Linda Thomas-Sundstrom - Immortal Redeemed

“One of us has.” McKenna closed her eyes and dug deep for the willpower to ward off the storm threatening to overtake her.

She didn’t want to feel any loss of control. She despised weakness. Weakness was a disadvantage for so many reasons. She’d been truly vulnerable once, two years ago, when a bullet was the cause. She’d been flat on the ground, on her back, nearly breathless and covered in blood. After that night, she’d had to kiss her job in law enforcement goodbye.

She had vowed never to allow anyone to take control of her life again, and so far no one had. She played tough, worked hard and avoided long-term relationships. She kept long hours so she’d be tired enough not to care overmuch about the past, and usually fell into bed exhausted and alone.

Tonight was special, but no big deal. She’d have sex, satisfy her cravings and usher this hunky nameless stranger out. She had condoms in her drawer from the few times she and Derek had shared a bed. She was hot, but not totally incompetent. There was no way she was going to shed the tough emotional shell she’d worked so hard to create for one night in the sack.

So what if her heart was pounding too hard and too fast as she waited for the sound of her zipper to slide on its metallic tracks? Sue her if she imagined what stroking her tongue over every delectable inch of this guy’s incredible body would be like.

He moved his hand, taking hers with it as the zipper began its downward slide. “Are you having second thoughts, McKenna?”

He pronounced her name with a very slight accent she hadn’t noticed before. British, maybe. Decidedly European. Super sexy.

“Yes,” McKenna answered truthfully, though that reply wasn’t only about what was going to take place here. The second thoughts he’d mentioned had to do with her whole damn life, and how it had brought her to the point of lusting for a stranger.

Whispers of cooler air breezed across her stomach, a precursor to the next step in this brazen rendezvous. Gritting her teeth, McKenna whispered, “Kick it to hell,” as the threat of an early climax rumbled upward.

There was just something about this guy.

Something to make her throw caution out the window.

And if the descent of her zipper wasn’t enough, her talented companion captured her mouth, letting her know that he planned to claim her tonight, in both body and soul.

As if he hadn’t done so already.

* * *

The cry that escaped Kellan’s lover’s lips was one of imminent ecstasy. In that sound lay an unleashed emotion he found vaguely familiar, like a wisp of memory stolen from a long-lost dream.

The woman he was with felt things on a major scale. Her cry was just one example of that.

Slowly he worked his fingers farther inside the waistband of her jeans, pausing when he reached the thin barrier of lace beneath. McKenna’s lingerie was delicate, ultra-feminine and way too fragile for a male with a mission. Delicacies like this were contrary to the kind of life he had endured, which made that scrap of fabric so very much more intriguing.

The woman beneath him snaked an arm around his waist. She raked his skin lightly with her fingernails and bit down on his lower lip with her tiny white teeth.

Christ. He was hard as steel. He was ready to take her and had to hold back, bide his time, sure a soul like hers needed to be confronted carefully in order for him to glean its secrets. If he went too far, too fast, crucial clues might be missed. He might fail altogether in his objective for coming here, and lose ground. Then again, maybe she was just a really attractive woman.

He didn’t want to rush this in any case. But neither could he afford to get lost in the challenge. Focus had to be maintained when his willpower had already started to dissipate. McKenna’s hands were like ribbons of molten lava, trapping him midway between lust and purpose. Those hands were heading toward his shoulder blades, a place no woman had visited since his only real love had pressed her lips there in goodbye.

McKenna was going to break that record if she had her way. He couldn’t let her get that far. If she reached his blades, she’d feel the designs carved into him with the blackened blood of the seven Blood Knights.

If she were his Reaper, that one touch could awaken her. Now that he was here, close, he wanted to prolong the pleasure.

When her fingertips found the lower edge of the tats, Kellan sucked in a breath. The sigils were scoring him raw when he already felt feverish. Part of his mind rebelled against the personal intrusion. His muscles spasmed with a dire kind of reminder that holy marks weren’t meant to be seen or shared.

But he fought against the old rules. This woman’s touch might be the only way for him to determine the sincerity of their connection.

These feelings he had for McKenna were a mystery, unless the two of them were connected. A woman’s lips had been the last thing he’d felt before his new, resurrected life began. Now a woman’s touch might cause the end of that second round of life.

He had to distract her from the tattoos, or he’d be undone.

Kellan rested his hand on McKenna’s flat belly. He splayed his fingers so that his fingertips rested on her pubic bone, above the lovely spot his body now shuddered to enter.

He was used to observing every movement, gesture, tic, in not only an opponent but also everyone else around him. Danger in unexpected places was a constant for him. He found it funny now that enhanced senses used to working overtime couldn’t quite get a handle on her.

While her sigh told him how much she liked this meeting of their skin, McKenna’s tension hadn’t eased. Though her face had flushed pink, her heart knocked out a swift-paced irregular beat. His heart matched hers pulse for pulse in much the same way that his body behaved when taking on the aspects of his hunted prey.

Her long lashes fluttered. Her tongue darted to moisten her lips. Oh yes. He liked it all. Her. This. McKenna was doing a number on him. She had ensnared him on the street with the invitation in her eyes, and now he would return the favor.

Kellan pressed closer to her, waiting for her eyes to reopen, part of him hoping they wouldn’t. Because he didn’t want her to see the questions on his face. Or the fangs, sharp-tipped and throbbing with a need for something they’d never had.

Kellan hauled himself back, cursing silently with blasphemies from his past.

It was then that he saw the small tattoo on her upper arm. A tiny black rose with its petals unfurling. This could have been a coincidence. People today had tattoos. Women were partial to flowers.

But then why did he have one very similar to it, carved into him centuries ago?

Hello, Reaper, the voice inside his head said.

Chapter 5

McKenna’s moan of pleasure stuck in her throat. Her arms dropped to the bed as if she’d been released from a trance. Opening her eyes, she found the auburn-haired stranger looking down at her.

His eyes were luminous. His shiny hair, lightened by streaks of gold, was just long enough to fall becomingly across his forehead. There was no upward curve to the lips she wanted to curse for being so inviting. He was serious now.

Her first instinct was to shy away from the intensity of his penetrating gaze. But there was more exploration to come. She and this man were only in the starting gate. Both of them were shirtless but still wearing their pants.

Wait. Could that be right?

In spite of finding herself half-dressed, McKenna believed that she’d been naked in his arms and fucked to within an inch of her life just minutes ago. The soreness of a long, drawn-out sexfest was there, deep inside her, aching, throbbing. Her thighs quaked with leftover need.