Everlasting Desire (9 page)

She wanted him.

But no more than he wanted her. “Megan?”

He liked it that she didn't pretend she didn't know what he was asking.

A flush crept up her neck and into her cheeks as she took his hand in hers and led him up the stairs to her bedroom.

Once in her room, Megan was overcome with uncertainty. What was she doing? Did she really want to hop into bed with a man she had known for such a short time? A man she had been having serious doubts about only yesterday? Even thinking about taking him to bed was totally out of character for her. Still, she was a big girl, and it had been a long time since she'd had this particular itch scratched.

“Megan?” His voice surrounded her, winding around her like a silken web from which there was no escape.

She shivered with pleasure as he bestowed featherlight kisses along the side of her neck, along her collarbone to the hollow of her throat. Yes, this was what she wanted. This man. Right now.

For once in her life, she was going to leap before she looked. For once in her life, she wasn't going to play it safe.

As if he knew she had resolved her inner conflict, he pulled her up against him, his hand sliding seductively up and down her spine.

She had to touch him. Tugging his T-shirt from his jeans, she ran her hands over his chest, felt his muscles tense at her touch.

Still holding her against him, he backed her toward the bed and then, supporting her with his arms, he lowered her to the mattress before stretching out beside her.

“Rhys…” Murmuring his name, she explored the width of his shoulders, the taut planes and ridges of his chest and belly.

Knowing what she wanted, he yanked his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, giving her access to his upper body.

Turning onto her side, she explored the width of his shoulders, the whorls of curly hair on his chest, the hard ridges of his stomach. She paused now and then to kiss him here, lick him there. Growing bolder, she pulled off his boots and his socks, and then, after a moment's hesitation, she tugged his jeans down over his slim hips. The black briefs he wore did nothing to hide the fact that he wanted her.

He let her explore his body from head to foot, and then he turned the tables on her. “My turn,” he said, his voice thick, and in the time it took her to blink, she was lying naked beneath him, and he had begun a slow exploration of his own.

His hands were large yet gentle as they played over her quivering flesh. The touch of his cool skin did nothing to douse the flames that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Each stroke of his hands, each heated caress, carried her to a place where she had never been before, a place she hoped never to leave. She had made love in the past, but it had never been like this. Never before had she so desperately wanted or needed a man's touch. Never before had she known such wonder, such pleasure.

He murmured her name as he shucked his briefs, and then he rose over her, blatantly male and aroused.

With a throaty growl, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and lifted her hips to meet him.

One thrust, and she felt like she might shatter. She clung to him as the world spun out of focus. Never had she been so aware of her own body, or felt so vibrantly alive. She had heard of two bodies becoming one, but their joining went beyond that. It was as if their hearts and souls had seamlessly melded, so that she knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling. She knew where he wanted to be touched, just as he seemed to know exactly how to please her.

And please her he did, with every caress, every murmured word, until one last thrust carried her over the edge to blissful fulfillment.

Sated and complete, she murmured his name and then, with a sigh, she closed her eyes and fell into the warm abyss of slumber.

Rhys stayed at Megan's side long after she had fallen asleep. Gazing down at her, he wondered if she would have second thoughts or regrets when she woke in the morning. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with a man. What would she think if she knew her latest lover was not a man at all?

He wondered absently if she was using any kind of birth control. Not that it mattered. He carried no diseases. He could not father a child. It was the one thing that bothered him about being a vampire. Not that he would have made a good father, not that he had ever really wanted kids, but he would have liked to have had the option just the same. It was the one thing he had always envied about his friend, Delacourt. Erik had been a married man with children before he was turned. It was possible that Delacourt still had descendants living somewhere in England.

Muttering an oath, Rhys dropped a kiss on Megan's cheek, dressed, and left the house.

Filled with a sudden anger he refused to examine, he headed for his club. Even though it was late, there were still a few men and women lingering over drinks at the bar.

Rhys looked the women over, made his choice, and tapped her on the shoulder. When she started to speak, he silenced her with a look. He didn't want conversation tonight, he didn't want anything except a few minutes of forgetfulness.

The woman followed him into one of the rooms and closed the door. When she started to undress, he shook his head. He didn't want an hour of meaningless sex; he didn't want to seek comfort in the arms of a stranger. What the hell did he want?

Megan. Her name whispered in the back of his mind as he pulled the woman, none too gently, into his arms and buried his fangs in her throat. This was what he was, who he was. He would never be good enough for Megan DeLacey, never be able to give her the kind of life she deserved. He needed to remember that.

He lifted his head and stared at the woman in his embrace. And then he lowered his head and drank again.
This is what you are,
whispered a mocking voice in the back of his mind.
A monster.

He drew back as his victim's heartbeat grew slow and erratic. If he drank any more, the girl would die. Odd that he should worry about that now. He had rarely given much thought to the fate of his prey before. In the past, he had attacked men and women without a qualm, taken what he needed without regret, and if his victims didn't survive, he had shrugged it off. Humans were prey. He was a predator. It had been as simple as that. Until the night he stepped into Shore's and gazed into Megan DeLacey's guileless brown eyes.

With an oath, he sealed the wounds in the woman's neck and lowered her onto the bed. After ordering the bartender to take care of her, he left the club without a backward glance and headed for home.

And all the while, the word
monster
echoed in the back of his mind.

Tomás lifted his head, his senses drinking in the sights and sounds of the evening countryside. He had left the Ferretti behind when he left Texas. As much as he loved the yacht, there was a lot to be said for the speed and power of a fine car, and the sleek, black Lamborghini Murcielago convertible was fine indeed, able to accelerate from zero to sixty in just over three seconds.

Tomás smiled as he goosed the convertible up to ninety. As much as he had enjoyed his stay in Texas, boredom had eventually set in, urging him to seek new hunting grounds, new prey. A new method of transportation. Hence the Lamborghini, which he had purchased on the spur of the moment. He had hired someone to sail the yacht to San Diego.

He wondered idly if humans realized how long eternity could be, how monotonous life became when one had seen all there was to see, done all there was to do. For a moment, he considered settling down for a while, taking a wife, pretending to be human. How many times had he done that in the past? A hundred? Two? Inevitably, when his wife began to age and he did not, he had to move on. Occasionally, he turned those he wed, but he was too selfish, too territorial, to share his hunting grounds with anyone else, even someone he cared for. All things considered, it was better to live alone.

He grinned inwardly. Perhaps he could find the excitement he was looking for in New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment.

Rhys let his glance sweep the faces of the Vampire Council. “The rogue is on the move again,” he said, his voice gruff. “He's racking up killings from one end of New Mexico to the other.”

“Maybe it isn't an old one,” Seth Adams suggested. “Maybe he's newly turned.”

“Could be,” Stuart agreed. “Maybe whoever sired him neglected to show him the ropes, so to speak.”

Rupert shook his head. “No, it's definitely one of the old ones. I told you, a trusted friend of mine saw one of the victims. He said the vamp responsible was definitely ancient.”

“Then I guess the next step is to try to pin down where the old ones are,” Rhys said. “Adrianna, New Mexico is your home base. Call around and see what you can find out. I want the rest of you to get in touch with the vampires in your areas and see if any of the old ones have moved on. Once we know who's where they should be, and who isn't, we can start to narrow the list.”

“I still don't know why you're so bothered by all this,” Julius said. “So what if a few humans come looking for us?”

Rhys glared at him. “What if it's more than a few? There's already a new hunter in LA. He's probably heard about the killings. Just because we haven't heard of hunters in other cities doesn't mean they aren't there. We've had it pretty easy the last few years. Most of the human population has more important things to worry about than whether we exist or not. But if this rogue keeps killing, eventually people are going to sit up and take notice. I don't know about you, but I like things the way they are. And what if some of the young ones decide to stop being careful?” Rhys glanced around the room. He had their attention now. “I don't care what the rogue does back East, but he's heading in this direction. I like it here. I'm not ready to pack up and move on. What about you, Hastings? You ready to leave Oregon? And what about you, Winchester? You ready to give up your place in Montana? How about you, Nick? You ready to move on?”

Nick shook his head. “No. You said he's in New Mexico. How about if I go there and see what I can find out?”

“I don't need any help,” Adrianna declared.

“Maybe not,” Nick said, “but I'm tired of sitting around, waiting.” He looked at Rhys expectantly.

“Might be a good idea to have someone there. Take Adams with you.”

Adams reared back in his chair. “What? I don't want to go to New Mexico!”

“Who does?” Julius asked, laughing.

“New Mexico is my home,” Adrianna said. “If you want someone to look around, I'll go.”

Rhys sent her a quelling glance. He didn't like Adrianna, and he didn't trust her. Better to keep her close, where he could keep an eye on her. “We'll play it my way for now,” he decided. “Nick and Seth are going to New Mexico. The rest of you get busy and check the lairs of the old ones.”

“What are you going to do?” Adrianna asked.

“Check my own sources,” Rhys retorted.

“You've been a little testy the last few days,” Stuart observed. “Anything we need to know about? We don't usually meet this often.”

“No.”

Winchester looked up from his cell phone. “Must be woman trouble.”

“This meeting is over,” Rhys said. “Get the hell out of here, all of you.”

Jaw clenched, he watched them vanish one by one, but not before Adrianna clapped Winchester on the back and said, “I think you nailed it that time.”

Megan was glad to be back to work on Tuesday night. She had rattled around the house all that day, trying to reassure herself that she hadn't made a big mistake the night before. She had fallen asleep in Rhys's arms, and expected to awake there, as well. But he had been gone when she awoke, almost as if he had never been there at all. She couldn't believe he would just leave without a word, not after the romantic night they had shared. She had been certain she would find a note saying he would see her again later, which just proved how wrong she could be. She had searched the house for a note that didn't exist, waited all day for a phone call that never came. Had he been stringing her along the whole time, just waiting to get her into bed? Silly question, she thought, when the answer seemed obvious. How could she have been such an idiot?

She let out a sigh as one of her least favorite customers swept into the store. In his midsixties, Richard Archibald Clark was the CEO of a major corporation based in the heart of downtown Los Angeles.

“Megan, my dear,” he exclaimed, wrapping her in a bear hug. “You've had a horrible couple of weeks, haven't you? First the attempted robbery, and then the fire at the Drexel concert.” He tsked softly. “Parker gave me all details. Terrible, just terrible.” Holding her at arm's length, he ran his gaze over her. “Praise the Lord, you look none the worse for wear.”

Disengaging herself, Megan forced a smile. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Clark, but I'm fine now, really.”

“That's my brave girl.” Mr. Clark shrugged out of his coat and tossed it to his assistant, Vi. Vi was a mousy little thing somewhere in her midthirties. Megan had never heard the woman speak a word.

“I'm in need of a new suit,” Mr. Clark said, all business once again. “Something dark, no stripes.”

“I think we have just what you're looking for,” Megan replied, moving toward the north side of the store.

“Yes, you always do,” Mr. Clark said, beaming at her.

An hour and a half later, Megan breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Clark and his assistant left the shop.

Several customers came and went over the course of the next three hours, and then, as sometimes happened, there was a lull around midnight. Force of habit had Megan looking toward the entrance every few minutes, but there was no sign of Rhys. She checked her cell phone, but there were no missed calls, no messages.

She moped all day Wednesday. By Thursday night, she was angry with Rhys, and furious with herself. How could she have been so naive? She wasn't a dewy-eyed teenager. She was a grown woman. So, she'd made a mistake. It was time to get past it. She had been attracted to the man, there was no denying it. So attracted she had slept with him, but she told herself she didn't care. It was over and done.

As the evening wore on, she convinced herself she hadn't even liked him that much. She had just been lonely, looking for a little attention, and she had gotten carried away because he was so damned good-looking. Because he had made her feel special. Because his kisses had made her go weak in the knees.

“Hah! Weak in the head is more like it!” she muttered. A few kisses, a few dances, a few compliments, and she had taken him to her bed. How could she have been so gullible? So incredibly stupid! Well, she was glad he was out of her life, the jerk. And relieved that she would never have to see him again.

Until she saw him walk through the door Friday night.

Rhys paused near the entrance, his gaze sweeping the interior of the shop; then, not caring that Mr. Parker was watching, not certain of what Megan's reaction would be, Rhys crossed to where Megan was standing and drew her into his arms.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, and kissed her long and hard, right there in front of her boss and anyone passing by who happened to look in the window.

He kissed her until she was breathless, pliant in his embrace, and then he kissed her again. “I missed you.”

She blinked up at him, her lips slightly swollen from the force of his kisses.

In the distance, Mr. Parker cleared his throat as a customer entered the store.

Muttering an oath, Rhys took a step away from Megan, though he continued to hold her gaze with his own. “Can I see you later?”

“What?” She blinked several times as though to clear her head.

“Can I see you later?”

“Oh.” She touched her fingertips to her lips. “Yes, of course.”

“Till then,” he said with a wink, and left the store, whistling softly.

 

He was a fool, Rhys thought, no two ways about it. But three days without seeing Megan had proved to him, once and for all, that he didn't want to live without her. No doubt he would be hurt in the end. Sooner or later, she was bound to discover what he was, and the preternatural shit would hit the fan, but until then, he planned to spend as much time with her as he could. And when it was over…well, he'd worry about that when it happened.

But for now, he had a date.

 

He was at the back door at two
A.M
. sharp, waiting for her. One look, and Megan wanted to throw herself into his arms. She had to remind herself that she was still mad at him for making love to her and then letting three whole days and nights go by without a word.

As though reading her mind, he drew her into his arms. “Forgive me?” he asked, and kissed her.

Megan tried to hold onto her irritation, but with his lips on hers, it was impossible. When he finally let her come up for air, she said the words she had been wanting to say, even though she feared it would be a mistake. “I love you.”

Dammit, why hadn't he seen that coming? “Megan.”

Shoulders slumped, she looked away. She knew it! Why hadn't she just kept her big mouth shut?

“Megan, look at me.”

Still not meeting his gaze, she said, “Forget I said anything. I'm going home.”

Rhys blew out a sigh, his arms tightening around her when she tried to pull away. “Dammit, Megan, you don't know how complicated this is.” He knew she was attracted to him. Why hadn't he realized that a woman like Megan DeLacey wouldn't take a man to her bed unless she loved him? Maybe coming here tonight hadn't been such a good idea after all. But when he thought of leaving her again, he just couldn't do it.

She met his gaze, her eyes sparking with anger. “Let me go.”

“Calm down, woman. You must know I love you, too, or I wouldn't be here now.”

She stared at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“Come on,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “Let's get out of here.”

Megan unlocked her car, then handed him the keys, and he drove her home. She was a bundle of nerves by the time they pulled into the driveway. Rhys parked the car, then came around to open her door.

Hand in hand, they walked up the porch steps. Megan unlocked the front door, felt her heartbeat jump into double-time when he swung her into his arms and carried her across the threshold.

Like a bride,
she thought, resting her head on his shoulder.

They didn't talk as he carried her up the stairs to her room. Setting her on her feet, he removed her shoes one at a time, his hand lingering on her calf, and then, ever so slowly, he undressed her, his gaze and his hands caressing each inch of exposed flesh.

When she stood naked in front of him, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, then started to remove his shirt, but she batted his hands away. “My turn.”

A faint smile played over his lips as she peeled off his shirt and his trousers. She hesitated when only his briefs remained.

“Nothing you haven't seen before,” he said, and laughed when her cheeks turned bright pink.

Spanning her waist with his hands, he fell back on the bed, drawing her down on top of him. He kissed her lightly, his hands sliding up and down her back, reveling in the feel of her bare skin beneath his fingertips, the little purr of contentment that rose in her throat.

Rolling onto his side, he drew her body up against his. He liked it that she could be bold one minute and bashful the next. He liked the way she looked at him, the way she moaned softly as he aroused her, the way her body welcomed his.

In spite of his vow not to drink from her, he couldn't resist the allure of her blood. Holding her close, he nipped lightly at the soft flesh beneath her ear and, when she didn't object, he bit a little deeper. He took only a small taste, reveling in the sweetness as her blood flowed over his tongue.

Megan moaned low in her throat. She didn't know what Rhys was doing but she hoped he would never stop. Heat sizzled through her, heightening her desire until she was lost in a hazy world of sensual pleasure, uncertain of where he ended and she began.

She cried his name aloud, her nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, as heat spiraled through her, erupting into flames that threatened to consume her. She held onto him, her body writhing restlessly beneath his, until the fire cooled and she lay sated and content in his arms.

Rhys rolled onto his side, carrying her with him, so that they lay face-to-face, their bodies still meshed. Megan felt like purring as his hand lightly stroked her back.

Murmuring his name, she closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

Rhys gazed at the vision in his arms. Warm and womanly, she carried the fragrance of flowers in her hair, the musky scent of sex—hers and his—on her skin. It pleased him that he had satisfied her as no other. He had shamelessly read her mind, knew that no other man had ever pleasured her as he had. The knowledge stroked his ego. Not that satisfying women had ever been a problem for him, before or after he became a vampire. Women had always been drawn to him. He had loved them and left them without a qualm. But Megan, ah, sweet Megan with her honey-brown eyes and tender heart, she was different. If he lived to be a thousand, he knew he would never forget her.

A familiar tingling warned of dawn's approach. He could feel the sun long before it was visible.

If only he could stay. If only he could make love to her each night, see her face upon waking. He had never regretted being a vampire. Once he had been turned, he had faced it, accepted it, and moved on. But now, for the first time in his long existence, he knew he would gladly give up immortality for the chance to spend one mortal lifetime in this woman's arms.

Slipping out of bed, he dressed quickly, then stood at her bedside, debating whether to wake her. He decided against it. It would be dawn soon, no time to stay and make love to her again as he so longed to do.

Murmuring, “I love you,” he brushed a kiss across her cheek and left the house, hoping he had time for one quick errand.

 

Megan woke feeling wonderful until she looked to her left and saw that she was alone in bed. Again. And then she smiled. Once again, Rhys had left her after a night of lovemaking, but she couldn't be angry this time, not when the blankets were covered with vibrant red rose petals. Not when there were vases of flowers on every surface in the room. Not when she read the note he had left on his pillow:

 

Megan, my love.

You will be in my thoughts,

and in my heart,

until I hold you in

my arms once again.

RC

 

Picking up the note, she kissed it, then slid out of bed. She couldn't stop smiling, not while she showered, not while she pulled on a pair of sweats. She scooped up the loose petals and dropped them in a bowl before making the bed.

Taking a rose from one of the vases on the dresser, she plucked the petals one by one. “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me….” She knew it was foolish, but she couldn't help shouting with joy as the last petal proved that he loved her. It was nonsense, a child's game, but it reassured her just the same.

Tucking his note in the pocket of her sweatpants, she went downstairs. There were more flowers in the living room, on the tables, on the mantel. Red ones, white ones, pink and yellow ones. And still more in the kitchen, on the table, on the counter, on top of the refrigerator.

At home and later at work, it seemed the hours would never pass. Time and again she patted the note in the pocket of her dress for reassurance. He loved her. She would see him soon.

 

Rhys sat in his car in the parking lot at Shore's, his phone pressed to his ear. He scowled when Nicholas informed him that there had been two killings in Las Cruces, three in Albuquerque, and at least five in Santa Fe. “What else have you found out?”

“Nothing,” Nick admitted. “The killer's as elusive as Jack the Ripper. So, what do you want us to do now?”

“Keep looking.”

“Adams is getting on my nerves.”

“Yeah? Well, if you can't handle it, I'll send Adrianna to take his place.”

“That's not even funny,” Nick muttered, and disconnected the call.

Rhys laughed as he slid his phone into his pants' pocket and got out of the car. No one liked Adrianna.

Entering the store, he put all thoughts of hunters and vampires out of his mind. These few hours were his. When he was with Megan, he didn't care if the rest of the world went to hell.