Mark of Love (Love Mark #3) - Linda Kage Page 0,185

Asgard or some such shit, then by God, Chris Hemsworth better be at the end of this thing.

I felt myself torpedo through the opening like a T-shirt ball shot out of a cannon gun at a football game. Screaming, I covered my arms over my head and then landed on hard dirt with a surprised umph.

Wow. That had been unpleasant but not the worst thing I’d ever experienced. I was still alive. Definitely good news. At least, I’m pretty sure I was still alive. I blinked at the dirt roadway under me.

Um, Toto, I thought. I’ve a feeling we’re not on Royal Street anymore.

“What…?” Pushing upright, I lifted my head and looked around. “What just happened?”

The hordes of police and protestors were gone. The buildings and entire city; totally disappeared. The only thing I found myself looking at was a miniature log cabin, like something Abraham Lincoln had been born in. Even stranger was the horse tied to a hitching post by the front door.

“Are you okay?” an accented voice asked—kind of an Australian accent, like Hemsworth Australian, maybe.

I whirled and gaped at the man before me. He had dark hair that was pulled back into a stubby ponytail at the base of his nape.

Like something straight out of a Renaissance fair, he wore short tight pants that cupped strong, muscled thighs and ended just where high black boots began. His shirt had puffy sleeves over the biceps but became tight again from his elbow to the wrists, and it was cinched at the waist with a thick belt that had a legitimate freaking sword hanging from it.

“Oh my good God.” I blinked at his attire once before lifting my shocked gaze to his face.

Tall and stately, his jaw was strong and angular, eyes a pale blue, and cheek pitted with a deep dimple when he tried to send me a comforting smile and reached out a hand. “Let me help you up.”

I blinked at his hand, then lifted my gaze back to his handsome face. “Well, you’re not Thor,” I realized bluntly. “But you’ll definitely do.”

Epilogue

Quilla

Four Moon Cycles Months Later

I woke on a comfortable mattress with the fluffiest pillow cushioning my head. The thin sheet on top of me was also the softest I’d ever felt, inducing me to groan in delight and give a refreshed stretch under the covers.

Still on Earth, I realized with a smile.

Opening my eyes, I blinked up at the ceiling fan slowly oscillating above me. The smell of hot apples spiced with cinnamon coaxed me into sitting up and glancing around the empty bedroom. Indigo must’ve been cooking again. He was becoming a pro at making pies.

Tossing off the blanket, I scooted from the bed and hummed appreciatively when my bare toes sank into plush carpet. This was the life, I decided. No hard bedrolls to contend with, no bugs to worry about crawling all over me on the ground, indoor plumbing everywhere, and electrically controlled temperatures galore. Who could ask for more?

Eager to find my true love to share it all with, I left the room and wandered down the hall, only to pause in the opening of the living room. With a smile, I rested my shoulder against the wooden framework and studied the sexy man stretched across the couch in the center of the room as he watched a movie in blue jeans, a T-shirt, and bare feet.

Damn, he looked good in Earth clothes.

He’d become quite a film buff in the past few weeks, too. I teased him about turning into a couch potato, but whenever I did, he only yanked me down on the sofa with him and curled his arms around me from behind so he could nibble on my ear and force me to watch the rest of his video with him.

“Indiana Jones?” I guessed, stepping into the room.

He jumped at my voice, then sat up with a smile as I approached. “I think Bison was right,” he announced. “I am an Indiana Jones. Or…” He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “At least, like, an early ancestor of his.”

I laughed and crawled onto his lap when he opened his arms to receive me.

“How was your nap?” he asked, running his hand over the short locks covering my head. He was growing obsessed with playing with the handful of curls I was getting.

“It was nice,” I answered. “But I’m beginning to feel lazy. I should—”

“Keep resting as much as you need to,” he interrupted, setting a finger over my