by Kathy Love
CHAPTER 3
Jane closed her door, bolted the main lock as well as slipping the chain lock into place. Then she rushed around the double bed to the dingy windows, pulling back the coarse beige curtain. She caught a glimpse of Rhys just as he disappeared around the street corner.
She sighed and closed the curtains. Tonight had been a nightmare, yet she didn’t feel nearly as shaken as she should. Her limbs were weak, and her heart seemed to be beating a little out of rhythm, but she wasn’t sure whether that was residual fear or the overwhelming attraction she felt for Rhys.
This is stupid. She’d just been attacked, nearly raped. Possibly killed. And she was thinking about Rhys, although he had been her hero. And it was much nicer to think about him than what might have happened if he hadn’t been there.
Maybe that was why she felt so attracted to him. Wasn’t there a name for this kind of thing? Hero worship?
Of course, any woman in her right mind would be attracted to him. Beautiful men like Rhys didn’t happen along every day. Still, she’d never been the type to become instantly enthralled with a man. Then again, her life had never really allowed room for crushes.
She unbuttoned her blazer and dropped it on the bed. She kicked off her pumps and padded into the bathroom. She needed a hot shower. Maybe that would make her feel more normal.
She turned on the water, then crossed to the mirror over the sink. Just as with everything else in the room, it was old and discolored. But Jane could see herself well enough.
Her lower lip appeared a little swollen from being kissed so roughly. Her complexion was paler than usual, but overall, she looked relatively unscathed.
She patted her ruffled hair and felt a twinge of pain on the back of her head. She gently fingered the spot and found a small lump there, probably where her head had hit the concrete wall when that jerk had choked her. Not bad, though. It certainly could have been a lot worse.
She started to unbutton her blouse and noticed redness around her throat. She pulled back her collar, examining it closer. Mostly just irritation, it probably wouldn’t even bruise.
She finished undoing her shirt and tossed it out onto the bed with her blazer. The mark had probably been made by the chain of her necklace being ground into her skin as he’d throttled her.
She tested the shower’s water temperature, when she stopped. She returned to the mirror, wiping the steam off the glass.
Her necklace was gone.
“Oh, no.” She touched her neck as if the gold chain had to still be there, and she just couldn’t see it. No, it was gone.
She sat down on the closed toilet seat. Tears filled her eyes. This was truly the last straw of an awful, awful day. The necklace held the wedding rings of her parents, and she wore it always-a small way to keep her parents close to her.
The chain must have broken when that man was strangling her. She ran out to look around the bed, hoping the chain had gotten stuck in her clothing. Nothing. No necklace. No rings.
She checked the bathroom mirror again, examining her neck. The marks definitely looked like abrasion created by a chain.
It had to have fallen off between here and the bar.
She debated for a minute. She should wait until morning, then go search. But if the rings fell off on the sidewalk, anyone could find them between now and then.
She couldn’t wait. She didn’t want to ever go near that bar again, but she had to. She had to find those rings.
She turned off the shower and hurried to throw back on her blouse and blazer. She added her heavy winter coat and sneakers.
She unlatched the chain lock, then paused. What if Joey was still hanging around the bar?
She rushed to the bathroom and dug through her toiletry bag. Finding a travel-size aerosol hair spray, she shoved the can in her coat pocket. It wasn’t mace, but she’d bet it would work in a pinch.
Rhys walked into the dark alley. The coward was still there. Still unconscious. He hoped he could rouse him, because he wanted that asshole to experience the same fear Jane had. Except no one was going to save him.
Rhys found him exactly where he’d dropped him. He hadn’t even changed positions. Rhys leaned over to capture the inert man by the jacket, when a flash on the ground caught his attention. He released the man and reached past his shoulder to pick up the sparkling item. It was a delicate gold chain. The clasp was broken, but two rings still dangled from the thin metal.
The gold was warm in his hand. He lifted it up to his nose, already knowing what he would discover. The necklace belonged to Jane. He could smell her, and he had no idea how or why, but the touch of the inanimate object warmed him, literally to the bone, as though she was hugging him.
He stared at the rings in his palm for a moment. Was she married? Had she been married? What would it be like to have someone that sweet, that lovely, in his life every day?
He ground his teeth. Stop! There was no point. No point wondering. But he shoved the necklace in his jacket pocket anyway.
He returned his attention to the lifeless man. He grasped him and lifted him fully off the ground. He shook him like a rag doll, and the man groaned to life.
Joey was disoriented for only a moment. Then he saw Rhys. His eyes bulged, and he opened his mouth to speak, or more likely scream.
Rhys shifted himself around and slammed the man hard against the concrete wall. The man moaned.
“How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine, my friend?”
“Wh — what are you?”
Rhys smiled, knowing the wide curl of his lips would fully reveal his two long, very sharp canines. “I’m the one who is going to speed up your arrival in hell.”
Rhys yanked Joey to him and sank his teeth deep into the ex-convict’s neck. Blood coursed through Rhys, but he didn’t taste it, didn’t savor it. He thought about Jane’s sweet scent and those innocent green eyes. He thought about the tenderness of her touch. And he thought about his desire for her.
The coward struggled for only a few seconds, then fell limp.
Rhys didn’t kill the mortals he fed from. Even though he used only the dishonest and depraved as his food source, he didn’t believe he, a beast himself, had the right to act as their judge and jury.
Tonight, he planned to let that belief slip his mind.
But at the last moment, when the man’s heart would cease to beat, he pulled away. As full of rage as he was at this man, who dared to injure someone as true and kind as Jane, he couldn’t kill him.
He dropped the coward to the ground and stepped back from him. Rhys wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, disgusted with the man, disgusted with himself.
“My, my, my. Isn’t this a scene?”
The smooth, cultured voice startled Rhys. He spun around. Only a vampire could sneak up on another vampire.
“Hello, Rhys.”
Rhys didn’t speak for a moment. He couldn’t. Shock mingled with the warmth of the blood in his veins.
“Christian?” He knew he was looking at his brother, but he couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen his middle brother in-over a hundred years.
“Yes.”
Rhys started to cross to him, to pull him into a fierce hug, but his brother’s words stopped him.
“You still can’t kill, can you? At least not a pathetic mortal.”
Rhys frowned, letting his arms fall loosely to his sides. “What?”
Christian strolled to the once more unconscious man. He peered down at him with a slight grimace tugging at his lips, then turned back to Rhys.
“I just came to tell you, and I’m sure you will be pleased, Lilah is well and truly dead.”
Rhys wasn’t pleased. He hated Lilah, but he knew how her death would affect Christian. Christian had loved the vampiress with his whole existence. If vampires could truly love.
“Christian, I’m sorry.”
His brother laughed humorlessly. “Are you? Are you really?”
“I know how you felt about her
.”
“Mmm.” Christian nodded, moving to slowly pace around Rhys. “And you knew how I felt about her when you went to her bed, too. You knew how I felt about her when you allowed her to bring you over. I would imagine you even knew how I felt about her when you drained her, over and over, until she was nothing but a mad little vampiress — made insane by being brought to the point of death too many times.”
It was on the tip of Rhys’s tongue to point out it was hardly his fault that Lilah had a proclivity for a vampire’s version of auto-eroticism. The observation would only serve to hurt Christian and make his brother further believe that Rhys had truly wanted Lilah. He’d wanted Lilah only once. After that, he knew her for what she was-a greedy, selfish, violent vampire.
He’d tried to make Christian realize that what he’d done, he’d done as retribution for the way she’d hurt his family, for cursing them. Lilah had needed to pay.
Christian had never believed him-about any of it. But Rhys felt the need to tell him again. To do otherwise would be like relenting that Christian was right.
“Christian, I never meant to hurt you. I meant to punish Lilah — for you, and Sebastian and especially for Elizabeth. For destroying our family.”
“Yes, so you’ve told me.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No, the truth is Elizabeth had consumption. She was too weak to cross over.”
Rhys couldn’t believe Christian still accepted Lilah’s lie. Lilah had killed their baby sister out of spite, out of petty anger for not getting what she wanted-Rhys.
“You can keep believing what you want, Chris. But I am the one telling you the truth. I always have.”
Christian finished circling around Rhys and stopped directly in front of him. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Lilah’s gone.”
Rhys nodded, hoping maybe now that she was gone, they could mend their badly severed relationship.
Christian started back down the alley toward the street.
Rhys took a few steps after him. “Do you think we will ever be able to end this?”
His brother turned, and cocked his head as if he was considering the question. “Yes, I think we can end it tonight.” And with that Christian flew toward him, so quickly his movement was almost invisible.
Rhys didn’t even have time to brace himself for the hit, before he found himself slammed against the side of the building. Bits of concrete rained to the ground around them.
Rhys dug at the hands at his throat, but Christian held him there with little difficulty.
Rhys knew that under regular circumstances he and Christian were about the same strength-created by the same vampire at nearly the same time. But tonight, Christian had anger on his side, blind fury that could make him extraordinarily strong for a brief time.
Rhys clawed at his brother’s hands.
Christian stared at him, his eyes black, the entire irises and nearly all of the whites gone. Nothing but an empty blackness.
“I should have done this a hundred and eighty-five years ago.” Christian’s voice sounded deeper, harsher, like the growl of an animal.
As Rhys still struggled, his brother went for his throat, ripping into the flesh, taking half his throat in the first bite.
Despite the savageness of the attack, Rhys felt no pain. He continued to struggle-until Christian bit him again on the other side of his neck, and Rhys felt the blood and energy being sucked from him.
Christian didn’t intend to simply teach him a lesson, to show his strength or humiliate Rhys.
No, Rhys thought as he began to fade into oblivion, his once much-loved brother intended to kill him.
Jane shifted from one foot to the other and chewed at the corner of her nail. She’d carefully searched the sidewalk and even the gutters, but she hadn’t found the rings.
Now she was back at the bar, and her nerve was waning. She hadn’t even worked up the nerve to get close to the bar’s front entrance, much less the alleyway.
She tugged at her nail a moment longer, then dropped her hand to her side and straightened her shoulders. She had to look. She’d never forgive herself if she lost her parents’ rings because she was scared. She’d come this far. But just to make herself feel better, she slipped her hand in her coat pocket and pulled out the cylinder of hair spray. With the small can held out in front of her, she approached the bar, scanning the ground as she went.
When she reached the entrance of the bar, she heard a sound. She froze and clutched the hair spray tighter.
There it was again. The sound of someone gagging-no, gasping.
Her heart clattered against her breastbone, and she held her breath. The sound came from the alleyway.
She considered turning and running, but her feet were paralyzed.
Another gasp, and the faint sound of a struggle.
She pulled in a slow, quiet breath, sure the person or persons in the alley would hear her.
Another wheezing gasp, which Jane was fairly certain didn’t come from her, then silence.
Jane tilted her head, listening. Somehow the silence was now more unnerving than the scuffle and the strained breathing. Silence might mean whoever was in there struggling was now unconscious or-dead.
What if Joey was attacking another woman? She couldn’t live with herself if she just stood by and listened while another woman was getting hurt.
But maybe it wasn’t anything. Maybe she’d been hearing things. Her stressed, overactive imagination playing tricks on her.
She looked around. The street was deserted. And the bar was dark. She had no idea what time it was, but it had to be late.
Taking another steadying breath, she repositioned the hair spray in front of her. Cautiously, she crept to the alleyway. Clinging to the side of the building, she peeked around the corner.
The alley appeared empty. Nothing but blackness and that small, dim bulb burning over the back steps. Relief washed through her, and she sagged against the wall.
Then she saw it, just a faint movement, the shift of shadows, and a man’s face appeared.
She peered harder. Not just any man’s face. Rhys’s face. His head hung to the side at an unnatural angle, and his eyes were closed.
The shadows shifted again, and she realized that there was another man in the alley. He looked toward her, but she couldn’t quite make out his features, the light only illuminating his profile. But from his height and his width, he couldn’t be Joey.
The shadowed man released Rhys. Rhys crumpled to the ground.
Jane stared at his downed form, sickness welling in her belly. Rhys had to be all right. But she had a terrible feeling he wasn’t.
“Well, silly mortal, this is what they call, ‘being in the wrong place at the wrong time. “
Jane blinked. The man who had been beside Rhys was now directly in front of her. Had she been focusing on Rhys so intently that she didn’t notice the other man moving toward her?
“Wh — what did you do to Rhys?”
He took another step closer. The streetlight illuminated his face.
Despite her fear, Jane couldn’t help but notice he was breathtakingly handsome with dark blond hair, streaked with gold, and pale eyes.
“So you know Rhys? Very interesting. I didn’t think he mingled with mortals-at least not pretty, little, pure ones.”
She shook her head slightly. Why did he keep referring to her as a mortal? Was this street lingo of some sort? Lingo meaning that she was mortal, thus capable of dying?
Before she could even think to move away from him, his hand snaked out and caught her wrist. She tugged and dug her heels into the pavement, but it was useless. He hauled her into the alley as easily as if she were held by a steel manacle.
“Let’s go see what is wrong with Rhys,” he said, almost cheerfully.
He dragged her up to Rhys’s prone body. Rhys’s head was still at an awkward angle, and now, Jane could see why. Thick blood glistened on his neck, and she could see his throat had litera
lly been ripped open.
She put her free hand up to cover her mouth. Not that her trembling fingers could suppress her scream or the bile rising up the back of her throat.
The man, still clasping her, laughed.
She sank to her knees, both in horror and distress, but he jerked her back up and spun her to face him. Her shoulder throbbed, but she barely registered the pain.
“Unfortunately, now that you have seen my brother, well,” he said with a regretful tilt of his head, “I can’t let you go.”
And just like that, the man’s features changed. At first, Jane thought the distortion had to be a trick of the dim light. Or the terrible fear wracking her body.
Then he smiled, and she saw the light glint off his long, razor-sharp teeth. This had to be a nightmare, but she knew it was real. She didn’t know what he was, but he was real. And he really meant to kill her.
She screamed again. And again, he laughed.
She began yanking frantically, trying to break his unyielding hold. That was when she realized she still held the small hair spray can in her captured hand.
As the monster’s head lowered toward her, those vicious teeth coming closer, Jane grabbed the can with her other hand and sprayed a steam of Extra Firm Hold directly in his eyes.
He cried out, the sound eerie and keening like a wounded animal. He released her as his hands went to his face.
Jane didn’t waste a moment. She turned and ran. But she never even made it to the street. Blackness encompassed her, and she dropped to the ground like a bug sprayed by Raid.
Sebastian stood over his wounded brother. Rhys looked as though he’d been gored by a wild animal. But Sebastian could tell by the bite marks that it had been a vampire attack. He couldn’t detect the identity of the vamp, however. The vampire had used a masking hex to cover his or her tracks.
Sebastian knelt down, holding a palm over Rhys’s chest. He’d already checked once, but he felt the need to check again. Just to be sure.
He felt faint waves of energy radiating from his motionless chest. Rhys would be okay, but it was a close call.
Sebastian wiped a hand over his face, still shaken. He’d been back at his nightclub, having a lovely dinner with a delightful mortal, who not only happened to enjoy a nice meal, but also loved being a meal as well, when he’d sensed Rhys’s pain.
