By K. C. Klein
Woke up in the midst of the evening via a destiny model of herself, Kris Davenport is given a challenge: pass ahead in time to save lots of the world—and His lifestyles. after all, her destiny self does not inform her who he's, simply sends her into the abyss and directly into an alien invasion. He seems to be ConRad Smith, the callous, untrusting commander of Earth's military and the world's final safety. there is just one means for Smith to understand evidently if this unusual lady is an alien spy—slice her throat. other than, he did not expect the need he might think as he interrogates the hot-tempered, warm-blooded lady. For a guy whose sole concentration has been survival, she's extra temptation than he can deal with. yet a global on the point of destruction leaves no room for romance . . . and time is working out.
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Extra resources for Dark Future
I gasped, shocked at the thought. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t seem to think with my soft breasts pushing against his hard chest; my body flushed against the unmovable planes of his stomach and thighs. His hand came back to my throat, stroking the underside of my jaw. Though the pressure was light, there was a strong undercurrent of menace. A calloused thumb scraped the sensitive skin, letting me know he could snap my neck. Oh, I knew he could kill me, but I also knew something else. Something my brain couldn’t access.
My breathing slowed to a more normal rate, and I continued up the trail at a less death-defying pace. The moon had set, but the stars were bright enough that I could make out the dirt trail and was able to avoid tripping over the majority of the rocks. It was a few miles up the mountain and down to the other parking lot, so I settled in for long run. The landscape was in deep shadow, but I knew this place. This was home. The desert was an acquired taste like that of strong coffee or an aged whiskey.
My sports bra and shorts were ripped and dirty, and I knew my eyes held a crazed, deranged glare. I’d be better off channeling Nicholson. Heeeerrre’s Johnny. I scanned the room, desperate for the sight of the man I followed through the tunnel. Or was it down Alice’s rabbit hole? I searched scowling faces trying to locate the severe blue eyes I’d caught a glimpse of earlier. I found them on the face of a thirty-something looking man with short dark blonde hair and a six-feet-tall muscular frame.
Dark Future by K. C. Klein