Because she trusted him the fate of the world is in her hands…
Icon of the United States of America, New York is Cara's city—until one sunny afternoon when she wakes up in a beautiful meadow. Light clouds float in the blue sky, a mild breeze dances in the branches of a maple tree and the air smells of freshness. But New York has disappeared.
When Cara opens her eyes, she finds a complete stranger standing too close for comfort and he seems to know all about her. If she wants to find her way back home she must stay with him. Obnoxious as he appears, she has to turn to him for protection when confronted with enemies she never knew she had.
These enemies know of an ancient prophecy. They believe Cara is the only one who can change it and they will do anything to stop her.
As Cara tries to outwit and outrun them, her heart starts to beat for the stranger. Only to discover that his heart is dead.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of non-consensual sex and rape.
General Release Date: 14th June 2013
1.6em;">"Keep on doing this and I promise you won't be sorry."
The masculine voice penetrated her beautiful dream—invaded it. Still, she felt so at peace in her fantasy that she tried to hang on to the vivid images. Eyes closed, she lay on her side at the foot of a maple tree in the heart of a bright meadow. Her head rested on the blanket she held in one of her hands. Birds chirped above, their song carried by the amorous whispers of a spring breeze.
Far away a cow mooed, the bellowing sound seemed to float in the air. Golden rays gleamed through her eyelids, stroked her arms, and enveloped her body in a warm embrace. The smell of fresh grass caressed her nose and she inhaled slowly to capture the verdant fragrance. Her heart filled with an inner peace she didn't want to let go of, she kept her eyes shut and curled her hand tighter around the blanket.
"I said keep on doing this and I promise you won't be sorry."
That voice again. The rough undertone jostled through her wonderful fantasy, weaved its way into it to dispel the peaceful vision beyond the wavering meadow. God, but she wished so much to stay there. Lips parted, she exhaled a long sigh before opening her eyelids.
She didn't see a green, grassy field but some kind of brownish cloth very much resembling suede. Actually what she had taken for a blanket seemed to be the front of a pair of pants. As if she was an outside observer she studied her hand pressed against the tight fabric, her fingers splayed over a lump. Funny enough, the hard lump felt alive.
Her gaze travelled up, taking in the curious belt around his waist, the light brown shirt opened at the neck, the square jaw covered with the stubble of several nights, the full lips, the piercing green eyes regarding her with… What? Certainly not hesitancy.
She looked down again, her mind seemingly still caught in the dream and not yet ready to function. As she tensed her fingers to apprehend reality, the mass hardened under her palm. Eyes widening, she stared at her hand as if the limb had become an independent part of her body. Oh, God, she was holding the private parts of a total stranger.
The shocking realisation had her rolling over in a heartbeat, landing on her back with a dizzy feeling. But in doing so, she had pushed against the tight lump to gather momentum.
"Ouch! That's not the way to treat a man."
Although she wanted nothing more than to let her mind wander in the blue depths of the cloudless sky above or maybe dive back into her oblivious dream, she cast him a quick glance.
He winced, his back straight against the sturdy maple tree of her dream, his legs spread out. Notwithstanding the fact that her head had been resting on his hard thigh for God knew how long, she had fondled his… No, she didn't want to think about this now.
A perfect stranger he was and 'perfect' appeared like the precise term to describe him. As he stood up to do some pulling around his crotch she felt her breath surging out of her lungs. So tall and lithe in his suede and leather outfit. So utterly gorgeous it almost ached to look at him.
Her heart hopped. Her stomach swivelled. She sat up in an attempt to brush aside her body's impulsive reactions, but the bright rays of the sun cascading down on him and enhancing his maleness didn't help. Who was he? Why had she been napping with his thigh as a pillow? And beautiful as the meadow was, how had she ended up here?
While trying to control her erratic pulse, she noticed her own clothes. Leather boots laced around her ankles and calves, black suede pants and open-necked shirt loose enough to allow freedom of movement, her outfit appeared similar to his but with a feminine cut. Hung around her neck, a piece of something shiny rested between her breasts.
"Time to go."
His sharp tone interrupted her new discovery. She looked up to find him straightening the belt around his waist while checking the position of two daggers on his hips. Now who walked around with that kind of weapon? If he did feel threatened in a quiet meadow, why not use guns?
When he bent down to the foot of the tree to pick up the long dark cloak he had been sitting on, she realised he hadn't been talking to himself, but he expected her to follow him.
"I don't know you and I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Good thing I wasn't asking for your opinion then."
She jumped to her feet as he flung the cloak over his right shoulder then extracted a piece of leather string from the pouch at his belt. But she didn't leap fast enough to avoid his dangerous nearness. Although he scanned their deserted surroundings, he seemed focused solely on her.
"Give me your hands."
"You've got to be kidding!"
She took a step back, her attention fixed on the leather string he fiddled with. Did he really mean to tie her up? Insane as the idea sounded, the stranger's resolute stance showed his sudden impatience to be on the move. To go where? And why would he want her to accompany him? Whatever his destination, she wouldn't be a part of it.
"Look, this is some kind of mistake. I've never seen you in my life and I have no intention of going with you."
A hint of a smile lifted one corner of his mouth, but his gaze remained frozen while he reached out to her.
"Didn't I mention I'm not interested in your opinion?"
She took three steps back this time, a small knot moving up and down her dry throat. A cow bellowed again in the distance, probably the same one. A light breeze ruffled her hair and the man in front of her waited. Without daring to shift her attention she cocked her head.
"God, who are you?"
"No time for niceties. I'm dead and we need to find a shelter for the night. It's getting late."
In spite of his rigid attitude and icy glare he looked so damn alive that she almost laughed in his face. Yet she had been distracted. A single stride and he grabbed her wrists to twirl the string around them so fast she could only gasp. When he let go, her hands were fastened up, though not so much as to induce pain. Shifting her eyes from her fingers to his face, she stammered before swallowing the knot in her throat.
"What do you want with me?"
He turned round and started walking down the gentle slope, crushing grass under his boots. She stared at his straight back, feeling like he was trampling her beautiful fantasy. Although she didn't want to follow him, the thought of spending the whole night alone by the maple tree with her hands tied didn't appeal to her. No, it didn't.
The sunny warmth on her skin already felt cooler. Like a heavy ball, the sun had sunk to the west, its rays no longer brightening the verdant meadow. Also heading west, the man now didn't seem to care if she followed. Or he knew she would. Alarmed by the coming darkness, fearful of hungry, wild animals, she had no choice but to go after the stranger. She moved.
Welcome to Chris Lange's fantasy world where she lives most of the time. She loves alpha males, badass bikers, sensitive men, hot vampires, angels, demons, cowboys, cops, ghosts, knights and kings.
She's a dreamer and a storyteller. She writes about love, love, love, and sometimes she leaves her characters' bedroom door open.