My Immortal

My Immortal by L. Shannon

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Origins: My Immortal By

L. Shannon


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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. My Immortal Copyright© 2007 L. Shannon ISBN: 978‐1‐60088‐200‐5 Cover Artist: Croco Designs Editor: Tracy Seybold All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Cobblestone Press, LLC www.cobblestone‐press.com

http://www.cobblestone-press.com/


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Dedication

The book is dedicated to “Skunk” because even death hasn’t kept you from being part of my life.


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Chapter One

Rural area of New York State, December 24, 2006 Logan Anderson walked into the bar with no expectations. It was

just another night on the run and his only hope was to find a little peace in the bottom of a whiskey glass. He slid onto a barstool and motioned to the bartender.

“Set me up. Wild Turkey and keep it flying.” To make his point he laid a hundred dollar bill on the smooth wood of the bar.

The man nodded grimly, as if he could imagine Logan’s weight as he hauled his unconscious ass out at two a.m.. Still, with the c‐note in his hand, he seemed willing to help a stranger forget.

Thank God for greedy men. Without them, his only source of comfort would have been shut off long ago. But with their aid, he was guaranteed a bit of solace in every town he passed through. This would make town seventy‐two since the bank heist that had gone wrong.

Gone wrong… that was like calling a nuke a teapot. His brother, Owen, had talked him into joining the gang at the last

minute because of his special magic with a particular style of vault. The big surprise came when Owen betrayed him, intending to let him take the fall. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they also framed him for shooting the guard.

And like an idiot, the kind of idiot only an adoring little brother can be, Logan had walked in and almost taken the blame, making their plan


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complete. But the stupidity hadn’t stopped there. Oh, no… it had become much worse before he’d finally escaped.

They’d cornered him and the last guard, trying to force him to do their dirty work. He wouldn’t. He refused again. But the guard panicked and grabbed for his sawed‐off. As they fought over the weapon it discharged.

In all his days he’d never seen anything as terrible as the way the blast hit Owen’s son, Benny. Yet, as horrific as it was, the boy hadn’t died right away.

Which was the only reason Logan was still alive. He’d managed to run while Owen was still trying to save Benny’s

life. The head start hadn’t been much. Now not only were the FBI after him but so were Owen and his friends. Of the two, Logan preferred running into the FBI by about a million. His brother’s thirst for blood was only tempered by his idealistic view of justice. And in this case, justice was Logan being tortured for eternity or worse.

The bartender lifted the drop panel of the bar and let a pretty, bleached blonde wearing an apron take his place. With a pat to her ass, he ducked out, grabbed his coat and left in a hurry. The man’s rush was suspicious.

Logan’s gaze darted to the door and windows. He couldn’t help but wonder… Was this the night Owen would catch him? Was this the night he would pay for his crimes?

“What can I get for you, honey?” The barmaid’s sultry voice cut through Logan, leaving him hot even on the cool winter night.

His gaze caught hers and fell into her lovely, dark, lager‐colored eyes. That rich brown was comforting and gentle. “I‐” The low gravel of his voice stuttered over the words. “Where’d he hurry off to?” He jutted his chin toward the door, toward the rumble of the departing vehicle.

“Oh, Harvey? His wife’s expecting. He’s off in a rush every night now‐a‐days.” She leaned forward against the bar, casually letting her blouse gap just enough to show the rise of her breasts.

Logan sighed in relief and perhaps a touch of anticipation. Harvey wasn’t a threat, and this lovely woman might be on the menu.


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“You didn’t say. Can I get you a refill?” She reached up and released her pale ponytail. The swing of hair fell to her shoulders with a feather‐light breath of movement. The contrast to her dark eyes and smooth skin produced an almost unearthly appeal. For just a moment, the play of light and shadow tricked his eyes, revealing another woman so similar the image had to be imagined. A girl named Sarah. The dancing of her hair flowed with both shadows from the bar as well as the red glow of some imagined fire.

He met the barmaid’s amused gaze and realized he’d been all but mesmerized by the simple motion of her hair. “Please. Turkey, straight up.” Jeez, he was acting like a country bumpkin. He’d be surprised if he managed to get the drink without blushing, or drink it without choking.

“Relax, honey. Tonight should be a quiet one.” He glanced around the bar and saw that the room bordered on

empty, but was that what she meant? It never hurt to push for details. “What do you mean?”

“The tavern next town over is having a Christmas shindig so most of our regulars are over there.”

“Christmas…?” Shit, he’d forgotten what day it was. Today was Christmas Eve. “So you have to work the holiday?”

“Don’t have to, but I don’t have anything better to do.” There was no disappointment in her tone, as if she was used to being alone.

“No family?” “No family. I had one once, but it didn’t take.” Her gaze swept

away from his, flowing over the room and settling on the sink of dirty dishes halfway down the bar. “I’d better get those taken care of before they turn to cement. If you care for company, you can slide down with me.”

If he cared for company? Usually the answer would be no, but the thought of drowning his memories alone on Christmas Eve left him hollow…lonely. He picked up his glass and slid from the stool, moving to the one nearest the sink.

She’d already shed her long‐sleeved blouse, leaving her appealing top covered in a thin camisole and the too large apron. The round tops of


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her cleavage rose above the camisole and her nipples were obvious, hard pebbles above the edge of the apron.

He downed the whiskey in a valiant attempt to divert his attention from his tightening jeans. The burn passed and left him aching for her.

This time she didn’t bother to ask him if he wanted more. Instead, she opened a fresh bottle and set it before him. “So do you have a name? Or should I just keep thinking of you as ‘the sexy stranger with a dark past’?”

He usually made up a different name for every stop, but this once he wanted to leave his real name behind when he left. Leaving was inevitable. If he didn’t keep running, Owen would find him and end his chance to run, forever. “Logan.” He held out his hand, almost breathless in expectation of her touch.

She slapped her hand lightly into his with a sudsy, wet squish. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry.” She grabbed a towel and they shared a laugh while she dried him off. “I’m Sherry, by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sherry.” And he meant every word. Her laugh had been pure pleasure. His own had been a shock. How long had it been since he laughed at anything or with anyone? How long would it be until he found another reason to laugh?

“Some pleasure,” she snorted with another chuckle. Then she turned back to her dishes and continued washing. She set the clean ones to the side to drain on a dish towel and Logan had the strangest inclination to dry them and save her the extra work.

Somehow he knew if he asked, she’d refuse with some light comment and he didn’t want that between them. So instead of offering to dry the upturned glasses, he simply reached over the bar, plucked up a dry towel and began to do the task.

The funny thing was that Sherry didn’t make any kind of joke or comment. She only gave him a heart melting smile and handed him the next glass.

The only other patron in the bar turned the old jukebox to play “White Christmas” and the moment drifted into the surreal. His heart was lighter than it had been in years and the melody crawled through him,


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coming out in a low hum, as he followed the music if not the words. As if Sherry understood how deeply he felt the emotion, she picked up the tune and sang in a low sexy whisper. Never had the song held so much promise as it did on this night. Even the rough voice of the old fellow rasping along with the jukebox didn’t dim his pleasure.

The song filtered down and fell into silence. He met Sherry’s gaze for a moment and again her eyes offered a

moment of surreal peace. Those dark eyes were soft and almost dreamy. Had she been lost in the song as he was?

Then the moment of connection broke. The fellow who had played the tune for them waddled up to the

bar. “Sherry, my dear, I believe I’ll be heading for home. Will you be all right here alone?”

By alone, Logan knew the fellow meant ‘alone with this stranger’ and he wasn’t offended. In fact he felt a bit guilty for being the only one here to keep Sherry from a nice non‐working Christmas Eve. “If you’ve a mind to close, I can find my way down to the other tavern.”

“Not at all.” She reached over and patted his hand as he placed the glass he was drying upside down on the towel. “Don’t you worry any, Charlie. My friend here won’t be any trouble. You go on home to your kids. You know the grandkids will be waking you up in just a few hours for all the present opening.” She made a shooing motion toward him and Charlie cranked a hat down over his ears and headed for the door with a wave.

“Merry Christmas, Sherry and Sherry’s friend.” He pulled open the door, revealing the swirling snow outside.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” Sherry called back. The door swung shut with a quiet clank. And they were alone. She handed him another glass. “No need to close. I have nowhere

else to be. You are welcome to stay as long as you like tonight.” “I don’t mean to pry, but why is a beautiful woman like you alone

on the holidays?” Her eyes lit up. “You do mean to pry and as it turns out I’m not

alone. Am I?”


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“Guess neither of us are alone this year.” To Logan that was an unexpected miracle and he knew just how precious this moment of peace might be. “What do you say to relaxing together for the holiday?” He hesitated to speak aloud what his mind was whispering. “As if we were more than strangers, as if we didn’t just meet less than an hour ago.”

Sherry slowly continued to wash the dishes. The glasses were all done and the plates she worked through were set aside in a small draining rack. She waved his hand off when he reached for a plate to dry.

She must think him a fool, for such a childish suggestion. He should leave now. If he hurried he might beat the worst of the snow by heading south. As it was, his Harley wasn’t fit for the weather this far north.

His gaze followed the motion of her hands as they carried her washcloth, sliding through the water, over a plate in smooth, economical sweeps. Five circles over the top, turn the plate and wash two circles over the bottom, rinse and place it into the drain. Then on to the next plate. She hadn’t commented yet, but he could almost taste her rejection.

He didn’t meet her gaze, fearing that would trigger her refusal. He could continue the charade so long as she didn’t answer. Until she said no, he could pretend she might say yes.

He let his mind wander while his gaze remained on her hands. What would her small hands look like enfolded in his, perhaps

while they danced? Her nails were painted a pale pink. Folded over his tanned skin, or better yet resting against his chest or brushing over his jaw. He hadn’t shaved. Would she object if he snuggled his rough jaw against her soft cheek? Would she let him do more than dance? He took the fantasy one step farther and imagined kissing her.

He hadn’t kissed a woman in months. Not even a friendly peck on the cheek. Nothing but running and keeping his head down, trying not to be seen, not to be remembered.

What would it be like if she agreed to pretend with him? Would it be enough to get him through another year alone? Or would this game only make the coming loneliness worse?


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Chapter Two Sherry couldn’t believe it. His request to play house hadn’t stunned

her. No, what took her breath away in surprise was the fact that she was going to say yes.

The moment she’d seen him sitting at the bar she’d had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. They’d met before. She didn’t know when or where but she felt like she’d spent a thousand lifetimes stroking the downy soft scruff that lined Logan’s firm jaw. As if she’d gazed into his familiar blue eyes for eternity and yearned for even longer.

She shook her head. It was foolishness, of course. Probably the result of too many late nights spent curled up with her tattered romance novels instead of with any of the men who hit on her during the day.

Yeah, that was probably the truth, but did the cause of her romantic flight of fancy matter? So what if she imagined the familiarity? So what if this was only a one‐night‐stand in the making?

Logan was here. Hot and in the flesh. She just had to jump on the opportunity and ride it until the ride stopped or threw her off.

The far too apt description made her want to smile. Logan would be a good ride. She was sure of it. He was a looker from top to bottom. Even perched on a barstool, that bottom had been downright grab‐able. And when she’d made it to his front, those blue eyes… Damn, the man had the most expressive eyes. They’d lit up when she showed a little chest. His reaction was good for her ego.


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She washed the last plate. He hadn’t said another word after that jaw dropping proposal. But he also hadn’t met her eyes since then.

Throwing the towel aside, she said, “I think it’s time to close the bar.”

“I’m sorry about what I said.” He stood stiffly and she noticed he filled out his jeans more than before. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ll just get out of here and let you close up.”

Before he could take more than a step toward the door, she ducked under the hinged part of the counter and caught him by the arm. “Wait. I meant I wanted to close the bar, so we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

“So we wouldn’t…” His voice trailed off. “Yes, I’d like to spend Christmas Eve with you.” She shifted to

place her body squarely between his front and the door, and moved close enough to be sure he had no doubts about her sincerity.

He froze, locked between staying and going. “It’s after midnight.” “Merry Christmas.” She whispered the words against his lips. Then

she pressed in for the kiss she’d been aching for since she first saw him. He sighed and relaxed under her hands, but made no move to take control. So she caressed him lightly, moving over his soft lips with an open invitation he didn’t claim. If he wanted to let her lead she was willing. She opened and licked the crease of his lips and nibbled at his full lower lip. Her hands moved up to his shoulders then around his neck. The tickle of his long hair was too tempting. She burrowed her fingers through the thick golden waves.

Finally he accepted her offer and tilted into the kiss, opening his mouth, and sparring with her tongue.

His heat and passion exploded over her. Her whole body tightened, pushing into him as if to merge them into one being. His kiss, and it was definitely his kiss now, took on a more dominant emotion. His arms clenched around her, aiding her body in its quest. His mouth hardened and softened in turns as he devoured her, consumed all she had to offer.

The single square of old green tile where they stood became the whole world.


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Then he withdrew and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that separation. Logan left her molecule by molecule, slowly pulling back. First he softened the kiss, then broke the long breathless connection into shorter heat‐filled presses. He withdrew until they were back to being two bodies.

“Merry Christmas, Sherry.” His voice was a low growl as he nibbled below her ear.

She wanted to say something. Anything to express what she’d felt in his arms, but mere words wouldn’t begin to share the feeling.

“I walked through that door, planning to drown myself in whiskey and instead I find myself lost in sherry,” he whispered. “I am at your mercy, my lovely Sherry.”

“And if I have no mercy?” “Then I can think of no better way to fall.” She wondered at his meaning, but the shadow that crossed his face

kept her from asking. “I still need to close the doors.” When his arms loosened, she missed his warmth immediately. She hurried to the front door, checked the porch to be sure all was well and locked up. “Is that your bike out there?” It must be. The only other vehicle was her battered VW Rabbit.

“Yeah.” “Do you want to bring it inside?” She couldn’t imagine riding a

motorcycle in the freezing weather, but the least she could do was to help protect it. “It’d be safer in here, right?”

“Is it really all right to bring my Harley in?” She smiled at the pleasure in his voice. “Sure. Who’s to say

otherwise?” Sherry caught his hand and led him to the door. With a nod, he ducked outside and ran across to his bike. Logan

kicked up the stand and pushed the bike to the single, low step. She watched his muscles bulge as he lifted the bike up the step and pushed it through the doorway.

She reclosed the door and locked up for the night. Shutting off the outside lights, she switched the open sign to closed.

Logan leaned against his bike, looking as sexy as any outlaw ever did. “So now what?”


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Chapter Three Sherry paused to look him over. Even though his body looked

relaxed she noticed how his gaze darted around every so often as if to check for danger. She wanted to ease the worry lines from his face and the only way she could think of was to fulfill the little fantasy he’d proposed.

“How about we settle in front of the fireplace? Nothing like a nice fire on a cool winter night.”

He looked around the room. “What fireplace?” “There is an old one against that wall over there, though it’s not

used very often. Harvey keeps it useable just in case we lose electric out here in the back woods. If you start the fire, I’ll grab us a blanket to sit on and some refreshments. That should make it more festive.” The fireplace was in a neglected corner and not exactly the most romantic set up.

She hurried into the back room and pulled out an old quilt to soften the floor. After dropping it next to where Logan knelt, she jogged back and grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. Then she dug through the fridge and made up a bowl of fruit, which she’d brought in the other day for a bachelorette party. The fruit and a can of Ready Whip should make for a nice treat.

By the time she returned, Logan had the fire built up to a pretty, little blaze.

Her innocent plans of sharing the fruit and wine ran for the exit. He knelt before her like a god, basking in the red glow of the fire. His shirt


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was open to the waist and his sleeves were rolled up over his muscular arms.

For a moment she pictured him kneeling beside a campfire in the desert, or next to a wagon in a forest, or in an elaborate bedroom. Always beside a fire, always looking as desirable as he did at this moment. Always looking up at her with an expression of awe. As if he’d never expected to be so happy and still expected the pleasure to be torn away.

Each image was so sharp and clear she felt like it could have happened yesterday. Which was bizarre and more than a little unsettling. What did it mean?

“Logan?” She set the refreshments on a nearby table and reached out, letting her fingers caress his jaw.

His gaze never wavered. The logical part of her brain said this was crazy, impossible and

dangerous. But the rest of her knew it was right in a way that could never be measured. “Do you get the feeling we’ve maybe met before?”

His hands rose and settled at her hips. “I have the oddest sense of déjà vu. Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah. I think that’s why I’m so comfortable with you.” Her fingers trailed back into his hair, combing the length out over his shoulders. “I feel like I’ve always known you, as if we’ve done this a hundred times…”

“Or a million.” She dipped her head to meet his lips. The contact was electric,

burning through her, singeing away her thoughts, leaving only this one moment, in this time, in his arms. When they parted, his smile became a beacon, once again reminding her of some almost forgotten past.

But there was more… She closed her eyes and let her mind loose to figure out what was missing. An ancient one room tavern… Woods much like the neighboring countryside surrounded a log building where many people gathered and only one man mattered. She and her lover, together, surrounded by happiness… A man pounded at their door…and a sudden black wave of endless agony. The ominous thought sent a shiver down her spine. Was it her imagination? Or was something coming?

Surely the imagined threat was just her cynical side showing itself.


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Logan’s fingers stroked up and down her back. “Whatever this is between us, I feel honored to be with you.”

The almost archaic words should have sounded out of place, but instead they were just right, pushing aside her fear. “I feel the same way.”

His hands tightened over her hips, then slid higher to frame her waist.

She couldn’t hold back. Her knees weakened and she went with the motion, sliding down his body until they both knelt on the old quilt. When one of his hands shifted to her back, she leaned into the contact and Logan bore her weight to the floor. All the while, she looked into his blue eyes, knowing she could see into his soul.

When his lids drooped shut, she moaned. She knew what was coming. They would be perfect together. They were always perfect together. No man would ever fit her as well as Logan or Lawrence or Lars or whatever name he chose or was chosen for him.

No matter the name, he was hers. He belonged to her. They belonged together.

His lips feathered over hers, more breath than contact, before trailing fire across her cheek and down her throat.

Her breath hissed out. “Yes.” The lingering kisses sizzled into her body. His lips pressed at her collarbone. His hand stroked up her waist to cup her breast. Her stomach tightened with a pulse of pleasure.

“I want to make love to you.” His words blew hotly over her skin. The camisole tank top became too much clothing. A barrier

between them. She tore it over her head with his help, leaving only her bra, which he unhooked and tossed to the side. It wasn’t enough. “I’m glad we have the same goal.” She pushed at his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. The shirt fell and was forgotten.

Logan enfolded her in his arms once more. His lips found hers for a heated kiss so ferocious it was as if neither could get close enough, taste enough, or claim enough of the other. Then he moved lower. When his lips circled her nipple, she arched into the caress. God, he couldn’t get enough of her. His mind jumped ahead, imagining how wonderful it would be to sink into her body.


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It had been too long. He licked at her puckered nipple, teasing it with his teeth. He was determined to take his time and enjoy every detail of her beautiful body.

She moaned, her fingers biting into his shoulders. “I don’t want to rush you.” She gasped. “Rush if you want. We can always go slow next time.”

Her hands fluttered down his sides and moved to the belt of his pants, making short work of the buckle, button and zipper.

When her nimble fingers brushed his erection, the touch left him panting for control. He pulled back enough to tug off her shoes and socks, then pressed kisses to the arches of her feet before moving forward to help her shimmy out of her jeans and satin panties.

As soon as she was naked he hurried to join her, shucking off his boots and jeans. Then he paused to soak in how she looked laid out on the quilt like a dream. The firelight cast flickering shadows over her body. The full rise of her breasts peaked with hard begging pebbled tips. Shadows played across the narrow bridge of her waist and into the dip of her tempting navel. Her slim hips were so perfectly smooth with their gentle swells. Her legs parted and drew his gaze to her smoldering center.

She was smooth except for a small strip of dark pubic hair, but like the blonde hair that framed her face, this shade was perfect. “I want to taste you.”

“Next time, Lance. You can taste me next time.” His gaze jumped to her face. “Lance?” The name emerged from his

lips but his mind and gaze wondered back to her luscious body. “What do you want, Sarah?” he whispered as he leaned forward, holding his body over hers, giving her time to choose. For just a second his mind refocused. She’d called him Lance. He’d called her Sarah. Both names felt completely right.

“I want you inside me where I know you belong.” There was no indecision in her expression. She dragged him away from thought and back to action. “I want you now. I’m ready and want you right now.”

His heart stuttered a few beats and then began to race.


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Slowly, he lowered his body to hers. Their upper bodies met first, her breasts pushed up against his chest. Then his lips found hers, offering his attention and adoration. He dominated, knowing she wanted this first time to be wild. Our first time is always wild… His tongue plunged deep, a premonition of how his body would claim hers.

One of her legs curled up over his thigh, wrapping him in a half hold, opening her body in invitation.

He slipped a hand between their bodies, stroking over her feminine folds, finding her just as wet and ready as she’d claimed. With a single shift of his hips, he guided his cock into her. He moaned in the pleasure of Savannah’s body. Savannah? Sally, Shasta, Sarah or whoever she really was… he knew her by one name, lover. Her muscles clenched around his in welcome. Her hands clasped his hips in need, begging him to take her as his kiss had promised.

He withdrew and pushed forward a slow languid motion that carried him deep. So deep, but nowhere near deep enough. Again he retreated and advanced, this time with more force. Her eyes flashed open as she bucked under him.

“Yes!” Her body tightened over him as he surged forward once more. “So deep. Lars, you’re so perfect. You feel so damn good!”

He was past thought. Her heat seared him, left him on the verge of orgasm long before he wanted to give in to the pleasure. With both her legs wrapped around his hips, his withdrawals were incremental, but with each deep thrust he found himself deeper in her tight body.

He knew her hands clutched at him. He knew his own held on to her. Their kisses faded as focus melted away to the single point of their merging. He rushed toward the edge, ready to throw himself over, holding on for a last tendril of control.

Precious control. Until she cried out, and her sex clutched at him in orgasm. Her

pleasure shattered him, sending him into the chasm with her. His body past any imagined control, coming in a spasm of joy, where he found his release.


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The moment was like endless silk, flowing on through him, softening the harsh edges of his reality. More than that, it closed out that reality. The only truth was here in her arms.

He shifted enough to ease his weight from her, but still keep them joined so intimately. He pressed an almost chaste kiss to her lips and found them salty.

That brought him up short. He pulled back and let the cool air rush between their bodies. He

searched her face, while fear ate at him. Had he been too rough? Had he hurt her? Her bright eyes met his with a tentative smile.

“I’m okay.” She answered his unspoken question. “It was just so beautiful.”

“I thought I hurt you. I don’t think I could have handled that.” “You didn’t hurt me.” She smiled up at him. “I don’t think you

could ever hurt me.” Her belief in him loosened some almost forgotten fear. The ability

to be close with another person, and to trust another soul not to reject him for who he was and what he’d done, this became a gentle blessing only this woman had offered. The emotion choked him up. Her beautiful face blurred and he hugged her close to hide his break down.

“What is it, Logan?” Her arms were like steel cables holding him in place against her. “What’s wrong? Please, talk to me.”

He wiped at his damp eyes and slowly drew back from her. He withdrew enough to separate their bodies slightly but not enough to lose her comforting touch.

“How do you know I’d never hurt you? You don’t know anything about me.”

She forced his chin up until their eyes met. “I know you. Whoever you have been. Whatever life made you do. I know you and I know you would not hurt me.”

He relaxed once more in her arms. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about my past. I won’t hide any of it from you no matter how ugly.”


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Chapter Four “The only thing I want to know is how long you can stay.” Sherry

wanted a lot more than that, but for now that one answer would be enough. His past didn’t matter. Somehow she knew whatever had brought him to this point in his life had been out of his control.

“I’ll stay as long as my demons will let me,” he said, confirming her suspicions.

She looked into his sky blue eyes and knew without a doubt that his heart was pure. He was a good man and his crimes, if he had committed any, were the will of God or fate or whatever belief fit this moment. Logan was an innocent. For all his worldly experience, she could see his childlike openness. And she loved his ability to stay pure even when being hunted for his past. “And when these demons catch up…?”

He hesitated and dropped his gaze. “Then I will run.” She stroked his chin, accepting that he would leave her if she let

him. But she wasn’t ready to let him go. Not now, maybe not ever. “Will you let me run with you?”

His eyes grew dark with pain. “I don’t know.” All that mattered was taking his darkness away. She needed to

offer him this reprieve, a soft moment to get him by. And if he ran without her, she would need this time together every bit as much as he.

“If this is all we will have, I will give it freely.” She pushed at his shoulder to make room so she could roll him over. Once she had the top, she brushed light kisses over his face and trailed down over his chest.


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A glace up at the table reminded her of the refreshments she’d brought out earlier. “I think I’m hungry.” She rose up to one knee and when he started to rise, she used her foot to push his chest back to keep him reclining on the quilt. “Oh no, you don’t.” She retrieved the wine and the fruit, but the whipped crème was just out of her reach and she wasn’t willing to leave his body to get it just yet.

“Can you pop this open?” She settled back over his hips and held out the wine bottle.

Wordlessly, he popped the cork. She smiled at him and took the bottle back. She shifted her hips

slightly and felt him hardening in arousal. This time she was in no hurry, even though the push of his erection begged her to take him into her body right away. Instead she swiveled her hips, rubbing her wet folds over his length and watched as his eyes drooped shut and he gave a sexy growl.

Damn, he felt good. She took a deep breath and leaned forward to kiss his lips with a slow languid kiss. Then she rocked her body back upright.

Logan’s eyes widened when she tipped the bottle and poured a splatter of wine over his chest.

The dark merlot looked a bit like blood. She pushed aside the dark thought and lapped at the rich drink. She swirled her tongue over his puckered nipples and licked at the flat planes of his broad chest. He was a big man and carried no extra weight. His body was so hard and tempting under her ministrations. His hands stroked at her back but made no effort to take control. Instead he seemed to relish her attention. He was relaxed and responsive.

And the light in his eyes told her without any doubt that she’d chased away the threatening shadows. She nibbled at him, adding more wine and making a feast of tormenting his flesh. By wiggling down his body, she continued her exploration over the hard muscles of his abdomen.

After tickling a masculine chuckle from him, she moved lower. At first all she did was stare at his beauty. His erection rose away from his body in a hard long curve. When she licked her lips, it bobbed in approval.


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A glace at his face proved Logan was watching her with a fierce, almost animalistic intensity.

She wanted him so badly… With a shift of her thighs she touched her own slick center, caressing her clit with a few flicks before returning her hand to his cock to spread her moisture over him. His silky skin devoured the damp touch. As her hand moved up and down him, she spread the drops from his dewy tip down over his shaft.

“Mmm, I want to taste you…” she murmured as she leaned over him.

Logan’s response was a groan of pleasure. “Oh, God. Yes.” She’d never wanted to offer this pleasure to a man before but now

all she wanted was to wrap her lips around him. She pressed light kisses over his length with her lips closed almost primly, then licked her tongue over him in a short hot taste.

His hands tightened over her shoulders and his body arched up toward her.

She licked him again, this time a longer swipe from about halfway up and over the sensitive tip. The taste of pre‐come was ambrosia on her tongue. The dewy bead pearled up and she licked at it again. The taste was unique and had no comparison. A little salty. A little sweet.

She parted her lips and pushed her kiss down over the head as if to devour him like a favorite lollipop.

“Oh, God…” She swirled her tongue around him, testing and tasting his texture.

Using her tongue she followed the slight ridge around the head of his cock. The perfection of its form became the perfect temptation. But more than that, she marveled at how well it felt as he filled her. She wanted more, but all she could take was about an inch past his head. She moved over him, slicking his shaft and caressing it with her hands, slipping one under to his balls to explore.

With a shift of her body she moved lower between his thighs, tilting her head up to continue her teasing. The angle let her take more of his length into her mouth and she did so greedily. She moved over him, until she felt his thigh muscles tightening. She had him just where she


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wanted and backed off just enough to keep him there. Stroke after stroke she continued, varying the speed and force to keep him on the brink.

“Please…” His voice cracked with need. But his body begged so much better. His hands fisted in the quilt. His muscles stood out in definition from the force of his desperation.

Oh, yeah. He was hers. She relented in her torment, riding him with her lips in smooth hard strokes until he cried out, “Oh, yes…”

His body tightened even more, quivering under the strain. His hips jumped up against her and he filled her with his warm, flooding seed. Without a thought she took him into her.

Forever he would be a part of her. As he sagged back to the quilt, her body ached to join him in

completion. So close was she that she reached down to stroke herself and came at once in a soft release that left her gasping in surprise.

She eased up beside him and soaked in the contentment of the moment. He tugged her more firmly into his embrace and then he pressed light kisses over her face as he reached her mouth for a longer one.

“That was…” “Yeah.” She understood his lack of words. She, too, was surprised

by the depth of connection between them. It seemed the more they touched, the closer they grew. Even now, she could almost sense his feelings without him speaking the words.

Sherry wondered if he’d respect her in the morning. She almost giggled at the cliché of the question, but hard on the heels was another, darker thought.

What if morning never came?


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Chapter Five Sherry’s fears tugged her from the languid security of Logan’s arms.

She slipped out from the blanket and pulled on a shirt, his shirt. They had yet to try any fruit.

“You called me Sarah.” “Yes, and you called me Lance.” “What do you think it means?” When she looked at Logan in the

flicker of the fire, she saw him with many faces, and many names. Somehow they were all the same. Did he see her the same way? How could their memories be confused like this? Or were they confused at all? “I don’t know for sure, but do you believe in past lives?”

“I never thought about it until tonight. When I think of you in my mind, I use different names. Sherry, Sarah, Susan, Savannah, Shondy, Silver, but I think none of them are the real you.” He pushed his fingers through his hair with an almost brutal force. “There is one name that dances at the edge of my memory, but it won’t come to my lips.”

“But do you think it means we met in this life or maybe past lives? The only explanations seem to be pretty out there.”

He moved to the fire and poked it to bring it back to full life. Then he fed it several more pieces before settling back beside her. His naked grace drove a wedge of desire down through her body. But the quiver faded fast when he claimed her hand in a tight grip. “I have this feeling in my gut that something is coming. Now that might just be my personal


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history, but I don’t want it to touch you, to put you in danger or cause you any harm.”

Even though she, too, had been getting that ‘gut feeling’, what drew her attention was his comment about his personal history. “Logan, what do you mean by personal history?”

He turned back to the fire, putting off an answer for several minutes. When he spoke his voice was low, almost too quiet to hear. “I’m a wanted man.”

Her sense of déjà vu jumped to overwhelming proportions. “I know I’ve heard you say this before. I feel almost compelled to answer with a quip about how you are wanted. That I want you. How strange…”

“You know what I meant though, don’t you?” “Yes.” She scratched her head, unsure what to think about the

puzzle. “Who’s after you?” “The police, the FBI, my family and none of them want to be

friendly about the reunion.” So he was a criminal. It should have made her afraid. She should

want to get up and go call the police now. But all she truly wanted was to take the look of anguish from his face. “I hear what you are saying, but it doesn’t change how I feel.” She cupped his cheek with her free hand and bent forward to kiss him.

He turned his face. “Aren’t you going to ask what I did?” “No.” The answer escaped before she even considered the question.

“I don’t care what they claim you did, or even what you actually did. All that matters is who you are.”

“And who am I?” “I don’t know your name, or your past.” His large, powerful hands gripped her upper arms fiercely. His

voice was earnest. “Then who am I?” She trembled at his intensity, but still had no fear for her safety.

“You, by whatever name you are called, are the man I love.” His eyes slid closed and he sagged against her, his head resting on

her shoulder as if he couldn’t supply the strength to lift it. “I want to be with you, to earn that trust you offer so willingly.”


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She sank to the quilt, tugging him down with her. With her free hand she lifted the bowl of fruit. “Then stay with me.”

“Not even the wrath of the gods could tear me away.” She wondered at his intense promise. Like so many other details,

his words felt familiar. A touch of dread tugged at her memory. But such negativity had no foothold between them. She pushed it aside and instead focused on the simple act of sharing their night time snack.

She settled the bowl beside the quilt and lifted out a banana and the small paring knife she’d stowed in the bowl.

Logan caught her wrists and claimed the knife. With smooth, deft motions he peeled and sliced a piece and held it out to her lips.

She took the slice and savored the sensation of being fed by a lover’s hand. She’d never felt this before and the moment crystallized with beauty all its own.

While he sliced another piece for himself, she lifted a tangerine and began peeling the skin away. Then she retrieved the whipped cream and squirted a small bit of the cream onto a section of tangerine.

She offered Logan the treat and accepted the next slice of banana. “Mmm…that is good.” As he spoke, he took the cream and added

it to the next slice of banana, which he then held up to her lips. The sweetness dissolved on her tongue. The fruit became a

decadent dessert. But when she met Logan’s gaze she saw his attention had left the food. His tongue darted out to touch his lower lip and desire bloomed through her.

“You have a little…” He leaned forward, touching his tongue to the corner of her mouth. Tilting his head, he claimed her lips and deepened the kiss. “Mmm, even better when flavored with Sherry.”

His boyish grin flashed and faded, overcome by desire. He leaned in and kissed her again, using his strength to shift her to lay flat on the quilt. When he drew back from the kiss it was only to offer her another piece of sweetened fruit.

Instead of cutting more fruit, he lifted the can of Ready Whip above her naked body as if it were a sword he intended to plunge in for a killing blow.


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Maybe it was the careful folding of his hands, but in her mind she saw him with an ancient sword, striking a death blow down through the body of his enemy. His face in that vision wasn’t filled with playfulness as it was now. Instead he was stricken with grief at the taking of a life.

This man, for all that he was, was not a murderer. In that moment she almost asked what was chasing him. However, the thought was made insignificant by the foreboding that plagued her. Their time together was too precious and probably far too short to waste worrying about what had been or what might yet be.

She focused on his still body where he had paused in his play. His gaze was too serious and she knew it was her fault for being distracted.

She offered an encouraging smile. “What are you doing with that cream?”

He didn’t answer but he glanced at her stomach. When her gaze followed his, she couldn’t help but laugh. He’d drawn a smiley face in whipped cream.

He was such a wonder… even with so much gone wrong around them his sense of fun was never far from the surface. She dipped a finger into his cream art and brought the treat to her mouth.

She sucked her finger in with the whipped cream, teasing him with a reminder of what she could do with her lips and tongue.

“Oh, you cruel temptress…” He pulled her finger out so that he could suck it into his own mouth for a taste. Then he abandoned her hand for the dessert spread over her stomach.

The very first touch of his tongue left her trembling and that was only the beginning. He nibbled and licked her skin clean and then added more of the sweet topping. This time he applied it over the tips of both breasts. The combination of his touch and the cool cream pebbled her nipples into tight nubs.

“Oh, now that is nice, but it’s missing something.” She didn’t have any idea what was missing. What she did know

was that his hot gaze left her singed. Desire pooled through her and she ached between her thighs where she wanted him the most.


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As if he read her mind, his hand trailed down from her chest across her belly and to the small strip of pubic hair just above her pussy. His fingers feathered down over her folds, stroking slowly, burning her up with need.

His mouth dipped forward, claiming one breast, licking it clean with his swirling tongue.

Cool air rushed over her when he finished with both breasts and withdrew. She cupped them in her own hands to continue where he’d left off.

“Damn, that looks good.” His voice held a rough edge that told her he was every bit as turned on as she was.

Then with a gasp, she squeezed her thighs together. The cool whipped cream melted where he’d sprayed it.

His hands parted her thighs and he warmed her thoroughly with his fingers and tongue, licking and teasing until she begged for more.

Then he gave more. His fingers delved deep, stroking her body to a hard, fast orgasm.

She was helpless under the mastery of his skill. But even cresting on the pleasure, it wasn’t enough. She needed him to join her. She needed the connection of having his body inside hers, of being as close as two people can be.

He must have understood. His body slid up hers and with a single fluid motion, he joined them together.

Lovemaking this time was slow and sensuous. He moved his body deep within hers while lavishing attention to her whole being. His kisses swallowed her gasps as well as feathering over her neck and breasts, finding every sensitive spot of skin within reach. Logan’s hands moved over her with such love and adoration she felt cocooned by the depth of his emotion.

When the climax came it shattered over them both with a brilliance beyond understanding. Surely no other couple in history had ever been so perfectly matched. The cascading pleasure gradually dimmed, leaving only the warmth of love.


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The kind of love that sheltered a partner and kept out all the terrors of the dark and made a small dingy corner of a rundown bar into a private paradise.


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Chapter Six Sherry stared out into the strengthening storm. Nagging fear had

taken her from Logan’s embrace. Now all she could do was stand watch and wait for what was coming.

The snow was already four or five inches deep. The only vehicles on the road were the snow plows. How differently her life would have been if she had called off work because of the weather. Harvey wouldn’t have cared. All he would have done was toss the stragglers out early and closed anyhow.

But she’d come to work because she hadn’t anything better to do with her time. And thank God she had.

She glanced back to where Logan was nibbling at the fruit. His eyes never left her as he lifted a plump strawberry up and bit into it. He took small neat bites of the fruit’s flesh until all that remained was the small green leaf and stem.

Logan was about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He licked his lips and the sight of his tongue’s slow sensual trip left her aching. She could happily spend the rest of her life watching him eat.

“How’s the weather look?” Rather than get any more of the food, he stood, picked up both glasses and stalked across the room toward her.

Damn, the man had a swagger that left her with the sweaty palms of a teenager. He was still naked and appeared completely at ease with his nudity. She, however, was anything but unaffected. “P‐pretty bad. I don’t


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think it would be safe on your bike. Looks like you might be stuck with me.”

He settled the glasses on the windowsill and snuggled his body against hers. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

“Do you mean that?” The question left her lips before she could bite back her insecurity. She wasn’t really worried about how he felt for her. It was just the fear making her question the laws of the universe.

His arms tightened around her. “Of course I mean it. I never dreamed this kind of thing could ever happen to me, but now that it has, I’m not about to let you go.” He turned her into his embrace and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’m in love with you, Sherry.”

“Sherry…” She rubbed her cheek against his jaw. “You know, my name never felt strange until tonight. I can’t help but feel the exact thing you mentioned earlier.”

“I don’t understand it either.” “I can see you so clearly in my memories, which is weird because

it’s almost like they aren’t my memories.” She held onto him and tried to sort out what she meant. “I remember you and me traveling in the desert, but how can that be?”

“I remember that.” He cupped her chin and squinted his eyes in thought. “I was a gunfighter named Lobo and you…”

“A saloon girl,” she offered and the moment she said the words, they felt right. It was insane.

“Named Suzie.” He smiled in triumph. “I remember you dancing barefoot on the sand around my campfire. Your hair was dark, but I know it was you.”

“I don’t know if I should be scared or thrilled, but it is amazing.” “Be thrilled. Please, be thrilled. I don’t think I could bear to lose

you again.” He held her close and kissed her breathless. “You can have any name you like and I will love you no matter what. This truly has become a merry Christmas.”

“For me, too, Logan.” She turned her back against him once more to look out into the dark and watch the snow drift lazily past the window.


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“Merry Christmas, whoever you are.” She closed her eyes and relished the quiet moment in his arms.

The sound of a truck on the highway drew her attention back out the window. A pair of bright lights cut through the falling snow. The engine roared as if the vehicle objected to being put to work in such weather.

“Looks like you might escape yet. I imagine that is the snow plow clearing the roads.”

He continued to nuzzle at her neck, pressing buried kisses under her hair. “I don’t think I’ll be chasing a snowplow tonight.”

“Mmm…” He felt so delicious. She was about to turn into his embrace when the headlights of the truck turned into the bar parking lot. As the angle changed, she saw it wasn’t a plow after all. “We seem to have company.” The headlights cut over the window, finally getting Logan’s attention.

He stiffened behind her. His body became a rock wall of tension. “No… not yet. He can’t have found me already.”

“What’s wrong? Who found you?” She asked the questions, but her mind filled in the answers. His brother had come to get even. He would call it justice, but it was revenge. Pure and simple. Even without Logan sharing, she knew the truth of what was coming.

“You have to get out of here. If he finds you, he’ll use you to hurt me.” He pulled away and started gathering their clothes. He pushed hers into her hands before beginning to dress in his own.

She caught his urgency and began dressing as quickly as he. She pulled on her jeans but kept his shirt since it was already on. “You want me to run?” The idea of leaving him tore her heart in two. She’d only just found him. There was no way she could leave him now. “I’m not leaving here without you.”

While they pulled on their shoes, a heavy fist pounded on the door. “Come on. We can take the bike out the back.” Logan ran to the

bike, kicked up the stand and pushed it toward the opposite side of the building.


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She hesitated. Riding the Harley in this weather bordered on suicidal, but staying here made it a sure thing. He was right. The bike was their only chance. She ran ahead of him, shoving tables out of his path and leading him to the back entrance. His bike barely fit in the hallway between the public bathrooms, but once there, he threw his leg over and jumped it to life.

“Get on.” She unlocked the door and swung up behind him, flush against his

body, comforted by his strength and the rumble of power between her thighs.

The motor raced, almost covering the sound of the opposite door exploding open. The bike spun for several heartbeats before surging through the exit toward freedom. Sherry clung to Logan and for the first time in a long time, she prayed.

The doorframe beside her head exploded with a gun blast. Splinters of wood cut across their faces even as they burst into the cold night.

The Harley cleared the three back steps and landed on the snow covered lot with a dangerous fishtail. She kept her body tightly aligned with Logan’s as he fought momentum, gravity and ice for control. Then they were upright and moving off toward the highway and their only chance for escape.

His control of the bike amazed her, but the lights from the truck appeared behind them and far too soon gained ground.

The blast of the shotgun roared to their right, then again to their left. “Logan!” she screamed, sure they were about to be shot.

He swerved to the edge of the road, but the change in direction sent the wheels skidding. They lost time while he regained control.

Time that proved costly. The truck caught them on a bend, cutting to the side as if to simply

run them down. From her position, she could do nothing but look up into the eyes of their pursuer. She met those eyes over the barrel of the man’s shotgun. In a strange moment when the details fell through space one at a time allowing her a chance to examine each, she watched as his finger squeezed down on the trigger.


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At just the moment when she was sure to be blown from the bike, Logan and the truck’s driver both swerved, throwing off the aim. The blast rushed over them harmlessly.

Just then a trail cut off the road to the right and offered an unexpected escape route. “Hang on!” Logan leaned into the turn and they bounced over the edge of the road without knowing what dangers might be hiding under the snow.

Sherry clung to his back, but a dark foreboding sent tremors of fear through her. They bounced along on the bucking bike for several hundred feet. It wasn’t meant for this kind of driving but Logan continued to fight it over the uneven ground and thick carpet of snow.

Then with the suddenness of lightning, the bike hit some hidden object and jumped through the air, throwing them off and crashing into a tree stump ten feet away.

Logan’s hard body softened her landing as they rolled through the snow. Then he was up and running to the bike, which sputtered to silence. “The wheel’s bent.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him. “Come on. Run!”

She ran with him. The snow flew around them. A world of white felt safe when they were still in danger. The contact of skin to skin where their hands clasped became her anchor. It pushed aside the cold air and the slippery footing.

The hit nailed her like a ball bat to her back, knocking her from her feet, throwing her hard to the ground. Then the sound of the far off gun rang in her ears. She tilted forward. Her hand lost its grip on Logan’s.

Before she could fall, he caught her, pulling her into his arms. She looked up into her lover’s eyes. “I know you.” He was so much

more than the man who’d walked into her bar on a lonesome Christmas Eve. He was the other half of her heart. His true name came to her, filling her mind with white light. “Loki.” She reached for him but her hand only lifted a few inches and would have fallen back to her side if he hadn’t caught it and carried her fingers to his damp cheek.

“Please, don’t leave me again.” His whispered words broke with emotion.


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“I’ll never leave you. We will be together forever.” Despite the weakness, she tightened her fingers over his hand. “I love you, Loki. I will always love you.”

The bright light closed in around them, holding them together for a heartbeat before it tore her from his embrace and left him in darkness.


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Chapter Seven Loki held onto Sigyn and waited for his brother to come and end

this terrible game. Odin wouldn’t be long. He would be here soon enough to gloat over his win once more. His memories rushed in to fill the void left by Sigyn’s death.

He was Loki, accused murderer and he would pay for his crimes with an eternity of torment… The Norns were three heartless bitches who had never woven a web of happiness for him. No, they sent him out to watch his loved ones suffer and die. Not once, but over and over.

He rocked Sigyn and ignored the sound of footsteps, crunching through the snow. All that mattered was her. No matter the name, she was his savior and he wanted only to join her in whatever fate waited on the other side of this life.

The cold wind teased a strand of her hair across her face. He pushed it aside and pressed his lips to her already cooling cheek.

“How sweet.” Odin’s words barely penetrated the icy calm that had claimed Loki. “How does it feel to have a loved one’s life seep away as you watch, as you hold them, as you mourn? I hope it is every bit as painful as it was for me when I held my son and watched his life bleed away.”

“Why do you chase me? Have you nothing better to do with your life?”


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“I chase because you run. I will never let you have a happy life on this realm or any other. To end it all, stop running.” Odin stared at him with a sad frown. “It was not my choice for it to be this way.”

“Nor was it mine.” Once they had been closer than true brothers could ever hope to be. Once they had ruled the Aesir’s realm together and kept the threads woven just as the Norns willed. All that had changed when Urd, the eldest of the Norns, had demanded he offset the balance by taking a life.

“I know that, but some designs are bigger than we can control.” There was a weariness to Odin’s tone that surprised him.

Loki shifted his arms to better enfold Sigyn’s body. The drifting snow settled in her hair. He stroked his hand back over the blond waves, brushing away the snowflakes.

“You know how this will end?” He nodded but refused to look at his brother. He was about to die

and he wanted his last sight to be Sigyn’s pale beauty. The soft crunch of Odin’s footsteps moved around him. “It really

takes all the fun out of it, when you don’t fight back.” Loki didn’t bother to answer. It wasn’t expected. Sigyn looked so

beautiful with her pale skin. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine she was only sleeping. Her coat was pulled over her chest where he knew the circle of her spilled blood would have been visible, but with her coat closed like it was, there was no blood, nothing but her dark lashes over snow white skin.

He pushed a few flakes of snow from her soft cheek. Then he brushed aside his tears as they fell on her.

The push of the gun against the back of his head was no surprise. Instinct told him to close his eyes, but instead he leaned over enough to kiss Sigyn one last time.


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Chapter Eight Their positions reversed. Sigyn wrapped her arms around him as

he writhed in pain. Only she looked different. Her hair was dark again and her features slightly changed. “What?” His mouth fought the question until he opened his clenched jaws enough to speak. “What happened?”

Her hands stroked over his face, offering comfort. “Easy, love. The coming back is always the hardest.”

He looked around and found his surroundings beyond surreal. “What’s happening? Where are we? Why am I chained?” Huge heavy chains locked him over an enormous flat rock. The angle twisted his muscles and kept him straining.

She continued to caress him, while half sitting on the slab beside him. “Take a deep breath and you will begin to remember.”

“But I was holding you.” He tried to focus. “Owen‐ no… Odin had shot you and you were dying.”

“It was only a dream.” She pressed kisses to his cheeks. “Just a dream. I’m here and not hurt. Odin can’t harm me for real. The Norns would never allow him that cruelty.”

Impossible. It both made sense and yet was completely beyond comprehension. “How could that be?”

“Think back… Do you remember the Norns coming here to convince me to leave you? When I refused, Lady Verdandi offered us the chance to dream away from here. She lets us send our minds out to dream of life outside this prison.”


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“What you’re saying is that we’ve been trapped in this cave all this time? None of it was real.” He shook with the unfairness of it all.

She held him until the trembling stopped, then kissed him deep enough to drag his attention away from his already aching body. “My darling, Loki. What is real? The world is out there waiting and it is an alternative that can be quite pleasant.”

The way she said it did sound better than being slowly torn apart by the tight chains and other horrors found here in his prison. “Tell me this, Sigyn. Tell me. Are you trapped here when my mind goes out there? Am I abandoning you for these trips of fancy?”

She folded her fingers over his shackled hand. “When you go, so do I. We can go again whenever you are ready. There is nothing I love more than that moment when I know you’re the love of my life.”

Hope bloomed but it was tempered by fear. “How do you know I’ll find you out there among six billion mortals and countless others?”

“I know because you always do. Not once have you not found me. There is no other ending to our tale. No matter what anyone believes, our love is destined.” She kissed him. “Our love is eternal.”

“Eternal torture. Why should we go out only to‐‐I can’t bear to watch you die again.” He could still feel her in his arms as she died, suffering for crimes he’d committed. It was too much to ask her to do that ever again.

“This time we only had one day, but sometimes it is years before Odin catches you. Even an hour is worth it at your side. I love you, Loki.” Her expression grew determined. “I know you and I know all your doubts, but this is my choice. Even knowing the eventual outcome of each and every dream, I still want to return to that world so I can fall in love with you again.”

He thought about her sacrifice and all they might have together in the next dream if only he was brave enough to face it, knowing how it would end. The only other option was to wait here in the cave and share eternity in suffering. He couldn’t expect her to do that, either. No, they would go out into another dream. They would risk whatever the Norns


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and Odin might throw at them. “I love you, Sigyn. No matter where we go, I promise, I’ll find you again.”

“I count on it.” She slid up beside him and cuddled as close as she could against his body.

As Sigyn closed her eyes, he felt her leave him, and with a new sense of hope, Loki pressed a kiss to her forehead and followed her back into their mortal dreams…

The End


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Author Bio L. Shannon came into existence in June of 2004. When Shannon isn’t bothering hubby, she shows dogs, gardens and watches over her four Butterfly Koi ponds. Shannon’s always been a reader and lover of books, but never considered writing until one night when she ran out of books to read. She began writing that very night as the first line of defense in a battle against insomnia. Her writing has steadily grown into a war against reality. Her friends kindly say reality never stood a chance. The L. Shannon novels have expanded to fill an entire world with paranormal wonders including Valàfrn werewolves, Tascryn demons, vampires, selkies and many, many more. Be careful if you choose to enter Shannon’s hunk‐filled world. You may not wish to leave…

Visit Shannon at http://lshannon.net/

http://lshannon.net/

My Immortal

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