Allie O’Shea closed the heavy, leather-bound book she’d been reading at her desk and looked at the man standing in her doorway. He wore a crisp gray suit, a navy tie and a CIA pin on his lapel. His presence wasn’t a surprise because he’d made an appointment to see her, but it was a mystery. He hadn’t said what his visit was about, only that it was urgent and strictly private.

Allie motioned for him to sit in the chrome seat in front of her glass-topped desk and she leaned forward in her chair. “What can I do for you, Mr. Smith?”

“My presence here is top secret,” he said. “Before I say anything more, you’ll have to sign this nondisclosure contract.” He set a sheaf of paper on her desk. “Just read the last line and sign here, please.”

She started to grin. This must be a joke. Who would pull such a stunt on her, though? The grin slid off her face. Nobody would, not in this building. No one teased her anymore. This wasn’t first grade where her short, stocky stature had earned her the nickname Minnie. She worked with serious, highly trained, dedicated people who rarely smiled much less cracked jokes. In the short time she’d worked at the Farmington Institute of Dead Languages, no one had ever displayed the slightest interest in her except professionally. So this must be real. But what could the CIA want with her? She decided to say yes to his demand. If the CIA wanted to play secret spy games, she would go along.

She pulled the papers to her, read them and signed on the dotted line. It all appeared legit. “All right, I swear. What is this about?”

“Do you remember reading about the man found in the Arctic Circle last year?”

“An Iron Age man in perfectly preserved condition found in the tundra beneath the permafrost.” She paused, and a spark of interest pricked her. “Did you find some writing in his belongings? Is that it?”

“Before I say anything else, I want you to sign another paper. It states you will never divulge anything about the mission involved.” He handed her a single paper.

Odd, she’d already signed his nondisclosure statement. What was this? Allie examined the document. It stipulated she could never speak about the mission to anyone, no reports were to be written, no photographs taken, nothing, or else she would be liable for damages. What damages? In short, it said that if she blabbed, she would regret it for the rest of her life—financially she would be ruined, and legally she could be put in jail. She frowned. It was extreme for a legal document. She had never seen another contract like this one. Usually they were only valid until the final report was published, but this one specified until the end of her life.

“Hardly the best way to start a working relationship,” she said, frowning at the legalese.

“It is to protect us, but it will also protect you. Anything that happens to you as a result of this project will be entirely our responsibility. And you will be handsomely rewarded.”

Okay, she was hooked. She took her pen and signed her name with a flourish. “There. Is that all? Can you tell me about the writings you found?”

Mr. Smith put his hands on her desk and leaned forward. “It’s not exactly that, Ms. O’Shea. We need you because…” He paused and for the first time seemed uncertain.

She saw his hesitation and thought she knew why. “I’m older than I look. My specialty is ancient languages including cuneiform and Celtic. If you found something written in his belongings, I think I can help you. I can’t be certain unless I see it, though.”

“Ms. O’Shea, we know all about you. What we need is a translator. You see, the man in question is being reanimated in a station in Alaska. We have kept this absolutely confidential because of the repercussions of such an act. Surely you can understand the need for secrecy in this situation.”

Allie suddenly had trouble breathing. “Wait a minute. Hold on. Did you say reanimated? Are you saying that he’s…? That he’s…?”

“Alive. Yes. Let me explain. It seems our Iron Age man’s body was in suspended animation, flash-frozen, as it were, and when we started thawing him out, one of the scientists had the crazy idea of running an electrical current through his body.” He gave a shrug. “Why refuse? The guy had been dead for thousands of years. Nobody could have predicted what happened next.”

“His heart started beating.” Allie swallowed hard. “How long has he been in reanimation? He’s got to be brain-dead, though, right?”

The man shook his head. “All I know is that as soon as they saw the heartbeat, they stopped everything. The brain had to be protected at all costs. If anything went wrong, all they’d have would be a two-thousand-year-old vegetable. Our man has been in reanimation for nine months. His brainwaves seem perfectly normal. We’re ready to wake him up now, and we want to be able to speak to him. We need someone who speaks his language. Otherwise, he’ll be completely disoriented.”

Allie grimaced. He would be completely disoriented no matter what.

As if reading her mind, Mr. Smith continued, “He’s in a special environment, made to resemble as much as possible as an Iron Age dwelling. You’ll be there when he wakes up.”

“When exactly will that be?” Disbelief warred with amazement and excitement. An Iron Age man! What incredible things he could teach them!

“In three days. I’m sorry to be so abrupt, but you have to leave tomorrow. Your superiors know that you are needed on a sensitive case. We have contacted them already. But you will give no details. Please read all the papers in the contract that I’ll leave with you and bring them to the airport tomorrow. Meet me at terminal four, Air Alaska. Seven a.m. Don’t bring much. You won’t be staying more than a week so they’ll never even miss you here.” He handed her a heavy manila envelope, upon which lay a plane ticket. First class for Alaska.

Her mouth went dry. “If you did any research on me at all, you know I don’t fly. I can get there by train, can’t I?”

The man’s eyes grew icy. “No, Ms. O’Shea. There is a very tight time schedule. This is of the highest importance. Any refusal to cooperate fully will result in your immediate exclusion from this program. I assume you wish to work on this project? You’ll be well paid. We’ve taken the liberty of tripling your normal fee.”

She did wish to work on the project, and the money didn’t matter. She had to go. She had to see this man, talk to him and communicate with someone from the past. This was an amazing opportunity and she wouldn’t pass it up, even if she was sure to perish in a terrible plane wreck. She would think about that later. She nodded curtly. “I’ll be there.”

Mr. Smith left without shaking her hand. Allie took the papers out of the envelope and carefully read at the contract. Sign on the dotted line. If they had asked her to sign in blood, she would have. An opportunity like this happened maybe once in a lifetime.

The contract seemed in order. It was for a translator in ancient languages for the duration of one week. Her job would consist of translating the words of a man who had been in suspended animation for twenty centuries. She would assist the scientists when he woke up. After one week, she would be free to leave. A small part of her brain wondered why the contract was for such a short time. Normally a study like this would last for years. Maybe it was just a test, to see how she did. If she was able to speak to him, they might keep her on for longer. Hopefully they would let her write a paper on her findings. She would publish it and be famous. The woman who spoke to the past—she could just see the headlines.

She picked up her phone and buzzed the institute’s secretary. “This is Allie O’Shea, I’m going on a short trip. I’ll be gone no more than seven days. Call Dr. Jarvis and let her know I’ll be late with the translation, but I’ll get it to her as soon as possible.” Now all she had to do was pack and get the strongest sedative on the market for the plane trip.

* * * *

The trip had been easier than she had dared dream. The pills had worked their magic and she had slept through the entire flight, only waking up when the plane had landed. Thanks to the miracles of modern medicine she could fly!

The grogginess left by the pills wore off as she got her luggage and followed Mr. Smith through the busy air terminal. Wait a minute. The exit is that way. She tapped his arm. “Excuse me. Why are we going toward gates one through ten?”

“We’re taking a private plane to the Air Force base. You didn’t think our station would be located in the middle of a city, did you? We’re going to a secret military station in the Arctic.”

Did he just say take a plane? Panic froze her limbs and she stumbled. Oh, God. If she died of a heart attack, would they be able to revive her at that secret station?

The airplane looked too small to fly. It perched on the icy tarmac like a child’s toy. Allie’s teeth chattered and her hands felt like blocks of ice.

She could hardly fasten her seatbelt. When the plane took off she jumbled all her prayers together and squeezed her eyes shut. Then the plane hit a cloud, started to bounce, and she nearly passed out.

* * * *

“Miss O’Shea, you can open your eyes now. We’ve arrived.” Mr. Smith sounded exasperated.

Tough. She opened one eye, then another. “It’s night.” She unclenched her fingers from the arm of the seat and she glanced at her watch. They had only been in the air for two hours. Two hours of holding on as tightly as she could, gritting her teeth, and gasping every time the plane had hit turbulence. It shouldn’t be dark yet.

“We’re above the Arctic Circle. It’s dark most of the time. Get up and get your things. I hope you brought a warmer coat than that,” he added, glancing at her down jacket.

Above the Arctic Circle? Where is this secret base? “I’m impervious to cold,” she said, shrugging into her plum-colored jacket and making sure she had her purse and luggage. She stepped out of the plane and a gust of frigid wind knocked her sideways. She skidded on ice and would have fallen, but a soldier dressed in a white snowsuit grabbed her and pushed her toward a door, seemingly set into a snow bank.

Before entering, she turned and looked back at the airfield. She saw nothing but ice and snow. No buildings anywhere, only a line of blue lights showing the runway. The plane engines roared as it turned and trundled back down the runway and took off, vanishing into the immense arctic night. Then the blue runway lights were extinguished. Nothing was left but murky darkness and whispering snow. A shiver tightened her belly and she entered the station.

Warmth and light greeted her at the end of a narrow tunnel. She stopped and stared. As huge as an airplane hangar, the underground station was like a set from a sci-fi movie. She stood at the top of a metal platform and watched a beehive of activity.

Harsh neon lights dazzled her eyes. A steady electrical hum formed a background to the sound of echoing footsteps, the murmur of voices and the rustle of papers. Everyone, it seemed, carried a clipboard.

Hesitantly, she walked toward a pod elevator where Mr. Smith motioned impatiently.

“You can sightsee later. I have to introduce you to the group leader, Captain Bide. The man is waking up faster than we expected. Hurry!”

His words jolted her out of her stupor and she rushed to the pod. Her luggage didn’t fit, so she left it on the platform.

“Leave it there, someone will bring it to your room,” Mr. Smith informed her tersely.

The pod slid down a cable like a ski lift and deposited them next to a low building in the middle of the hangar. A crowd stood at the doorway, and as she got out of the pod, a tall, thin man in a white lab coat ran to her and grabbed her hand.

“No time for chit-chat. Let’s get you dressed now. The subject is nearly awake and we can’t wait any longer.”

The next few minutes flew by in a blur while she took off all her clothes in a cubicle and pulled on a leather dress, leather boots and a bear-claw necklace. A bear-claw necklace? She made a face as she touched one of the long, sharp claws.

“That will impress him. You’ll be a shaman, all right?” A gray-haired woman with a clipboard poked her head in the cubicle and beamed at her. “Let’s hurry now. No time to talk. Come on!”

Before she could protest that the necklace was a bad idea, Allie found her arm in the grip of a muscular man who jogged her to a small door set in the wall.

“Don’t be alarmed. He seems groggy but he’s rapidly gaining consciousness. We’ll be following everything with a camera and we’ll be able to hear everything you say.”

“What exactly is my mission?” she asked, dashing along at his side.

“Just find out who he is and where he came from. Good luck.” He opened the door and shoved her inside.

She found herself in what she imagined was a Viking longhouse. A nude man lay on a furry pallet near the fire. Firelight ran over his body, gilding it and showing flowing muscles beneath his smooth skin. He had dark brown hair, cut short and lifting in curls off his temples. Not very tall, but exceedingly well made and strong, the man’s physique took her breath away. Her nipples tingled and her belly tightened in a purely animalistic response at the sight of his nudity. He moaned and stirred, but his eyes remained closed.

With her heart somewhere in her throat, she crept toward him, stopping long enough to take off the stupid bear-claw necklace. If he were a Celt or a Norseman, the necklace would frighten and confuse him. A young woman would not wear such a symbol of power—only a very old woman could aspire to such trappings.

She kneeled by the pallet and shook her head. He would not like waking up on the floor either. He should be on a bed. There were some beds set in deep wall niches, with thick, soft furs and embroidered hangings. He should be in one of those.

She peered upward, trying to spot the camera. They hadn’t tried to hide it, probably figuring the man wouldn’t be looking for it. A small camera peered out of a chink in the wall. She waved at it and asked, “Can someone come inside and help me get him into a decent bed?”

The door opened. A man poked in his head and whispered agitatedly, “Do not, I repeat, do not try to contact us. Pretend you are in a primitive land and just do what you have to do. We will not come in unless your life is in danger. And Dr. Paula says to put the necklace back on.” He glared at her and shut the door.

She sighed and looked down at the man.

Dark brown eyes stared back at her. He wore a puzzled expression, but didn’t act as though he were frightened. He studied her for a long moment, his eyes going from her hair to her feet. Then they settled on her breasts. His eyebrows lifted a fraction.

Hot blood burned her cheeks, then she remembered. She had forgotten to take off the silver crescent moon necklace she always wore. It lay between her breasts, probably a glaring anachronism that would send the man into hysterics.

He cleared his throat and a few guttural sounds came out. Nothing she recognized as speech. Great, I won’t be of any help at all.

Then he lifted himself onto one elbow. “I have great thirst.”

His voice was halting and ragged, but she understood. Granted, the accent didn’t sound like anything she had ever heard, but she’d understood what he had meant. He spoke Latin, but hesitantly, in a strange dialect. Who was he and where had he come from? So many questions jumbled in her head.

He coughed and pointed to his throat. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“A thousand pardons,” she said. A pitcher of water stood nearby and she poured him a cup. Everything was made of glazed pottery. She wondered if it seemed odd to him.

He sat up and drank, the water moving in knots down his throat. He wiped his arm across his mouth and nodded. “Thank ye.”

“You speak Latin. Are you Roman?” She’d read that he had been found in northern Scandinavia. Could he be a Roman soldier?

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Nay. I am Celt from the kingdom of Celtica.”

“You speak Latin well.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Never had she seen such a handsome man. He seemed as unaware of his nudity as a wild animal. Then he stretched and flexed his muscles, testing his arms and legs as he spoke.

“I also speak Greek, Pictish, Phoenician and Iberian—” He broke off and gazed at her thoughtfully. “I know not who you are, nor where I am. ’Tis strange. I can recall the tongues of man, but not my own name.” He gestured toward the room. “This place calls not to my memory. Where am I?”

Perhaps he would be more comfortable speaking his own language, though his Latin was passable. In Celtic, she said, “You have been ill for a long time. We brought you here to heal your wounds. My name is Allie.”

His eyes widened. “You speak Celtic?”

She hadn’t considered what to tell him about herself. “My father was Celt.” Well, close enough. He was Irish. “Can you remember your name?”

He closed his eyes then opened them. “I seem to hear the name Kell, but whether it is mine or not, I cannot be sure.”

“I’ll call you Kell then. Perhaps it will help you remember.”

“You wear the pendant of the crescent moon. Are you an adept of the moon goddess?” His fingertip nearly touched her skin, stopping a hair’s breadth from the pendant.

She could sense the heat emanating from his body, and a shiver ran through her. “No. This belonged to my mother.”

“Ah.” The man drew back slightly and examined his surroundings, his eyes taking in every detail. “You said we brought me to this place. Where are the others?”

“They have gone…er…hunting.” That sounded right. She smiled. “Can you remember your name now?”

He shook his head, his eyes still scanning the room. “In my bones, I feel a strangeness. Is this the land of the dead? I have died, haven’t I? And you are the goddess come to carry me to paradise.” He chuckled, and before she could react, reached out and touched her breast. “Such a beauty you are. My life on Earth must have been exemplary if the gods sent you to me.”

The touch of his hand on her breast sent a delicious tingle through her body, but Allie drew back, her heart pounding. “You are mistaken. You are very much alive. Here, let me get you something to eat.”

“I feel no hunger.” He shook his head as if to clear it and rubbed a hand over his face. His hand lingered, and he frowned. “Who shaved me?”

“Uh, the healer.” Allie gulped. Had he worn a beard when he’d fallen into the icy water? Would he go crazy on her now and attack her, ripping her from limb to limb? She peered at him. No, he appeared perfectly civilized, despite the aura of raw energy that surrounded him.

“A healer?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she saw a spark of humor in the depths of his dark-brown eyes. “Are you a healer too? Is that why you watch over me like a mother hawk with her young?”

Had she been staring at him? She lowered her eyes. Would he take offense if she stared at him? She had no idea. “Excuse me. I’m just a foolish woman.”

“Why do you beg my pardon?” He reached out and cupped her chin, lifting it so that her eyes met his again. “Don’t tell me you’re a Greek. The women there are downtrodden, but in my land they are equals.”

His gentle touch reassured her. Whatever apprehension she’d had about him vanished. He was no savage.

“No, I’m not Greek.”

“I didn’t think so. Your speech is strange, but definitely not Greek. I have traveled far, but I’ve yet to hear someone with your accent.” He let go of her chin and sat back, examining her from head to toe. “There is something very strange going on. I cannot recall my own name, and I have no idea where I am or who you are, but I can remember certain things, like the sight of white swans on a small pond and the smell of fresh lavender. Can you tell me who and where I am?” For the first time his voice wavered slightly, as if from fear.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

He hesitated a long time before he spoke. “Yes, for some reason, I do. I think I must be in the land between the living and the dead. My memories have fled, but my body is still intact. Perhaps I have to accomplish some feat before I can go join my ancestors.” He stared at her, his gaze smoldering. “You must be the goddess who will lead me to the land of the dead. I am glad it is you, for you delight me, Allie.”

Her cheeks burned. “I am not a goddess and you are not dead, I promise. Let me get you some more to drink. You must be thirsty.”

“No.” He kneeled and took her wrist, pressing it to his lips. “You please me, Allie, handmaiden to the gods. Come warm my body with your caresses.”

She pulled back, but his grip tightened like a steel trap.

“Let go!”

“Are you married?”

The question surprised her. “No.”

“Then I will be gentle.” He flashed a grin, surprising her. Still kneeling, he pulled her close and, without letting go of her arm, stroked her hair. “I think I will claim you for my own, maiden Allie.” He chuckled. “Your heart races like a hare in flight. I feel your desire. Do you deny it? Come, refuse me no longer.” He reached down and stroked his cock, which swelled and hardened.

Allie’s mouth went dry. A flood of hot wetness dampened her inner thighs, and she realized she hadn’t any panties. Underpants as she knew them didn’t exist until the twentieth century, and only men wore braccae or loincloths.

She glanced beseechingly at the camera in the wall. Please, someone come in here quickly. But she knew no one would unless he started to hurt her, and he wasn’t hurting her at all. Perversely, she wanted him to continue stroking her breast. Her mind grew curiously numb even while her body seemed to come almost painfully alive.

“Kell, please let go of me.” She managed to get the words past her lips, all the while wondering what it would be like to feel those strong arms wrapped around her… No! That is enough! ‘Easy Allie’ that’s what the boys in school had called her. She had sworn to stop saying ‘yes’ on the first date. As that thought flitted through her mind, she almost laughed.

“Why do you smile?” Kell released her wrist and stood, stretching languorously. “I have let go of you, but I will have you, Allie. Don’t doubt it for a minute.”

Another blast of heat soaked her pussy and she almost groaned aloud. No one had ever looked at her with such a smoldering gaze and said those words to her with so much assurance, as if nothing she could do or say would ever stop him from possessing her. She had to close her eyes to catch her breath and calm her pounding heart. When she opened them, Kell still stood in front of her, his head tilted to the side. As she watched, he rubbed his temples, a line of pain appearing between his eyebrows.

“What is it?” Her voice sounded almost back to normal.

“I am trying to remember this place and how I came to be here, but thinking too hard pains me.” He gave a slight grin and shrugged. “I must have hit my head, for I would surely remember meeting a beauty like you.” Without waiting for her comment, he strode to the far side of the longhouse. He turned to her, unease written on his features. “I would relieve myself, and then I’d like to bathe. My muscles are stiff and my head still aches. Where is the door?”

Allie swallowed. Where the hell was the bathroom in this place? Clearing her throat, she spoke loudly in the direction of the camera. “You’d like to take a bath, is that it?” At once, she saw a crack of light appear under a hanging deer skin and a door opened slightly. Thank goodness, they must have heard her. Why did they have to hide the damn doors?

“Um, over here, Kell,” she said.

Allie had no idea what kind of bathroom a longhouse would possess, so her interest sharpened as she opened the door, pushing aside the deer skin. Inside she saw a wooden bucket of water, a fire, some rocks, a bench, a roughly woven cloth, and another bucket, by itself, behind a standing screen. Oh, joy, the loo. She hoped part of her job did not include emptying the potty.

And what are the stones for? She opened her mouth to ask, but Kell stepped into the room and gave a big smile.

“Ah, a sauna bath.” Kell didn’t seem to be startled by the details, so it must be authentic, and the stones must be used to make the steam.

“I’ll leave you alone.” She backed away hurriedly.

He lifted his eyebrow at her. “Who will scrub my back?”

“Scrub your own back.” She pointed to a long-handled brush then stepped out of the room, closed the door, and glared at the camera. “What else haven’t you shown me?” she hissed.

As before, the hidden door opened a crack and a scientist poked his head in. “We didn’t have time to give you the grand tour. If he gets hungry, there are honey cakes in a jar by the fire, and some soup heating in the caldron. Try to get him to tell you what he was doing so far north. Did he tell you what tribe he supposedly belonged to?”

Supposedly? “He’s Celt.” Allie waited for his exclamation of awe or amazement.

“Celt. Yeah, right.” He sounded more bored than amazed. With a shrug, he took a notepad from his pocket and scribbled something. A voice murmured behind him and the scientist nodded.

“Dr. Paula wants you to ask him about his religion, his mating ceremonies and his family structure. Oh, and she says to put the necklace back on right this minute.” He rolled his eyes and pulled his head back, the door shutting with a click.

“Great. She wants to know about his mating ceremonies.” Allie considered going to scrub Kell’s back. That would probably get the mating ceremony going, but she figured she had enough trouble already.

Kell poured the hot water over his head and body, using the ladle. He put water on the hot stones too, making steam. Using handfuls of herbs and soft clay, he scrubbed his skin and hair, then rinsed carefully. He shook his head, making water drops fly. It didn’t clear his thoughts, however. Everything stayed muzzy. Almost angrily, he tossed the ladle down and rubbed his hands over his face. Every time he tried to remember who he was or where he was, a stabbing pain hit him.

He threw his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the steamy air. He tensed his muscles then relaxed, thinking of the fair maiden waiting in the longhouse. He had never seen such luxurious, deep auburn hair, and her fair, clear skin glowed with health. Her curves would put the goddess of love to shame, and her eyes reminded him of clear, sunlit water running over amber pebbles. Long lashes framed her sparkling eyes, and when her wide mouth curled into a smile, dimples appeared in her cheeks—two dimples, a sign of a lusty appetite for life and love.

Love. He frowned and took the towel from the wooden bench, drying himself as he tried to recall if he had ever had a wife…or even a woman. His cock stirred and hardened when he thought of Allie, so obviously it knew what to do, even though he couldn’t remember ever lying between a woman’s thighs.

His cock twitched again and he reached down to stroke it. He couldn’t think of anything right now except taking Allie in his arms and holding her close to his naked skin. He hoped she would be willing. The looks she had given him, the way her fair skin had flushed when he’d touched her breast, and how her breathing had deepened all told him she had been interested in him. Purely by instinct, he could tell she wanted him. Now he had to convince her to listen to her instincts, and maybe the release he sought would help clear his head.

He opened the door and saw Allie sitting near the fire, her chin in her hands. Quietly, using his hunting skills, he slid through the door and padded across the floor, staying out of sight at her back. He paused, a vague memory stirring in his mind. A wide expanse of snow, trees leaning in the wind, and something breaking beneath his feet. There came an impression of falling into nothingness. He tensed, sudden terror icing his blood, and let out an involuntary cry.

Allie turned and gave a bloodcurdling scream.

Startled, he jumped backward, caught his heel on the edge of a pelt and fell. His head hit the floor with a jolt that made him see stars. Instantly Allie kneeled by his side.

“Kell! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scream. You scared me, that’s all. Are you all right? Answer me!” She cradled his head on her lap and bent over him, her breasts brushing against his chest.

All thoughts of falling or panic fled. His cock stiffened and he managed a grin. “I think I’ve hurt something. Could you rub it for me?”

“Yes, of course. Where?”

He took her hand and put it on his cock. “Here.”

She jumped like a rabbit caught in a snare, but he didn’t let go of her wrist.

He got to his knees and faced her, keeping her hand firmly on his member. “Please, Allie. Ease my need. My body aches with longing for you.” He shifted his head, trying to catch her gaze. Would she agree? She acted torn in two, this woman. A strange combination of timidity and desire seemed to inhabit her. One moment she stared at him with eyes that blazed. The next, she pulled away.

“Are you a virgin?”

She seemed too old to be one, but she wore a moon pendant, and virgins prayed to that goddess.

“No, I’m not.”

Good. He tipped her chin up with his finger and stared into her eyes. “I want to worship your body. Will you let me?”

Allie couldn’t believe her predicament. Dr. Paula must think she took her instructions very seriously. Damn Dr. Paula, and damn Kell, with his dark, serious eyes and chiseled good looks. She had a weakness for handsome men. It always ended in heartbreak and disaster for her. This would be no different. A one-night stand with a man from another time? She must be out of her mind. Well, she did have orders to do whatever needed to make Kell more comfortable.

She should struggle, pull back, act like a civilized woman. People are watching!

Struggle! her brain said very sternly.

Surrender, giggled her body.

She couldn’t fight. Her muscles resisted about as strongly as marshmallows when he tugged on her arm. Besides, she suddenly realized the idea of people watching didn’t bother her. Am I an exhibitionist? She had never thought about it. And now the idea made her knees go weak.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her to his rock-hard chest. “Allie, I take you in the name of Kell.” His mouth curved into a smile. “I have remembered my name. It is Kell, son of Bran, son of Orin. Kellorin Branson is the name I go by in my troop. I have led my men to many victories against the invaders from the north. I must have died in battle and this is the paradise promised to valiant warriors.”

As he spoke he flexed his hips and rubbed his cock in sensuous circles across her belly. Its smooth, hot tip burned her skin through the thin leather of her dress. Rushes of heat and cold alternately washed over her, leaving her panting and totally incapable of speech. The most gorgeous man she’d seen in her life wanted her. All she wanted was to scream fuck me, and she didn’t remember how to say that in any foreign language. Think, Allie!

To know. To know a woman meant to fuck her.

She stared at his perfect features—dark, burning eyes, high cheekbones and a long, narrow nose above full lips. Lips coming closer to her face and brushing her temples, her cheeks, branding slow kisses down her chin and over her throat.

“Know me,” she begged, a sharp spasm shaking her belly and spearing her right through her cunt.

The idea that people watched sent shivers of excitement down her spine. Exhibitionist? You bet your sweet ass. Another flash of heat inundated her body. But only exhibitionist up to a point. She led Kell to one of the beds set into the wall and pulled the curtain closed.

The niche was deep and the bed was soft. Kell kneeled beside her and untied the laces that fastened her dress. He paused, apparently giving her time to think, then, when she didn’t protest, pushed her dress down to her waist. Her breasts ached for his touch, and touch them he did. He took them in his hands, his calloused palms rough on her sensitive nipples. They hardened, lengthening and darkening, and he leaned down to take one in his mouth. Fiercely, he tugged on her nipple, sucking hard. Soft growls came from his throat and he pushed her onto her back. Still on his knees, he grasped her hips and pulled her to him. Crouching over her, he took his cock in one hand. With his other, he reached beneath her dress and found her pussy. One finger dipped into her and she clenched her buttocks as he stroked her softly. His finger crooked and he probed delicately into her wet folds.

“Pure maiden you are not, and your readiness coats my hand like honey.” He groaned and nudged the tip of his cock into her. “Your heated cunt welcomes my shaft. By Damara, I know you, Allie.”

He grabbed both her thighs and thrust his hips forward, sheathing himself in her in one smooth movement. His face darkened and he uttered a long, drawn-out growl. Like a wolf, he threw his head back and howled as he drove into her.

His raucous cry raised the hair on the back of her neck, while his wiry hands held her thighs wide. Her dress bunched around her waist and bared her pubic mound. His glistening cock sank between her labia, sliding, as if buttered, into her aching cunt.

He kneeled over her. The view he offered made her head spin. His muscular torso might have come from a Greek statue, stunning in its perfection. Her eyes followed the dark line of pubic hair, descending from his navel to his cock. Her labia hugged his root tightly, and thrust, his balls slapping lightly against her ass. His muscles flexed and he drove his cock deeper. The moment it hit her cervix a bolt of pleasure mixed with exquisite pain shot through her.

Slowly he drew out, letting just the tip of his cock tease her entrance. He grinned down at her. “Do you love that, my sweet Allie?”

“Yes.” Gasping, she raised her hips, trying to spear herself on his hardness.

He only teased her more, flexing his buttocks so that his cock stroked her slick flesh, rubbing gently but insistently on her clit. A burning started in her pussy, spreading to her head, making her dizzy with desire so strong she thought she would scream or go crazy. And still his cockhead caressed her clit as he ignored her little cries of frustration. She lifted her hips, straining to catch his cock in her pussy.

He pushed her knees even wider and, with a strong thrust, buried himself to the hilt. A shock wave rippled through her body each time his cock hit her cervix. Her vision went dark. She thrashed back and forth, submerged by the sensations of pain and pleasure. Too deep, too strong, too good… Oh, God, it felt good! She dragged air into her burning lungs, gasping his name. “Kell!”

The pelts on the soft bed beneath her rubbed up and down her back when she moved, and her scalp tingled with static electricity. She dug her fingers into the fur, clutching as hard as she could.

His cock quivered inside her as he held himself perfectly still, his hands on her thighs, the tendons standing out on his neck. A loud groan rumbled in his throat and he unsheathed himself, her juices glistening on his cock. His breathing grew harsher and his hands trembled on her thighs, but his grip didn’t lessen. He thrust into her, inch by inch, then with another deep growl he pulled out, resting his cock on her belly.

“No!” She wanted him inside her. She craved him so much it tore at her soul.

Her nipples ached and her breasts jiggled. She raised her hips, pushing against his hands. She might have been pushing steel girders. His fingers tightened, clutching her body to the point of pain.

Effortlessly, he held her immobile. Then, with a wolfish grin, he thrust into her, all his weight and strength behind his cock, impaling her right to her womb. Another starburst of pleasure-pain blinded her. She cried out, incapable of stopping herself. Her body convulsed and a tumult of throbbing seized her cunt. An orgasm stronger than any she had ever experienced ripped through her. Helplessly, she watched her belly contract. Her cunt clamped onto his cock and suddenly he tipped his head back and howled again, then he pulsed inside her. Stream after stream of hot seed hit her cervix, and it pushed her over the edge.

She heard herself screaming, harsh cries mingled with his roars, and as he collapsed on top of her, her last thought glimmered like a star in the darkness.

This man has waited over two thousand years for me.