My Immortal

By Wendi Zwaduk

What's a girl to do when she finds out the man of her dreams is a 340-year-old vampire? Run like hell or offer her heart.

Being a vampire hasn't been easy for Storm Richardson. He's not programmed to kill or harm, unless he needs to feed. When he meets Stephanie 'Stevie' Persing, he knows he's found his mate. But if he crosses the line between work and play, he risks losing the only person who matters—her.

Stevie's been in love with Storm since the moment she laid eyes on him. He's brooding, intense, and her one weakness. But is her heart too steep a price to pay for his love, especially when she discovers his deepest secrets?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Aug 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9780857152756

Wendi Zwaduk

Wendi Zwaduk is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to BDSM and LGBTQ themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com and the former AllRomance Ebooks. She also writes under the name of Megan Slayer. When she’s not writing, she spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice.

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My Immortal

ISBN # 978-0-85715-275-6

©Copyright Wendi Zwaduk 2017

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright October 2017

Edited by Jess Bimberg

Totally Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2017 by Totally Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, UK

Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 1.

MY IMMORTAL

Wendi Zwaduk

What’s a girl to do when she finds out the man of her dreams is a 340-year-old vampire? Run like hell or offer her heart?

Being a vampire hasn’t been easy for Storm Richardson. He’s not programmed to kill or harm, unless he needs to feed. When he meets Stephanie ‘Stevie’ Persing, he knows he’s found his mate. But if he crosses the line between work and play, he risks losing the only person who matters—her.

Stevie’s been in love with Storm since the moment she laid eyes on him. He’s brooding, intense, and her one weakness. But is her heart too steep a price to pay for his love, especially when she discovers his deepest secrets?

Dedication

To EH, CM, MO, JS, MA, KC, and all those others who were willing to help me bring Stevie and Storm’s story to life—you helped so much and I wouldn’t have gotten this done without you.

To Jess for helping me hone my skill and being an awesome editor.

To JPZ…you might not be My Immortal, but you are mine.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Chevy Camaro: General Motors Company

Chevrolet: General Motors Company

NASCAR: National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing

Chapter One

Just pretend we like each other. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Are you sure? Storm Richardson stared at his partner, Stephanie ‘Stevie’ Persing, across the bench seat of her beloved jet black 1978 T-top Chevy Camaro. She ran her fingers through her dark hair and gave the curls a fluff as her other hand slid across the steering wheel with a lover’s touch. Hell yes, he wanted those hands all over his body.

Stevie checked the mirror and bit her bottom lip. If we act more like a couple, then people won’t think we’re spying on them.

If he had his way, he’d force Stevie to stop the car so he could scoop her into his arms.

I already like you. Hell, maybe I even love you, Stevie.

Pretending to be her boyfriend wouldn’t require an act on his part. He’d liked her from the moment he saw her five years ago, except she’d made it clear she didn’t mirror the feeling. He assumed she liked him as a friend, but he wasn’t sure. Hell, every moment he spent around her, he smelled her arousal. The problem was she didn’t know his true identity. How could you love someone you hardly knew?

He liked her endearing tendency to chatter in excess in almost every situation. Stevie insisted on talking when all he wanted to do was stare at her.

She gripped the steering wheel and her knuckles turned white. Was she nervous? Excited?

Storm, we’re working the Chatty Catty Club tonight to catch Bruce Tripp in the act. Edie’s ready to rip me apart because we haven’t produced any damning pictures. Doesn’t your friend Falco bounce there?

Storm frowned and glared out of the window at the illuminated main drag of New Haven, Ohio. The neon highlighted the front row of stores and the silvery sidewalk stretching into the distance, but he didn’t need the enhanced lighting.

Being a vampire hyper charged his senses. He could see things at great distances, feel the tiniest pinprick on his supersensitive skin, and hear every conversation in a crowded bar. He didn’t need the work as a private investigator—being immortal gave him a lot of time to save up his resources. Then again, to stay under the radar, he didn’t stick to one profession for more than a few years. Blending in had worked just fine, until he’d met Stevie.

Stevie managed to whip his sense of smell and taste into warp drive. The sweet scent of her fear knotted his insides. He didn’t want her to be afraid when they were on the cusp of catching yet another cheating spouse. What was the true reason for her apprehension? He yearned to climb into her mind and help ease her fears.

For the night to go smoothly, he needed to pull his thoughts away from Stevie and continue mentally prepping. Their current client, the ever-exciting Edie Tripp, was just that—a trip and a pain in the ass. She made his brain ache. She suspected her husband of cheating with his secretary and wanted Storm and Stevie to catch him in the act, or as close to ripping the sheets as possible.

He needed something to get his mind off the pesky woman and the lousy way he was about to spend a perfectly beautiful Friday night.

So, will Todd be there? Stevie asked, her voice tinged with annoyance. You didn’t answer me.

Yes, sweetheart. Todd’s the bouncer, and yes, he’ll be there. Storm smirked. His friend and fellow vampire, Todd Falco, could crush iron with his bare hands.

At the traffic signal, Stevie screeched to a halt. She turned to him and rolled her eyes. You know what I meant, Storm. Do you think he could get us through the line faster? I hate to wait in heels. Then again, you know how much I hate working in heels to begin with.

Storm rubbed his jaw, blotting out a smile. She hated anything but comfy sneakers or good old socks. Unfortunately, clubbing required sexy clothing and footwear. Whether she was comfy or not, she looked darn cute jacked up four inches in knee-high boots.

If we cut in line, honey, then we’ll give ourselves away. The point is to blend in. Don’t worry about the heels. You’ll be able to sit at the bar. Allan’s waiting on you to give you the scoop about our clients.

Though it was nearly impossible for him to disappear in the crowd—he was a freaking vampire. A bloodsucker, damned sex fiend and in love with a human. Fucking hell.

Women clung to him in droves, claiming they liked his raw sex appeal. He’d never understood the draw. When he looked in the mirror, all he saw was a monster in expensive clothing longing to regain his humanity.

Stevie stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and distracted him from his pity-party. Fine, but this time, you’d better act like you want to be there with me. The only attention I got Tuesday night came from the tacky bartender and what he wanted was a better tip. Fortunately, Allan’s more of a gentleman. Still, we aren’t acting like a convincing team when you pretend I don’t exist.

Storm frowned. Oh, she existed and blocked out the image of every other woman in the room. She inhabited his dirtiest fantasies each time he closed his eyes. In his latest dream, he wanted to throw Stevie against the nearest wall and make love to her until they both screamed with delight.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. But then Stevie never saw that because of the never-ending line of women dogging his heels. What would she say if he finally told her the truth? She had an open mind. When he asked her about ghosts, she claimed to believe they existed.

Vampires were people, too…

Storm clenched his jaw. His heart thudded and fear thundered through his veins. The reason he kept his identity secret was the sheer terror of knowing she’d run screaming into the night if she knew.

When the song on the stereo ended, Stevie interrupted his thoughts. I don’t know how you do it, but you manage to find a willing woman everywhere we go.

For your information, I didn’t force Sallie Carmen to give me her phone number. He studied her profile. Stevie turned his insides out in every delicious way. No other woman existed. And I never called her.

Stevie made a gagging noise. Right, she replied, drawing the word out. She fiddled with the radio and turned it up a bit to sing along with the Vinnie Joel song. Storm grinned. Stevie’s alto voice complemented Joel’s country twang well.

As she continued to harmonize, Storm took the opportunity to take a good look at her. Her long mahogany hair cascaded down her ivory shoulders in soft waves. She wrapped her hands around the steering wheel, caught up in the emotion of Best Mistakes. He smiled. Her delicate hands could wield a gun with deadly accuracy under the toughest circumstances. If he was a gambling man, he’d bet he was already in love with her and had been since the day he first saw her.

At the stoplight, she smoothed back the fringe of hair partially covering her eyes and glanced at him. He could get lost in those pale blue orbs. The thick liner and mascara gave her a hint of mystery and concealed her innocence. Her devotion and compassion ensured she’d make any man a good wife. He’d bet she was a hellcat in bed, not that he actually knew firsthand. Each time he tried to get close to her, she shied away and it drove him nuts. He’d like to kill the bastards that made her so gun shy—if he could get the whole story out of her.

So what do you plan to do to capture my attention? He raised a brow. Because I want to catch you with your guard down…

I know how you hate to lose, so I’m placing a wager.

Okay, what’s your wager? He grinned. A sparkle lit her eyes and made his cock twitch. True, he hated to lose, but with Stevie as the reward, he’d gladly suffer defeat and tell her who he really was.

Instead of crashing on the couch tonight, I’ll sleep in your bed. But you have to pay attention to me to win. If you accept numbers or dances from any woman tonight, then I win and you have to sleep on the floor, Storm Richardson. Do we have a deal?

For the past three weeks, Stevie had insisted on staying at his house after their evenings of playing detective and catching misbehaving spouses. She claimed she hated driving the extra half an hour home, but he knew the real reason. She needed the reassurance that someone had her back in case one of the angry spouses wanted retribution.

Storm had sworn to be her protector. Plus, he had a sneaking suspicion that Gypsy, her younger sister, had probably moved back into her apartment. Her presence grated on Stevie’s nerves. Gypsy tended to take whatever she saw, even if it wasn’t hers to have.

Damn, he wanted Stevie in his bed every day and night. Yes, indeed, the idea of winning sounded pretty damn rewarding.

With a curt nod, he spoke. Give the valet the keys and get in line with me.

As she pulled the car to a stop, she stared at him. Well? Do you agree? I won’t get out of the car until you tell me.

He unhooked his seatbelt. Her feisty streak had reared its hot little head. Unspoken sexual tension clouded around them, along with a new scent—her arousal.

Time to kick it up a notch. I’ll tell you while we wait. Or do I have to spank you to get you to behave?

Her smooth eyebrow curved while she bit her lip, as if pondering his words. He refused to give her much choice in the matter.

Deal.

Storm walked around the car to open the driver’s side door for Stevie. He dipped his head in greeting to the parking lot attendant and held his hand out to Stevie. She blushed and gave in with timid acceptance. He twined their fingers together and led her to the end of the short queue. At least we’re here early enough to scope out the patrons.

She wrapped her arms around her body and huddled close to him. The thin, fire-engine red halter dress barely covered her voluptuous frame. Goose pimples