Immortal Duty (Book 1, Immortals)
Walking home from a late-night shift at the hospital, Amy Bennett unwittingly stumbles into the violent, mysterious world of sexy Rhys Morgan. She wants him at once, but he’s a man with dangerous secrets, and despite the explosive attraction between them, he seems determined to push her away.
One of the oldest of his kind, the intense Immortal warrior Rhys spends his nights on the streets of Chandler protecting the city from the demons that threaten to overrun it. Though strong, he now has a weakness…Amy.
His gift of premonition has always been a curse, and more so since Amy’s death has begun haunting his dreams. But she’s part of his world now, and Rhys doesn’t know how to save her, or how to protect his heart.
Excerpt for Immortal Duty
Amy glanced over her shoulder. He was turning a key in the door, which he then pulled from the lock and dropped into his pants pocket. Oh hell. She swallowed and quickly looked away, but he wasn’t paying her any attention.
He dragged his bloody T-shirt over his shoulders and his head, and her mouth went bone dry as she stared at the fabulously chiseled frame being revealed to her. The view was amazing.
There’s not an ounce of fat on him. He was like finely carved granite.
She couldn’t bring herself to do the polite thing and look away. Instead, her eyes gobbled him up, greedily drinking in the sight of those abs rippling deliciously with his movements, and the lean waist that teased her with a thin line of hair traveling down into the waistband of his pants.
She swallowed hard as heat bloomed in her belly. A tattoo snaked over each of his shoulders. It looked as if it ran across his back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. She found herself wishing he would turn and let her examine it more closely.
Turn around, turn around, turn around.
She wanted to touch it. She wanted to walk up to him and reach out and…
Oh God. She sucked in a hard breath. She wanted to slide her palms up his bulging arms and trace the path of whatever pattern had been inked into his skin.
It was crazy. She shook her head. Completely nuts. She shouldn’t feel like this about a stranger. She shouldn’t feel jittery and breathless. She shouldn’t feel…anticipation.
Physically Rhys’ body was mostly recovered from the gunshot wound already, but his arm still throbbed, the pain arching deep into the surrounding tissues when he poked at it.
Bloody shirt still in one hand, he prodded before realizing that Amy was silent. She was staring at him, awareness obvious in her expression. Rhys thanked God for hundreds of years of strength training, before clearing his throat.
Her lips parted as she met his gaze and a sharp stab of heat flared low in his gut. He knew he would regret it later, but at this moment there was nothing on earth that was going to keep him from sifting his hands through the softness of her hair, and he intended to find out if her skin tasted as succulent as it looked.
He started toward her until he was close enough to feel her uneven breaths ghosting across his skin. The softness turned the blood racing through his veins to molten lava.
He reached out for a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. With just that one touch, he courted danger. Something about this woman was irresistible. He needed to keep her close. He might just kill to have the warmth of her skin pressed against him.
She still wouldn’t look him in the eye.
He cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her face up.