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Mists of Time Book Four-Through a Viking Mist
Two enemies left standing on a blood drenched battlefield. Who will take the as yet unclaimed land for their own?
Ofeig Nabboddrson, a warrior from his youth up, is determined to claim the rich land now stained with blood as his. The only thing standing in his way is a magnificent Valkyrie, a woman who he has seen only in battle and who is called ""The Protector"".
Eva Samsdottir, an extraordinary woman who single-handedly saves the children of her village from slavery amidst a deadly raid. Unbeknownst to her a bigger battle awaits her in a Time not her own. Will she have the courage to survive the future?
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Desert Breeze Publishing, Incorporated
March 01, 2011
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
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Excerpt from Mists of Time Book Four-Through a Viking Mist by Tami Dee
Ofeig walked Eva to her door. It was a long walk, due to a local drug dealer having set up shop in the elevator. He refrained from breathing the first few flights of stairs, but as he had the first time, by the fourth floor, he had to breathe or pass out.
Yet unlike the last time he made this trek -- what, just four or so hours ago -- he now knew why she lived in squalor.
Every penny she earned went to her schooling and to the women's shelter.
Kat would love Eva should they ever meet, he mused, for they were kindred spirits.
She peeked at him through thick lashes. "You really don't have to walk me all the way to my door." He wanted to kiss her so bad he ached.
It was clear that she was nervous, her hand shook as she fumbled with the keys. He took the heavy key chain from her and slipped the key into the first lock, the next key into the second, and lastly the third key and he turned the knob, pushing open the door.
As soon she stepped over the threshold, he gave into the temptation and kissed her.
Her response was instant and passionate.
Firm curves melted into him and had his body tighten like a bow ready to be loosed. Heat, his, hers, seeped through clothing and seared skin.
He relished the taste of her, the scent, and the feel. Of their own accord his hands caressed the slim column of her neck, inching their way into her hair, upsetting the pins holding it in place. Silken gold locks slipped through eager fingers as he gently held her head within the palms of his hands.
She sighed into his mouth and it was almost his undoing.
To his delight her fingers, with hesitant determination, clasped his shoulders, then slid, much the way his own had but a moment ago, over the straining cords of his neck to at last rest on the back of his head, their movements brushing the short hair and causing goose bumps to cascade over his skin. Somehow they had moved from outside her door, to inside the dim entryway.
With a well-aimed foot he closed the door without their lips or bodies breaking contact.
He slid open his eyes, not familiar with her apartment and not wising the moment to be spoiled by the two of them tumbling over a piece of furniture.
She had not left any lights on, but through a gap in the thread bear curtains at the only window and a pair of sad looking ferns hanging in front of the curtains, a neon sign from across the street filled the room with a dull glow.
He hated that she lived like this, all but in poverty. He admired and respected why she lived thusly. And more than anything he wanted to give her the world on a silver platter.
Nay, he corrected himself as he devoured her lips, more than anything in this world, he wanted to give her his heart on a golden one.