Everlasting Desire (18 page)

“What about Megan?” Shirl asked as she slid under the covers beside Tomás. “What's going to happen to her?”

He shrugged negligently. “I have no quarrel with her.”

“But she's in love with Rhys.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“I don't understand why you want to rule the West Coast,” Shirl said, frowning. “I'd be perfectly happy to live in New York.”

“You'll understand, in time.” Villagrande stroked her hair, a faraway look in his eyes. “When you live for hundreds of years, you can't help becoming bored now and then. I've grown weary of the East, so I've decided to stay here a while.”

“But why does Rhys have to leave?”

“Master Vampires don't share their territory.”

She considered that a moment before asking, “What if he won't leave?”

The sudden narrowing of Villagrande's eyes gave her all the answer she needed.

Shirl rested her head on his shoulder. She was intrigued by Tomás, awed by his power, addicted to his lovemaking. He had taught her much about being a vampire in the last few days, had regaled her with stories of his past. He had traveled the world many times, seen everything there was to see. It was almost impossible to comprehend just how old he was. He wasn't sure exactly when he was born, but he had known ancient kings and queens, fought in many battles in many countries, both on land and sea, visited America before the white man came.

Living with him was exhilarating, fascinating. And a little frightening. He had been a vampire for so long, he seemed to have forgotten that he had once been human. After eons of being a vampire, he viewed mankind as nothing more than prey, to do with as he wished. He drank from the males. Dallied with the females. Sometimes he toyed with them before taking them. But he always killed them in the end.

She had disappointed him the other night. He had urged her to make her first kill, and even though she had wanted to please him, she hadn't been able to do it. The fact that he killed indiscriminately frightened her. Would she one day be as cold and callous as he was? He had no friends that she knew of. He had lived alone on his fancy yacht for decades before she met him. Thinking of friends brought Megan to mind again. Though she refused to admit it, she missed Megan's friendship more than she would have thought possible.

Thoughts of Megan faded into the distance when Tomás reached for her. Shirl had been intimate with only two men in her lifetime, but they both paled beside him. She wondered how many other women he had loved.

She had asked him once, and he had laughed. It was the first time she had heard him laugh with such open amusement. When she had insisted on knowing what was so funny, he had patted her on the head as if she were a little girl who had asked a silly question.

“Ah, my sweet innocent,” he had replied, still grinning. “Do you really expect me to remember after so many years?”

Now, as his hands moved masterfully over her body, she didn't care if he had made love to one woman or a million. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the touch of his hands deftly arousing her, the painful pleasure of his fangs against her skin, the unequaled delight of his flesh melding with hers.

She clung to him, never more vitally alive than when Tomás made love to her. With her enhanced senses, she was acutely aware of everything around her—the tangy scent of the salt air, the gentle rocking of the boat, the sound of waves lapping against the hull. But, most of all, she was aware of the man who brought her to fulfillment again and again before the rising sun chased the moon and stars from the sky.

When Megan woke in the morning, she was alone in bed. She frowned, wondering when Rhys had left, and where he had gone. After inviting Daisy and Erik to stay at his penthouse, Rhys had indicated he would be spending the day at her place. Had he changed his mind and decided to go home?

Sitting up, she hugged Rhys's pillow to her chest, then buried her face in its softness, inhaling his unique scent. He had never stayed over. Why not, she wondered, then shook her head. How could she be so obtuse? He obviously didn't want her to see him while he was at rest. She wondered if there was some kind of vampire law that prohibited vampires from spending the daylight hours with mortals? She shook her head. That sounded preposterous, even to her. So, what reason could there be? Was it because he looked dead when he slept?

The thought made her shudder. She hadn't given much thought to that part of being a vampire. She knew they took their rest during the day, but she had assumed they slept like everyone else. Did he dream?

Did he wear pajamas? Somehow, she didn't think so, but if he did, she was certain it would be bottoms only. Black silk.

Did he sleep in a coffin? She had been to his penthouse, seen his bedroom. No sign of a coffin there, but that didn't mean he didn't have one stashed away somewhere else.

Shaking off her morbid thoughts, she went into the bathroom to shower and get dressed.

Megan had just finished breakfast when a delivery man arrived with a single, perfect red rose in a smoked crystal bud vase. She didn't have to read the card to know it was from Rhys, but of course, she read it anyway. It said simply, “I love you. RC.”

An hour later, another delivery man showed up on her doorstep bearing two red roses in a blown glass vase with a card that said, “I'm counting the hours until I can see you again. RC.”

She received four red roses and a heart-shaped balloon an hour later. The note said, “I'm thinking of you. RC.”

She was waiting at the door when the next delivery arrived. Eight perfect red roses in an elegant silver vase, and a heart-shaped box of Belgian dark chocolates. The note said, “I can't wait to kiss the chocolate off your lips. RC.”

An hour later, she received sixteen long-stemmed blood red roses in a Waterford crystal vase. The card read, “See you soon, my love. RC.”

Whether she was changing the sheets on her bed or mopping the kitchen floor, Megan couldn't stop smiling. He loved her. She laughed softly as she stuffed a load of towels into the dryer. Sure, he was a vampire, but no relationship was perfect. They still had a lot of issues to discuss and decide, but she was confident they could work things out. And if they couldn't…? She shook her doubts aside, determined to ignore the negative and focus on the positive.

Megan had just finished clearing the dinner dishes when the doorbell rang. She glanced around the living room as she went to answer the door, thinking the room looked like a florist shop that specialized in exquisite red roses.

She smiled as she started to open the door and then, without knowing why, she hesitated, her hand on the latch. “Who is it?”

“It's me, Shirl. Why won't my key work?”

“I changed the lock,” Megan said, and then, taking a deep breath, she added, “You're not welcome here.”

“Meggie, what are you saying?”

“I'm sorry, but you can't come in.” Megan closed her eyes against a sudden rush of tears. Shirl had been her best friend for years. And then she frowned, certain that Shirl wasn't alone. She could almost taste the preternatural power coming from the other side of the door, power far too strong to belong to a fledgling vampire.

“Meggie, I can't believe you're doing this.”

“Are you alone?”

There was a brief pause before Shirl said, “Of course I'm alone.”

A peek through the peephole showed that Shirl was lying. A tall man clad in a dark green shirt, brown pants, and boots stood off to the side.

“Villagrande.” The name whispered past Megan's lips. According to Rhys, Villagrande was the oldest vampire in the world. What was he doing here?

“Indeed.” His voice was deep, tinged with an accent Megan didn't recognize

She took a step backward, discomfited by the knowledge that he had heard her murmur his name. Taking a deep breath, she looked through the peephole again, watched as he reached for the door handle. What was he doing? He couldn't enter without an invitation. Could he? Maybe the rules no longer applied when a vampire was as old as he was.

She waited, hardly daring to breathe, as his hand curled around the doorknob.

There was a flash of bright white light, a crackle like static electricity, followed by a sharp curse from Villagrande.

Megan recoiled. And then she grinned. It was obvious that whatever magical whammy Erik Delacourt had placed around her house was working perfectly.

Her grin faded as quickly as it had come. Rhys would be arriving soon to take her to work. What would happen if he showed up while Villagrande was still there? Would they battle it out on her front porch?

When she looked through the peephole again, Shirl and Villagrande were nowhere to be seen.

 

Rhys swore softly when Megan told him what had happened with Shirl earlier that evening.

“Why do you think he came here?” It was a question she was reluctant to ask because she was sure she wouldn't like the answer.

“Could be a lot of reasons,” Rhys said. “Maybe he just wanted to see where you live. Maybe he was looking for me.”

“You left out the most logical reason,” Megan said. “That he wanted to use me to get to you.”

Rhys nodded. He hadn't wanted to suggest that, but he should have known Megan was smart enough to reach that conclusion on her own. Just as surely as there was crap and corruption in Washington, he was sure that had been Villagrande's motive.

“At least Erik's magick spell worked,” Megan said, looking on the bright side. “You should have seen the way Villagrande jumped when he tried to open the door. It was almost comical.”

“Yeah. Sorry I missed that.”

“Where did you spend the day?” she asked, unable to stay her curiosity any longer.

“At my club.”

“Why didn't you stay here?”

The wary look in his eyes warned her not to pursue the subject, making her think she had guessed right earlier. He didn't want her to see him when he was at rest. But why?

“So,” she asked, going back to their original conversation, “what do we do now?” She tried to keep her voice even, but she wasn't completely successful.

Rhys was tempted to take Megan to his lair, but in the long run, he thought she would be safer here. He was about to tell her so when his cell rang. He answered it with a curt, “What?”

“It's me,” Rupert said, his voice equally curt. “The meeting house is on fire. I'm afraid Adams didn't make it out. I think he was the only casualty.”

“Where are you now?”

“We scattered. I'm in Phoenix. I don't know where the others have gone.”

Rhys swore softly. He had told the Council to stay together, thinking there would be safety in numbers. He didn't often make mistakes, but he'd miscalculated badly this time.

“I want you to get in touch with the others,” Rhys said. “Tell them to head for the Midwest. When you get there, get in touch with Volger. Tell him I'm calling in the favor he owes me.”

“Volger, right. What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. Just do as I say. I'll be in touch.” Rhys disconnected the call without waiting for a reply.

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

“Villagrande burned down a house I own. One of my vampires was destroyed in the blaze.”

“I'm so sorry.” Shivering, Megan wrapped her arms around her waist. Being burned alive had to be the most horrible way to die. Thinking about the vampire who had perished in the fire brought back the horror of the inferno at Drexel's concert and reminded her of how lucky she was to still be alive.

“I need to go check out the house,” Rhys said. “Make sure Adams was the only casualty.”

Megan looked up at him, her gaze searching his face. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

“Probably not, but I'm going anyway. You stay here. Keep the door locked. Don't talk to anyone. Don't let anyone but me inside.”

“Be careful.”

He kissed her, hard and quick, and then he was gone amidst a flurry of sparkling silver motes.

Megan shook her head. Just when she thought she had seen all his spooky tricks, he did something totally unexpected.

 

Rhys materialized at the end of the street. The fire department was still at the scene. The acrid stink of burnt wood and smoke hung heavy in the air, along with a smell that Rhys recognized as vampire remains.

He made his way closer to the house, mingling with a handful of curious neighbors. Standing there, he listened to the conversations around him.

“We never saw anybody in the house,” a man remarked to one of the firemen. “And we never saw any lights….”

“Yes, we did,” the woman said. “But it flickered, you know, like candlelight.”

“Yeah, that's right,” the man agreed, as if it wasn't very important. “We never saw anybody around during the day, though. If it wasn't for the cars we saw parked in the driveway now and then, and the fact that a gardener came to mow the lawn, we would have thought the house was haunted….”

“Wonder how it started…”

“I never saw a house go up so fast,” muttered a tall, dark-haired man clad in gray sweatpants. “You'd have thought it was made out of flash paper. Strangest thing I've ever seen.”

A woman holding a baby nodded. “Whoosh!” she said. “Just like that, it was gone.”

“I heard a scream,” said an elderly woman in a bright pink bathrobe. “It was horrible. Gave me the shivers, it did.”

When the firemen started packing up, Rhys went around to the back of the house. Closing his eyes, he opened his senses. Adams had died in the hallway. There was no way to tell if Adams had been destroyed by Villagrande or by the flames, but he was the only casualty. Villagrande's scent was strong here in the backyard. And Shirl's, too. Had she participated in starting the fire, or had she merely been an observer? Not that it mattered. As far as Rhys was concerned, she was equally culpable in Adams's destruction.

Sifting through the ashes, he found himself wondering what type of incendiary material Villagrande had used to start the fire. It was obvious that the blaze had burned hot and fast. The only thing left intact was a small portion of the brick fireplace. Rhys muttered an oath as he dusted off his hands. Either someone had stolen the sword he had kept over the fireplace, or it, too, had perished in the blaze.

“What happened?”

Rhys slid a glance at the vampire who had materialized beside him. “Villagrande happened.”

Erik's gaze swept over what was left of the house. “He's not fooling around, is he?”

“How'd you know I was here?”

“We went by Megan's. She wouldn't let us in, and she wouldn't talk to us. I left Daisy there to keep watch while I followed your scent here.”

“One of my vampires perished in the fire. That's three of mine he's destroyed.”

“He's going to keep pushing until you quit the field or you agree to meet with him.”

“He was at Megan's earlier tonight. Shirl tried to get her to open the door.”

“He plays dirty, Rhys. You know that.”

Rhys nodded. Foolish as it seemed, he had expected better from the oldest vampire in the world. Then again, maybe playing dirty was how you survived long enough to become the oldest vampire in the world.

“You know you can't beat him on your own,” Erik said quietly.

“We've already had this discussion,” Rhys said curtly. “There's nothing more to be done here. I'm going back to Megan's.”

Without waiting for a reply, he dissolved into mist.

Erik was right behind him.

Daisy was waiting for them on the front porch of Megan's house. Erik kissed his wife on the cheek while Rhys knocked on the door.

When there was no reply, Rhys called, “Megan, it's me. Open up.”

“How do I know it's you?”

Hearing the teasing tone of her voice, he said, “I could tell you how many times we made love last night.”

Soft laughter rose in the air as she unlocked the door. “Is nothing sacred?”

“Not much.” Rhys stepped into the entryway, followed by Daisy and Delacourt. Erik locked the door behind them.

Rhys took Megan in his arms. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Did you find any more…anyone else?”

“No. Adams was the only fatality.”

“What are we going to do now?”

Rhys kissed the tip of her nose. “
We
aren't going to do anything. This is between me and Villagrande and no one else.”

“How can you say that?” Megan exclaimed. “Shirl and Villagrande were both here, trying to get in. I'm pretty sure they weren't just stopping by for a cup of coffee. I mean, Shirl lied to me!”

“She's got a point,” Erik said.

“A darn good one, I'd say,” Daisy added.

With a shake of his head, Rhys pulled Megan into his arms. “All right, you foolish woman. What do you think we ought to do?”

“Leave town,” Megan said quickly.

Rhys looked at Daisy. “What do you think?”

“I agree with Megan. There's a whole world out there. Why shed blood over a few acres?”

Erik laughed at her quick reply.

Rhys snorted softly. “For the last time, I'm not slinking out of town like some whipped cur.”

Megan exhaled sharply. “You and your silly pride.”

“Sometimes it's all a man's got to call his own,” Rhys said quietly.

Erik nodded. “Better to go out with a bang than a whimper, right?”