How will he ever survive this century with his mind—and heart—intact?
Shayla Murphy has escaped the rat race of the city to work on her latest novel in the beauty of the North Carolina Mountains when suddenly, her peaceful retreat turns into a hostage scene. One straight out of a sci-fi flick. But when the sexy hero who saves her needs a little rescue of his own, Shayla can’t kick him out. Especially after he reveals he’s from the future, and his ride home has been stolen. How’s a girl supposed to say no to that line?
Creed Donovan, Sustain drug enforcer for the Federation of Americas, is on the trail of a fugitive. The chase through time has landed him in the year 2015. More than six hundred years into the past. Trapped in the twenty-first century by a renegade was bad enough for the FOA’s best enforcer, but to have his own supply of Sustain sabotaged by the outlaw as well… Creed was so screwed.
Without the libido-inhibiting drug, Creed’s long repressed arousal will soon stir, untethering carnal urges he’s never experienced. Stuck with a beautiful new roommate and on the verge of detox, he struggles to stifle the raging desire in his blood. For her sake and his.
(intended for 18 years or older)
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“You’re really…” Shayla just couldn’t form the words. They felt too ridiculous on her tongue.
“From the twenty-seventh century.”
“And this drug makes it where no one wants to…” Her palm went to her mouth, covering her lips. When had she suddenly lost the ability to finish her sentences?
“Participate in sexual activity,” Creed said without a flinch, as if he were talking about the desire to or not to consume steak.
Wow. She’d been struck back to monosyllables. Her head spun on the concept of what the future held. A world without intimacy.
“Umm…” It seemed so rude, but it would kill her if she didn’t ask. “So does this mean that you have never…?”
“No.” He grabbed the display from her hand and stowed it back inside his backpack. “I’ve never had sex if that’s what you were about to ask.” His head swung back in her direction. “My job is to enforce the law of the Federation, not break the code I’m sworn to uphold.”
“Oh. I see.” God, it blew her mind that a whole society was celibate. And that Creed Donovan, the tough alpha male who would easily be the inspiration for one of her most erotic novel creations was a virgin. Damn. Why did she find that tidbit of information one of the most provocative things she’d ever heard? Her nipples went rock hard. Heat crept up her throat and into her cheeks. She needed a distraction. Fast.
“So there’s no kind of special equipment in that bag of yours that would help you to repair your implant?” Shayla indicated the pack beside him with a wave of her hand.
“No. And even if I could, I’m out of reserves.” A guttural sound emanated from the back of his throat. One that said he was one pissed-off Double T, short for time traveler. Hey, why not? She’d already deemed herself a nutcase for believing this. “A damn rookie mistake,” he went on to say. “I’d been chasing Thomas for two weeks, and I’d finally zeroed in on him. I knew I’d be heading back yesterday with the rebel in custody, so I didn’t want to lose my lead by warping back for more Sustain supplies.” He shook his head and mumbled another curse under his breath. “Not a smart move.”
“You referred to the other man, Thomas, as a rebel. What kind of rebel?”
“A Sustain rebel. He and a woman we’d already retrieved by the time I located Thomas here had removed their implants and fled. That type of rebellion isn’t tolerated. It would set our civilization back more than a century in progress, not to mention the damage that can be done by warping through timelines unchecked.”
“And your job is to ‘retrieve’ these rebels.”
He nodded. “Yes. An enforcer.”
Shayla slowly nodded. “I take it then that when Thomas did this to you, the chosen site for the stabbing was no accident?”
“He knew exactly what he was doing,” he nearly growled, teeth bared. “He also took my timepiece. Wanted me trapped here, detoxing in the twenty-first century so I can ‘appreciate’ what I’m forcing our people to live without.” He pushed from the sofa cushions, marched over to the bar, and with his back to her, spread his hands wide on the surface.
“So the fever, dizziness, and when you passed out really isn’t related to any kind of infection is it?”
“I’m in withdrawal.”
Shayla’s gut tightened. “How bad is it going to get? I mean, how long before help arrives?”
“A week. Maybe two.”
Her breath hitched. If he had already experienced withdrawal symptoms… She didn’t own a medical degree, but that didn’t sound good. “What does that mean for you and what your body will go through without Sustain while you wait?”
His words barely reached above a whisper, but she heard him nevertheless. And the answer lifted the hairs on her body.
“God only knows.”