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    Curse Across Time
    Curse Across Time
    Curse Across Time
    Ebook72 pages53 minutes

    Curse Across Time

    By Shelley Munro

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Wrong time. Wrong place.

    Life is a chariot race for Marc Angelo and Tarquin Navona. Friends, rivals and rock stars of Circus Maximus in ancient Rome, they wow the fans with their daring driving and take their choice of lovers. A fine life indeed—if Marc weren't harboring feelings for Tarquin. It's difficult to behave normally when he craves physical contact with his friend's muscular body, but Marc resists, too afraid of losing Tarquin entirely.

    He needn't have worried. Fate has plans for them. Very long-term plans…

    When a powerful sorcerer catches Marc and Tarquin with his wife, he curses them to imprisonment in stone. Centuries pass, and Marc's love and lust for Tarquin only increase. His friend doesn't have a clue, but that's the least of their problems. They have no idea how to escape their predicament—and may be doomed to spend eternity cursed.

    Inside Scoop: Marc and Tarquin take a brief dip into M/F/M ménage waters. They discover quickly enough they should've contained their lust to each other.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherShelley Munro
    Release dateDec 13, 2015
    ISBN9780473344993
    Curse Across Time
    Author

    Shelley Munro

      Shelley Munro is tall and curvaceous with blue eyes and a smile that turns masculine heads. A treasure hunter who is skilled with weapons, she's currently filming a TV series based on her world adventures. Shelley is also a writer blessed with a VERY vivid imagination who lives in New Zealand with her husband and a naughty puppy.

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      Book preview

      Curse Across Time - Shelley Munro

      CURSE ACROSS TIME

      Shelley Munro

      Table of Contents

      Introduction

      Note to Readers

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Excerpt – Last Wish

      About Shelley

      Other Works by Shelley

      Copyright Page

      Introduction

      Life is a chariot race for Marc Angelo and Tarquin Navona. Friends, rivals and rock stars of Circus Maximus in ancient Rome, they wow the fans with their daring driving and take their choice of lovers. A fine life indeed—if Marc weren’t harboring feelings for Tarquin. It’s difficult to behave normally when he craves physical contact with his friend’s muscular body, but Marc resists his inner yearnings, too afraid of losing Tarquin entirely.

      He needn’t have worried. Fate has plans for them. Very long-term plans…

      When a powerful sorcerer catches Marc and Tarquin with his wife, he curses them to imprisonment in stone. Centuries pass, and Marc’s love and lust for Tarquin only increase. His friend doesn’t have a clue, but that’s the least of their problems. They have no idea how to escape their predicament—and may be doomed to spend eternity cursed.

      Inside Scoop: Marc and Tarquin take a brief dip into M/F/M ménage waters. They discover quickly enough they should’ve contained their lust to each other.

      Note to Readers

      During a visit to Las Vegas several years ago, I had fun wandering around the various hotels and attractions. A statue caught my attention and my imagination took a wander into the world of what if. However, the story didn’t gel fully until a trip to Rome and the Coliseum about two years later. That was when the idea for Curse Across Time became a solid story in my mind. I couldn’t wait to get home and start writing my tale of two Roman charioteers.

      Enjoy Marc’s and Tarquin’s adventure.

      Shelley

      Chapter One

      Ancient Rome

      Wind tore past Marc Angelo, stinging his face, his eyes, ruffling his hair. He braced, shifted his weight, steering his horses around the bend of the arena. Holding steady, he roared, urging the team forward, reins wrapped around his waist and held in his left hand.

      You can do this. Your team has heart. You will beat Navona today.

      He flicked the whip, the sharp crack propelling the equine beasts into a burst of speed. Toward the finish line, toward glory. Great riches and fame. Bragging rights.

      Hooves thundered behind him. Focus. Faster. Faster!

      Circus Maximus rang with the cheers of two hundred and fifty thousand Romans. The din swelled until it raged like a dragon. Blue! Blue! Blue!

      The chant echoed to the beat of his heart. Faster. Faster.

      Another charioteer drew beside him, angled toward the wheel of Marc’s chariot. The familiar hail of his best friend and challenger, Tarquin Navona, brought a grimace. The team behind Marc snorted with exhaustion, dangerously close to his vehicle. If either chariot contacted his wheels, he’d wreck.

      "Rapido!" he hollered at his horses, whip arcing over their rumps.

      The team reacted instantly, inching ahead of his closest rival. Dust swirled, obscuring vision. Sweat trickled from under his helmet into his eyes. The bellows of the crowd rang in his ears yet he closed his senses, focused on the win. Faster. Faster.

      Not even the snap of Tarquin’s whip, aimed at Marc’s shoulder, tore his concentration. Marc clenched his teeth in a fierce grin. Bastard would pay for the low shot later.

      Faster, my beauties, he shouted. Rapid as the wind.

      They responded with their big hearts, exploding forward, then his four horses raced over the finish line, half a chariot length ahead of Tarquin. Exulted, Marc’s fist pumped in the air.

      Another win!

      He slowed his team and the grooms scurried over to unhitch the horses and lead them away for well-earned pampering.

      Another charioteer pulled up beside him, and Marc smirked. Eat my dust, Navona.

      The gods were with you today, Marc. I wager the next win will be mine.

      Marc snorted even as he acknowledged the truth of the words. Sometimes he won and at other times Tarquin emerged the victor. It didn’t matter if it was chariot racing, dicing, sword play or sex. They wagered on the outcome, both fiercely competitive. Life was a game, a contest to discern the winner. And today, it was his turn to taste sweet victory. Not only would he receive the winner’s purse but also a healthy slice of Tarquin’s winnings.

      Meet you at the bathhouse, Tarquin shouted before directing his chariot away to meet his grooms.

      Another tradition. Both captured as slaves—the spoils of war—their sizes and strength, their abilities with horses, had landed them their present positions as charioteers. Their common interests and competitive natures cemented their friendship.

      Hours later Marc strode into the bathhouse, a spring in his step. In the changing room, he stripped off his sweaty tunic and wrapped a cloth around his waist. In the doorway of the steam room, he paused to scan the obscured corners. The low hum of conversation halted as the

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