “You make my head spin. What is this about the future?”

“That’s where I’m from. Almost six hundred years in the future. I came back to find a medallion. One that could be the key to communicating with beings from other lands. Lands as far away as the stars.”

Gunnar let go of her and stepped backward. What did he know of this woman who’d appeared before him out of nowhere? “I don’t know what to believe anymore. You drop out of the sky, tell me of seeing through animal eyes and of women who are jaguars. It is all a great deal to take in all at once. I need time to think.”

“We don’t have time. If Pachacuti sends you to Machu Picchu, you may not return.” Marisol reached up to cup his face, a frown pressing her finely arched brows together. “When I leave, I want to know you will be all right.”

A surge of anger raced through him. His arms came up around her and he clamped her to his body. “You are my woman.”

She smiled up at him, shaking her head. “I belong to no man. But you come the closest to owning my heart. Don’t let Kentar destroy you.”

“He cannot harm me.” His chest puffed out against hers. “I have my magic.” His member nudged against her belly, reminding him of the magic he’d experienced with her. How she’d taken him to the heavens in her arms.

Marisol’s fingers curled around his neck, drawing him closer. “I couldn’t bear it if Kentar hurts you.” She kissed his lips.

“I never trusted him.” Gunnar took her lips, pressing into her, his body on fire with desire, his naked skin tingling with the need to feel her against him.

She dragged her mouth away from his. “Gunnar, you should go. You need to get out of here. Leave before Pachacuti sends you to Machu Picchu.”

“I’ll refuse to go.”

“If he insists with an army to back him?” She gazed into his eyes, the worry in her frown comforting him.

He pushed the stray hairs back behind her ears. “I will use my magic as a warning.”

“Gunnar, you are truly magical.” She kissed him briefly.

Too briefly. Gunnar wanted more, his staff hardening, eager to ascend to the heavens yet again.

“You have magic, but aren’t invincible.”

“They wouldn’t dare harm me.”

Marisol nodded. “Yes. They would. Your power not only impresses Pachacuti, it frightens him. He wants your power and may kill you to get it. Please, Gunnar, leave now. Go away from Cusco.” She hugged him close, laying her cheek across his bare chest.

“If I go, you must come with me.”

She stiffened and pulled away. “I can’t.”

Anger made him step away. He’d never had a woman refuse his demands before the beautiful Marisol. “Then I will not go.”

“I can’t go with you. I must complete my mission and return to my home, in my time.”

“Then I will go with you.”

“It’s too dangerous. I have to steal the medallion away from Imac. If she resists, she’ll have me put to death. If she suspects that you are involved in any way…that will be reason enough for Pachacuti to have you put to death.”

Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest. “You go with me or I go with you. Either way, I will not leave you. Those are your choices.”

Marisol stared into the stony expression on Gunnar’s chiseled features. He wouldn’t budge, and how could she hope to sway him? The man was from a time when women did not contradict or refuse men. At the very least, he’d offered her a choice, something most men of the time wouldn’t consider.

If she took him home, he’d only be confused by life in her century. Assimilation would be too difficult. The technology, the scientific advances, everything would make him crazy.

She couldn’t leave him here and she couldn’t go home until she’d accomplished her mission.

“I have to retrieve the medallion before we can leave Cusco. We need to leave before Pachacuti sends you away. He might not send me with you.”

“I am ready.”

Marisol laughed, her gaze skimming over his magnificent naked body, regretting that they didn’t have time for a repeat demonstration of his remarkable sexual prowess. “I suggest you dress for the road. It’s cool outside, especially for the naked.”

Gunnar lunged for his leggings and tunic, quickly slipping them on. He pushed his feet into his sandals and followed Marisol to the door.

Marisol leaned up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Please be careful. We can’t afford to be caught. Not now. The medallion means a lot to my people.”

“Understood.” Gunnar captured her around her waist and pulled her against him, kissing her hard. “You mean a lot to me.”

“We’ve only known each other a day.” Marisol spoke into his mouth, loving the feel of his full sensuous lips against hers.

“How long does it take to know your soul? A year, a day or a moment?”

Marisol stood for a few seconds, gathering her wits around her. The man had her head spinning, even without the kiss. His words and his kiss made her want to forget everything and return to the pallet on the floor.

“Let us go.” Gunner yanked the door open.

Marisol took a step forward and stopped.

In front of her stood Kentar with a dozen eagle warriors.

Kentar raised his eyebrows. “Going somewhere?”

Gunnar moved up beside Marisol. “We were going out for a stroll in the garden.”

“Your plans have changed. The emperor requests your presence at Machu Picchu.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You will not.” Kentar raised his hand.

In the second it took for Marisol’s mind to process Kentar’s intent, she flew in front of Gunnar, blocking his body with hers.

A bolt of electrical current hit her hard, the pain immediate, followed by an incapacitating numbness. She fell at Gunnar’s feet unable to move, her mind wavering, her vision blurring, shocked by the use of a weapon far too advanced for Incan technology.

Another flash of light erupted from the weapon in Kentar’s hand, hitting Gunnar square in the chest.

The big Norseman staggered backward and toppled to the ground.

Marisol tried to cry out, but her mouth wouldn’t work, the room darkening before she could utter a single syllable. Her universe went black.

Chapter Six

Marisol awoke with her face lying against stone, her body sore and bruised in more places than she could number, and so cold she shivered uncontrollably.

A fuzzy memory of Gunnar toppling to the floor of his bedchamber burst through Marisol’s mind, and she pushed to a sitting position, staring around at dark stone walls.

“Where the hell am I?”

“Machu Picchu.” A female voice cut through the silence. A voice she recognized immediately.

“Imac?”

“Yes.”

“What’s happening?”

“The shaman of Machu Picchu prepares for a great ceremony to honor the sun god.”

Marisol leaped to her feet, swayed and braced her hand against the stone wall. She prayed the shaman hadn’t already taken Gunnar. Her heart skipped several beats at the thought of losing the big Norseman to an insane ritual. “We have to get to Gunnar before he is sacrificed to Inti.”

“The great sun god will receive three sacrifices today.” She bowed her head, her shoulders slumping, highly uncharacteristic of the jaguar warrior.

“Three?” Marisol stared at the dark-haired, sultry woman. “Are we to be part of that sacrifice?”

“Yes.” Imac looked toward a solid wall, a tear sliding down her beautiful face. “I thought he loved me.”

“Does Pachacuti know you are to be sacrificed?”

“It was his order.”

“And you know this how?”

“I was asked to lead the warriors in defense of Machu Picchu, but once I got here, I was thrown into this cell with you.” She tipped her head up, staring down her nose at Marisol as though something smelled bad…that something being Marisol.

“Why are you still here?” Marisol asked.

Imac frowned. “What do you mean?”

Marisol strode across the room and grabbed Imac by the shoulders. “Why are you still in this cell?”

“I am to be sacrificed. Were you not listening?”

Marisol pushed aside her desire to claim the medallion for the more immediate need of staying alive. “You can escape.”

Imac shook her head, more tears sliding down her cheeks. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Marisol tipped the woman’s chin up. “As a jaguar, you can leap up to that window and escape. Why haven’t you?”

Imac stared at the meager light streaming through the window high on the wall. Too high for a human to reach, but not for a cat as powerful as a jaguar. “Why should I? If I escape, what do I have to go back to?”

“You would have your life. You are a beautiful woman. I bet Pachacuti did not sentence you to death as the shaman insists. Kentar convinced the emperor to send you here. Kentar probably sent word that the emperor wants you sacrificed.”

Imac stared into Marisol’s face. “You believe this?”

“I was there when you witnessed Kentar’s meeting with Pachacuti. Kentar is very persuasive.”

Imac stood, her shoulders pushing back, the warrior in her standing tall. “He charms snakes out of the grass.”

“Or charms an emperor to send his true love away.”

“Men are weak, even my love, Pachacuti.” Imac sighed.

“From what I saw through your own eyes, Pachacuti loves you. He would not have you killed.”

“Sacrificed,” Imac corrected.

Marisol pressed her lips into a thin line. “Dead is dead. Now are you going to stand around and let Kentar defeat the great jaguar warrior?”

“No.” She eyed the window far above. Then she turned back to Marisol. “How did you know this about me?”

“I know what you are, both woman and jaguar.”

Imac drew in a deep breath and held it, staring at Marisol for a long moment. “You are the only one who knows this.”

Marisol edged into Imac’s mind, reassuring her that she meant her no harm and the secret remained safe with her.

At long last, Imac sighed. “I can sense you speak the truth. I will allow you to live.”

“Well that won’t be long if we are both sacrificed.” Marisol nodded toward the window high on the wall. “If you plan on leaving, now would be a good time, before the Machu Picchu shaman comes to collect his first victim.”

“I will go. Rest assured I will return to release you.”

“Release Gunnar first. He is the one Kentar and Pachacuti wanted out of the way most.”

“The shaman will save the most important for last.” Pachacuti’s lover stripped out of her clothing, her dark skin glowing in the limited lighting.

“Please,” Marisol implored. “Release the Inti shaman first.”

Imac’s gaze softened. “You must love him as I love Pachacuti.”

Marisol shook her head. “We have only known each other a day. I can’t love him. I don’t know him well enough.”

“It was that way with me, as well. After knowing the emperor for a day, deep in my heart, I knew he was my mate.” She reached out and brushed her fingers across Marisol’s cheek. “I knew you were with me when I spied on Kentar and Pachacuti and when you first appeared in the great hall.”

Marisol swallowed hard. “You, me and Gunnar have gifts that must be used wisely.”

“You desire this, don’t you?” Imac fingered the medallion hanging by a leather strap around her neck.

“Yes.” Marisol’s chest tightened. The shifter held the crux of Marisol’s mission in her grasp. “My people sent me here to collect it. The medallion is greatly needed where I am from.”

Imac nodded. “I found this amulet in a secret chamber here at Machu Picchu.”

An image of the location filled Marisol’s mind, complete with hieroglyphs on the walls surrounding the medallion. Marisol saved Imac’s memory as her own.

Imac continued. “With the amulet, I have better control of my ability to shift to a jaguar. Before, it took longer and was more painful. Because of your concern for my well-being and your honesty, when I leave, the medallion shall be yours.”

“Thank you.” Marisol bowed her head in acknowledgment of the great gift Imac promised. She raised her head.

In Imac’s place stood a black jaguar, her gold eyes possessing the same intensity as the warrior woman’s. The animal dipped her head and the strap around her neck slipped to the floor, the medallion clinking against the stone.

Imac shook her body, her beautiful black pelt shimmering. Then she turned, leaped for the high window ledge, landing with ease. After a quick glance at Marisol, she disappeared.

Marisol blinked several times to clear the moisture from her eyes. Then she lifted the medallion in her hand, turning it over, tracing the pattern of alien inscriptions in the metal. Such a small, yet significant piece to an ancient puzzle that could change Earth’s future.

She touched the bracelet that would take her home. If she was half as mission-focused as she’d been when she’d set out on this journey, she’d touch the bracelet and take the medallion forward in time to the lab in Arizona.

As a powerful man, Gunnar was fully capable of taking care of himself, and Imac had promised to release him. What else kept Marisol from completing her mission?

Nothing.

Everything.

Marisol slipped the medallion over her head and tucked it beneath the collar of her dress, having made her decision.

Gunnar blinked to clear the darkness from his eyes. He pushed up on his arms, the cold stone beneath him not that of his chambers in Pachacuti’s palace. Where was he? How long had he been unconscious?

A dark-haired woman with bright green eyes filled his memory and he shot to his feet.

Marisol. Where was Marisol?

Gunnar raced to the wooden door to his stone cell and pounded against its rough-hewn surface. The ground shook beneath him, dust falling from the ceiling. Trapped, frustrated and angry, he clenched his fists and shouted at the ceiling, his voice echoing off solid stone.

After a while he ceased and leaned his head against the door.

The long bar on the other side slid sideways.

His muscles tense, Gunnar stood to the side of the door, ready to pounce on whoever was on the other side and escape.

As the door swung open, Gunnar waited until he could leap out into the hallway at the figure standing in the shadows, coming up short when he realized the figure was that of a woman. A naked, beautiful woman. Pachacuti’s lover, Imac.

He grabbed her throat, searing anger raging through him. “Where is Marisol?”

She clawed at his fingers, her face turning red. “I…can’t…talk,” she gasped, her eyes bulging.

Gunnar released the pressure but not his hands. “Where is she?”

Imac drew in a deep breath. “She’s in a cell on the other side of the compound. She sent me to free you.”

For a long moment, he held her neck, then slowly let her go. “Where are we?”

“Machu Picchu.” Imac rubbed at the red marks on her neck. “Come, we must free Marisol before the Machu Picchu shaman sacrifices her. The ceremony has begun.”

His heart skipped several beats then raced on. He left Imac standing near the cell door and ran down the hallway, unsure of his direction, frightened at what awaited Marisol on the temple’s altar.

Shifting to a jaguar, Imac caught up, slipping past him to lead the way out of the catacombs. When Gunnar emerged, he found himself at the base of the grand altar.

Inca nobles, warriors and citizens had gathered around the temple, their faces turned up to the altar where the Machu Picchu shaman chanted incantations to Inti.

Gunnar gasped when he saw the long dark hair spilling over the edge of the platform. With no doubt in his mind that the woman lying on the altar was Marisol, he pushed his way through the crowd and leaped up the steps two at a time to the top.

“Stop him!” Kentar appeared beside the shaman on top of the platform.

Eagle warriors raced after Gunnar, too far behind to catch him.

Gunnar reached the top long before they did. He threw the shaman down the steps into the mass of soldiers. Then Gunnar lunged for Kentar, blood flushing over his eyes as rage consumed him.

Kentar stepped up to the altar and laid a knife to Marisol’s throat. “Don’t, or the woman dies.”

“Run, Gunnar. Get away.” With her wrists and ankles tied to the altar, Marisol strained to see him. “Please.”

“I won’t leave without you.”

“So touching.” Kentar pressed the knife blade into Marisol’s skin, beneath the leather strap holding a medallion. “Where did you get this?”

Marisol fought to free her hands. “No. You can’t have it.”

“Leave her alone,” Gunnar roared, fear for Marisol urging him forward.

“I’ve been looking for this.” Kentar jerked the blade upward, slicing through the leather. The medallion fell to the stone below the altar.

Before the warriors could grab Gunnar, he dug deep and fast, grabbing hold of the earth with his will. Then he shook it so violently, the stones beneath his feet shifted.

Warriors slipped and tumbled backward down to the base of the altar.

Kentar’s arms rose to steady his footing.

As soon as the eagle warrior’s knife left Marisol’s throat, Gunnar dropped his shoulder and charged into the man, sending him flying backward, over the edge of the dais. The traitor bumped and tumbled down the stone steps into the crowd of onlookers.

Gunnar reached for the ropes that bound Marisol to the altar, tearing at the knots, until he had her hands and feet free.

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.

Chapter Seven

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.

Look for more stories in the Time Raiders series available now wherever ebooks are sold:

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Looking for more paranormal romance? The sizzling and spine-chilling books of Harlequin Nocturne are available at www.eHarlequin.com or your local bookstore.

Interested in writing for Nocturne Bites? Send your submission to NocturneBites@Harlequin.ca

ISBN: 978-1-4268-8557-0

Time Raiders: The Whisper

Copyright © 2011 by Mary Jernigan

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Table of Contents

Contents

The Beginning

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Copyright