Everlasting Desire (21 page)

With a sigh, she put the book aside and seriously contemplated her future. Should she stay with Rhys? Or end their relationship before it went any further? Did she want to spend her life with a man who would never grow old? A man who couldn't give her children? Did she want to live without him? Should she try? What were the chances that she could find a man she would love as much as she loved Rhys?

She sipped her iced tea as she tried to imagine finding a man who could take Rhys's place. Of course, it would be impossible. No mortal man could ever compete with a vampire's supernatural abilities or paranormal charisma. Rhys was like a rare vintage wine, unique and unforgettable. Compared to him, any other man would seem like cheap ale.

Of course, she could be taking a lot for granted. Maybe Rhys didn't want to spend the next thirty or forty years with her. And why would he? Why would any young man want to stay with a wrinkled old woman? Sure, he might stay with her for ten or fifteen years, but after that, he would surely want a younger woman, one who could make love all night long.

Megan shook her head. Why was she doing this to herself? There could be no happy ending for the two of them. Pairing a vampire and a mortal was like pairing a lion and a lamb. Sooner or later, the lamb was going to get hurt.

Shaking off her troubling thoughts, she spent the next couple of hours working in the yard, which had been badly neglected lately. She pulled weeds, trimmed the rose bushes, watered the grass.

Deciding she needed a break, she went into the house and fixed another glass of tea, then returned to the backyard. Standing in the shade, she sipped her drink, her thoughts again drawn to the man sleeping in her bed.

Her gaze followed her thoughts, and she glanced up at her bedroom window. Impulsively, she set her glass on the patio table and went inside. She hesitated at the bottom of the staircase, took a deep breath, and slowly climbed the stairs. She had seen him earlier, but he hadn't really been asleep.

She paused outside the door, her hand on the knob. Another deep breath, and she opened the door as quietly as she could and peeked inside.

Rhys lay on his back, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting on his chest. She stared at him for several moments. Was he breathing?

Curious, she tiptoed into the room and stood beside the bed. The phrase
as still as death
whispered through the back of her mind.

She was about to turn away when his hand clamped around her wrist.

Megan gasped. She hadn't even seen him move, but he was awake now, staring up at her, his eyes narrowed.

Muttering “sorry,” he released her, then sat up. “Is anything wrong?”

“No. No, I was just…” she shrugged, “curious.”

“Ah.” His gaze probed hers. “Were you repulsed by what you saw?”

Megan shook her head. “No, but you weren't breathing.” She stared at his chest. He was breathing now.

“I don't have to breathe,” he said. “I do it when I'm awake because it makes me less conspicuous. But when I sleep there's no need.”

“Oh.” Just when she thought she knew it all, there was more creepy stuff to learn. It made her wonder once again if they could make things work between them. “I'm sorry I disturbed you.”

“I'm not.” He held out his hand in invitation. “As you can see, I'm wide awake now.”

“What?” She frowned, and then she saw the evidence of his desire beneath the sheet. “Oh! Now? In the daytime?”

He arched one brow. “With you, anytime.”

Laughing, Megan peeled off her clothes and crawled under the sheet. Doubts be damned, Rhys was here now, and she wanted him. And if he broke her heart later, then, so be it. Maybe it was time to live in the moment, to grab happiness with both hands while she could and stop worrying about the future. After all, she reminded herself, life was uncertain, and no relationship was perfect.

But he was, she thought, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Wrapped in his arms, she kissed and caressed him with an abandon she had never felt before, no doubt because now, for better or worse, she had tied her future to his. He must have sensed the change within her because his kisses grew longer, deeper, as his hands stroked her flesh.

She whispered, “I love you,” when he rose over her.

“And I love you,” he said, his voice a throaty growl in her ear. “Be mine forever, Megan, my love. Say you'll marry me.”

“I will.”

He reared back, a look of surprise on his face.

She grinned at him. “Didn't expect me to say yes, did you?”

“Well, not without taking a few days to think it over.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course, but—are you sure?”

“Very sure,” she murmured, and pulled him closer, linking her arms around his neck as his body merged with hers, his movements strong and slow, arousing her until she writhed beneath him, her mind empty of everything but her need for Rhys.

She felt his fangs at her throat. Her body arched upward, the pleasure of his bite sweeping her over the edge. She sobbed his name, her nails digging into his back as wave after wave of sensual heat flowed through her.

Sated, she closed her eyes, felt herself smiling as she curled up against him. He loved her. They were going to be married.

She was on the brink of sleep when Rhys jackknifed into a sitting position. “Dammit! He's struck again.”

“What?” Megan blinked up at him.

“That bastard, Villagrande. He's killed another of my people.”

Suddenly wide awake, she sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “How do you know?”

He raked his fingers through his hair, then gained his feet. “I know.”

“How?”

“I just know.” There was no way to explain it, but he knew Hastings had been destroyed, his existence snuffed out at Villagrande's hand only moments ago. Pacing the floor, he muttered, “That makes four.” Dammit! Why hadn't Hastings stayed with the others?

“What are you going to do now?”

Rhys paused in front of the window. Drawing the curtains aside, he stared out into the gathering darkness. “I'm going to give him what he wants.”

It was nearing nine o'clock that night when Megan got out of the shower. Glancing at the clock, she decided there was no point in getting dressed. Instead, she pulled on her bathrobe, then went downstairs. Since she was too hungry to cook anything that took more than a few minutes, she settled for scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice.

It had been an exhausting day, what with working in the yard and then making love to Rhys, not once but three times. Tugging her bathrobe around her, she smiled at the memory, then yawned behind her hand. He might be inexhaustible, but she wasn't! Not only that, but she hurt in places that had never hurt before. And in some places she hadn't even known she had, she thought, amused. But it was a pleasurable kind of pain, a reminder of the most wildly erotic, passionate afternoon of her life.

A day she would never forget because Rhys had proposed to her and she had said yes. She smiled as she recalled how she had said yes without a second thought, and how surprised he had been when she accepted. She was getting married. All she had to do was name the day and decide whether she wanted a big church wedding with all the trimmings. Or a small, intimate ceremony. Or if they should just elope.

Her smile faded as she recalled Rhys's anger and distress when he sensed that another of his vampires had been destroyed by Villagrande. Had Rhys meant it when he said he was going to give Villagrande what he wanted? And what, exactly, did that mean? She was sorely afraid there might be more to it than just leaving the city.

With a sigh, she rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then stood at the sink staring out into the darkness.

Rhys had gone out, but he would be back soon. She was thinking about slipping into a sexy black nightgown she had bought on a whim and never worn when the doorbell rang. Wondering who it could be, she drew her robe around her and went to the door.

Looking through the peephole, she saw her former best friend standing alone on the front porch. But it wasn't surprise that had Megan gasping. It was the blood dripping down Shirl's face and neck, the complete lack of color in her face.

Without thinking of the consequences, Megan opened the door and reached for her friend. Shirl staggered forward, then came to an abrupt halt at the threshold.

Megan tugged on her arm, frowning, and then, after muttering “Shirl, come in,” she helped her friend inside and guided her to the sofa. “Shirl, what happened to you?”

“Tomás…he got angry with me because I refused to try to trick you into coming to the boat. He beat me and drank from me and…”

“Are you going to be all right? What can I do?”

“I could use a glass of wine.”

“Of course.”

Megan hurried into the kitchen, her thoughts tripping one over the other as she opened a bottle of wine and pulled a glass from the cupboard. Shirl needed to get away from Tomás, she thought as she filled the glass. But that wasn't all. Shirl needed fresh blood to heal her wounds and a place to stay. Maybe Rhys would know what to do.

Megan was still weighing possibilities when she returned to the living room, only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw Tomás Villagrande standing in front of the hearth, a smirk on his face.

Feeling betrayed, Megan looked at Shirl, who had miraculously recovered. “How could you?”

“We've no time for this,” Villagrande said.

Before Megan could respond, he was at her side, his arm snaking around her waist. She stared up at him, a hard, cold knot of fear forming in her stomach as his gaze trapped hers.

His eyes grew darker, more intense. He whispered one word. “Sleep.”

And the world went black.

 

Megan woke slowly. Her first thought was to wonder why the room was rocking back and forth. Were they having an earthquake? She took a deep breath, and her nostrils filled with the scent of the ocean. It took her a moment to realize she was on a boat.

A boat? Frowning, she tried to sit up, only then realizing that her hands were tied behind her back. A quick glance showed she was lying on a narrow bunk. In the dim light of a hanging lamp, she could see that the floor was highly polished. A patch of sky sprinkled with stars was visible through the porthole across from the bunk. How long had she been unconscious? How had she gotten here?

Fear hit her then, hard and quick, in the pit of her stomach. Feeling as though she was going to be sick, she rolled onto her side as the memory of what had happened came rushing back. Shirl had come to the house with some phony story, and Megan had swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. And then Shirl had invited Villagrande inside, and he had hypnotized her or something.

Where was he now? And what was he going to do with her? Nothing good, she was sure of that. She told herself there was nothing to worry about. Rhys would find her.

And then she gasped. Of course, that's why Villagrande had kidnapped her. Because he knew Rhys would come after her.

But maybe she was worrying for nothing. Rhys had said he was going to give Villagrande what he wanted, so maybe there was nothing to fear. If Rhys wasn't going to fight Villagrande for control of the city, then the conflict should be over.

So why didn't that make her feel any better?

Her heart skipped a beat when the cabin door opened. A moment later, Shirl came into view looking as long-legged and gorgeous as always. Tonight, she wore a pair of skintight white pants and an emerald green silk shirt.

Megan glared at her. It was hard to remember that Shirl had once been her best friend. They had shared a home, laughter and tears, their secret hopes and dreams. Looking at Shirl now, all Megan saw was a stranger. Rhys had told her that becoming a vampire brought out the best or the worst in people. It had definitely brought out the worst in her former best friend.

Shirl moved closer to the bunk. “Would you believe me if I said I was sorry?”

Megan struggled into a sitting position. “What do you think?”

“I can't help it, Meggie. I have to do what he says.”

“I don't believe that either.”

“He promised not to hurt you.”

“And you believed him?” Megan asked incredulously.

“Meggie, you're my best friend.”

“Then untie me and let me go. There's no need for any of this. Rhys isn't going to fight your lover for the city. He's going to leave.”

“Did Rhys tell you that?”

“Yes. Where's Villagrande?”

“He went hunting.” A dreamy smile played over Shirl's lips. “He loves to hunt when the moon is full. I don't know why.”

“Why didn't you go with him?”

“I went earlier. Sometimes he likes to hunt alone.” Shirl lifted one shoulder and let it fall, as if it was of no concern whether he hunted alone or not, but she couldn't disguise the petulant tone in her voice.

Megan shook her head. “I look at you and I hear you, and I can't believe what I'm hearing. You talk about hunting as if it's nothing at all. Have you forgotten that you were once human? That all you wanted was to live a normal life? And now you're no better than he is.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Shirl murmured.

“Then let me go! If there's any humanity left in you, let me go before it's too late.”

“He'll only find you again,” Shirl murmured, sounding both resigned and proud at the same time. “No matter where you go, he'll find you. You can't hide from him. You can't fight him. He's not only immortal, Meggie. He's invincible. And some day, I'll be just like him.”

Megan closed her eyes as Shirl's words crushed her only hope of escape. She didn't know what Villagrande had done to Shirl, but it was obvious he owned her, body and soul. Megan had a terrible suspicion that Shirl would kill her without a qualm if Villagrande said the word. And that was the scariest thought of all.

 

Rhys whistled softly as he made his way back to Megan's house. If he had known what spending the day in Megan's bed would lead to, he would have done it a hell of a lot sooner, he thought, and then swore softly. He would have to be more considerate of Megan in the future. He had behaved like a rutting bull. She hadn't complained, but in the future, he needed to remember that she didn't have the same strength and stamina that he did. Had it been up to him, they would still be in bed, but she had needed rest and nourishment, and so he had told her he needed to feed and left the house.

He had contacted Nicholas earlier and learned that the three remaining Council members were staying in one of Volger's lairs in Blue Grass, Iowa, and that several of Volger's vampires, along with a few trusted humans, were also on the premises to keep an eye out for Villagrande. Rhys had snorted when he heard the name of the town. Blue Grass had a population of just over a thousand; twenty-five percent of the residents were under the age of eighteen. And then he had grinned inwardly. Julius had always had a taste for young blood.

As for Hastings, no one knew where'd he gone. According to Nicholas, Hastings had been there one night and the next he was gone. The general consensus was that he'd headed back to Medford and Villagrande had found him there.

“Stupid,” Rhys had muttered. If Hastings had just stayed put, he'd still be alive.

Nicholas had added that they were all getting antsy and wanted to know when they could return to their own lairs.

Rhys had assured Nicholas it would be soon, and hoped that was the truth. As for himself, he hated to leave LA, but what the hell, the world was a big place. He hadn't been to Italy in a while. He wondered if Megan had ever been to Naples or Sicily, and then frowned. He was taking a lot for granted. True, she had said she would marry him, but that didn't mean she wanted to quit her job or leave the country. For that matter, they hadn't set a date for the wedding, either. He didn't know if she wanted a big wedding or if she would be content with something more intimate, say just the two of them. One thing he did know—she was going to make a beautiful bride.

A glance at the sky showed it was almost eleven. Smiling, he quickened his step, eager to see her again.

He knew, before he opened the front door, that she was gone. A single, indrawn breath told him what had transpired. Oh, not the details, but Shirl's scent was strong in the air, as was Villagrande's. Rhys didn't know how the other two vampires had managed to penetrate the protective wards and spells that had been placed on Megan's house, but that didn't matter. All that was important now was that Villagrande had Megan.

Rhys swore a vile oath as he stepped back and slammed the door. Dammit! So much for Erik's protective magick! Why the hell hadn't it worked? And where was Megan?

He followed her scent until it disappeared and then, closing his eyes, he took several slow deep breaths and opened his senses, homing in on the blood bond that connected them.

It drew him unerringly down the coast toward San Diego.

Speeding through the night faster than the human eye could follow, he prayed he wasn't too late.