N. Walters - Threads of Destiny

“The time has come to give yourselves up.” She could hear the underlying glee in the General’s voice and shivered.

Turning to Tienan, she gripped his arm. “You promised me.” His eyes were sad as he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. “I know.

Turn around.”

She knew he couldn’t look into her eyes and kill her. Instead, she focused on Logan, blowing him a kiss. Her fingers dug into the leather strap of her purse. Tienan’s hands tightened around her throat. She tensed and then forced herself to relax.

The General, realizing their intent, yelled. “Stop!” Just then a brilliant light flashed in the room. For a second, Kathryn wondered if this was what it felt like when you died. But the moment passed and she was still very much in this world. She blinked and half stood, unable to believe her eyes.

A giant of a man stood just beyond the door, a tapestry in one hand and a four-foot sword in the other.

“Kill the men. Spare the woman,” the General ordered. “She’s mine.” The man took in the room at a glance, his eyes widening when he saw her. Swiftly, he turned back to the threat and attacked. His great sword cut through the men like a hot knife through butter. As she watched, two bloody heads rolled toward the bed.

Using the distraction to their advantage, both Tienan and Logan dove for the other weapons, bringing them up and firing. Both her father and the General dove through the door but they weren’t in time. She heard her father screaming in pain and the General yelling at him to shut up.

The stranger swung around and leapt over the bed, landing by her side. “You are unhurt?”

His accent was strange but she understood him perfectly. “Yes.” She raised her hands to his face. He seemed so familiar. She blinked, taking in his bare chest, the arm and wristbands and the long brown hair that fell down his back. “Marc?” This was impossible. Marc was nothing but a character from a book, a figment from her dreams.

He flashed her a grin. “Kathryn.”

“I hate to break up this little party but we’ve still got trouble.” Tienan had a weapon in each hand, one pointed at the secret entrance, the other at the door. It was only then that she heard the commotion on the other side of the tunnel and saw the door move.

They were starting to break through. Logan was beside him in a similar position.

Marc stared at them, his golden-brown eyes narrowing. “You are the men from the dream.” They both nodded.

Shock filled her. “That was just a dream. That wasn’t real.” Marc used the tip of his sword to pluck the remains of the brown vest from the bed.

It had been damaged in the shootout. “I believe this is mine.”

“This can’t be happening,” she moaned, rubbing her temples.

“It can and it is. Choose.” He glanced sharply at both men. “Stay here and die or come with me. I don’t know if the tapestry will take us all but we can try.”

“The tapestry.” She grabbed it from Marc’s grasp and shook it out. Sure enough, it was the same tapestry from the attic, yet different. Her family home filled the fabric but as she watched, it faded, replaced once again by the castle that had been there originally.

Marc wrapped his arm around her, pulling her so close she could hear the steady thud of his heart against her ear. His sword was held in front of them, a protective measure. She felt surrounded by his strength and strangely safe in spite of the shouts, the pounding of feet and the smell of death in the air.

“Stay or leave.” It took her a second to realize Marc was talking to Tienan and Logan. Held tight in his arms, she didn’t doubt that she was going with him. She held out her hands to them. They glanced at one anther and took a step forward, each of them grasping a hand.

“Hold on tight and do not let go,” Marc warned them.

The secret entrance was shoved open and men started to pour through. Kathryn closed her eyes, knowing they were all dead. It was too late.

A blinding light flashed and she heard Tienan cry out. His grip faltered but she clung tightly, refusing to let go of either of them. With Marc’s arm banded tight around her, she felt her body being torn away from the room, from the world she knew.

Then there was only darkness.

Marc bit back a groan as he tried to clear the fogginess from his brain. He was on his back, the hard surface beneath him stone. There was a weight on his chest—a soft, supple, shifting weight. Blinking, he glanced down and stilled.

Kathryn.

Everything came flooding back to him—his flight through time and space, the fight and their desperate escape. The only question was, where were they? Had they made it back to Javara?

He could see a window, the shutters thrown back and its colored glass panes visible. He turned his head slowly and relaxed as the familiar confines of his room met his gaze. The fireplace was cold but he recognized the oak table and the two large, carved chairs that sat beside it. Above the hearth hung a large ornate sword that had belonged to his father. He was home.

He turned his head in the other direction and saw the corner of his large four-poster bed and the edge of a black boot. At least one of the men had made it. Kathryn moaned, drawing his immediate attention. She shifted and her pelvis ground against his, bringing her feminine heat up against his rock-hard erection. It seemed that no matter the situation, he wanted the woman in his arms.

Her hair had come loose from its knot and long tendrils rested across his chest.

Fascinated by the fiery color, he lifted a strand and brought it to his face. It was soft and smelled of flowers. His chest tightened and his cock flexed.

Her eyelids fluttered and gradually opened. He watched, uncertain how she would feel about this turn of events. She seemed to know him, yet she had claimed he was not real. How could that be?

His erection continued to throb and he shifted slightly, trying to ease some of the pressure on his balls. She couldn’t deny he was real any longer. Not with his shaft pulsing against her sex. Even through the layers of their clothing, he could feel her heat.

Her green eyes opened and she blinked several times. Her lashes, thick and long, brushed her cheekbones. Her brows were a reddish brown. Everything about her captivated him. He wanted to know all there was to know about her, to uncover each and every one her secrets. He wanted to strip her clothing from her and spend hours learning the curves and hollows of her body. He longed to bury himself in her heat and bring them both to completion.

“What?” she began and broke off. She jerked away suddenly and he grunted, barely managing to keep his manhood safe from harm as she rolled off him. The satchel she had around her chest smacked him in the head.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his head, not wanting to alarm her unnecessarily. “You are in my room, in Garen Castle.”

She licked her lips and he noticed how plump and pink they were. “That’s impossible. This place doesn’t really exist.

“So you have said. Yet it is so.” He wanted to kiss those lips but forced himself to look away. There was time for that later, once he’d taken stock of the situation.

The dark-haired man was lying facedown a few feet away from them. The other man was on his back, just beyond, one arm flung over his head. A pool of blood was rapidly forming beneath the first man.

Kathryn’s gaze followed his and she gasped when she saw the blood. “Tienan,” she cried, flinging herself toward the dark-haired man. Yanking the satchel over her head, she dumped it aside. “He must have been shot before we managed to get away.” She faced Marc, her skin pale but determination on her face. “Help me.” He scooted over beside them and quickly turned Tienan onto his back. Blood seeped from a wound on his shoulder. It must have come from the strange weapons they’d held in their hands. He glanced around the room but saw no sign of them. For some reason, they hadn’t made the trip. Marc was glad they hadn’t. They were deadly and, from what he’d seen, you didn’t even have to be close to your opponent for it to be effective.