Across time, two hot immortals find each other. But is mutual passion enough?
Chris Molina is a MAP, a molecularly advanced person. Rejected by his family in the 18th century and sent out into the world alone at the age of twenty-five, he wanders through time, craving love and companionship. He finally settles down and establishes a homestead in Virginia where he meets the first of his own kind, Abigail DuMonte. Together they start a life, one where they can live openly and honestly. However, in spite of the love and friendship they share, something else important is missing: Soul-searing passion. Until…
When Chris meets Zachary Bishop, he’s found everything he’s ever wanted. Zach is handsome, intelligent, sweet, and craves the same things he does. However, Chris soon realizes that his dreams may come true at a cost. Although Abby is not his lover, they have a long and close history together that Chris doesn’t want to jeopardize. Is there room in his life for both Abby and Zach? What if he can never really find the family he’s longed for? Will Zach become simply a memory of erotic passion and unfulfilled longing? Three immortals on the brink of change…
Chris nodded, impressed with the thoroughness of the report. He flipped through the next few pages, having gained most of the information he needed from the cover sheet. On the page listing treatment history, his attention was drawn to another yellow Post-It note. In neat handwriting was written, Dr. Molina. I request a consult for my patient Ms. Manning. I have spent the past year trying to stabilize her but have been unsuccessful. Your reputation as a diagnostician precedes you. I’m hoping you may find something I have missed. Dr. Bishop.
Chris looked at the latest note entered on the chart. Three days ago. June 15. Pulling the staff directory from his desk, he looked up Dr. Bishop’s extension and called the operator. “Could you please connect me with Dr. Bishop’s office, extension 7143?”
“Certainly. Right away.”
The phone rang only once before a bubbly female voice greeted him. “Dr. Bishop’s office. How may I help you?”
“This is Dr. Molina calling. I have surgical consult request from Dr. Bishop and would like to speak with him.”
“Was he expecting your call?” The voice remained high-spirited.
Chris paused for a moment, wondering if he hadn’t been clear enough. “I’m guessing yes, since he left a note asking for me to contact him.” The sarcasm in his voice seemed obvious. He hoped Ms. Chipper wasn’t as insightful.
“I’m sorry. He’s busy right now, but I can take a message and let him know…” The sound over the phone became muffled and Chris heard two voices talking, although he couldn’t make out the words. When the woman’s voice returned, some of the cheeriness had disappeared. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Chief Molina. Dr. Bishop will take your call right away. Please hold.”
“Of course. Thank you.” Chris leaned back in his chair. I bet she got her ass chewed out.
“Just a moment. I’ll put you through to his office.”
The line went silent for a moment and then a voice, deep and resonating, sounded on the other end of the line. “Hello, Zachary Bishop here. Is this Chief Molina?”
The sound of Zachary’s voice entered him, washing through his body, leaving waves of heated pleasure in its wake. Hairs stood on end along his arms and at the back of his neck, only moderately drowned out by the tingling which crept up his spine. Jesus Christ.
All of this just from a voice?
Every cell in his body went into high alert, a reaction he only experienced through touch.
Breath shallow, heart pounding, he closed his eyes. Fear melded with excitement as an entirely new sensation took hold within him. Gripping the phone to the point where his knuckles pressed at his skin, tendrils extended from him. What’s happening to me? There’s nothing to touch. Why would my body react this way?
As if in answer to his question, a sharp intake of breath brought Chris’s attention back to the conversation and the man on the other end of the line. A dry, cracked voice sounded once again, almost a squeak, like speaking had somehow become difficult. “Hello? Are you there?”
Chris shook his head, quelling his body’s electric reaction to a faceless voice. With great effort, he managed to speak. “Yes. This is Chris Molina.”
“Thank you for calling, Chief Molina. I could really use your help.” Zachary’s voice had regained its mellow timbre and cadence, but Chris’s body continued to respond physically, his tendrils wrapping around the receiver, binding his hand to the phone. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my body was trying to reach through the phone.
Mouth running dry, Chris reached for his coffee mug. He took a large gulp. Every action within his body triggered sensations normally experienced when he touched someone. Never before had he reacted to the mere sound of a voice. It was as if his entire body knew something his head hadn’t had time to figure out. Something about Zachary Bishop was different than the other men he had connected with over the past two centuries.
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