Immortal Redeemed
Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
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!
“Why do you want me, specifically?” McKenna asked.
His lips were at eye level, full and closed tight.
“Will 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?”
She placed a light kiss on his mouth, absorbing the current that kiss produced. He didn’t reach for her or devour her, though he could have. He didn’t do anything at all, just stared down at her.
“Good night,” 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.
“You’re making this hard,” he said.
“Then do something about it.”
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 (http://www.lindathomas-sundstrom.com) or on Facebook.
Immortal Redeemed
Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my family, those here and those gone, who always believed I had a story to tell.
Contents
Cover (#u8c297cd7-fc8c-5cbd-83e1-22543680ddf6)
Introduction (#uf0a10f28-dfb8-5a2e-9d66-800dec942d04)
About the Author (#u188f13c3-a54b-57f3-af89-f928b08cf3e0)
Title Page (#ua73b2a65-25df-5736-9861-7421b9d6b04b)
Dedication (#u3e14ee2d-67f9-5618-858d-05c4c3bd763a)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_8d17e5b1-a2f1-562b-9094-a29ee5633877)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_e4934753-78cc-58d4-9d1d-11debf03450c)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_6d413dea-9885-59e4-89bb-92c5474db835)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_2bc5456e-f104-51ee-aa02-2d903d348feb)
Chapter 5 (#ulink_f26fb258-b3a3-545d-a294-3b3f4ec0afca)
Chapter 6 (#ulink_77a4397d-463a-55e8-828e-9549d0ad00b9)
Chapter 7 (#ulink_6d2095c6-9b6a-5345-90ae-1eadad9d234c)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_466059a6-1993-5f81-966d-0ca7ec6535c0)
It wasn’t hard being an immortal. And it certainly wasn’t 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 bike’s 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t pretty.
The sizzling sound of heat versus cold was imaginary. Discomfort wasn’t. The marks on his back were as painful tonight as when he’d 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 wasn’t like the people he’d meet in an hour.
Not even remotely like them.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known that from day one. Sporting fangs and living forever made differences hard to forget. As did the oaths he’d taken that dictated his life’s 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 didn’t relish the thought of crowds. He never bothered with trying to fit in. Centuries ago he’d 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 them—no 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 couldn’t actually outdistance reality. Short hair or long, he was the same immortal. Something he might not have to think about for much longer. Because...
She would help with that. She, her, it, or whatever the hell kind of spirit had ensnared his soul from afar with the promise of ending what had always been endless.
Kellan sensed her presence somewhere ahead. Not too far away. Well within reach. Someone unique awaited him in the rain-soaked West Coast city—a feminine soul with the ability to end his immortal servitude once and for all.
Maybe it wasn’t actually a woman he’d find, yet he had a gut feeling it might be, and an uncanny sense of rightness about the perception. She had been invading his thoughts and his dreams for as long as Kellan could remember. From the beginning, actually, when he’d left his mortality behind.
So he was here in the States, heading toward one particular American city. Seattle, Washington, was ground zero for his private, personal agenda.
Finding her might be tough, though, since the whereabouts of his counterpart had always been a secret. The rare being he sought was a shadow, a dream. She was vagueness on the periphery of a memory he couldn’t forget or completely recall. Yet she was there in his mind, buried deep.
Closing in on her true image might be like trying to catch hold of smoke. But he felt her.
He hungered for her and what she had to offer an immortal who had grown world-weary. She alone had the power to ease his restlessness. Only she would recognize his true identity and all that he had endured.
Hell, she might walk up to him on long, shapely legs and whisper her secrets in his ear.
Shots of white-hot anticipation streaked through him with that thought...before the chill returned.
“Damn sigils.”
Kellan rolled his shoulders, cautious about lingering too long on treacherous thoughts. The brotherhood couldn’t know about his mission or what he was after. All seven Blood Knights shared a special connection fostered by the type of blood in their veins. Tapping into the thoughts of the other six was possible, just as they were able to tap into his if he let them. Extra care was needed now to keep them out.
In truth, he was owed this trip, having stretched well beyond the concept of duty. Fulfilling his obligations had occupied the endless march of months, years, decades, that comprised his past. But having one of his brothers standing guard over the holy relic that lay at the heart of the Knights’ creation meant that Kellan had plenty of time off.
An endless supply of time.
Ceaseless and unending.
The sound of the engine and the faint ting of the bike’s spirit bell brought Kellan back from his thoughts. His speed was pushing ninety, and that just wasn’t fast enough for an immortal with an important personal objective to ignore the disturbing feelings that lately had cropped up. Feelings of loss for parts of himself long ago left behind. Emotions dealing with an unforeseeable future and the mysterious her he could almost reach out and touch.
And there she was again, this mysterious soul at the heart of his search. Kellan imagined her scent floating in the wind. In the dark night he could almost see her eyes.
Those eyes would be blue.
His tattoos now stung with the force of a hundred scorpions. Each link of the inky scrollwork tied him to vows that made it a sacrilege for him to seek what he was after in Seattle. He had been created to exist forever, as long as he remained true to his pledge. It was too bad that forever had become too damn long.
Dangerous thoughts, bro.
Kellan reinforced his mental barriers against unwanted intrusion. He could shoulder the burden of all sorts of knowledge...if he could just deal with the damn tattoos.
“Might for right.”
He spoke the old credo that he had once taken as his own, hoping the sentiment would offer comfort, even if false, to the blood-etched marks on his back. Those marks that now worked to keep him chained to an ideal that had long ago lost its shine.
Staring at the distant city lights, Kellan opened up the bike full throttle. Wearing the legend Blood Knights stitched on the back of his jacket as if he were merely part of an American motorcycle gang would either help his cause in finding the being he sought, or turn out to be the equivalent of painting a bull’s-eye on his back.
Either way, this hunt had been a long time coming...and hunting just happened to be what he did best.
* * *
As the surgeon backed away from the operating table, McKenna Randall, RN, wiped her wet hands on a bloody white towel. They had saved this patient, and for that she felt immense relief, though saving only one out of three severely wounded people in a row wasn’t great odds.
Nodding to the rest of the staff in the operating room, she headed for the door. Someone else would take over now. She’d been on her feet for twenty hours, and though at twenty-six years old she was the youngest nurse in the ER, a break was long overdue. She needed a shower, fresh clothes, food.
She was bone-tired. Her teeth hurt from grinding them together. Her shoulders quaked with spasms. She felt light-headed and a little dizzy from the kind of fatigue that brought back the long days of her past. Though she liked helping people, part of her still yearned for the excitement of her former profession. Nurse Randall tried to fix things that were broken, but Officer McKenna Randall had gone after the cause, hoping to keep things like slashed throats and stabbings from happening in the first place.
The injuries to the patients on the operating table tonight had been grisly. She’d had to keep a tight rein on her emotions in order to curb the desire to head out to the streets for a look at the crime scenes where her patients’ wounds had been inflicted. Her old partner would be at those scenes, plus a lot of other guys she missed on a daily basis—guys who placed their lives on the line every damn day in the name of the law.
But that was then.
This was now.
The tickle at the base of her neck was a telling sign of her inability to remain upright for much longer. Also telling was the insistent ringing in her ears. Another ten minutes on duty and she wouldn’t have been good for anything. Faintness had begun to hover like a big dark cloud. She was imagining things. Voices.
Hell of a thing.
In that operating room she’d been sure someone called to her. Lingering traces of that voice remained with her now, drifting like a breeze in her wake.
“Unacceptable,” she muttered. She’d have to be careful when driving home to keep from becoming a liability.
The hospital was large and filled near to capacity. At 10:00 p.m. the corridor was busy, but no one seemed to notice when she stopped to take in a lungful of air and lean a shoulder against the wall. Not one person, staff or otherwise, paused to ask if she needed help, a stiff cocktail or a chair.
After all, she was the caregiver here.
But for the first time since she’d landed this job, McKenna wasn’t sure she’d make it to the elevator. Weakness was overtaking her. Her nerves were dancing on thin ribbons of fire, as if her body were anticipating something she had no real knowledge of. As if the dizziness might be connected to some kind of premonition.
If she made it to that hot shower just one floor down, she’d get her core temperature back up and lose the shakes that came with too many hours spent in an icy operating room. She’d feel a whole hell of a lot better.
Just have to put one foot in front of the other.
Managing to push off the wall, McKenna headed for the elevator, forgoing her usual habit of taking the stairs. She avoided eye contact with the elevator’s other occupants and fled when the door opened. In the locker room, she stripped quickly and stepped under the showerhead.
Head bowed, eyes closed, she let the stream of water bring new life to her overworked muscles. Turning her face to the rising steam, she tried not to think backward, but couldn’t help it.
One bullet. One damn bullet with her name on it had ended her brief career as a cop. And that was just too frigging bad.
Fifteen minutes later she was dressed and out the hospital’s front door, face scrubbed, wet hair combed. Walking was doable now that the quakes had ceased. Her car wasn’t far away—just across the street in the new parking garage. The crisp fall air was bracing.
When the traffic light turned green, she almost stepped off the curb. Something stopped her.
McKenna spun around.
The sidewalk was fairly crowded with people heading in and out of the hospital. None of those people faced her, spoke to her or addressed her. Not one of them seemed to notice her at all.
Thinking that someone had called her name made McKenna reevaluate the current state of her health. Certainly her brain had been through a lot after being grazed by a bullet. Still, voices?
This time when the light changed, she made it halfway between the curbs before an odd sensation of being shadowed forced her to take a second look at her surroundings. Like most big cities, Seattle could be dangerous if people weren’t careful. Single women out alone at night were wise to be on guard. No one knew that better than a cop.
Former cop.
Another look around showed no one suspicious and gave her no cause for alarm. Yet the sensitive skin at the base of her neck tingled. Strange fluttering sensations deep down inside her body forced her to briefly shut her eyes.
If this weird shit kept up, she’d be better off calling a cab or taking a bus the couple of blocks home. Hearing imaginary voices was scary stuff. The psychiatrist who had cleared her at Seattle PD after her incident wouldn’t like this new turn of events any more than she did.
Not that clearing her had helped, since hopes of returning to the force had been lost with that damn bullet. The Seattle PD demanded retirement after an injury like that. Her next choice had been to finish the nursing degree she had started right out of school.
McKenna walked on. After hopping the next curb, she paused to search the street again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She saw the usual long line of parked cars and the vague outline of a guy on a motorcycle pulling over.
Her smile was a symptom of feeling silly, because there was nothing unusual here. Plus, she had options. She could turn around, go back to the hospital, find a bed and sleep this off. A short nap might put things into perspective.
The stubborn tingle on her neck was a persistent sucker, though. She muttered a choice four-letter word she’d picked up on the force and tried to convince herself she was making things up.
“Where are you?”
McKenna whirled, nerves prickling, sure she heard that voice. If she was making it up, she had one hell of an imagination. That voice seemed real, even when logic told her the question couldn’t have been addressed to her. No one waited for her or wondered where she was. She had no family left. The few people who mattered to her knew her schedule and were busy elsewhere at this time of night.
So why did the voice sound familiar?
Steadying herself with both hands on the nearest signpost, McKenna worked to calm herself down. This didn’t have to be a premonition or a warning sign of disaster about to strike...though she distinctly remembered how the bullet entering her skull two years ago had spoken to her just before taking her down. As if that bullet had her name on it. As if that shot had been meant for nobody else.
She had experienced the same flutter of nerves back then, too, seconds before the bullet struck. She hadn’t told anyone about those things. Cops weren’t supposed to be crazy. She’d kept her mouth shut about premonitions and perceptions, though the nightmares persisted to this day.
She looked around, reliving a moment of uncanny connection to her surroundings, wanting to duck, but standing tall to await whatever was to come.
Nothing did.
No bullet arrived, though her weakening knees defied the notion of an all clear.
Holding on to the post, McKenna again scanned the sidewalk, fighting the impulse to cover her ears and block any further sound.
“Who are you?”
The question came again from out of nowhere, so real that she almost replied. Determined to ignore this, McKenna headed for the garage with a retort on her lips. “Not talking to you today, my invisible friend. I won’t be admitting to the crazies anytime soon.”
Under her breath, she added, “Definitely not today.”
Before she finished the remark, her finely honed cop intuition set her teeth on edge. Someone was watching. Someone was there. She knew this.
Swaying slightly, shaking off the chills slipping under the collar of her thick wool coat, McKenna turned to stare at the guy on the motorcycle.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_57bac0cf-fdd7-5bc6-ab8d-bd8b60a8a36b)
Kellan got off the bike. His heart rate spiked as he eyed the woman on the corner. He waited out several more beats of time before breathing, each of those beats measured by the tick of the clock in the tower above him.
She was looking at him. Staring openly. Was she answering his call? If not, why the sudden interest?
The strange stirring sensations inside his chest didn’t have to be meaningful since the odds of finding her just ten minutes after entering town were a million to one, or more like twice that.
Shaking off his disappointment, Kellan turned away.
Then he turned back.
The wind carried a trace of perfume—faintly floral, fresh, rich. He detected no hint of death in it, such as a Reaper might possess.
Tamping down the rise of anticipation, Kellan observed the woman closely. He had the advantage, of course. She would have no idea how effortlessly he could see every detail at this distance. She wouldn’t know about the hunger behind his scan.
Her hair was fair, long, and hung past her shoulders. Although there was no rain tonight, the golden strands appeared to be wet. She had big eyes in a small face, high cheekbones and delicate features. She was tall and lean, her overall shape narrow. Faded blue jeans peeked out from beneath the knee-length tweed coat that didn’t seem to warm her. Both of her arms were crossed over her stomach, as if that would help.
She was attractive, but not perfect. The eyes were a bit too large and her skin too pale. While she looked young, she possessed a worldly gaze. To anyone else, her bold stare might have been unnerving.
As their gazes connected across the distance, Kellan’s nerves bristled. His muscles twitched. Strange as it was, after just seconds of scrutiny, he had an uncanny and urgent physical need for this woman.
Still, though she smelled delicious and stared back, she could be the wrong soul. Because he was immortal and a loner by necessity didn’t mean he was immune to every temptation that came his way.
Under the scrutiny of his unwavering gaze, the woman turned from him with a small object clasped tightly in her hand. Cell phone for emergencies? Her steps stuttered on the sidewalk before she whirled again. Unbelievably, she wasn’t running away. She didn’t make any calls. After pausing to consider her next move, she walked straight toward him.
He hadn’t used his power to influence her decision, so the move was all hers. Why, though? He was a stranger. Danger lurked on every street corner these days. Case in point, he caught a whiff of one lone werewolf to the south, potentially only half as deadly without a full moon overhead. And something dark-hearted with fangs perched on a rooftop halfway down the block.
Those things should have made him move. They should have been the center of this focus. He’d been blessed—or cursed, as he often thought—to feel the presence of these kinds of anomalies. He not only smelled them but saw into the shadows where they hid. He did his best to keep the monsters in check.
This time they weren’t drawing his attention from the woman coming his way. They had nothing to do with his sudden sense of elation.
She was his focus.
His attention was riveted.
As she approached, Kellan’s heart began to pound. Streaks of adrenaline created tension in muscles designed for fighting, as if she might pose a threat to those old vows. But the only fight here was for him to remain calm, because waiting for her wasn’t easy. Meeting this woman could turn out to be a distraction he didn’t need if she wasn’t the woman he sought.
She stopped several feet away with a question.
“Do I know you?”
The huskiness of her voice made Kellan’s nerves dance. Her tone was low and sexy. Her lips were full and slightly parted.
“I don’t think so,” he replied, economizing his comeback so that he could take in more details, like the dark crescents of sleeplessness under her eyes and the lovely lines of her long, graceful neck.
For the first time in a while, Kellan praised his special abilities for reasons other than ferreting out bad guys. He also amended his earlier conclusion. She actually was quite beautiful.
And if...
Well, if she was the one he sought...
All the better.
“Are you waiting for something?” she asked without backing away from the intensity of his keen observation.
Beyond Kellan’s sigils, other parts of his body were catching the fire of interest. Was this due to her, though, or did he just want it to be?
He had anticipated a more direct acknowledgment of being on the right track than an instantaneous craving for a woman. Then again, what did he really know about what his Makers had so carefully hidden?
Certainly he hadn’t expected to meet a female who was the equivalent of a Grim Reaper, but also perfectly fit his personal preferences physically, when it could just as easily have been otherwise.
“I’m meeting someone,” Kellan said.
“Oh. Sorry. I thought...”
“Yes? You thought?” he encouraged when she didn’t finish the remark.
“I thought I might have known you from someplace. Guess I was mistaken.”
She didn’t leave. She stood her ground boldly, as if she wanted to add something, or else wanted him to.
Kellan purposefully kept his voice steady. “Do you work in the hospital?”
He stayed close to the bike so he wouldn’t frighten her. Restraining himself from taking the few steps needed to reach her was hard. He wanted to press his mouth to hers in a kiss that might open Pandora’s box. A kiss that might let him know if nearly overwhelming odds against him finding the one person he was after in Seattle meant nothing when it came to the magic of ancient souls and secrets connecting.
The pressure of his need to know about this woman was like a fist to his gut. Her presence was curious and captivating for a man who not only had searched for such a connection, but also had forgone serious female companionship in favor of more pressing pursuits.
She stood across from him as if he had conjured her.
Maybe he had.
Still, what was she seeing? She was telegraphing her interest in him by remaining close. His senses were loud and clear about that. Some sort of combustible chemical reaction was taking place between them. The air was heavy with it, and warmer than before.
Animal magnetism at work? Lust at first sight? An instantaneous attraction between strangers on a street corner was possible, Kellan supposed, though unlikely—which surely meant that the odds against this being a benign chance meeting were in his favor.
Are you her?
With his heart misbehaving, it was impossible for him to remain inert for much longer. In order to place her importance to his cause, he’d have to get a peek at this woman’s soul. To do that, she’d have to be unwrapped. She’d have to meet him skin to skin for him to see what secrets, if any, lay hidden beneath those fragile feminine bones. And he was all for that skin-to-skin business.
“Do you recognize me?” he silently sent to her, hoping something deep inside her might rise to the surface and provide a clue.
“Yes,” she said, giving him a start.
She waved at the hospital across the street, reminding him of the other question he’d posed. “I work there, at Seattle General. Possibly that’s where I’ve seen you? Are you waiting for someone to be released?”
“Nope,” he said, unable to lie about even the simplest things. None of the Blood Knights could.
Nor was he good at small talk, especially when trying to reason things out. He kept wondering how an ancient soul could survive by being passed along from body to body in a long line of new recipients, without those recipients knowing about it. Same soul, different housing, in a special type of reincarnation. Not a myth. Absolutely real.
If this woman didn’t know what she carried inside her, though, how would she recognize him? In any case, why didn’t she run?
Did she like his looks as much as he liked hers? His appearance had once been legendary, but he was much leaner and more chiseled now. Time had done that. Time and the efforts of his quest. He’d been frozen in the body of a twenty-eight-year-old, but Kellan knew he looked older, and that he had always projected a dangerous edge. The leather and the bike helped that image along.
“I stopped for a breath and to get my bearings,” he told her.
As she continued to study him, his nerves burned. Seconds flew by in silence before she put a hand to her temple as if to ease an ache there. The brief flutter of her lashes gave Kellan the first hint that she wasn’t all right. Not just tired. Possibly she was ill. Small quakes ran through her, suggesting that her strength had ebbed.
“You couldn’t have called to me, I suppose,” she finally said. “And I guess I’m way too tired to be making sense.”
Her voice wasn’t just sexy. It was flammable.
Was that also a sign?
“Do you need help?” he asked politely, carefully managing his excitement and his reaction to her. “An escort to your car, or a ride somewhere?”
The busy street wasn’t the right place to hold an important meeting of any kind. The damn werewolf had got closer, as well as too many other people who hadn’t received the memo about their lives being safer indoors after dark.
Kellan had to pay some attention to the monsters prowling the darkness because if he hit the road, this woman, in her weakened state, would be easy prey.
Her lashes fluttered again before she briefly closed her eyes, leaving Kellan certain that the ashen pallor of her face wasn’t due entirely to Seattle’s sunless climate. The bold blonde was no longer steady on her feet. She looked as if she could have been a patient at the hospital across from them.
“Do you need a ride somewhere?” he repeated in a soft, clear tone. “Help of any kind?”
“No.” Her head shake displaced a few damp dark-golden strands that were starting to curl. “I don’t need help. Thanks for the offer.”
She inched backward without turning from him and ran into a post. After issuing a short bark of uncomfortable laughter, she muttered, “Hell, what a night,” and looked up to apologize a second time. “Sorry.”
It could have been the way she issued the apology—the rather forlorn enunciation of two drawn-out syllables—that caused Kellan to stir. He was beside her in an instant, utilizing the extraordinary speed and superior reflexes that had been built into him.
Chances were that not many others on the sidewalk had been paying attention to what might appear little more than a street-side tête-à-tête. Odds were also good that no one had noticed how frail this woman appeared to be, and how menacing he looked by comparison. He was two heads taller than she was and twice as broad. She tilted her head back to look up at him and met his eyes.
Her eyes were blue.
“I had a long shift, that’s all. I need to get home and rest,” she explained. “I used to be a cop, and that’s my excuse for confronting you, as lame as it sounds.”
Kellan’s hand hovered less than an inch from hers. She was in some kind of trouble and trying to make the best of it. He zeroed in on the thin white scar that ran from her right temple to beneath her ear, noting how the fingers of her other hand kept returning to that spot.
She’d been damaged, and she seemed to him like a real woman made of flesh and bone. Up close, he found nothing to suggest she might be a vessel housing an immortal knight’s off switch. She looked nothing at all like a Reaper in disguise.
He eyed her thoughtfully. Are you what my Makers tried so hard to hide so that my life would go endlessly on? Or are you merely a woman who appeals to my baser side?
It was conceivable that she was just a woman, but how could a mistake in identity happen between two souls intricately tied to each other for centuries, or when the termination of his life might be in her hands?
Each Blood Knight had a counterpart soul, though no one expected the two to find each other. They weren’t supposed to meet. Weren’t designed to meet. The Makers at Castle Broceliande had seen to it that the seven Knights could be taken down if they veered too far off track. This had been accomplished by planting fail-safe switches in seven other souls ultimately responsible for turning each Knight off, dealing a final death blow if called into action.
The way they’d do this was top secret. None of the Knights knew what their counterparts might have in store, or where in the world they were. It had taken Kellan years of research to pinpoint Seattle as the hometown of his, plus a lot of underground bargaining with his considerable fortune. Then there was the call he had felt all the way to his bones.
Was it this woman, then?
Is it you?
Will your touch end my existence? As simply as that? I show up and awaken what’s supposed to be off-limits, and you destroy me?
Her closeness produced feverish warmth in him. Yet he was minus the guidebook for unlocking secrets tucked inside someone composed by magical design, so he was on his own. And honestly, he now began to think that exploring this female’s hidden assets, no matter what she turned out to be, would be extremely pleasurable. He might even die a final death with a smile on his lips.
As he stood there, the urge to touch her was becoming an outright necessity. He wanted to trace her facial scar with his fingers and feel firsthand the lushness of her lips. Burying his face in her damp hair would be a luxury. She smelled damn good, and it had been a while since he’d taken the time to enjoy anything of a personal nature.
“I’m willing to help,” he said, gauging her reaction to his closeness. She shook so hard, his hand connected to hers automatically, sending shocking currents of electricity buzzing through him.
His excitement doubled. But was this a further sign?
Kellan smiled. While his sigils seared his skin and his heart beat wildly in his chest, raw physical need was trumping his internal warnings about having to use caution. Hell, he wanted this woman so badly, it was possible that sex held the answer to unlocking the Reaper, and all he had to do was insert a throbbing key into her lock.
“Let me help you...”
Had she heard that silent suggestion, too? She hadn’t pulled her hand away. He watched her lips part.
“Are you a good guy?” she asked.
“Trick question,” he replied. “Would I tell you if I wasn’t?”
“Probably not.”
“Everyone says I’m one of the good guys. Well, most people would, I guess, if they knew me.”
She nodded warily, sighed softly, allowing these moments to linger because of his silent influence on her.
“Where are you headed?” Kellan asked.
“To my car. It’s behind me, in that garage.”
“Do you think you can drive?”
“I’m pretty sure I can’t, but I’m going to try. My legs won’t hold me up much longer, and I’d rather not be seen like this by anyone I work with. Besides, I doubt if I could make it back to the hospital’s front door.”
“If I carry you to your car, will I be responsible for the accident waiting to happen between here and your home?”
She stared at him mutely.
“How about if I take you home and we avoid all those other potential problems?” Kellan suggested.
“You can’t take me anywhere, because I don’t know you.”
“Then I’m not sure what kind of help you need.”
She shook her head, spreading more of her subtle perfume in the wind. That scent was like honey.
“This is seriously embarrassing,” she said. “There’s no need to worry about me. I’ll call my partner for help. I’d be grateful if you’ll just stay here until I do, so that no other...”
“Stranger?” he supplied when her sentence dangled. “So that no other Harley-riding yahoo might approach you on the street?”
“So that no other person dares to come to my aid, and I have to start over, behaving like an idiot,” she clarified, looking up at him. “And so that no one looking out of a hospital window might assume I’m not up to the tasks assigned to me there.”
Currents of electricity continued to slam Kellan through his grip on her fingers. He had to monitor his reaction to each physical jolt.
The woman had palmed her cell phone but hadn’t used it. Kellan wanted to know what she might be thinking. When would she realize that a stranger was holding her hand? This unplanned touch had to be unusual behavior for her. It certainly was unusual for him. He never made physical contact with mortals unless absolutely necessary, and he kept clear of them whenever possible. Too much contact, too much exposure to another beating heart’s welcoming warmth, and a Knight’s blood oath might be called into question.
This woman’s fingers were cold, proving that she should have known better than to walk around with wet hair. Yet he sensed heat radiating off her, beneath her coat, and he wondered how long it would take before his desire to possess this mortal got the better of him, despite what she’d just said about having a partner to call. Another person in the picture could muddy things up quite a bit.
He detected something else. Silver. She carried a pocketknife. The folded blade produced an additional buzz on the periphery of his senses.
“Are you ill?” he asked, releasing her hand.
Only then did she look at her fingers. “Tired,” she replied. “Too damn tired.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you to use that phone. Go ahead and dial.”
She raised the cell phone, pushed several tiny buttons and held the phone to her right ear. “Officer Randall...” she started to say, then paused to clear her throat. “Ex-officer Randall on the line for Detective Miller.”
As she listened to the response on the line, Kellan filed that information away. She had mentioned being a cop in the past, and had mistakenly used that old title now. Possibly her training was the reason she had spoken to him in the first place. The cop in her might assume at first glance that a guy on a tricked-out bike could potentially mean trouble, whether or not she was in any condition or position right now to address that kind of trouble.
Then again, maybe she had responded to his call.
Was she a doctor? Nurse?
“I see,” she said to the phone. “No. Don’t patch me through. I have Miller’s cell number, and this isn’t important. I’ll get back to him later. Thanks.”
Her arm dropped. Kellan caught the phone before it hit the ground, lamenting that there would be no lusty night ahead with warm sheets and warmer bodies, given this woman’s current condition. If she wasn’t sick, she was close to it.
She needed help. More than she knew. The damn werewolf was fifty feet away and closing in, drawn to weakness like a moth to a flame and unaware of what kind of fate awaited if it attempted anything monstrous here tonight. Blood Knights weren’t known for mercy when it came to dealing with predators.
Since he couldn’t tackle that problem at the moment, however, and in public, Kellan had to handle things another way. He’d see this woman safely off the street. Even if his hopes were dashed and she proved not to house a special spirit, the pretty blonde would be another in a long line of people he’d protected.
“No one else coming to the rescue?” he asked.
She didn’t reply.
“All right. I guess that leaves me.”
Kellan peeled her from the post and pulled her into his arms before any remark she might care to make was possible. The momentum of his action caused her head to rest against his chest. Her body molded to his from her shoulders to her hips.
Whips of fire licked at Kellan’s bones, sending good-size shudders through him. These sensations were new. They were unique. But were they enough?
Her next words were muffled. Her hand closed on the knife in her pocket. “That was not an invitation, and if you don’t back off, I’m going to scream.”
“You asked for help,” he reminded her with his mouth edging her damp hair.
“Not that kind of help.”
“I’m not sure there’s another kind at the moment. Can you walk?”
“Let me help you.”
Her reply took some time. “Not far.”
“Ten feet, to the curb? Should I actually carry you there, ignoring your protests?”
“Don’t you dare,” she said. “I’m not a child. I can...”
Kellan didn’t wait for her to finish the argument. It was obvious to both of them that her legs wouldn’t hold her up for much longer. It was far less obvious to anyone but him that if the werewolf came any closer with thoughts of pushing its luck, Kellan would be forced to deal with the beast for safety’s sake, no matter who might be looking.
To avoid all that, there was only one thing to do—push his influence over her a little bit more.
“You must let me help you. Trust me to do that.”
He waited until she blinked. Then he swung the blue-eyed enigma into his arms and headed for the bike instead of the garage. He set her gently on the Harley’s seat and climbed on in front of her.
“Put your arms around me,” he directed.
She did as she was told.
Although she shivered, her body heat penetrated his leather jacket, reaching his skin as easily as if no barrier stood in the way. Kellan closed his eyes to absorb the impact.
Women didn’t have a place in the oaths he’d taken. He’d known a few of them more than casually over the centuries, but had loved only once, long ago.
He was supposed to have turned out angelic. History painted him that way. Poets sang of his life. Some said he was a saint. He was one-seventh of a brotherhood designed to protect one of the world’s most treasured holy relics. The Grail. Christ’s chalice. But in truth, he had always been a rebel, and the gift of immortality hadn’t changed that.
He might have desired this woman if they’d met in any century. He liked the mixture of strength and vulnerability she showed. He admired her looks, and had been mesmerized by those large blue eyes that somehow seemed so familiar.
Kellan ignored the soft click of his fangs extending in honor of his passenger. The razor-sharp canines rarely presented themselves and were a throwback to drinking the blood of his Maker in order to execute their plans. The outlandish teeth weren’t for biting or hurting. He had never used them on anyone, for any reason, and never would, since he considered them an abomination.
Those fangs extending now were a complete surprise. They were also proof positive that though he was a monster hunter, by physical definition he was also one of those monsters.
Smiling sadly, Kellan kicked the bike to life. “Now,” he called over his shoulder, ignoring the sparks of protest shooting from one of his shoulder blades to the other. “Where am I taking you?”
Chapter 3 (#ulink_7f6b6ac5-bd2a-56ab-b2b5-00e8c9d1bed1)
Kellan maneuvered his way through the steady stream of traffic, drawing double takes from people in passing cars. He got more attention from pedestrians, who alternately viewed him as a threat or with envy while eyeing the shiny black bike.
He’d never been to Seattle. The streets had an uncomfortable look, as if the modern and older architectural styles were at war with each other. This, Kellan supposed, was another kind of metaphor for the dichotomy of the types of beings existing here. Humans versus their older, genetically modified nightmares. Werewolves. Vampires. And a whole host of other things.
Traffic, even at ten thirty, was thick. Horns sounded. Music reached him from the doorways of restaurants and clubs. Voices called to other voices, and a helmeted guy on a Suzuki gave him a thumbs-up.
Centered within all that chaos, Kellan’s feelings morphed into something much more raw and anxious. If the woman behind him was the shut-off valve to his overextended existence, and he chose to activate that valve, his soul could be set free. At long last, he would be able to close his eyes and rest.
He had wanted this for more years than he could count.
“Turn here,” his passenger directed.
Kellan did as she instructed, wanting to see where this beauty would take him. Having been a police officer, she’d know most streets by heart. She also would have recognized potential trouble when facing it, and when facing him, even before his understated commands had helped her to get on the bike. Maybe he didn’t come off as scary as he thought. Yet tugging an old soul free from someone unknowingly housing such a thing might change her mind about that. It wouldn’t be easy and could prove even tougher if he was up against someone trained to handle herself.
“Turn again,” she said.
Simply wrenching secrets from this woman would cost him less anxiety and get him to the end point quicker. The problem was that he already considered her special, and these days he reserved muscle work for dusting monsters.
She had a death grip on him. If she truly was ignorant of the soul she housed, this woman couldn’t possibly see the irony in that.
Fortunately, in this intricate game of hide-and-seek, he planned to come out the winner. That didn’t mean he didn’t like her arms around him and her heat. In fact, what he desired most right now was the time necessary for him to coax answers from her the old-fashioned way, by acting on an escalating physical attraction that would lead to sex. Nakedness and sex. Hard bodies on a soft bed that held lingering traces of this woman’s wonderful perfume.
Hell, he amended. Sex on any surface would do. One last time. Would she allow him that? Could he get her to trust a stranger enough to invite him into her bed without using his influence?
After coming all this way, was he going to wait for her to decide, or help her along?
* * *
“Almost there,” McKenna called out, and the handsome biker followed her directions without question.
It was all she could do to hold on to the stranger doing her a favor. He hadn’t headed to the garage where her car was parked, so she opted for plan B. There was no way she’d let him know where she lived. In her present state she’d be an easy target for any pervert on the prowl, and he’d already had his hands on her.
Didn’t matter that she’d liked it.
What did matter was why she had allowed such a thing.
“Fifth and G. Just a few more right turns and we’ll be there,” she said, not sure he’d hear that above the roar of the engine. But her gloriously muscled, incredibly handsome champion nodded his head.
He was a good-looking bastard for sure, from his cropped auburn mane to his boots. Everything in between seemed to have been molded to perfection by someone paying strict attention to detail. The fitted leather getup he wore enhanced his superior shape and smelled sinfully earthy.
She paid attention to the way he moved, and found him graceful and in complete control of the black custom Harley. With all his muscle and sinew, the guy was like a panther in motion. But he was too tall, too handsome and way too male. He might present himself as a white knight dipped in black leather, but in his presence she was experiencing a moment of moral and physical weakness.
It was a well-known fact that looks could be deceiving, so why the hell was she on this bike?
For the life of her, McKenna couldn’t find a reason for that.
Her old partner at Seattle PD would have rolled his eyes mockingly when catching sight of this guy, suggesting that a package like this one was bound to be bad. The nurses on her shift at the hospital would have drooled.
So, okay, he appeared to be physically perfect. The odds of this biker being merely a Good Samaritan without an agenda of his own rang in at about fifty-fifty. Granted, she’d been near enough to fainting on the street corner to have seen the lights dimming, and there was no way she could have made it to her car. But did that justify accepting aid from a stranger?
Other then Derek Miller, her ex-partner both on the force and in her bed, she hadn’t allowed herself this close to a bad boy without flashing her badge. Yet McKenna was pretty sure she had never wrapped her arms around anything so fine as this specimen.
“You can slow down now,” she called out, wondering if she had a subconscious motive for accepting this lift. Could she possibly use this stud to punish Derek for not being the right man for her? By flaunting someone in front of Derek who was in no way right? The exact opposite of right?
No. That wasn’t it. She’d never been the type to rub things into a partially closed wound. And Derek had, at one time, professed to love her.
“Fifth and G,” she repeated. “Half a block down.”
The guy glanced at her when they stopped for a red light. “All right,” he said, rocking the windblown look with deep auburn hair only a few inches long that smelled like dangerous forbidden detours.
His worn leather jacket, soft against her cheek, had a logo on the back that she was too tired to lean back and examine. Anyway, it was probably best if she didn’t know what he was up to when he wasn’t volunteering to help ladies in distress.
Adding to the cliché of guys on bikes these days, her white knight had tattoos. Rounded edges of fine black scrolls were visible at the nape of his neck. Some sort of Celtic design, she guessed, and no big deal since she also had a tattoo.
In spite of not quite believing that she had accepted this guy’s offer of assistance, she wasn’t a complete idiot. McKenna felt relatively safe on the bike. The knife in her pocket was for protection. She also knew how to get an arm around this guy’s throat if he misbehaved. For some reason, though, she had a feeling he was okay, and was sincere in his wish to help her out of a jam. In this case, McKenna preferred to trust her instincts.
When the bike swerved to the right, she hung on. But after they reached her destination, getting away from him would be the smart thing to do. And also the sensible move, since she was already imagining what a night with him might be like, and how he’d look without the leather—buck naked, bronze, intimidatingly perfect.
Would she stoop to that?
If times were different... If she was different and didn’t know better, due to the things she’d witnessed both as a cop and in the ER, she might have taken this guy up on a night in the sack just for the hell of it. For reliving the thrill of her days on the force, when adrenaline surges were a coveted daily rush.
For a minute, she wanted to forget about taboos and melt into a guy’s capable arms, free to express herself with a stranger in ways she never would have dared to address with Derek. She had been strong for so damn long. She wanted to experience what a man like this, with a body like this, could do to make her forget the nightmares. Only with a stranger could she indulge in that kind of vulnerability.
Pressing her face against his broad back, McKenna shut her eyes, loving the feel of the wind in her hair, hoping her instincts were right. This really had been quite a night. She was holding on to the sexiest man on the planet, who was also the kind of man all mothers warned their daughters to avoid.
Help was on hand, though. There would be plenty of cops to give reality a push when they reached the destination she’d chosen. She would wave goodbye to this guy, and he’d leave.
“Thank you,” she shouted, leaning with him as the Harley swept around a curve. “I mean it.”
He nodded.
Fifth and G was the location of the latest crime—the place where the last poor young man in the emergency room had got his throat slashed. Detective Derek Miller, in his recent career advancement, would have taken charge of the scene, and he would see to it she ended the night without making a bigger fool of herself.
With that in mind, McKenna almost regretted the thought that this handsome hunk of manhood, with his big serious eyes and body like leather-coated sin, might have given her a second wind on a mattress. And that he might have provided her with something to look forward to now that her more dangerous days had been left behind, along with her gun and her badge.
“You’re sure this is the place?” he asked in a deep, silky tone as he pulled over to a curb marked off-limits by a length of yellow crime tape.
“I’m sure,” McKenna replied. What she wasn’t sure about was how she’d get off the bike now that she’d arrived, and if she even wanted to, good intentions and common sense aside.
Seriously, it wasn’t like her to be torn on issues of safety. Strangely enough, she had begun to feel safe with her arms around this stranger’s waist. Safer than she’d felt for a very long time. And that was a surprising revelation.
“I’m guessing you don’t live here,” he said, looking around.
“No. A friend of mine will take over from here. I appreciate your help in getting me this far.”
“Your friend is Detective Miller?”
“How did you know that?”
He swiveled to hand her the cell phone she’d forgotten about. “You called him in front of me.”
Losing the phone had been another unacceptable mental lapse and a slip in her safety net. Just how badly was she looking for trouble? She hadn’t made any effort to get off the bike, a fact her biker would have noticed. She was sending mixed signals, damn it, and for no good reason.
“Maybe you could call the detective over,” her companion suggested with his eyes trained on her. “Or maybe you’d like me to do the honors?”
“I’ll find him on my own,” McKenna said. “I’m not sure he’d like you.”
“I’m quite certain he wouldn’t,” he agreed.
Easing back, McKenna checked out the logo on his back. Blood Knights didn’t sound good. But it wasn’t any local gang she was familiar with.
“What do you do, other than riding a Harley?” Her former cop tone came through on that question.
He shrugged. “I travel.”
“That’s all? You don’t work?”
“Would that make you feel better about accepting my help?”
“Immensely.”
The grin he flashed made her feel morally weaker, and quite prejudiced about the truth of beauty being everything. As if the smile were contagious, McKenna felt her own lips rebelliously upturn.
Those light blue eyes of his were a shocking contrast to the sculpted features any male model would have given eyeteeth for. His eyes seemed to be lit from within.
She was starting to think she’d dreamed him up.
He was still staring at her.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she said. “I have a tendency to speak too quickly and demand everything. It’s both a habit and a fault.”
“I get it,” he said. “And it’s okay.”
And yet she still hadn’t made that call to Derek. Minutes had gone by at the curb. An officer McKenna didn’t immediately recognize had caught sight of them and was on his way over. She would ask that officer to get Derek.
“Maybe you should go,” she suggested to the man beside her.
“With or without you?” he asked, as if he possessed the ability to read her mind and knew she didn’t really want to be at this crime scene, now that she was. Maybe he sensed she was too tired to handle anything more, including another cop’s biased queries about her condition and her ride.
McKenna also had an uncanny feeling that her rescuer might be reluctant to leave her, and the idea produced a thrill.
“Back to the hospital?” he asked. “Someplace where we can call a cab?”
McKenna bit her lip to keep from reciting her address out loud. In her mind’s eye, she pictured the black jacket slipping off this guy’s broad shoulders. She could almost feel the texture of his golden skin beneath her hands, and imagine the savage way she’d go for his pants.
Those brazen, totally unacceptable images scattered when another cop called out, “Randall, is that you?” He shone a flashlight in her direction.
She and her leather-clad knight turned their heads toward the young cop at the same time.
“Yeah,” she called back. “Just checking things out for old times’ sake.”
Lowering her voice, McKenna whispered, “Hospital,” willing her rescuer to take her away without further delay or remarking about her wishy-washy mental state. After all, he’d mentioned waiting for someone near the hospital. Quite possibly she’d been an unwelcome kink in his timeline, and he’d be glad to get back to whomever he’d been waiting for.
The streak of jealousy that came with the idea of this guy belonging to another woman was fierce and unexpected, arriving with the force of a sucker punch. Imagining some other woman’s arms around his waist, inhaling the same musky maleness she’d inexplicably begun to desire, made her hot under the collar.
What if that other woman were to tug that zipper down slowly, inch by inch, to expose what waited to be discovered by a worthy mouth or hand? Trace the pattern of that rolling black tattoo on his neck with her tongue?
Damn it!
Several more choice words slipped out of her mouth before the guy said a gravelly “Hold tight,” revved the bike’s engine and lifted his feet.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” McKenna muttered as the night wind again assailed her and the yellow crime tape disappeared behind them.
* * *
While he might never have imagined it, Kellan now found that he could be persuaded to wait a little longer to discover the extent of this woman’s secrets. Not long. Just enough time to explore the hills and valleys of her beautiful body and indulge in some monumental lovemaking.
He sensed now that she might permit that kind of intimacy. As an experiment, he decided to let go of his own wishes and find out.
“Second left,” his passenger directed in a hoarse, weary voice that also held a hint of invitation.
Kellan took another corner, knowing that turning where she indicated would eventually circle them back to the yellow tape and whomever she had decided not to see there just two minutes ago.
Change of heart?
Go with the gut?
To hell with instinct?
Was she back to considering him a threat?
“Stop,” she directed after they had gone two more blocks, maybe as a test to see if he would do as she asked.
Kellan pulled over, planted his boots, waited to see what she’d do next and what she expected.
“Thanks,” she muttered, loosening her hold on him slightly.
“My pleasure.”
They were parked in front of an old commercial building that was six stories high and made of brick covered over with a dark coat of paint. Lights glowed in the third-and fifth-story windows. Weak overhead lanterns illuminated the entrance and its large metal door.
Kellan turned to look at his passenger. “You live here?”
“Yes. I won’t be asking you in, though, for obvious reasons.”
“Obvious reasons,” Kellan repeated, nodding his head. “Completely understandable. Would you like me to walk you to your door?”
“I don’t think so. You’re too...”
She had a habit of not finishing her sentences. And they were about to return to the previous conversation dealing with what she might think of him.
“I’m too terrifying,” he supplied, filling in the blanks. “I’m an unknown. As I said earlier, I get that. You don’t know me, and vice versa. So, off you go. I can wait here until you get inside, and then I’ll be on my way.”
She didn’t move. Either she wasn’t physically able to hurry, or she was having second thoughts about leaving him.
“Okay, then.” Kellan shut off the engine and climbed off the bike. He took hold of her elbow, absorbing the shocks of electricity accompanying the touch.
Christ, if she affected him so greatly, there definitely had to be more to this connection than merely a male-female vibe. And since he hadn’t encouraged this latest round of compliance, the attraction seemed to be mutual.
“You’re different,” she said, studying him intently and in the way he’d want her to look at him once they were joined at the hips. A vision of entwining legs and limbs seared itself into his mind. Kellan shook his head to scatter the image.
“Different, when compared to what?” he asked.
“Everyone else.”
If you only knew.
“Should I take that as a compliment?” he asked.
“Actually, I’m not sure it was one.”
Smiling, Kellan let go of her arm and held both of his hands up in a gesture indicating he’d back off. “Then I will say good-night from here.”
“Yes. From here,” she agreed without moving or taking the fire in her gaze down a notch.
“I’m not sure what you want,” he confessed after another minute of silence passed. Though he had a good enough idea. Chances were decent that she truly wanted him as badly as he wanted her and this fragile-looking woman had an edge he hadn’t yet fully witnessed. She might even crave danger, when he was danger personified.
Slowly, carefully, he helped her off the bike and took hold of the collar of her coat. This time when she stumbled close, he tilted her head back with his finger, grinned wickedly when her eyes met his and dared to rest his mouth lightly on hers.
He waited for the slap that didn’t come before applying more pressure. This wasn’t a real kiss—more like a test of wills and a bargain between them that had finally been exposed.
Her participation in the kiss would be a green light and would shatter any remaining roadblocks leading to her apartment. If she didn’t kiss him back, he’d have to regroup.
Ah, but her mouth was exactly as he had imagined it would be. Her soft, supple, wind-chilled lips tasted like mint toothpaste. They trembled slightly. Her eyes were closed.
“What are you thinking?” Kellan asked her silently. “Who am I to you?”
He waited, impatient, hopeful, until the lips beneath his finally parted and her warm breath seeped into his mouth.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_567fb57f-d252-58c1-b6df-7802514d26bb)
McKenna felt herself losing ground in a multitude of battles. Between her body and her mind. Between her principles of right and wrong. And between the possibility of falling into a dangerous situation that might lead to an experience of the sublime.
She was under this guy’s spell. His mouth was an inferno, and she craved its warmth. He was an enigma, a face without a name, and though she was taking a chance, she’d been well trained in taking care of herself.
There was a nine-millimeter Glock in her nightstand and a revolver in a desk drawer by the front door. Her apartment was alarmed, armed with panic-button-type security. It was all there thanks to the bullet that seemed to have hit her in another lifetime, and the long recovery she’d endured.
Taking chances didn’t seem so disturbing when, due to the severity of that injury, she felt as if she was already living on borrowed time.
She wanted to feel something. She wanted to explore the edges of the unknown and find a place ruled by pure sensation. If this stranger could give her that...well, all right, and God bless his perfect, leather-clad hide.
Surprisingly, his kiss was tender at first—not much more than a light pressure. He was judging her reaction, being honorable about waiting for her response. So she kissed him back.
Green light.
He got the hint and deepened the kiss. More pressure. More heat. The warmth of his mouth ignited fires deep down inside her that grew even hotter when he slipped the tip of his tongue between her teeth.
Yes, you beautiful bastard!
Her mind soared. Her body began to overheat. McKenna placed both of her hands on his shoulders and dug her fingers into the worn black leather, looking for a hold. In the back of her mind she conjured more unladylike four-letter words that described her wanton behavior.
But what the hell...
Her knight crushed her body to his, bending her spine, kissing her with a passion that was shockingly new. This kind of passion suggested a world far from her familiar one, a place of raw abandon where anything was possible. Having his mouth on hers created in her a hunger for something she’d never even sampled. That hunger began to take her over.
He was what she wanted right that minute. More of this. More of him. God yes, she might have gone temporarily insane, but she was going to have it all.
Damn you...
Each second in this man’s embrace piled on more greed. Her skin buzzed with excitement. The deep V between her thighs tingled, anxious to be touched, entered, taken, filled, either gently or roughly, without caring about feelings, pain or hurt, and how she might hate herself afterward.
She longed to feel alive again, and this guy knew how to take care of that. He seemed to understand the things her life lacked and was willing to show them to her.
What have I become?
When he pulled back, she wanted to strike him in protest. She didn’t want to go back to being bland, scarred McKenna. Not now. Not yet. When she looked up, it was to find a questioning glint in his unusually light, sky blue eyes.
“You need to know my name.” The tone of his voice was like a second caress.
McKenna shook her head. “I’d rather not know that.”
“Then at least tell me yours.”
Without the heated pressure of his lips, she quickly chilled. “McKenna.”
He said, “It suits you. I like it.”
“Does liking my name make a difference?”
“It makes things more personal, don’t you think?”
“I’m trying to avoid personal.”
“Then we won’t be going inside?”
McKenna was surprised to hear her reply. “Yes. We will.”
After a kiss like that, she was wholeheartedly willing to put herself on the line.
“Yes,” she repeated, holding back the urge to straddle the guy right here on the street.
He was infuriatingly calm. Taking her hand in his, her motorcycle-riding knight turned from the street and led her to her front door...straight toward the culmination of those wicked images she could barely keep to herself.
* * *
Before McKenna realized it, they were almost up the stairs to her fifth-floor loft. No further threat of fainting spells came. She didn’t have to be carried since she was fueled by anticipation and adrenaline.
She handed him her key. Inside the high-ceilinged space, lights set on timers blazed in honor of her late return. Clothes from the day before lay strewn on the floor. The bed was unmade.
Her companion didn’t seem to notice the disarray. Once the door closed behind them, his hands were on her again. He gathered her into his arms, his mouth moving greedily on hers.
Nothing was left of the gentleman now. These kisses were acts of ravenous, insatiable hunger that hurled McKenna toward a heightened emotional state. Breathing became a game between her mouth and his, her lungs and his. The tightness of his hold on her kept the world from tilting.
Her coat hit the wood floor with a clink of the metallic buttons. He undid her shirt far enough to slip one heated hand beneath. When he reached her breast, her heart exploded. Her breath hitched. She felt the beat of his pulse through the thin layer of lingerie she wore. That pulse was strong, erratic, and it lurched when her hands joined with his in the furious race for discovery.
The leather he wore was a unique kind of turn-on, smooth as velvet, with an old-world masculine scent. She ran both hands over his backside and the jacket emblazoned with the curious logo. Simultaneously, his fingers sailed lightly across her bare stomach before reaching around to her back.
Every inch of flesh he touched burned. It didn’t take much for her to imagine what lay beneath his clothes and how much she would enjoy finding out.
“Off with the jacket,” she whispered into his mouth.
Wanting to miss nothing, McKenna searched for a way under his black T-shirt as his leather jacket hit the floor.
The groan she heard was a sound she had made. The sheer beauty in front of her demanded it. Where Derek, her former lover, had been lean and wiry, this guy was composed of gracefully tuned muscle. Wide shoulders stretched the cotton shirt tight. His chest was magnificently broad, perched above a narrow waist and hips.
He had the corded arms of someone used to performing hard work, without the calluses on his hands to prove it. Since he was a knight, according to the legend on his jacket, McKenna imagined him as a warrior of old, riding a horse instead of a Harley and swinging a sword. A heavy silver broadsword was the type of weapon knights with all that well-honed muscle would be trained to wield.
She imagined herself in his arms, back in those times of castles and fierce men on battlefields...
And damn it, she was taking this whole rescuer thing too far.
When his mouth recaptured hers, McKenna’s mind fuzzed over in favor of her body’s new focus. Bed. This guy was all hers for the next few hours, and she’d be counting them not in minutes, but in orgasms like the one she was close to having now.
Craving the feel of her skin against his, McKenna eased back. He was in excellent shape, his skin tight, taut. His abs were well-defined. He flinched when she touched his bare skin as if he wasn’t used to being touched.
Her fingers moved like lightning over him. When she looked up, he was smiling. His expression held a hint of sadness that made him look almost vulnerable. When their gazes met, blue eyes to blue eyes, McKenna’s internal fires became volcanic, erupting, spreading, spilling over every nerve she possessed.
She held her breath. He made a move.
First he tore off his shirt. Then he removed hers. He took the time to glance down the length of her body before lifting her into his arms. Crossing the room in three big strides, he laid her on the bed, pulled off her boots and leaned over her with one of his hands on the pillow and his other hand resting on the zipper of her jeans.
McKenna struggled for each new breath. Anticipation caused her limbs to quake. The guy’s damnably perfect face filled her vision, his features hurtfully handsome, almost supernaturally beguiling. “No one is this perfect,” she managed to say, holding off the distant internal drumming.
He arched one auburn eyebrow.
“You’re not going to have to work very hard,” she added. “I’m afraid I might be too weak to last very long against all that...” She waved at his body.
“Then don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t hold out.”
“Damn you.”
“I could stop,” he said. “But we haven’t even really started yet, have we?”
“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 (#ulink_81ad4fa4-d7e8-5653-af70-44cad73c7da0)
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.
Of course, being almost fully clothed would have prevented any of that, so how could she have thought otherwise? She had to have been hallucinating. Wishing.
Her voice wasn’t quite even when she spoke. “I thought we just...that we...”
“Only the beginning,” he promised in a tone as thick as hers.
Wary of losing track of events that couldn’t have been more than a few moments long, McKenna made herself speak again. “I have a confession to make. I’m afraid that if you’re good enough to make me imagine we’ve gotten to know each other a whole lot better without actually doing so, I truly might not be ready for the real thing.”
He nodded. “We have a connection.”
“You think?”
“My confession is that I find you irresistible, McKenna.”
“You don’t have to flatter me. I’m already right here, on this bed.”
“What if I speak the truth?”
“Then I’d have to ask what’s stopping you from taking what you want right now, and then see what answer you come up with.”
“I’m savoring the moment,” he said.
“Take your time. After all, I did just embarrass myself, didn’t I, by jumping the gun? I suppose that says something about my love life, or the lack of it.”
His brow furrowed. “I can’t imagine why there isn’t a man here, waiting for you.”
“I guess it’s because I have standards.”
He nodded. “Then I’m honored to be here now. And I find your honesty refreshing.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what a girl wants to hear while lying in bed with a man. That she’s refreshing.”
The remark resulted in a smile that was as dazzling as the rest of him. Because of it, McKenna’s mind began a new internal dialogue warning her about truly not being ready for this caliber of man.
His hand was very close to her private parts. One move of her hips and he’d find out just how much she wanted this.
He didn’t make that move.
“You can leave whenever you want to,” she said, testing his intentions. “There were no promises here.”
“Did I say anything about leaving?”
“No, but I thought I’d get that out, up front.”
“Actually, I’m fairly sure there were promises, and I rarely go back on mine.”
“Promises? Such as?”
“Mouths meeting. Bodies merging. Two lost souls finding each other.”
“That’s deep,” McKenna said. “And maybe too advanced for the possibility of an hour together in my bedroom.”
“I’m a man of high hopes.” He withdrew his hand and reached to the bedside table to turn off the light.
Darkness fell, but there was just enough light coming in from the streetlights for McKenna to make out her lover’s sculpted silhouette. She mourned the loss of his baby blue gaze.
The mattress creaked beneath his weight as he shifted closer. Uncontrollably drawn to him, with a real need to explore what was so damn fine, McKenna’s hands went to his chest. There she found the heat she knew would greet her, and she relished the burn.
The face she had thought angelic was close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. She turned her head toward him to offer easy access.
Sensation had tripled in the dark, awakened by anticipation. He swept her hair back from her face with his fingers, and she quivered. When he brushed her lips with his, without lingering, she wanted to break the standoff and tug him closer.
“Damn you,” she whispered for what had to be the tenth time. Giving in to her body’s demands, she reached for his shoulders.
“Soon,” he whispered, his husky tone hurling more flames in her direction.
He felt solid, hard, as his body rolled onto hers, spread-eagle on the bed. There was only the briefest time to recognize how well they fit together and how good being beneath him felt.
He didn’t have to move to let her know that he shared her excitement. His stiffness in all the right places made that perfectly clear. His hard length, and the friction of being pants to pants below the waist and skin to skin above, was a sensation like no other.
It would have been lying to say she hadn’t known how good this would be.
McKenna stifled another moan when his lips feathered across her left cheek in a downward path that would lead to her throat. His next move was a soft bite to a supersensitive spot below her ear. He did the same thing again a bit lower, and afterward placed a kiss in the valley between her breasts.
She was coming unglued. Her heart could not have beat harder. Catching her breath was a chore. She shook like a schoolgirl, fearing to move, not wanting to lose one gloriously sexy, unbelievably scary minute.
When his mouth grazed the lace covering her breasts, McKenna shoved her fingers into his hair. Her treacherous legs opened, urged into moving by the swift rise of another far-off internal beat that was pounding her insides to a pulp.
Hot breath on her nipples...
The sensation of her lacy bra being removed by the guy’s strong hands...
Followed by a flick of his tongue over one raised pink bud.
She could not remain still. Can’t.
This was too much. And too little.
“What are you waiting for?” she demanded breathlessly, the question loud in the darkened room.
“This,” he replied, dragging his mouth to the other breast, where he closed his lips over that swollen tip of her raised flesh.
McKenna bucked beneath him. Her hands fisted in his hair.
God...
He stroked a hand over her jeans, over the sweet spot pulsing between her legs as he first licked, then lightly suckled her. Shudders of delight shot through her. His mouth was crazy hot.
Did he make a sound? Could the cry have been hers?
“Can’t wait much longer,” she whispered.
“We might have to,” he warned as his hand stopped moving and the sound of knocking filled the room.
McKenna heard little over the sound of her own harsh breathing, but quickly realized that those knocking sounds weren’t due to the pounding of her heart. They came from the door.
In the most untimely interruption imaginable, someone wanted in.
* * *
Kellan swore beneath his breath and lifted his head. Drawing back, he sat up and looked to McKenna. “You were expecting company?”
“No.”
He believed her. Using his extraordinary senses, he perceived that this visitor was a man. Presumably the elusive Detective Miller.
It was likely that the officers at the crime scene they’d visited earlier had told Miller about them. It was also a good bet that the phone call McKenna made to the police department had been forwarded.
Maybe the idea of McKenna on a Harley was grounds enough for the detective to assume this was an emergency.
“Mac?” the newcomer called out softly between knocks. “McKenna? Are you there?”
“He’ll go away,” McKenna said, her body motionless on the lavender-scented sheets.
Kellan perched on the edge of the mattress, waiting for McKenna’s next instructions and wondering what this detective meant to her. Friend? More than that? There was a new tension in the room that suggested lover. Was that title current, though, or a detail from McKenna’s past?
When the knock came again, a jolt of anger hit Kellan. This was his time with McKenna. The importance of his agenda could not be overstated. He and the woman beside him had already opened a physical dialogue that might lead to the success of his mission. After all these years, he had also been enjoying himself.
“He won’t like finding you here,” McKenna said. She was looking to the door.
“Does he have a key?”
“Yes, but he won’t use it. Not now, without my permission.”
A liaison in the past tense, then?
“You don’t think being seen with me tonight might be considered cause for concern?” Kellan suggested.
“There’s always that,” she conceded.
The knocks ceased for several seconds before the doorknob turned. Kellan stood as the sound of a key grated in the lock. Gracefully, quickly, with McKenna’s welfare in mind, he moved toward his shirt.
Chapter 6 (#ulink_9217efe1-7f1f-5a68-8515-6b2b617ac4c5)
The man spanning the doorway looked like a cop, Kellan decided. It was all there—height, professionally short hair, wiry frame, condemning expression on a good-looking face. The scent of metal—his badge, and a gun hidden under an armpit—accompanied him. Underneath all of that, Kellan detected an almost feral nervousness.
The detective stopped dead in his tracks, trying to see into the darkened room. Once his eyes had adjusted, his focus landed on Kellan. Soon afterward, he flipped the light switch and transferred his gaze to the unmade bed, then to McKenna, who now stood at the window.
“Am I intruding?” he asked no one in particular. There was an explicit warning in his tone.
“Just leaving,” Kellan replied calmly, sweeping his jacket off the floor.
“Good.” The detective’s eyes were still on McKenna. She had donned a sweatshirt in time to avoid being caught half-naked.
“I’ll see you out,” the detective added, facing Kellan.
“No need. I can find my way,” Kellan said.
“Maybe so, but I’d feel better making sure you got to the street.”
McKenna broke in. “Truly, Derek, does he look like he needs help?”
“Which is exactly why I’m offering it,” the detective said.
“He brought me home,” she explained.
“I see that.”
Wanting to avoid more tension, Kellan shrugged into the jacket and zipped it up. After rolling his shoulders, he said to the detective, “See ya.”
“I’ll be back,” the detective told McKenna as he followed Kellan into the hallway. “In the meantime, Mac, maybe you can turn on more lights?”
She offered no remark in return. Her eyes followed Kellan.
Ten steps toward the staircase, with the detective tagging along behind, Kellan stopped abruptly, alerted to a new problem. Looking up, he said to the detective, “You’re going to keep an eye on her?”
“I usually do,” the detective replied.
“That gun’s loaded?”
“Are you wondering if I’ll shoot you for taking liberties with McKenna?”
“I promise you there are far worse things than me around tonight,” Kellan announced truthfully, able to smell the vampire on the roof and sense its bottomless hunger.
“Maybe so,” the detective said. “Yet I think I’ll deal with one thing at a time.”
Kellan didn’t want to leave McKenna and vowed the separation wouldn’t be for long. He just had to take care of the little problem on the roof without this detective’s prying eyes, and then get rid of the detective.
McKenna might wait for him. Then again, maybe she’d lock the door for good since she’d been afforded the chance to regret her actions and her invitation now that their night together had been interrupted.
Still, he’d find a second opportunity.
He had to.
Their footsteps were quiet on the steps. Once on the street, the detective waited with a shoulder against the building’s brick entry for Kellan to reach the Harley. But Kellan couldn’t leave. The fanged bloodsucker was clinging to the side of the building above them like an oversize spider. Really nasty vamps with bad intentions did that in order to peer into windows to locate their next unsuspecting victims. This one didn’t seem to care about the two people below.
If Miller glanced upward, he’d see the danger lurking there. Possibly he’d even believe his eyes. At the moment, though, the detective’s only concern was getting rid of the biker who had fraternized with his old flame. Like most mortals, Miller wouldn’t catch a whiff of the supernatural threat that was almost in his face.
Leaving now was impossible. As soon as he exited the area, the dead fanger might drop, and Miller wouldn’t know what hit him. It also might swing through the window and reach McKenna before Kellan could hit the stairs.
He saw McKenna at the window. The damn vampire was dangling a few feet above her, its white face gleaming with malice.
Kellan knew he could get past Detective Miller easily enough, but if he used his special speed, the cop would know there were things on this earth that lay beyond the realm of the possible. Miller’s gun could slow the rogue vampire down if the detective got off a few rounds, yet those bullets wouldn’t kill the monster, even if Kellan were to point the bloodsucker out.
This was his problem. Taking care of bad guys was what he did.
“Why were you with her? What’s McKenna to you?” Miller asked as Kellan turned toward him.
“Is that your business?” Kellan asked.
“I’ve just made it my business.”
Kellan figured he had a few seconds at most to play along with the detective’s line of questioning.
“I gave her a ride,” he said.
Miller’s dark eyes were almost rudely assessing. “Yes. That’s why the lights were off in her apartment, as well as your jacket. Mac’s gratefulness for that ride being the reason?”
Kellan kept his eyes on the detective so as not to call attention to the monster closing in. He said, “I offered to get her home when she needed help.”
“Mac seldom needs help. So if she did, you have my thanks for that.”
Of course, Miller didn’t mean that about the thanks. Most likely he’d been informed about the call McKenna had made, though, and would know she tried to reach him first.
This was checkmate when there was no need of it. Kellan supposed he would be pressed to honor his vows to the end, as he always did, so that humans wouldn’t panic over seeing what hid in the shadows. He went so far as to think about showing his fangs to this detective, just to get Miller on board.
Turning to the Harley, Kellan peered over his shoulder. The vampire had reached McKenna’s window, where she was standing very close to the glass. Another couple of breaths and the rogue would find its way in.
Kellan considered what might constitute the lesser of two evils. Reveal himself and his abilities to this detective and get to McKenna, or let Miller find out the hard way about one of the world’s darkest secrets.
“I forgot something,” Kellan said, rounding back to where the detective stood.
“I’ll save it for you, whatever it is,” Miller promised sarcastically, pushing off the wall to block the doorway.
“It’s important that I go back up there, Detective.”
Miller gave him a look that more or less translated to over my dead body. But by then the sound of breaking glass filled the night.
* * *
McKenna didn’t know what happened. One minute she was looking at the two men on the sidewalk, and the next minute there were shards of shattered glass in her face.
She stumbled back, caught herself from falling on the bed and sprang sideways with an adrenaline surge as something barreled through the opening that moments ago had been a sturdy dual-paned window.
Intruder.
A shout lodged in her throat, but her police-trained reflexes rallied. She hit the floor and rolled toward where her gun was hidden in a drawer, figuring that timing would be her ally and provide the precious seconds necessary for her to protect herself from attack.
Unfortunately, she didn’t get far. The guy was incredibly fast. Strong hands caught her by the hair and swung her around. Gasping, she was on her back before her next breath, smelling the rancid odor coming from her attacker’s open mouth.
McKenna kicked out. Her bare right foot connected with the man’s shin, but he didn’t seem to feel it. He was a fighter, and superhumanly strong. Although she’d kicked with all her might, being shoeless wasn’t in her favor. Her foot hurt like hell.
He was on top of her in seconds.
No way was she going to give up.
McKenna punched him with both hands and managed to rip the skin from his face with her nails. She struggled, squirmed and fought with an energy born of both fear and anger.
She was against the wall without knowing how she’d got there. The attacker’s face came close—a pasty angular death mask with dark holes for eyes.
“Freak!” she rasped as his hands encircled her throat and began to squeeze.
She got her arms under his and shoved hers upward to break his choke hold. Dropping her weight, she again hit the floor in time to slide out from under him.
He grunted once and again caught her by the hair. With a sickening heave he had her upright and shoved against the same damn wall. His hands returned to her throat.
She groaned as her breath left her and her lids fluttered toward stillness.
* * *
“What the hell?” The detective’s startled shout preceded Kellan’s race to the stairs.
Kellan was beyond caring about vows and secrets now. If anything happened to McKenna, he’d be one sorry immortal.
He was at her door in seconds and through it in less time than it took for Miller to gather himself enough to follow. One quick scan told him that the beast, in a blur of malice and motion, had McKenna by the throat.
Kellan pulled the vampire off her and held the abomination suspended in the air as he spoke McKenna’s name, needing to know he was in time and she was all right. He had never faced the meaning of real fear until she didn’t answer.
The vampire in his grip was young and unaware of beings with greater power. It spit and hissed and fought with the strength of two human men, but was no match for a Blood Knight.
Kellan threw the beast against the same wall McKenna had slid down. Hearing Detective Miller’s approach, and regretful over not having the time to deal the bloodsucker some retribution, he clutched the vampire, moved to the window and tossed the beast out.
“Another time, fiend,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “You’d better hope it’s not anywhere near here.”
“McKenna?” Miller was calling her name, kneeling by McKenna’s side, turning her over. She was on the floor with her head against the legs of a chair. Her eyes were closed.
“McKenna, open your eyes,” Miller directed. “Look at me. You’re going to be okay. Tell me you’re all right.”
Kellan watched, wanting to help, desperate to go to her. Frustrated, he made himself wait, hearing the rapid patter of McKenna’s heartbeat from where he stood and the staccato intake of her ragged breaths.
Miller turned his head. “Where did the bastard go?”
“It exited the same way it got in,” Kellan said, withholding the part about throwing the bloodsucker out and onto its five-year-dead ass.
Miller didn’t seem to notice the it part.
“Help her,” Miller directed, pulling a phone from his pocket to call the incident in. “Jesus, there isn’t a decent place left in this goddamn city to live.”
Kellan relished the chance to get close to McKenna. As the detective barked orders into the phone, he took McKenna in his arms, brushed the hair back from her face and spoke in a soft tone. “You’re not hurt, McKenna. I won’t allow that, and neither will you. Do you hear me?”
He used his power of suggestion to convince her of this, adding, “Open your eyes. See me and believe that what I say is true.”
She obeyed. Her sapphire-blue eyes blinked slowly.
“That’s good,” he said. “Now take a deep breath and push back the fear. It’s over. You’re all right.”
Again she obeyed, taking one steady breath after another. Her face was ashen. So were her lips. “Window,” she said. “He came through the window.”
Kellan nodded. “He probably thought no one was home.”
McKenna coughed as she shook her head. “No. I think he came for me.”
“It’s all right now,” Kellan repeated. “Your cop friend will see to that. And so will I.”
He ran a hand over her throat, noting the red marks where the monster had nearly squeezed the life from her. There were no punctures. No visible bite marks. She’d been reached in time to ward off that rueful fate.
Inwardly, Kellan chastised himself for allowing Detective Miller to keep him occupied on the street. That was what he got for being a good guy in a world gone bad. Any longer of a delay and he might have lost the one thing he needed most. McKenna.
Miller squatted down beside him. “Do we need an ambulance, Mac?”
She shook her head. “An ice pack would be nice. And a stiff drink.”
Miller’s relief was obvious and spoke volumes about the love he had for McKenna, no matter the status of their current relationship. His attention had been on her, and only her. Still, Miller couldn’t protect McKenna if monsters had got wind of a developing relationship between McKenna and a Blood Knight, even if they didn’t understand what a Blood Knight was.
He had to consider the possibility that his presence had played a part in drawing the vampire to McKenna’s apartment, without the vampire realizing it.
Could this be a case of monsters recognizing on some level another monster’s prey? Fang calling to fang, no matter how distant and seriously diluted the connection might be?
Miller offered McKenna a hand and she took it. She didn’t look at Kellan again until she was sitting in a chair.
“Tall. White-skinned. Dark eyes. Black coat and boots. Black thinning hair,” she said. “Maybe thirty years old.” Wincing, she added, “With very bad breath.”
“Good. What else?” Miller said after repeating that list to whoever was on the other end of the phone line he’d kept open.
“I think he might be sick.”
“A junkie, possibly looking for drugs?” Miller asked.
“That’s a good possibility,” McKenna agreed, shifting her questioning gaze to Kellan. “Thanks for coming back in time to get him off me.”
Kellan nodded.
Miller grunted an unintelligible remark, but Kellan searched McKenna’s face for signs that she might know more about this intruder than she was willing to mention to the detective. The puzzled, frightened gleam in her eyes suggested she thought she’d seen a monster and was trying to come to terms with that.
“We’re searching the area now,” Miller said, pocketing the phone. “If the bastard is anywhere around here, we’ll find him. In the meantime, it might be best if you stayed at my place. I’ll drive you there myself. We’ll want to go over this room for clues to this sucker’s identity.”
McKenna continued to study Kellan, as if deep down she was wondering if he had something to do with the attack. Did she believe he had been here to case the place so his accomplice could finish the job once he’d gone?
“No,” he said to her, in case he was right about her thoughts. “Don’t entertain ideas that I could harm you like that.”
Of course, his statement was a half-truth at best, since there was also a chance the vampire had come here for him and had got distracted after sensing McKenna’s tired state. Vampires were too often hard to predict.
Also, since he was pretty certain McKenna was the special being he sought, he had no idea what might happen to her when he opened her up to the hidden soul inside her. Would she survive that opening? If she did, would she wake in a state vulnerable to every kind of predator on the planet?
He had to consider all the options, all the directions of his next moves.
“I can go back to the hospital,” she said to Miller. “There’s no need to put you out.”
Kellan felt Miller’s attention swerve back to McKenna. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” Miller said. “But you know you’re always welcome at my place. In fact, I’d feel a lot better if you would take me up on that.”
Kellan stood up. “I guess I’ll take my leave.”
“I’d like a word,” Miller said to him pointedly.
“It might not be a good idea to leave McKenna alone.”
“We can talk in the hallway with the door open. Mac, are you good with that? Just for a minute? Then I’ll get you that ice pack.”
After looking back and forth between Miller and Kellan, McKenna nodded.
Miller gestured for Kellan to precede him out. Kellan withheld a sigh, not liking the part he had to play in order to get along with these mortals. He was anxious to go after that vampire on his own. He needed to lose the biker’s mortal semblance and get down to business with a fledgling vampire too willing to cross the line with someone else’s treasure.
His anger was on the rise. That anger would soon become dangerous enough to burn away his calm exterior.
In the hallway, Miller lowered his voice. “I suppose thanks are in order for helping McKenna again. You ran up those steps like you were superhuman. But thanking you would mean I don’t believe in the possibility of you having something to do with this incident. You do get that?”
“I’m not the bad guy here,” Kellan said.
“I suppose that’s a matter of opinion. So I have to ask some questions. The first one is, who are you?”
“I’m just a guy passing through.”
“And you just happened to meet my...meet McKenna?”
“Yes. Near the hospital. She couldn’t drive and asked me to take her to you.”
That stumped Miller for a minute because he knew this was quite possibly true.
“Why didn’t you leave her with me?” Miller asked.
“The lady changed her mind.”
“So you brought her here.”
“I followed her directions, yes.”
“Maybe you can see how odd it is that this attack happened at the same time?”
“Our return could have interrupted the bastard’s plans. McKenna probably would have been safe as long as I was there with her.”
“It’s entirely possible we have differing definitions of the word safe. You’ve known her for, what? Five minutes?”
“I’ve known her long enough to know I wouldn’t want any harm to come to her.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t like this. I’m going to ask you to stay in the area until we figure things out.”
Staying in the area went right along with Kellan’s plans, though being part of a police investigation was never good. He didn’t need the attention, or anyone scrutinizing his ID. He certainly didn’t intend to play along with this detective for much longer. He had a vampire to catch and the timing was tricky.
He had to use more of his power of persuasion.
“I’ll be going now,” he said, sending the thought straight into the detective’s mind, where it encircled everything else with the force of a command, urging Miller to let this biker go without a fuss.
“Okay.” Miller raised his hands and stepped back. “I’ll be in touch.”
Fat chance of that, Kellan thought, since the cop didn’t even know his name.
Catching a whiff of fetid air, Kellan turned his head for a quick look, able to detect the vamp’s escape route from where he stood as easily as if the bloodsucker had left a trail of bread crumbs.
With one more glance over his shoulder to McKenna’s open doorway, he headed for the street.
Chapter 7 (#ulink_c405488d-e48e-56f0-9764-2671fa469f38)
McKenna stood in front of the bathroom sink, staring at her image in the mirror. She looked peaked, she thought, and gray. She was sporting an angry red ring of finger marks around her throat that would soon be a circle of bruises. Swallowing was difficult.
What she really didn’t need was another miserable reminder of some asshole’s evil intent.
Her gaze flicked to the scar on her temple. She touched the line of raised white flesh with her fingers before turning on the tap. Hot water felt good, soothing. She closed her eyes and let the water run as exhaustion again threatened to overtake her. Exhaustion aided by another close encounter with death.
She was finding it hard to breathe. The room was starting to spin, sending her stomach into free fall. Placing her hands on the sink, McKenna fought for enough breath to fill her lungs while attempting to get a handle on her wits. As a cop, she’d seen break-ins go bad on a daily basis. This one just happened to be hers.
“Mac? Are you ready?”
Her eyes found the image in the mirror of the man standing behind her. She wasn’t sure why she’d expected someone else, but her heart lurched in anticipation of a face that didn’t show up.
Derek had gathered ice cubes in a kitchen towel for her throat.
“I’ll stay here,” she said. “Unless you think I can’t remember how to keep out of the way when everyone shows up.”
Derek knew better than to argue. He said, “You won’t get any rest if you stay, and you look like you could use a little first aid and a lot of sleep.”
“I can take a day off tomorrow and sleep then.”
He nodded solemnly. “How about the ice pack?”
She took it from him.
“Does it hurt, Mac?” His voice was a gentle reminder of old times, which made the idea of her attempted bedroom liaison with the stranger seem even stranger. She knew that Derek still loved her. Finding a guy in her apartment must have surprised him. He hadn’t been able to hide the hurt in his eyes.
“It doesn’t hurt much, thanks to you and...”
Wise to that telling hesitation, Derek’s face became a mass of worry lines. “Seriously, McKenna? You don’t know the guy’s name?”
She didn’t answer that question. How could she? Offering a weak shrug, McKenna turned off the water, hoping to avoid more personal scrutiny.
“You’ll fill me in, Derek? You will let me know what the guys find?”
“I will,” he replied after a beat.
She wanted desperately to get away from Derek’s accusing expression.
“Maybe...maybe you can drive me back to the hospital? I’ve changed my mind about staying here. I’ll find a bed somewhere. You can do your job here, and having you in charge will make me feel better.”
Derek’s face registered relief. “Great. Grab your coat. You can’t touch anything else here. I’m sorry for that.”
McKenna turned to face him. “Thanks. I know the drill.”
What she didn’t dare mention to an ex-lover was that she doubted if she’d ever be able to forget the gorgeous stranger who had rescued her twice in the span of an hour, and that she hoped to God she’d never see the biker again. Because owing someone your life was awkward. So was the fact that her body desired his heated touch, even now.
* * *
Kellan’s arms were steamy beneath rivers of nerve-induced burn. His mind twisted with a new feeling of elation. He had found a contender for his search for the lost soul in Seattle. Her name was McKenna, and he knew where to find her.
He just had to make sure the vile creature that had attacked her would never bother McKenna again.
Where there was one vampire, there was usually another creature of the night. Monsters clung to others of their kind, believing in the power of numbers. This attack on McKenna might bring more danger to her doorstep.
There were many freaks amassing in the dark spaces that viewed humans as a kind of tasty dessert. And while ferreting them out wasn’t the reason for this Seattle visit, he now had to take an unplanned detour. His current objective was to save McKenna Randall—he’d noticed her last name on her lobby mailbox. Save her for himself.
Her image wavered in Kellan’s mind like a mirage. He could almost feel the softness of her smooth white skin. He rewound events for a replay of the look in her eyes when she appreciatively ran her hands over him, liking what she found.
He heard the lingering echo of the soft, sexy sounds McKenna made when they kissed, and the way she pressed against him. He revisited the look of anticipation on her face when he’d tucked his fingers inside that little scrap of blue lace crossing her hips, and how those hips moved to help him find what she needed.
He contemplated that rose tattoo on her arm.
If given more time, he could have discovered if the thing he sought lay curled up inside her.
Police cars were arriving at the curb to assess the situation in McKenna’s apartment. Since his presence was no longer wanted or necessary, Kellan climbed on the bike and took off, heading down the long block and around a corner, where he stopped to search the shadows with his highly defined senses.
The vampire that had hurt McKenna had landed and run, leaving in its wake a stomach-curdling mixture of odors: dried blood, dirt and the faint scent of lavender, picked up from its brush with McKenna’s things.
Broken window glass couldn’t have harmed this vampire. Vamps didn’t bleed. Their ability to heal miraculously when injured was another one of death’s creepy little bonuses.
This bloodsucker had been brazen, as most fledglings were. Hunger ruled them. Nothing else mattered but their need to feed. They weren’t aware of the fact that one mistake on their end could create another bloodsucker, and so on. All it took to make a nest of them was a couple of drops of undead blood on a mortal tongue.
Or maybe they did know this.
As always, if the shadows were allowed to spread unchecked, mortals would soon become outnumbered and overpowered by the dark side. Not many people believed in the existence of monsters. They made excuses for the injuries and horrific deaths around their cities, failing to recognize the real danger until it was too late, if ever.
Fact was, it took a monster to find a monster.
“And it just so happens that I’m your guy.”
Once he’d tuned in to the vamp’s frequency, Kellan saw the atmosphere shift with a phosphorescent green glow. Anything moving with unnatural speed left a similar residual imprint in the air. Kellan supposed that he did, as well.
“Got you.”
On foot, he followed the trail between buildings and into a narrow alley lit only by a small shaft of moonlight.
Carefully scanning the walls above him, Kellan called out a taunt, knowing he’d be heard. “Wouldn’t you prefer to pick on somebody your own size for a change?”
There was a hissing sound, followed by the clatter of a can. Kellan perceived three vampires hiding out in this area. Obviously, none of them were willing to show themselves. Seemed that his reputation had preceded him and that these suckers were at least aware of the extraordinary strength he possessed.
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