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Paris, France

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Balls deep in the woman of his dreams, Gabriel paused.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The woman beneath him blurred, and then disappeared altogether as his eyes fluttered open to find himself exactly as he’d gone to bed.

Alone. Gabriel groaned and rolled over, seeking the red numerals of his alarm clock—2.

45 a.m. He flopped on his back, his unsatisfied cock tenting the blanket.

Putain. He’d dreamed of her again. His mate.

The woman he’d left in Paris three Christmases ago.

He scrubbed his hand across his face, trying to banish her from his thoughts. Blue eyes and a sexy smile goaded him.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Gabriel frowned. What the hell was that? It wasn’t loud like a car alarm, or the whoop whoop of a fire alarm, but to his sensitive hearing it might as well have been blaring from the ceiling.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Putain. He threw back the covers. One thing was for certain—it wasn’t going to stop until he figured out what it was and shut it the fuck off.

Grumbling, he dragged himself and his throbbing balls from his bed and padded out into his living area.

Christmas lights winked on and off on the over-decorated Christmas tree— courtesy of his younger twin brothers—washing the room in green, red and blue.

Had the flashing lights tripped an alarm?

No. The annoying as fuck beeping was coming from his office.

He turned his back on the Christmas monstrosity, stalked across his living area and nudged open his office door. Numerous computer screens stared back at him as he pushed into the room. Black, silent, the only thing he saw in them was his own naked reflection. Except for one.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A green curser flashed in time with the beeping. An alarm he’d set. For what? His fingers raced over the keyboard, calling up the data. He stilled, staring at the screen.

Fuck me.

Someone was mining the internet for information on Eveque Faucher.

Someone in San Francisco, California. It was her.

It had to be. The witch who would be sent back in time to target Faucher—a tenth-century witch hunter and his ancestor’s arch nemesis.

Sent back to prevent the slaughter of thousands of women—witches—and change the course of history.

Bella Rodriguez. The witch. Gabriel and his brothers wouldn’t be born if she didn’t go. She’d stayed and mated his ancestors. She would become his paternal many times great grandmother.

Gabriel snatched up his phone, the ache in his balls momentarily forgotten. It was time for him to go to California.