Steven Macklin wakes up in a ditch one morning in foul, wet weather with no idea where he is or how he came to be there. Seriously injured, he struggles across bleak heathland to find shelter. The only house he finds is weather-beaten and deserted, although he's too sensible a guy to fall for the cliche of a haunted mansion.<br><br>Isn't he?<br><br>When he collapses and is taken in by the handsome Eliot, Steven finds himself in a very disturbing situation -- and  in the bed of this strange, possessive man.

His Gift

“What the hell are you doing to me?” I groaned and slid back against the pillows, knowing all too well the answer. I waved a hand at his head, whether to strike him away or to drag him nearer, I had no idea. My limbs felt insubstantial and no bloody use.


“You speak very strangely, Steven,” he murmured. “But you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t be more pleased with my gift. I won’t be alone now. But you must relax.” His mouth was back up against my ear, and the hot, domineering breath brushed over my neck and my cheek, making me moan aloud with pleasure. “You want to relax, don’t you? You want me. You want to be mine.”


God forgive me, but I do! I don’t know this man, this strange, anachronistic man. But I’m naked in bed with him beside me, hornier than I’ve ever been in my life before. He intends to do God knows what, and I want it—


Chapter 8