Red Night ((Book 1) Timewalker Chronicles)

by Michele Callahan

  She smiled in answer, “Take me to bed for a solid week and ravish me at your leisure?”

  “For starters.” His lips devoured hers. Every bit of adrenaline running rampant in their systems was redirected into the heat of that kiss. When he lifted his head, neither one of them could breathe. “I love you, angel.”

  She stared into his eyes. He stared back. Forever was looking pretty damn good.

  Chapter Nine

  “How do you know?” Luke was lying on his side. He nuzzled her bare breast and decided that a week wasn’t nearly long enough to keep her in bed. With his free hand, he caressed her abdomen, stared at her skin in wonder. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Alexa smiled and ran her fingers through his hair.

  “But how do you know?” A daughter. A baby girl who would steal his heart and wrap him around her tiny finger the first moment he saw her.

  His wife’s gentle laugh was full of feminine secrets. “I’m all-powerful and all-knowing.”

  “I’ll show you ‘all-powerful’.” Luke rolled on top of her, pinning her to the soft green sheets beneath them. A full moon illuminated her naked body and perfect skin through the large bay windows of his bedroom. Her eyes were unreadable, their expression lost in the darkness of the room. She looked mysterious and sexy as hell. Her hair spread around her like a halo of liquid silver. Like an angel. His angel.

  Like a moth to a flame, his tongue traced a path over her skin to the Shen above her breast. He traced the heated circle, savoring the taste of her flesh, the answering burn of his own mark as hers flared to life. She arched her back, thrust her nipples into the air, begging for attention, driving him on. Her smooth legs spread beneath him, then lifted to wrap around his thighs so his hips dropped into the cradle of hers, the tip of his cock pressed into her slick wet heat. She was more than ready for him.

  The knowledge forced a groan from him. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, flicked the tip with his tongue, then sucked hard, fast, with a rhythm he’d learned would drive her crazy. She writhed, tried to lift her hips off the bed to take all of him.

  He wanted to go slowly, to worship her, to thank her for the miracle now growing inside her body. But the wet heat pulling at him drove every sane thought from his mind. With one hard thrust he surged into her. A shocked cry of welcome fell from her lips and Alexa opened for him, pulled him deeper. She was incredibly hot, tight. Her muscles clenched around him in both demand and invitation. He tightened his stomach muscles and pressed hard, rubbing against her most sensitive spot as he thrust and withdrew, steadily increasing the pace.

  Luke sought her lips with his. Of their own accord, his hands sought hers and held them entwined on either side of her head. The heat of her mouth beckoned. He thrust his tongue inside, mated with hers, plunging deep in unison with the forceful driving of his hips. The Shen burned on his chest as if it were on fire, spreading the flames to every millimeter of skin that rubbed against hers.

  Luke let go of her arms and pulled back to take in the sight of her writhing beneath him in passion. He would be lost for all time in the pleasure of her body, the fierceness of her spirit. The words poured from his heart, from his very soul. “I love you, Alexa.”

  She froze beneath him, then her smile melted him on the spot. “I love you, too.”

  Her hands wandered up his chest, pulled on his nipples. The touch jolted his senses, shot through his body. She pushed her pelvis against his, took him even deeper. Slowly, her tongue caressed her lower lip. It was a deliberate enticement, and he was beyond resisting, didn’t want to fight the inferno rising to take them.

  With a growl, he lowered his head to hers, plundered the sweetness of her mouth. He intended to hold something back, to protect the new life stirring inside her womb, but her soft voice demanded he push harder, begged him until he wanted nothing more than to bury his body so deeply into hers that she’d never get him out.

  Alexa met every thrust with one of her own. Her tongue dueled with his for supremacy, staking her claim. She cried out her release and he followed her over the edge into bliss.

  When they recovered, he pulled her to his side, her head resting in the nook of his shoulder. Her hands traced devilish patterns of desire onto his chest, tempting him to rise again.

  He clamped his hand over hers to stop the sweet torment. “How do you know, Alexa?”

  Sexy, delicate shoulders lifted in a little shrug. “I can’t explain it. I just know.”

  “And you’re sure it’s a girl?”

  “Yes.”

  A daughter with blue eyes and silver hair. Beautiful. Luke drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

  * * * * *

  White fog wrapped around Luke in welcome. He was dreaming again.

  The Archiver beckoned. The ageless one. The man in white. The man with secrets. The man who made promises...and kept them.

  What? He wanted to shout until his voice was hoarse, but he knew the man never answered questions. Luke would see only what he was meant to. Maybe the Archiver needed reassurance, was worried about Alexa. “She’s safe. M-6 was destroyed. I’ll take care of her. You know I will.”

  The man nodded. Smiled. Was that a twinkle in his eye?

  Luke followed along after him in the blank white space that he was, after sixteen years, well accustomed to. Then the old man waved his hand and a vision sprang to life before them.

  She was about three years old. Bouncing red curls framed a pixie face dusted with freckles and blue eyes the exact shade of her mother’s. His little girl was running in the grass wearing a bright yellow sundress and sandals. On her ankle, like a shackle, was the Shen, the mark of the Taken. Alexa ran after her. Caught her. Swung her, laughing, into the air.

  Luke froze, sure his heart was going to explode. Once again he stood and bravely faced his future, instantly fell in love with someone he had yet to meet, someone he’d die to protect. His little girl…

  Tired eyes lined with fine wrinkles focused on Luke’s face with demand, and respect. For the second time in sixteen years he spoke. “Your daughter. Guard her well. She is needed.”

  About The Author:

  Michele Callahan is a wife, mother, romance and science fiction addict, and founder of RomCon, the only Fan Convention geared toward women who read romance and genre fiction. Suffering from a healthy case of sci-fi/fantasy fever, Michele never turns down an opportunity to sit through a Star Wars, True Blood, or Matrix marathon. The Princess Bride is on her all-time favorite movie list.

  Read on for a SNEAK PEEK at the next title in the series.

  Silver Storm (Book 2) - April 2012

  Deep Blue (Book 3) – October 2012

  Excerpt: Silver Storm

  Timewalker Chronicles Book 2

  Available April 2012

  CHAPTER ONE

  Friday, 5:17 AM

  Glowing silver embers fell from the sky over Chicago and all of her suburbs. The glittering snowflakes spread over the city faster than dawn could shoot its rays of new morning light. Night hung on by her fingernails, the sun trapped behind the horizon for a precious few minutes. The early risers, those who initially believed themselves blessed to witness a miracle, gasped in awe and cried at the unearthly beauty floating down over them like a billion falling stars.

  Then the screaming began as everything and everyone, nine million people, burned to ash in a matter of minutes.

  Three Days Earlier, 5:17 AM

  Silence hovered over the water and a few moments of peace settled over Tim like a cool mist of water on a hot July day. He grinned and finished tying the spinner on his line. The softly lapping water, smell of wet vegetation, and honking geese gliding around the edges of Hendrick Lake were as far from the deserted lab, blazing heat and gunfire as he could get. Tuesday morning meant most people were back at work, leaving the lake and the best fishing spots empty…just the way he liked it.

  Bandit curled up in her bed on the floor of the nine-foot aluminum boat, content to s
leep for a few more hours. The tiny Pekingese mix was used to his routine. Fish. Run. Scan the news headlines every night for things he dreaded to see. He’d sit at the computer and she’d curl up in his lap. She did everything with him now. When he’d flown home to bury his parents, she’d been a four-month old puppy he could fit inside his combat boot. He’d come home on six months mandatory leave to ‘get his head back in the game.’ The top brass didn’t like the fact that his research was turning up nothing but rotten eggs. Nothing was said, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know they hoped the death of his parents would push him deeper into the game. He had nothing left now but a dog, an empty house and scars. Lots of scars.

  Bandit hopped up and yipped at him, happily wagging her tail as if to remind him that he had her. And how dare he think he needed anything else? The princess of a puppy had been his mother’s whim and a completely spoiled lapdog. The tiny pooch had lived a life of luxury traveling in his mother’s purse everywhere she went. He’d considered giving the pup away after the funeral, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. That was four months ago. The little girl wasn’t much bigger now, a whopping ten pounds soaking wet, but she kept him company, she was smart, she liked to fish, and she was the only family he had left.

  “Okay, fur ball. Let’s see what we can catch today.” Tim cast his line out over his favorite fishing spot and let the spinner sink a few inches before slowly reeling it back in. The rhythm and monotony chased away the last of his lingering nightmares.

  Bandit growled low in her throat and paced over her pillow, rumbling like a tiny electric toy stuck in the ‘On’ position. The hair on her body started to rise, forming a round fluffy brown and white snowball with huge brown eyes. Bandit looked like a cartoon character. Tim would’ve laughed, but the hair on his arms crackled with static electricity as well and rose to attention like a thousand miniature soldiers. The water puckered as if it were being hit by raindrops, but there were no clouds. No rain. No thunderstorms on the horizon waiting to zap him and his boat into oblivion with a stray bolt of lightning.

  Tim reeled in his line and stashed the fishing pole in its spot along the side of his seat. Bandit stood at rigid attention on her fluffy brown bed and continued to growl, a steady little rumble of warning that set his teeth on edge. They were too exposed on the water, too out in the open. He clenched his jaw to keep a stream of expletives from rolling off his tongue.

  Perhaps this was a freak storm. There had to be a perfectly good explanation, because if it were the boys from the lab, he’d be dead already. No, whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. His silence came as automatic as breathing. He didn’t start the small trolling motor. He took out a wooden oar and paddled smoothly for the tree line behind his house. Two minutes, perhaps three, and he’d be under cover. He hoped that wouldn’t be two minutes too long.

  “Shit.”

  The electrical buzz building in the air continued to grow stronger until he could hear the slight hum around him. His skin prickled and the water on the side of the boat rose, forming hundreds of fluid stalagmites rising, bursting, and sinking back into the water faster than he could track them.

  Earthquake? E.M.P? Geomagnetics? Had those bastards finally done it?

  The electric charge shocked him with static build-up every time he moved. Time to get off the water before whatever was happening cooked him in place or worse.

  He glided into the reeds only a few feet from shore and tried to figure out how he could get off the boat without touching the supercharged water. Any second now he expected stunned or dead fish to start popping to the surface. Maybe the Fish and Game boys were doing this for a count or culling of the lake. He couldn’t imagine why they would, but they should’ve posted warnings.

  Bandit yelped and sunk to her belly, whimpering and shivering. A thunderous boom filled the air and a burst of silver light to his right blinded him. Instinct drove him to the bottom of his boat for cover. He grabbed Bandit and held her squirming torso down with his as his mind raced with possibilities.

  A bomb? Lightning?

  Whatever it was ruined a perfectly good fishing trip.

  As suddenly as it all began, it was over. The super-charged air dissipated like it had never been and the hair on his arms returned to its usual resting place. His clothes stopped crackling. The water, roiling moments ago, returned to a serene and placid lapping against the side of his small boat. The geese took up their honking as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. Bandit suddenly leaped to her feet and jumped onto the bench seat he’d just vacated. Her curled tail wagged fiercely as she yapped at something just out of his sight.

  Ears still ringing from the blast of lightning, he pulled his ever-present knife from its sheath at his waist and lifted his head just enough to see over the edge of the boat.

  SILVER STORM

  (Timewalker Chronicles Book 2)

  Available Now

  Excerpt: While You Were Dead

  A Thrill-Ride of Romantic Suspense by CJ Snyder

  Prologue

  Twelve years ago

  Kat Jannsen didn’t cry the day they buried Maxwell Crayton.

  Plenty of others did. Mourners gathered four and five deep around the long, flag-draped coffin. Even more had packed the church, but Kat skipped the God part.

  She stayed back by a tree, feeling out of place, uninvited, unwelcome and wondering about the flag. Military? What other secrets had he kept?

  Kat couldn’t say why she’d come. Except she’d loved him, as she’d never loved another human being in her life. So much hope about to be buried in that coffin. So many dreams. So much despair left behind.

  His actual death shouldn’t have made a difference. He’d been missing for two months before he died. He’d tossed her away like a used Sunday paper three months before that.

  Now Kat shivered in the cold, sleeting rain. She gave her head a vicious shake, warding off the tears that threatened for the first time in days. She straightened her shoulders. You will not cry. She had no right to attend the family’s service, but she represented someone who did.

  Her gaze darted over the ring of mourners. They were folding the flag. In just moments she’d know. They’d give the flag to Miriam, the sister who’d raised him. Miriam. Kat’s baby’s one chance at a sane life. Anguish wrenched her heart. Sorrow for Max, sorrow for this baby she already loved too much to keep. Kat fought her tears so she could see the woman who held her future—her child’s very life—in her hands.

  The soldier stopped in front of an older woman and Kat frowned. Miriam was forty-three, fifteen years older than Max. This woman looked a decade older than that. Too old? No. She couldn’t be too old. Women had babies in their forties all the time. Bereavement might make her look older.

  An even older man supported Miriam, his arm strong and sturdy around her shoulders. Five others surrounded them, forming a protective half-circle around the couple. Two nephews, Max’d said. Nephews with wives, or at least girlfriends? Grownnephews? The woman turned her head in response to something her husband said and Kat caught her breath, nearly undone by the naked pain on the face that so closely resembled Max’s own. The resemblance was nearly as close as that between her own mother and herself.

  So, this was Miriam. So much grief. She must have loved her brother very much. But Kat hadn’t expected her to be so old. She’d pictured a warm, loving youngercouple. For just a moment, she sagged back against the tree.

  It’s never easy, Kat. Max’s words, and before that her mother’s. Words to live by. Why would she expect this to be any different?

  You don’t have a choice. Unless you damn your sweet baby before it even draws a breath.

  All true. No choices, no options, except to entrust her innocent child into the hands of fate. No. Better to trust Miriam.

  More movement at the graveside. Mourners began to greet Miriam and her husband. Time to go. Kat wouldn’t intrude today. But soon. There wasn’t much time.

  Chapter One


  Five Years Later

  Max Crayton eased his car over to the side of the road and shut off the engine. His hands were shaking. His heart pounded hard in his chest and loud in his ears. Too loud. Too hard. He focused on the Dairy Queen, on the trees waving gently in the sweet spring breeze. Home. After too many long years, it was over. He was finally free to pick up his life nearly where he’d left it.

  You can’t have Kat back.

  Regret stung, so sharp and strong he winced. He should go—just start the engine, drive to his sister’s house and get it over with. That’s what he was here to do. But he wasn’t ready. Arrival at Miriam’s heralded a new start. The first day of the rest of your life. His fist connected with the steering wheel. It just wasn’t that damn easy.

  Because arrival at Miriam’s also firmly closed the door on his past. That’s why he was here, sitting above Bluff River Falls, Wyoming, watching life go on in the valley below. He’d survived the long years because the past was waiting for him. The ultimate reason for what he’d done. His life. Intact. Complete with Kat. Finishing the simple drive to Miriam’s would end that fantasy forever.

  He closed his eyes, fighting the inevitable moment when the door—that door to her—would latch so resolutely behind him. “Kat,” he whispered. “Ah, baby, I’d do it so differently....”

  Would he?

  Faster than a single heartbeat.

  Could he?

  No.

  He’d taken the only path he could. Kat was the most valuable thing he’d lost, but not the only thing.

  You knew it going in.

  “Not when I agreed,” he argued.

  Yeah, well, that ship sailed.

  Frowning now, he restarted his car. Miriam would help. His sister always had a knack for making him feel better. She’d mothered him when his elderly parents died. Miriam’s husband, Doug, died during his “absence” and he wondered how his sister was coping. Most importantly, how would she react to her “dead” baby brother?