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| Stepping Through |
| Futuristic romance Available at Midnight Showcase |
| Time Specialist Cade Reston has to save Earth. Again. As Cade steps through the matrix, he has no idea how his life is about to change. A mistake in his calculations sends him to AD 1996 and more than he ever bargained for – Jessie Moynihan. |
An EXCERPT from STEPPING THROUGH
Surprisingly enough, her mother hadn’t come after her. It made her a bit suspicious.
Her mother rarely gave up so easily. She breathed out a long sigh of relief as she
turned the last corner and into her cul-de-sac. The only car in her little parking
area was hers.
Which meant Eddie would arrive at any time. Joy, joy, see me jumping up and down, she
thought nastily.
She fished about in her purse until she located her keys and unlocked the front door,
stepping through into the cool interior of her townhouse. Rough hands grabbed her,
slamming her into the wall and pinning her between it and a very muscular male body. A
decorative mirror fell from its hook, shattering on the tiles. A large male hand covered
her mouth and nose.
“Don’t scream, lady. I don’t want to hurt you.” The voice was low, rough and very near her
ear.
She shook her head as vigorously as his grip permitted and hoped he understood. He
must have. The pressure on her mouth and nose eased. She sucked in a breath, needing
air. The hand clamped down roughly a second time. He pushed her into the wall. She
shook her head again.
“Breathe,” she tried to say. It came out a muffled mumble but he must have understood.
The hand moved down – around her throat. She remained still, trying to catch her breath
and think.
God, she was being robbed. Maybe raped. Maybe even murdered. Black spots danced in
front of her eyes. Her knees went weak.
“Don’t pass out!”
The panic in her captor’s voice sounded somehow reassuring. The blackness receded.
He spun her around to face him. Unsettled blue eyes took her in.
“What year is this?”
She blinked at him. What kind of question was that?
Oh dear God! He’s an escapee from some kind of institution! He’s been in solitary
confinement and escaped somehow.
“Do you speak English? C’mon, lady. Talk to me.” He gave her a little shake.
“Of c-c-course I speak English. It’s n-n-inety-ninety-s-s-ix. August thirty-first if that fact
m-m-matters.”
She felt the shock go through him. Felt it. She saw the knowledge of something horrible
settle in his eyes and then steal the color from his face. The pulse point at the base of
his neck, which happened to be right at her eye level, throbbed. She bet his heart rate
shot off the charts.
Great. He’d fall over in a faint, and she’d have to explain him to Eddie.
Jesus. Eddie.
“What?” His grip tightened on her again.
Her face must have given her away. It always did. “My fiancée. He’ll be here any minute.”
She took a deep breath. “You’re hurting me.”
He jerked then blinked those sinfully blue eyes.
“Don’t scream. Don’t run. Don’t try to hit me with anything. Got it?”
She nodded. “I got it. Now let go of me.”
He didn’t. “I need some answers.”
So did she. Like how the hell had he gotten in here. “Okay, buddy. Just let go of me.”
He didn’t. “I don’t want to hurt you, lady. Just talk to me. Give me some honest answers,
and I’ll be gone.”
“Okay! I said okay! What do you want? A pledge written in blood?”
To her amazement, he grinned. She brought her foot down on his as hard as she could.
Unfortunately, he wore boots.
“Ow!Ow! Jesus, that hurt!” She hopped right out of his grasp, falling onto her sofa. She
lifted her foot and rubbed until the pain eased. He stood, patiently watching.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, yeah, but it serves me right, I suppose.” She looked up at him again. Then she
gawked.
What a gorgeous man. Gorgeous in all the ways Eddie wasn’t.
He stood at least six-two, about the same as Eddie. But where Eddie looked pretty, this
fellow looked rugged. And sexy. And handsome. And dangerous.
And a new voice whispered in her ear. A real life Bad Boy stood in front of her.
The kind of bad boy she only ever dreamed of. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d mark off
every Wednesday afternoon on his calendar for golf or tennis.
He’d mark it off for sex.
Surprisingly enough, her mother hadn’t come after her. It made her a bit suspicious.
Her mother rarely gave up so easily. She breathed out a long sigh of relief as she
turned the last corner and into her cul-de-sac. The only car in her little parking
area was hers.
Which meant Eddie would arrive at any time. Joy, joy, see me jumping up and down, she
thought nastily.
She fished about in her purse until she located her keys and unlocked the front door,
stepping through into the cool interior of her townhouse. Rough hands grabbed her,
slamming her into the wall and pinning her between it and a very muscular male body. A
decorative mirror fell from its hook, shattering on the tiles. A large male hand covered
her mouth and nose.
“Don’t scream, lady. I don’t want to hurt you.” The voice was low, rough and very near her
ear.
She shook her head as vigorously as his grip permitted and hoped he understood. He
must have. The pressure on her mouth and nose eased. She sucked in a breath, needing
air. The hand clamped down roughly a second time. He pushed her into the wall. She
shook her head again.
“Breathe,” she tried to say. It came out a muffled mumble but he must have understood.
The hand moved down – around her throat. She remained still, trying to catch her breath
and think.
God, she was being robbed. Maybe raped. Maybe even murdered. Black spots danced in
front of her eyes. Her knees went weak.
“Don’t pass out!”
The panic in her captor’s voice sounded somehow reassuring. The blackness receded.
He spun her around to face him. Unsettled blue eyes took her in.
“What year is this?”
She blinked at him. What kind of question was that?
Oh dear God! He’s an escapee from some kind of institution! He’s been in solitary
confinement and escaped somehow.
“Do you speak English? C’mon, lady. Talk to me.” He gave her a little shake.
“Of c-c-course I speak English. It’s n-n-inety-ninety-s-s-ix. August thirty-first if that fact
m-m-matters.”
She felt the shock go through him. Felt it. She saw the knowledge of something horrible
settle in his eyes and then steal the color from his face. The pulse point at the base of
his neck, which happened to be right at her eye level, throbbed. She bet his heart rate
shot off the charts.
Great. He’d fall over in a faint, and she’d have to explain him to Eddie.
Jesus. Eddie.
“What?” His grip tightened on her again.
Her face must have given her away. It always did. “My fiancée. He’ll be here any minute.”
She took a deep breath. “You’re hurting me.”
He jerked then blinked those sinfully blue eyes.
“Don’t scream. Don’t run. Don’t try to hit me with anything. Got it?”
She nodded. “I got it. Now let go of me.”
He didn’t. “I need some answers.”
So did she. Like how the hell had he gotten in here. “Okay, buddy. Just let go of me.”
He didn’t. “I don’t want to hurt you, lady. Just talk to me. Give me some honest answers,
and I’ll be gone.”
“Okay! I said okay! What do you want? A pledge written in blood?”
To her amazement, he grinned. She brought her foot down on his as hard as she could.
Unfortunately, he wore boots.
“Ow!Ow! Jesus, that hurt!” She hopped right out of his grasp, falling onto her sofa. She
lifted her foot and rubbed until the pain eased. He stood, patiently watching.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, yeah, but it serves me right, I suppose.” She looked up at him again. Then she
gawked.
What a gorgeous man. Gorgeous in all the ways Eddie wasn’t.
He stood at least six-two, about the same as Eddie. But where Eddie looked pretty, this
fellow looked rugged. And sexy. And handsome. And dangerous.
And a new voice whispered in her ear. A real life Bad Boy stood in front of her.
The kind of bad boy she only ever dreamed of. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d mark off
every Wednesday afternoon on his calendar for golf or tennis.
He’d mark it off for sex.
| Into Tomorrow ISSN 1555-5496 Vol. 07-07ED Midnight Showcase Stepping Through Copyright © 2007 by Rayne Forrest |
Into Tomorrow is available in ebook or collector's edition print |
| Rayne Forrest |
| "Rayne Forrest is a masterful storyteller." - Romance Junkies Reviews |
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