Everlasting Desire (15 page)

Megan spent all of Saturday, Sunday, and Monday worrying about Shirl. Was her friend truly a vampire now? How was she handling it? Megan hadn't decided if having a vampire for a roommate was a good idea, but Shirl was still her best friend, and she was concerned about her welfare. Time and again, Megan picked up her cell phone and dialed her roommate's number, but there was no answer.

By Tuesday afternoon, when Shirl still hadn't called, Megan's worry for her friend bordered on anger. Shirl must know that Megan would be worrying, wondering. The least she could do was call, and if, for one reason or another, Shirl couldn't make one lousy phone call, then Rhys should have done it.

Megan arrived at Shore's early that night, glad to have an excuse to get out of the house and mingle with people who didn't have fangs, drink blood, or sleep in coffins.

At midnight, force of habit had her glancing at the front door. She shook her head, wondering how long it would take her to stop expecting Rhys to show up.

At 12:05, he strolled into the store with Shirl on his arm.

Megan stared at Shirl. Her friend had always been beautiful but now…Megan shook her head. Impossible as it seemed, Shirl was even more gorgeous than ever. The changes were subtle. Anyone who hadn't known Shirl before wouldn't be aware of them, but they were there. Her skin was a little more translucent, a little paler. Her hair was thicker and more lustrous. And she possessed an almost tangible aura of seductive power that hadn't been there before.

But it was Rhys who held Megan's gaze. He wore a long-sleeved black silk shirt open over a blood-red T-shirt, and a pair of snug black jeans. He reminded her of a wild jungle cat, lean and lithe. She couldn't take her eyes off of him.

“Megan!” Shirl hurried toward her, moving with the same fluidity that Megan had noticed in Rhys.

Feeling like the ugly duckling welcoming the swan, Megan forced a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi?” Shirl repeated with a frown. “Is something wrong?”

“Why should anything be wrong?” Megan tried to mask her anger behind a smile, and failed. “Why haven't you called me? I've been worried sick.”

“I'm sorry,” Shirl said. “I guess it was thoughtless of me, but…”

“It doesn't matter now.” Megan glanced at Rhys, then back at Shirl, and couldn't help feeling…what? Jealous? That was ridiculous, and yet, like it or not, she felt like an outsider, as if they had joined an exclusive club to which she could never belong.

She was relieved when a man entered the shop, breaking the awkward silence between them. “I'm glad you're all right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a customer.”

Relief turned to regret as she watched Rhys and Shirl leave the store.

 

When Megan got off work that night, Rhys was waiting for her in the parking lot. She couldn't stifle a rush of pleasure at seeing him standing beside her car.

“Megan, we need to talk.”

“Where's Shirl?”

He shrugged. “I sent her back to my place.”

She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “What do you want to talk about?

“You. Me. Us.”

Taking a tight rein on her tumultuous emotions, she said, “There is no us.”

Her heartbeat slammed into overdrive when he took a step toward her. “Isn't there?” He placed his hand on her breast. “I can feel your heart beating for me.”

“Don't be ridiculous!”

“Am I? Tell me you don't want me. Say it out loud, and you'll never see me again.”

“Rhys, I don't need this right now. Please, just go away.”

“Say you don't want me, and I'm gone.”

“All right, I want you! Are you happy? But it doesn't change anything.”

He moved still closer. Too close. Memories of the times they had made love flashed across her mind. She wished she could go back in time, to the days before she knew what he was, when ignorance had, indeed, been bliss. But there was no going back. No changing what he was, or what he had done to Shirl.

Blinking back her tears, she turned her back to him and unlocked the car door. “I have to go.”

“Dammit, Megan, don't do this.” He put his hand on the top edge of the door so she couldn't open it. “At least give us a chance.”

She shook her head. “I can't.”

“When you found out what I was, I told myself it was for the best, that you were better off without me. That it would never work between us. But now…dammit, Megan, I'm begging you. Stay with me.”

“I want to, but I can't. I'm afraid. Afraid of what I've seen. Afraid of what you are.”

“I can't change that.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes brimming with tears. “But you can change me. And that's what I'm really afraid of.”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around so she was facing him again. “Would you believe me if I swore that I will never do that to you?”

“I don't know.”

“Dammit!” He raked his hand through his hair. “Megan, what can I do? What can I say to change your mind?

Her tears came faster now, rolling unchecked down her cheeks. What did she want? How could she trust him? How could she let him go? He was right. She wanted him. She couldn't fight him anymore, couldn't fight the longing of her own heart. With a sigh, she rested her forehead against his chest, felt her tears start again as his arms closed lovingly around her. Right or wrong, for better or worse, this was where she wanted to be.

Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head up, then brushed her tears away. “Can I drive you home?”

With a nod, she handed him the keys to her car.

She was acutely aware of his nearness on the way home. His presence filled the car, or maybe it was her increased awareness of his power. She had always thought he was just exceptionally handsome, but after seeing the subtle changes in Shirl, she knew the flawless perfection of his face and form were a by-product of being a vampire.

When they reached her house, Rhys parked the car in the driveway, then came around to open her door.

Megan felt suddenly shy as they walked up to the porch. He unlocked the door and followed her inside. She dropped her handbag on the sofa table; he tossed her keys on top, then drew her into his arms.

“I've missed you,” he said quietly. “More than you can imagine.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

She laughed softly, amused that he would ask. Taking him by the hand, she led him to the sofa, pulled him down beside her, and kissed him.

His arms went around her once more, drawing her body against his. With a sigh of contentment, she closed her eyes and leaned into him, hungry for his touch, for his kisses. They could never have a normal life together and she knew it, but it didn't matter. He was here now, and she intended to savor every moment she could. And when it was over…She shook the thought away. She wouldn't worry about that now. It felt too good to be in his arms, to feel his body against hers, to hold him and taste him.

When they parted, Rhys leaned back against the sofa. Utterly breathless, Megan snuggled against him. She glanced at the fireplace, thinking how cozy a fire would be. She sat up, startled, when fire sprang to life in the hearth a moment later.

Beside her, Rhys laughed softly.

“Did you do that?” Megan asked. It was a silly question. Who else could have done it?

“You wanted one, didn't you?”

“Yes, but…You could have warned me,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “What other tricks can you do?”

“Dogs do tricks,” he said, sounding offended.

“Well, what do you call it, then?”

“It's power, my sweet. Vampire power.”

“And now Shirl has it, too.” It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. “I don't think I want her as a roommate anymore.”

“She's been expecting that.”

“Oh?”

“She doesn't think it's a good idea, either. She's not sure she can control herself.”

“So she's going to stay with you?” Megan didn't like that arrangement in the least.

“No. She's going to find her own place.”

“Oh? How's she going to pay for it?” Shirl had made good money as a model, but she had never saved any.

“She's got a job.”

“How can she model now? She can't work during the day.”

“She called her agent and told him she's come down with some rare disease and that her doctor advised her to stay out of the sun.”

Megan frowned. “I thought vampires couldn't be photographed.”

“That was true in the old days, but everything changed with the advent of digital cameras.”

“I guess a lot of things have changed.”

“Except the way I feel about you.”

“Rhys…what are we doing? This can't work.”

“I know, but I can't seem to stay away from you.”

“Then don't.”

“Ah, Megan, you tempt me in so many ways.”

“Show me,” she whispered. “Show me, show me, show me….”

Falling back on the sofa, he drew her down on top of him, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was gentle and desperate at the same time. She kissed him back with the same intensity, refusing to worry about what the future might hold. They were together now, and that was all that mattered.

She moaned softly when he rolled onto his side, then sat up, drawing her with him. “What's the matter?”

“It's late. You need to get some sleep, and I need to feed.”

“Oh.” His words brought reality crashing down on her. Had he been an ordinary man, she could have fixed him a sandwich, but, in this case,
she
was the soup de jour.

He stood, then lifted her to her feet. “See me out?”

With a nod, she linked her arm with his and walked him to the door, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him good night. She was tempted to ask him to stay, to make love to her until dawn, but it didn't seem wise to take a hungry vampire to bed.

He grinned at her. “Smart girl.”

“Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“Count on it.” He kissed her again; then, whistling softly, he walked down the porch steps and vanished into the darkness.

“I guess that's just another one of his vampire tricks,” she muttered, “like starting fires out of thin air and reading my mind.”

In the distance, she heard the sound of his laughter.

Tomás Villagrande prowled the street below Rhys Costain's lair. The vampire wasn't home, but Tomás wasn't interested in Costain at the moment. It was the woman, Shirl, who held his attention. Her scent tickled his nostrils and teased his desire. He had not made love to one of his own kind in years, and the idea of making love to a vampire as young and as beautiful as Costain's fledgling aroused him as nothing had in centuries.

Standing under the balcony, he called her name ever so softly, knowing that, with her preternatural power, she would hear him.

A moment later, she appeared at the railing.

Tomás smiled up at her. “Come, take a walk with me.”

She shook her head. Moonlight danced in the soft waves of her long silver-blond hair. “I don't think so.”

“Why not? It's what you want.”

“I don't trust you.”

His laughter filled the night. “I mean you no harm, child.” In the blink of an eye, he was on the balcony, his fingers wrapped around her wrist. “And if I did, you couldn't stop me.”

Shirl stared at him in astonishment. She hadn't even seen him move. “What do you want with me?”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “You're incredibly lovely. I'm rich and bored. To quote an old saying, I think we could make beautiful music together.”

“Thank you, but no thanks. I'm happy where I am.”

He jerked his chin toward the penthouse. “With Rhys?”

“With myself. I always work solo.”

“Where's the fun in that? You're a new vampire. I'm an old vampire and rather jaded. I want to see the world fresh through your eyes.”

“I'm sure there are other new vampires who would love to go out with you.”

“I want you.” His grip tightened on her wrist. “I can show you the world. Give you anything you want. Teach you how to use your new powers. Teach you things Rhys doesn't know. Things he may never know. Why learn from one of the Indians when you can learn from the chief?” He smiled as he released her wrist. Lifting her hand to his lips, he ran his tongue over her palm. “I can make all your dreams come true.”

Shirl stared at him, a momentary tingle of fear spreading through every nerve and fiber of her being, but it quickly faded under the weight of his preternatural power, ancient power that wrapped itself around her and made her hungry for more.

A slow smile spread across Villagrande's face. “So,” he said, placing her hand on his arm in gentlemanly fashion. “Shall we go?”

Megan had just finished dinner and was thinking about getting ready for work when the doorbell rang. She frowned on her way to answer it, wondering who it could be. She wasn't expecting anyone. Least of all, “Greg!”

“Is Shirl here?”

“No. Would you like to come in?”

“No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you know where I can find her? I called the hospital but they said she'd checked out.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know where she is,” Megan said.

Greg frowned. “I thought she was sick. At death's door.”

“She was, but I guess you could say she had a rather miraculous recovery.”

“What happened? Did they find a cure? Is she going to be all right?”

“I really can't say, I mean…well…” Megan stared at him, wishing she could just tell him the truth. “All I know is that she isn't sick anymore, and she'll probably have a nice long life.”

He frowned, then said, I guess you know she broke it off with me.”

“Yes, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. I was hoping to change her mind. Is there someone else?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Looks like she was just stringing me along,” he said, his voice bitter. “I should have known a girl like that would never stay with a lug like me.”

“I'm sorry,” Megan said again. She couldn't help thinking that she sounded like a parrot that only knew two words, but what else could she say? She couldn't tell Greg the truth.

He nodded. “I hope she'll be happy,” he muttered. “I'm sorry I bothered you.”

Megan stared after him as he turned and walked away. Poor guy. With a shake of her head, she closed the door. She stood there a moment, thinking how unfair life was.

She was about to go upstairs to take a quick shower when the doorbell rang again. Thinking Greg might have returned, she opened the door.

“Shirl!” Megan experienced a moment of fear and confusion when she saw her friend on the front porch. Clad in an off-the-shoulder white sweater and a pair of slinky black pants, Shirl looked even more exotic and exquisite than usual.

“Hi, Meggie,” Shirl said, brushing past her. “I'll only be a minute. I just came by to get my things.” She tossed her handbag and coat on the sofa.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I'm sure you'll be relieved to know I'm moving out.”

Megan started to deny it, then decided against it. “Where are you going?”
Please,
she thought,
please don't let her be moving in with Rhys.

“I'm going to live on a yacht.”

“A yacht! You know someone with a yacht? Someone willing to share it with a vampire?”

“Yes, his name is Tomás Villagrande, and he's the most remarkable man I've ever known. I was afraid of him when I first met him, but now…he's simply amazing.”

“That's what you said about Greg,” Megan reminded her. “Have you already forgotten him? He was here a few minutes ago looking for you.”

“Really?” Happiness flared in Shirl's eyes for a moment, then was quickly gone.

“I thought you loved him.”

“I do. I did. But he could never have given me the kind of life I wanted.” Shirl paused a moment, her expression melancholy, and then she shrugged. “And even if he could, it would never work out between us now.”

“I don't know what you said to him the last time you saw him, but he looked crushed when he left here.”

“You didn't tell him the truth, did you?” Shirl asked sharply.

“Of course not.”

“Good,” Shirl said, obviously relieved. “Come upstairs with me. We can talk while I pack.”

Megan stared after Shirl, then followed her up the stairs. “So, who is this guy, Tomás? What does he do?”

“He's a vampire,” Shirl said, an unmistakable note of excitement in her voice. “The oldest vampire in the world.” She pulled a suitcase from the top shelf of her closet and started throwing clothes into it. “He's very powerful and very rich.”

“Does he know Rhys? Are they friends?”

“They know each other.” Shirl moved to the dresser, quickly taking things from one drawer after another. “I don't know if they're friends. Somehow, I don't think so.” She pulled another suitcase from the closet and began filling it with shoes and handbags.

“Are you leaving L.A.?”

“No. Tomás says he wants a change of scene,” Shirl replied airily. “He's thinking of staying here for a while.”

Megan didn't know much about the intricacies of vampire politics, but she remembered reading online that there could be only one Master Vampire in the city, and right now, that was Rhys. If Tomás was the oldest vampire in the world, was he also a Master Vampire? Did that automatically come with age? Would Rhys have to leave LA if Tomás decided to stay? Did vampires fight over territory? The article she'd read hadn't mentioned that.

Shirl closed both suitcases with a flourish, then glanced around the room. “I guess that's everything but my cosmetics.” She picked up a small bag and went into the bathroom.

Megan followed her, then stood in the doorway, watching as Shirl filled the bag with enough lipstick, rouge, powder, and eyeliner to last an ordinary woman a lifetime. “How do you put your makeup on when you can't see yourself in a mirror?”

Shirl shrugged. “That's what makeup artists are for. My agent wasn't very happy when I told him I could only work nights, but, oh, well—” She laughed softly. “I used to worry about what I'd do when I started to look older, but since I can't see my reflection anymore, that's not going to be a problem.”

“They have mirrors in dressing rooms,” Megan said. “What are you going to do about that?”

“I don't know. I haven't figured that out yet. But I will.”

Megan grunted softly. Shirl was tall and willowy, her skin smooth and clear, her hair thick and lustrous. She would look exactly the same next year, and every year for the rest of her life. “What are you going to do when people start to notice that your appearance never changes?”

“I can always attribute my youthful appearance to good genes and Botox. Look at Dick Clark. He looked the same for years. Anyway, Tomás said I don't have to work unless I want to. He's going to show me the world.”

“Well, that's wonderful, I guess, but isn't all this kind of sudden?”

“I guess so,” Shirl replied with an airy wave of her hand, “but things are different now. He said he's going to make me his queen!”

“Really?” Megan tapped her fingernails on the edge of the door. If Shirl was going to be a queen, then Tomás must plan to be the king, but king of what?

“He has big plans.” Shirl glanced around the room. “Do whatever you want with the rest of my stuff. Keep it, sell it, donate it to charity. Whatever.”

“You're happy, then?” Megan asked. “Happy with the way things turned out? Happy being a vampire?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“And it doesn't bother you…the blood part?”

“Not at all.” She moved toward Megan. “Come give me a hug. I've got to go.”

Fighting the urge to turn and run, Megan put her arms around Shirl.

“My, but you do smell good,” Shirl murmured.

Megan forced herself to stay calm. She had seen enough nature films to know that running from a predator only excited them more.

“I'd better go,” Shirl said.

“Let me help you with your suitcases.”

“Don't be silly,” Shirl said with a laugh. “I could carry all of them, and you, down the stairs with no trouble at all.” She picked up her suitcases and a couple of hat boxes and glided toward the door.

Megan followed her to the head of the stairs, then stood watching as Shirl collected her handbag and coat and walked out of the house.

Only after the door had closed behind her former best friend did Megan run downstairs to turn the lock.

 

“He said he's going to make her a queen?” Rhys shook his head. “How the hell's he going to do that?”

Megan shrugged. “How should I know?”

Rhys had picked her up after work, and now they were sitting at the bar in his club. There were only two other people in the place—a man and a woman slow dancing in the middle of the room. She wondered if they were both vampires.

“What else did she say?”

“What? Oh, she said that I smelled good.”

“She got that right,” he said with a wry grin. “What else?”

“Something about living on a yacht and staying in California…”

“Hold on a minute. Villagrande's planning to stay here, in LA?”

“I guess so. She said he wants a change of scene,” Megan replied, and then frowned. “That's not good, is it?”

“No. Dammit!” He slammed his fist on the bar top hard enough to draw the attention of the other couple, who took one look at his face and quickly went back to minding their own business.

“Shirl's changed,” Megan said. “She seems more, I don't know, avaricious. She always liked nice things, but now…it's different.”

“Sometimes becoming a vampire brings out the best in people, and sometimes the worst.”

“What did it do for you?” Megan asked curiously.

“It brought out the worst in me.” His knuckles glided over her cheek. “But you bring out the best.”

“Flatterer.”

“It's true.” Leaning forward, he kissed her lightly. “Let's go someplace where we can be alone. I want to make love to you until the sun comes up….” He went suddenly still, his body tense, his eyes narrowing.

“What is it?” Megan asked. “What's wrong?”

“Come on.” Taking her by the hand, he pulled her to her feet. “I need to take you home.”

“Rhys, what's wrong? You're scaring me.”

He shook his head. “Not now. Something's come up. I need to take care of it right away.” He hurried her out to the parking lot, then thrust his keys into her hand. “Do you mind driving yourself home?”

“No, I guess not, but—”

“Good.” He opened the door for her, then brushed a kiss across her lips. “I'll see you later.”

“Well, that was odd,” Megan muttered as she watched him walk away, noting again that he seemed to just vanish into the darkness.

 

It took only moments for Rhys to reach Adrianna's lair. The smell of death was strong, even from a distance. As he drew closer, he caught the scent of another vampire. Villagrande.

Rhys materialized inside Adrianna's lair, a string of curses rising in his throat when he saw what was left of her. There were only a few ways to destroy a vampire—a wooden stake through the heart, prolonged exposure to sunlight, beheading. And perhaps the worst and most excruciating of all—fire. It was the latter method Villagrande had chosen.

Rhys shuddered as he stared at the ashes scattered across the gold-veined marble floor. By sunrise, they would be gone. He had never cared for Adrianna, and she had never liked him, but even if he had wanted to destroy her, he would never have done it like this. It was a cruel thing for one vampire to do to another, he thought, and then frowned. Had Villagrande destroyed Adrianna as an act of vengeance, or was it a warning?

 

Rhys stood in the center of the meeting room, his gaze moving slowly from the face of one Council member to the other.

Rupert cleared his throat. “So, she's dead? You're sure?”

Rhys nodded. “I'm sure.”

“Did you see the body?” Nicholas asked.

“What was left of it.”

Seth Adams swore under his breath. “What do we do now?”

Rhys began to pace the floor. “I wish I knew.”

Stuart Hastings glanced around the room, his expression hopeful. “Now that he's settled his score with Adrianna, maybe he'll go back where he belongs.”

“It's a possibility,” Rhys said. “Or maybe it's just the beginning.” As succinctly as possible, he relayed what Megan had told him earlier.

“If he plans to make your fledgling a queen, he must plan on becoming a king,” Julius remarked, looking pensive.

Winchester looked up from his cell phone, his brow furrowed. “King? King of what?”

Rhys came to an abrupt halt. “That's the question, isn't it? King of what? The city? The States? The whole damn planet!”

“He couldn't do that, could he?” Adams asked. “I mean, he'd have to defeat every Master Vampire in the world.”

“That's not possible, is it?” Nicholas asked. “And if he did, where would that leave the rest of us?”

“I'm not paying allegiance to any king!” Julius brought his fist down on the arm of his chair so hard that the wood cracked. “Hell,” he muttered with a rueful grin, “it's bad enough that I have to listen to Costain.”

Nicholas laughed, then fell silent.

“I don't have any answers,” Rhys said. “I called you here tonight to let you know what was going on and to warn you to be careful.”

“How are we supposed to protect ourselves?” Winchester asked. “None of us are strong enough to defeat him.”

Rhys shook his head. As long as humans didn't invite the Undead into their homes, they were safe behind their thresholds. Rhys didn't really understand why thresholds repelled vampires; he only knew that it worked. In a world of supernatural power, thresholds possessed a strength all their own created by the owner's sense of belonging, of love and family and shared experiences. Unfortunately, vampire thresholds had no such power. If Villagrande came calling, there was no way to keep him out.

“Safety in numbers, maybe,” Adams suggested. “It worked during the war.”

“It might be worth a try,” Rhys said, though he didn't think the Council would go for it. Vampires were notoriously distrustful of their own kind, jealous of their hunting grounds. “You can all stay here if it'll make you feel better.”