Immortal Redeemed

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

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.