Immortal Redeemed. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
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“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 or on Facebook.
Immortal Redeemed
Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
MILLS & BOON
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To my family, those here and those gone, who always believed I had a story to tell.
Contents
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
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