Fate has cruelly torn them apart through the centuries…
Endless desire and unparalleled love will bring them together a final time.
Through numerous reincarnations, Jade Jacome has adored one man. His love for her has repeatedly led to her murder, always on the same day and time. Jade’s scientific research proves this is their final rebirth, her last chance to outwit destiny and fulfill their passion. Against a backdrop of Brazil’s lushly decadent Carnaval, Jade has forty-eight hours to meet and tempt her lover, now known as Patrick Kane, then break fate’s deadly pattern.
Irresistibly drawn to Rio, Patrick senses Jade’s yearning that matches his. Seeing her again, time stops. Though they’ve never met in this life, he feels their connection, and that she’s in danger because of him. Baffled and unsettled, Patrick resists his attraction to Jade to keep her safe.
In a contest of wills and shameless seduction, Jade must gamble all, even her life, before the anniversary of their first separation or risk losing Patrick forever.
His dream happened without warning. A voice in it murmured, Prisa. Hurry. Tenemos tiempo tan poco. We have so little time.
In his dream, a pulse beat crazily on the side of his throat. He worked his tongue around his mouth, which was uncomfortably dry and sour, no doubt from the booze he’d drunk. Glancing around for a glass of water, Patrick realized he was in the hotel’s frontal rooms, his naked feet clammy against the highly polished floor.
No guests milled about, leaving the area strangely deserted. A haunting tune came from the piano, something ancient with a Spanish lilt, though no one sat on the bench and played.
He looked down. A whisper of air, akin to a lover’s sigh, ruffled the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck. He pushed his fingers over his skin then through his hair, while he searched.
Sensing someone watching, he looked over. The music grew louder, frantic, resembling animal squeals. A sudden wind rustled the tropical plants, their swishing leaves seeming to hiss hurry.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Beneath the arched walkway, he saw her.
She stood in the light that poured from the crystal chandelier, not moving or speaking, her face unnaturally shadowed masking her features. Even so, he imagined her eyes widened in wonder and renewed hope. The kind a wife shows her husband when he returns home alive from an endless, vicious war.
Chestnut hair, thick and shiny, fell in gentle waves to her narrow waist. Every inch of her caramel-colored skin was exposed. Her areolas puckered beneath his hungry scrutiny, making the tips seem even longer and harder, intensifying the soft swell of her breasts. Her hips flared gently above her lush thighs. Dark curls covered her mound.
Dazed with desire, he knew without question that her hidden folds were thick and wet, ready for his cock.
She inhaled deeply, her rounded belly quivering in response. Three moles circled her navel. He recalled tonguing those precious spots, the salty taste of her skin, its velvety smoothness.
His inertia broke. He ran toward her only to stop as she drifted back, the shadows lifting from the bottom of her face. Her mouth formed a startled O. Arms outstretched, she clawed the air trying to reach him.
We have so little time, her voice whispered in his mind.
His heart twisted in panic. He bolted toward her, his naked toes gripping the slippery floor, his neck knotting as he strained to reach her hand.
“Prisa!” she cried in Castilian. An invisible force moved her away from him through the halls of the hotel and up the stairs.
On the third floor landing, he caught her wrist, shocked at its iciness. Her skin was so cold it stung, as though it belonged to a corpse.
Frantically, he wrapped his arms around her, warming her with his body, hands, mouth. She shivered in his embrace. He buried his fingers in her silken hair and tasted tears on her cheek. Brackish. Frightened. Defeated.
“Never leave me,” she cried, rubbing her cheek against his, her smooth skin a stark contrast to his stubble. Pressing her mouth to his ear, she hushed warm air, proving she was alive. She begged, “Promise me you’ll never go.”
He’d die first.
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