Everlasting Desire (13 page)

“When does she want to do it?” Rhys asked.

“She didn't say. She wants to talk to you first.”

“I see.” He lowered his hands and leaned forward again. “What do you want?”

“What do you mean? I don't want anything.”

“Why didn't Shirl come here herself?”

“Because…I…because she's…”

“Why did you come here?”

There was no point in lying to him, so she didn't. “Because Shirl said she'd come if I didn't, and she's sick.” Megan lifted her chin. “And because I wanted to see you again.”

“Ah, the truth at last.”

“It doesn't change anything,” Megan said, rising swiftly to her feet. “What should I tell Shirl?”

“Tell her I'll be there tomorrow night. What time is good for you?”

She shrugged. “Whenever you can make it. I'll tell her to expect you. Good night.”

He was around the desk in the blink of an eye, his arm snaking around her waist, his eyes smoldering with barely suppressed desire as he drew her body up against his.

“Not so quick, my sweet, we haven't discussed my fee.”

She stared up at him. “Your fee?” she exclaimed. “Are you kidding?”

“No.”

“You want her to pay you?”

“No,” he replied in a voice that was silky smooth. “I want
you
to pay me.”

“I don't believe this!” It had never occurred to her that vampires expected compensation for making other vampires. “Isn't taking her blood and turning her into a monster payment enough?”

“No.”

Megan took a deep breath. She didn't have a lot of money saved. For that matter, neither did Shirl. “How much do you want?”

His gaze swept across her lips. “A kiss and a taste,” he murmured. “One kiss, one taste, freely given.”

Revulsion and anticipation warred within her as she stared into his eyes.
For Shirl,
she thought.
You can do this for Shirl.

“Stop lying to yourself,” he said, a hint of anger in his voice. “It's what
you
want.”

“One kiss,” she murmured. What could it hurt? Rising on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.

He quickly took control of the kiss, his tongue sweeping across her lips, his mouth devouring hers as if he were a starving man and she his only hope of survival. She closed her eyes, her arms slipping around his waist, holding on for dear life as he deepened the kiss. A kiss that seemed to last forever, and ended all too soon.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She could only stand there, looking up at him, her heart aching for what was lost. And then, with a hand that trembled only a little, she pushed her hair behind her ear.

“One taste, freely given,” she whispered tremulously, and closed her eyes.

He murmured her name, his tongue hot against her skin, unleashing a thrill of anticipation. She felt the gentle, teasing scrape of his fangs along the side of her neck, and then his bite, and then a rush of heat that left her gasping with sensual pleasure. Warmth spread through her whole body, settling deep in the core of her being. She pressed her body against his, driven by an almost desperate urge to be closer, to feel his skin against her own, to give him everything she had to give.

She was surprised by an unexpected spark of jealousy when she thought of Rhys's biting Shirl, giving her the same pleasure.

She couldn't stifle the soft moan that rose in her throat as he drank from her, or the soft cry of protest when he lifted his head.

Confused and on the verge of tears, she twisted out of his embrace and ran out of the office, a sharp stab of regret twisting her insides when he made no move to stop her.

Shirl was asleep on the sofa, her cheek pillowed on her hand, when Megan returned home. For a moment, she stared down at her best friend, trying to imagine Shirl as a blood-sucking creature of the night, but she simply couldn't do it. Shirl hated the sight of blood, especially her own. She was afraid of the dark and slept with a night-light. Hardly vampire material.

With a sigh, Megan went upstairs to get ready for bed. In the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, she tried to put herself in Shirl's place. What if she were dying? Would she grasp at a chance—any chance—to stay alive, no matter what it entailed? Would she do it even if it meant giving up everything she knew and loved and surviving on the blood of others? Would she be willing to take a life to save her own?

For the first time, she wondered how many lives Rhys had taken during his years of existence? How often did he have to…She frowned. Did he call it eating? Drinking? Where did he spend the day? Did he sleep in a coffin? How long had he been a vampire? Were there other vampires in LA? And if so, how many?

She thought about what she had read on the Web. Did garlic really repel vampires? What about holy water and crosses? Could he turn into a bat? Why would he want to?

Feeling a headache coming on, she pressed her fingertips to her temples.

“Forget about Rhys,” she muttered. “What are you going to do with a roommate who's a vampire?”

 

In the morning, over breakfast, Megan tried yet again to talk some sense into her friend, but to no avail. Shirl's mind was made up.

Megan took a deep breath. She had only one argument left. “Have you thought about the blood thing? Really thought about it? About what you'll have to do to get it?”

“Of course I have.”

“And you don't have a problem with that? You're telling me you could kill someone for their blood?”

“Vampires don't have to kill,” Shirl retorted, a sharp edge to her voice. “Give it up, Megan. I've made my decision.” She paused a moment, then said, “I'm sorry, Meggie. I didn't mean to snap at you. I know you don't approve.”

“It's your life,” Megan said quietly. “Your decision. I just hope you don't regret it.”

 

Megan was too nervous to go to work that night. She called Mr. Parker to let him know she needed to take another day off, and then spent the morning and early afternoon cleaning the house while Shirl slept. She mopped the floors, dusted the furniture, cleaned the bathrooms, scrubbed the toilets, did the laundry, even baked a cake she was too upset to eat.

She had hoped keeping busy would take her mind off Shirl's decision. It didn't, of course. While cleaning the mirror, she wondered how Shirl would feel when she could no longer look at her reflection and see how beautiful she was. When she took the cake out of the oven, it reminded her that Shirl's birthday was next month, but if Shirl went through with her insane plan, they wouldn't be celebrating Shirl's birthday with her favorite fudge marble cake and chocolate ice cream.

How did one become a vampire, anyway? Was being bitten the only way?

After turning off the oven, Megan sat down at the computer, went to Google, and typed in “how to become a vampire.” As always, she was amazed at the number of Web pages that turned up.

According to one site, there were three ways to become a vampire: you were born that way; another vampire bit you and turned you into one of the Undead; or it happened after you died. She frowned as she read about the last way, wondering if anyone had ever really believed anything so farfetched. For instance, in some places it was believed that if a body was buried face up, it might become a vampire. Improper burial, no burial, the wind, or a shadow falling over the corpse might cause the deceased to rise again.

According to another site, you might become a vampire if a dog or a cat jumped over your corpse. Russian folklore held that vampires had once been witches.

She didn't know much about vampires, but being bitten by another vampire seemed like the most logical way to join the ranks of the fanged and dangerous.

Shirl woke late in the afternoon. She picked at the lunch Megan prepared for her, then locked herself in the bathroom, saying she wanted her hair and makeup to look perfect when she was turned.

Feeling like she was trapped in a bad B movie, Megan went into the backyard, where she spent the next two hours pulling weeds and praying that Shirl would come to her senses before it was too late.

When she went back into the house, Shirl was in the living room doing her nails.

“Are you going out?” Megan asked, thinking what a silly question it was. Of course, Shirl wasn't going out.

“No, I'm just getting ready. I want to look my best when he turns me. Some people believe that however you look when it happens is how you'll look forever. And I want to look good.”

Ignoring the knot tightening in the pit of her stomach, Megan nodded, then went upstairs to take a shower. She wanted to look good, too, and the fact that she did irritated the heck out of her. But Rhys would be there soon, and, even though it was over between them, she didn't want him to see her in a pair of worn jeans with her hair all scraggly and dirt under her fingernails.

She slipped into a pair of white pants and a blue silk shirt, brushed her hair, applied her makeup, spritzed herself with perfume, and went downstairs.

“I ordered dinner from all my favorite places,” Shirl said, indicating several covered trays on the coffee table. “Filet mignon, lobster, shrimp, and all the trimmings. Pizza. And half a gallon of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream for dessert.”

“Your last meal?” Megan asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“Meggie…”

“Shirl! Think about what you're doing! This isn't right. It isn't natural.”

Shirl clapped her hands over her ears. “I don't want to hear it! My mind is made up. You'd do the same thing in my place.”

Megan started to deny it, then dropped down onto the sofa. She had no idea what she would do in Shirl's place. She knew what she hoped she would do, but when it came right down to it, there was no way to know until it happened.

“Please, Meggie.”

Megan surrendered with a nod. “I'll pour the wine.”

They had just finished dinner when the doorbell rang.

Megan didn't miss the panicked look that flashed in Shirl's eyes before she blinked it away. Hope flared in Megan's heart. Maybe Shirl wasn't as sure about her decision as she thought.

Megan took a deep breath before she went to answer the door.

Rhys was dressed all in black. Fitting, Megan thought, since he was bringing death into the house.

She stared at him, struck again by the sheer beauty of the man. Unable to think of anything to say, she didn't say anything at all, just turned on her heel and walked back into the living room. When he didn't follow, she remembered she had rescinded her invitation.

She was about to invite him in when Shirl called, “Mr. Costain, please come in.”

Megan felt an odd vibration in the air as he crossed the threshold. Why hadn't she felt it before?

He moved into the living room on silent feet. Watching him, Megan wondered what was different about him. And then she knew. He was no longer hiding the truth of what he was. The supernatural power that was a part of him was a palpable presence in the air. Stunned by the irrefutable truth, she sank down on the chair beside the sofa.

“Please, sit down, Mr. Costain,” Shirl invited with a weak smile.

“No need to be so formal,” he replied, taking a place on the sofa beside her.

She nodded. “Rhys.”

“That's better. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how it's done?”

Shirl clasped her hands in her lap. “I think so.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“Have you done this before?”

Megan leaned forward, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, as she waited for his answer. Funny, she had never wondered about that.

“Once or twice,” he said.

“And were they…” Shirl hesitated a moment, as if searching for the right word. “Successful?”

He nodded. “Anything else?”

“Will it hurt?”

“No. It's quite pleasant, actually. I'll drink from you. You'll drink from me. When you wake tomorrow night, you'll be as I am.”

“I have a question,” Megan said, and felt her breath catch in her throat when Rhys turned to look at her.

“What do you want to know?”

“Is it going to be safe for me to live with a vampire, or do I need to find a new roommate?”

“Meggie!”

“I'm sorry, Shirl, but I have to know what to expect.”

Rhys nodded. “It might be wise for Shirl to move in with me for a few days, until she becomes accustomed to her new lifestyle.”

“I'd never hurt Megan!” Shirl exclaimed. “She's my best friend!”

“Perhaps not intentionally,” Rhys said. “But it's sometimes difficult for new vampires to control their thirst.” He'd had to destroy the first vampire he'd made for that very reason. She had run amok, killing everything in sight, putting his existence and the lives of everyone she knew in danger. “So, are you ready?”

When Shirl didn't answer right away, Megan felt a rush of hope. Had Shirl finally come to her senses and changed her mind? Hardly daring to breathe, Megan waited for Shirl's answer.

Rhys sat beside Shirl, unmoving, patient as only a man who isn't ruled by time can be.

“Shirl,” Megan whispered. “Please don't do this.”

A single tear glistened in Shirl's eyes. “I'm sorry, Meggie,” she said quietly.

Megan nodded. She had done all she could. The rest was up to Shirl, but she didn't have to watch. Rising, she said, “I'll wait upstairs.”

“No!” Shirl exclaimed. “I want you to be here.”

Megan stared at her best friend, horrified by the mere idea. “Why?”

When Shirl seemed reluctant to answer, Rhys answered for her. “I think she wants you here in case something goes wrong.”

“Wrong?” Megan echoed. “What could go wrong?”

“If her will to live isn't strong enough, she won't survive the exchange.”

“Shirl, is that true? Are you telling me you're willing to do this when you might die anyway?”

“It's the best chance I have,” Shirl replied, her voice barely audible. “Please stay with me.”

“If you're not sure, we can do this another time,” Rhys said.

“No!” Shirl said, her voice tinged with desperation. “It's got to be now!” She pressed her hands to the sides of her head. “I can't stand the pain any longer.” She looked at Rhys, her eyes wild. “Do it! Do it now!”

With a nod, Rhys drew her into his embrace, then gently brushed the hair away from her neck. “Relax, child,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. “There's nothing to be afraid of.” He caught her gaze with his as he slid his knuckles down the length of her neck. “That's right, just relax.”

Unable to look away, Megan stared at the two of them. It was almost as if they were making love. As Rhys continued to speak quietly to Shirl, her eyes took on a glazed, faraway look. Her body sagged against his, her head fell back over his arm, her eyelids fluttered down.

Megan's heart slammed against her rib cage when Rhys lifted his gaze to hers. Preternatural power crawled over her skin. For a moment, she was tempted to go to him, to throw her arms around him and surrender to the longing she read in his eyes.

It took all the willpower she had to look away.

Only to feel her gaze drawn back to the scene before her.

Rhys's attention was wholly focused on Shirl now. He stroked his fingers along the length of her neck again; then, bending over her, he sank his fangs into the soft skin of her throat.

The faint, coppery scent of blood rose in the air.

Megan's hands clenched in her lap. She should stop him now, before it was too late. Could she revoke Shirl's invitation?

Shirl moaned softly, then went completely limp in Rhys's embrace.

“What's wrong?” Megan asked anxiously. “Is she…?” The words stilled in her throat when he lifted his head to look at her. His eyes glowed red. She saw blood on his fangs before he licked it away.

Feeling light-headed, Megan watched as he bit into his own wrist, then held the bleeding wound to Shirl's lips.

“Drink, Shirl.” His voice was low yet edged with steel.

With a soft cry, Shirl grabbed hold of his arm and pressed her mouth to the wound.

Fighting nausea, Megan lurched to her feet. She could feel Rhys's gaze on her back as she fled the room and staggered up the stairs.

Safe in her bedroom, with the door locked, she fell across the bed and cried bitter tears for the death of her best friend.

 

Tomás Villagrande lifted his head, the lovely dusky-skinned woman in his arms forgotten as, somewhere in the heart of the city, Rhys Costain brought a new vampire into the fold.