Timeless – Excerpt

Somerset, Southwest England, 1016 AD.

He gripped the thighs of his flame-haired woman, no control over his body now, his mind about to explode, his heart melting out his love to her. The moment of Regeneration was almost upon them.

Torches smoldered, casting several shadows over their timeless bed that resembled a table large enough for a score of banqueters. And a sumptuous banquet it would be—the scent of her young body was driving him to the limit of his restraint. He stifled a shudder, mastering his own muscles back into control. Not yet…

She pulled him closer, and his mouth swept over her delicate flesh, tentatively licking and tasting the smooth texture of her skin that stretched like a thin veil over her pale veins, the sweet, heady scent of her blood a prelude to the flavor of her skin. He had always hungered for her, but this time he would prolong the pleasure of anticipation. He would wait for every luscious moment, every succulent kiss.

She moaned and lifted her body toward him in an enticing offering, and he sucked on her flesh until his lips were swollen and her skin a deep violet.

"Take me now, my lord," she pleaded, pulling him closer, her emerald eyes dark.

"In the name of the Regeneration," he murmured, his muscles tensing further with a need that went deeper than human passion—the desire for immortality.

She cried out as he shuddered. God above, there would never be anyone else he could love. Not now, not ever.

A force from behind tore him from her, and he crashed with a sickly thud on the flagstones. His body, hot and moving inside her only a moment ago, was now hovering near death. Death. Against all odds, it had finally arrived.

A large shadow twice his size flung itself at him, sinking its teeth into his chest, its mouth greedily tearing at his flesh, layer after layer, until it reached his ribcage, gnawing at his bones between its steel jaws, aiming for his hot, quivering, oozing heart…

* * * *

Special Agent Robyn Wainright awoke in a sweat, the images of her nightmare branded on every cell of her brain, her chest on fire as if the demon had ripped her own heart out. Damn case was getting to her. Murderers were getting more and more gruesome every day.

This last victim, Paul Carter, had allegedly had his heart removed and presumably eaten in a hangar just outside Delaware. But only a pool of blood was left of the body that had never been found. And now she was going to check out a similar case of a woman in England. With no apparent connection between the victims to be found anywhere. But deep in her heart, she knew the cases were connected.

Jesus, why didn't she just apply for a pencil-pushing job? If she thought running around the world chasing whack-jobs was going to take her mind off Richard dumping her, she was wrong.

She sat back in her low-cost seat, took a deep breath to settle her usually steel nerves, and squinted at the large, masculine wristwatch she never took off. It was still midnight in the US, but to the east the sky was stretching thin, bleeding into a deep crimson.

She was on a red-eye flight to England where another blood-filled killing dawn had cracked.