Immortal Redeemed
Only one woman holds the key…Immortal Kellan Ladd has spent centuries looking for the one woman who can put an end to his immortality. But that woman has no idea of her monumental task. Or how much this rebel knight’s attraction to her will complicate his mission.The leather-clad, Harley-riding stranger was the sexiest man McKenna Randall had ever met. From the minute they touched, she knew they were connected. Now she’s about to find out just how tightly bound they are…when they must go head-to-head with a nest of deadly vampires!
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âWhy do you want me, specifically?â McKenna asked.
His lips were at eye level, full and closed tight.
âWill you save me from the entire world, Blood Knight? Slay dragons on my behalf, along with more white-faced freaks? I wonder if you will save me from myself?â
She placed a light kiss on his mouth, absorbing the current that kiss produced. He didnât reach for her or devour her, though he could have. He didnât do anything at all, just stared down at her.
âGood night,â McKenna said, turning from the man she almost wished would stop her, feeling his heated gaze on her backside as she limped toward the steps.
Turning her back to him was a mistake. If she had expected him to let that kiss go unchallenged, she was wrong. Seconds later, she was backed against the corner of the building with his body pressed to hers.
âYouâre making this hard,â he said.
âThen do something about it.â
LINDA THOMAS-SUNDSTROM writes contemporary and paranormal romance novels for Mills & Boon Desire and Mills & Boon Nocturne. A teacher by day and a writer by night, Linda lives in the West, juggling teaching, writing, family and caring for a big stretch of land. She swears she has a resident Muse who sings so loudly, she often wears earplugs in order to get anything else done. But she has big plans to eventually get to all those ideas. Visit Linda at www.lindathomas-sundstrom.com or on Facebook.
To my family, those here and those gone, who always believed I had a story to tell.
Contents
It wasnât hard being an immortal. And it certainly wasnât boring. But living out an extended life span could be lonely as hell, and that loneliness lasted forever.
Kellan Ladd pushed the black custom Harley to eighty miles per hour on the open road, inhaling the wind, appreciating what might be his last moments on earth.
The purr of the bikeâs engine was the only sound in the dark fall night. His next stop was already a dim glow on the horizon. Out here he could breathe and see the stars. Disturbing thoughts were traded for the intricacies of pure sensation.
He liked the pungent scent of damp greenery and the faint odor of engine oil. Those things mixed well with the fragrance of his signature black leather pants and jacket.
In fact, the back of his neck tingled in honor of those things. But the pleasure didnât last. The dampness of the wind welcoming him to Seattle slipped beneath his collar to go head-to-head with the fiery burn of the intricate sigils carved into his shoulder blades...and the result wasnât pretty.
The sizzling sound of heat versus cold was imaginary. Discomfort wasnât. The marks on his back were as painful tonight as when heâd first received them. It was as if the scrolling tattoos were in on the secret part of his secret agenda. The temperature tug-of-war was a reminder he had never needed that after walking the surface of this planet for hundreds of years, he wasnât like the people heâd meet in an hour.
Not even remotely like them.
It wasnât as if he hadnât known that from day one. Sporting fangs and living forever made differences hard to forget. As did the oaths heâd taken that dictated his lifeâs direction.
Tonight, he might have given half his considerable fortune to be completely free of the discomfort of the grooves on his back, if just for one day. He supposed the other six immortals in his Blood Knights brotherhood felt the same way by now.
Pain in the ass, though.
Chanting in a low-pitched murmur, Kellan willed the burn between his shoulder blades to ease, without much success. The magic woven into their creation continued to pulse with a steady beat the way it always did when he drew near the chaos of civilization. He considered cities to be a universal plague.
He didnât relish the thought of crowds. He never bothered with trying to fit in. Centuries ago heâd begun to agree with the freakish classification people would give him if they knew the truth of his origins. Luckily, very few mortals nowadays were in on the secrets surrounding his kind.
Most mortals were also ignorant of the part he played in protecting themâno easy task with humans occupying every corner of the planet. Add to those numbers the equally aggressive expansion of monsters that preyed on humans, and this modern world had developed its own recipe for disaster.
True, he just happened to be one of only seven immortals consistently going out of their way to do something about that. He was needed behind the scenes.
But he was tired.
Running a hand over his head made him miss the riot of shoulder-length auburn locks that had been his trademark for as long as he could remember. The new, shorter cut might make him appear more modern, but he couldnât actually outdistance reality. Short hair or long, he was the same immortal. Something he might not have to think about for much longer. Because...
