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a desperate, whispered
plea as she flattened her palms on his chest and pushed.
    He didn’t back up. Instead, he moved in until her hands were
caught, pressed between his chest and her breasts. She looked up into his face,
terrifyingly close to her own. The hard, steady rhythm of his heart pounded
under her palm. Seemed to pulse through her hand until it fueled the hammering
of her own heart.
    “I can’t do that, Bethany.”
    The finality of his tone staggered her. He was not going to
let go. She hated being afraid, yet Wyc frightened her beyond anything she had
ever known. And the most horrifying part was that in spite of her fear, she was
struggling with a frantic desire to throw herself as deep as she could into
this man.
    She felt, rather than heard, the rumble deep in his chest
against her palms as his face sharpened with desire. He leaned down, his hands
on the door on either side of her face. His thighs pressed against her, and his
hips pinned her body in place, the softness of her belly giving way to the
solid length of his hardened cock.
    She took a quick, deep breath and inhaled the same exotic
scent she had thought was cologne last night. It wasn’t. The strange mixture of
spice, musk and man that sent her senses reeling for want of his touch wasn’t
aftershave or soap. It was him. And once again, she found herself being
inexplicably drawn to him. Felt something within her that had been hidden so
deep she had not known of its existence, rise up, shake to awareness and reach
for him.
    It terrified her.
    “What do you want from me? I don’t even know you.” Her voice
was less than a whisper, her words a prayer for release. Not from him, but
release from the escalating need within her for him to fuck her deep and hard.
She didn’t understand this need he created in her, but no matter how much she
fought it or tried to ignore it, it wasn’t going away. Every minute in his
presence intensified her body’s demand until she burned for his touch. Wild and
fierce, he surrounded her with a presence that exceeded his obvious physical
dominance. As if he were literally sinking into her skin, burrowing past her
defenses into places that had, until now, been hers alone. Asserting ownership
over her very heart and soul.
    He lowered his face toward hers, intent clear in his eyes.
He wanted her—all of her. And he was going to take her. Mark her as his. As his
mouth closed over hers, she felt the branding begin.

Chapter Three
     
    I don’t even know you .
    Bethany’s words echoed in Wyc’s head. He cursed the twisted,
malicious hand of fate that had kept him from her for so long. She should have
borne him at least one child by now. Instead, she was telling him to get out of
her life. Wanting to escape from him.
    Except she wasn’t going to escape him. Not now. Not ever.
The sooner she realized that, the easier this would be on both of them. He’d
planned on explaining her heritage and family to her before fucking her.
Explain how he was her future, how she was his.
    But now her hands pressed against his chest, her breath was
coming in short, quick pants, and her eyes darkened with increasing arousal.
Her scent rose to taunt him. She wanted him. Reaching past her fear to touch
him.
    And she was going to stand there and tell him to go away?
Like hell she was.
    Already tense muscles tightened further. When she refused to
go with him last night, he had wanted to push the issue. More than just push.
He had wanted to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back to his home.
Back to where she’d be safe. Where she belonged. Where he could lay her out and
feast until he was sated.
    That’s exactly what he would have done if her mother hadn’t
panicked and jumped through the first portal she came to with Bethany and her
sisters. He wasn’t the only one who cursed the fact that they hadn’t entered a
different place and time. A more reasonable world where it was acceptable to
ride in and simply take what was