This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

“Damn, damn, damn,” she yelled, staring through the windshield at the man who stood directly in front of her car. Where had he come from?

The motionless man stared back at her with a rather serious look on his face. She’d probably be looking the same way at being nearly run down. Any moment she expected him to rail at her, pound on the hood of her car for not paying enough attention to the road. She deserved as much. How could she be so careless?

Shock turned to bafflement when he continued to stand there without so much as a twitch or angry curse. Her confusion only expanded as she took a long hard look at him. His thick, dark, wavy hair was closely cropped to his head. Her gaze lingered on his strong face. A defined chin, prominent nose, and chiseled facial features left her mouth dry. He was perfection personified. He could be a model. Not one of those young underdeveloped, malnourished sorts found in young women’s magazines. He was handsome, but rugged. Lumberjack Quarterly, if such a thing existed, would sell a lot of axes with him as their poster boy. Her eyes shifted to his broad shoulders and bare muscled arms. Although defined, he didn’t look like the sort who spent much time lifting weights. She was certain he’d earned every ripple the good old-fashioned way. A bronze colored breastplate covered his upper body and the words “Greek warrior” came immediately to mind. She leaned forward to get a better look at him over the dashboard but was thwarted by the steering wheel and his close proximity to the hood of the car.

She hazarded another look at his face. Still no anger. Nothing. Maybe he was in shock? His gaze was steady and she found herself wondering what his eyes looked like up close. It would be remiss of her to let a potentially injured man stand there, especially with the snow now coming down in a thick blanket. Against her better judgment she put the SUV in part and hit the unlock button, slowly sliding from the vehicle’s interior.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was a bit shaky. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she’d never almost hit a person before. She stopped short as she took in the rest of his outfit. “Good Lord!” Had someone forgotten to tell him Halloween was over? Not that she minded the view.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but it certainly wasn’t for him to be standing there in what could best be described as full ancient Greco-Roman attire. His legs were only covered to mid thigh by a chain metal “skirt” contraption. Underneath she glimpsed a white material that probably acted as a protection from the uncomfortable looking metal. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he’d walked straight off an ancient Greco-Roman battlefield. Her eyes lingered on his powerfully sculptured thighs before traveling to his waist where several ominous looking hilts rested at the tops of sheaths. On his hip rested a very real-looking sword.

She sure hoped it was a costume.

She made to take a step back, only to find her movement halted by his restraining hand. He’d moved so fast, faster than any person she’d ever seen. Strong fingers wrapped around her wrists. The rough texture against her skin made her heart skip a beat. He was definitely a man used to physical labor, but that in no way explained his getup.

He spoke in a language her years of training and profession hadn’t familiarized her with. Great, could communication be made any more difficult?

“Are. You. Hurt?” she asked slowly making sure to enunciate each word. Her volume was probably louder than need be, and she shook her head at her own absurdity. Why did people naturally assume the inability to understand English equated to hard of hearing? Obviously she wasn’t immune to falling into the same trap.

She tried not to panic as he pulled her closer, leaving no more than a few inches between their bodies. It was definitely too close for comfort, but afforded her a view of his amazing caramel colored eyes. They were serious, assessing, and just plain sexy as hell. He liberated one of her wrists as he raised a hand to release the clip securing her hair in an orderly style atop her head. Her wavy blonde hair fell around her in heavy disarray.

“Hey!” she exclaimed as he tossed the clip on the road. The object clattered against the pavement. “That’s my favorite clip, buddy.”

Again, he said something in a language she didn’t understand. As he spoke, his fingers threaded through her thick tresses.

“Other than your little warrior attire you seem to be okay to me.” She tried to jerk free but found herself pulled closer to him. His fingers knotted in her hair, tilting her head back a little further. Surprisingly the additional pressure didn’t cause her any pain.

“I have traveled a great distance to be with you, consort.”

What did he mean, a great distance? She barely had time to mull over the odd comment when it dawned on her she’d understood him, clearly. He’d spoken in English, a sumptuous toe-curling accented version, but clear nonetheless.

Her eyes narrowed to accusatory slits. “You speak English?”

He shrugged, his eyes holding an arrogant glint. “I speak many languages, some of which I knew before entering that wretched Void. Yours is fairly new for me, yet easy enough to master.”

“Great. Then you shouldn’t have any problem understanding me when I say get your hands off me.”

His face became an unreadable mask again. “You are correct in your assumption.”

“So?” she huffed, giving her arm another tug.

“My answer is no.”