Fangs For The Memories yb-1

by Kathy Love

  “Are you all right?” His voice was low, but not as harsh as moments earlier. And it was laced with concern.

  She wearily turned her head, opening her eyes and offering him another small smile. “Yes, just exhausted-and very very satisfied. I can’t even move.”

  Her compliment didn’t seem to reassure him. He reached out and touched her cheek, his fingers just a faint whisper over her skin.

  “Your skin is so cold.”

  She smiled serenely. She didn’t feel cold. She felt weak and a little light-headed and most definitely sated. Her body seemed to be floating on a cool cloud. It was lovely.

  Her eyes drifted shut.

  “Jane?”

  She blinked, forcing her gaze to meet Rhys’s. “Hmm?”

  “I’m going to draw a bath for you. And while you relax and warm up, I’m going to get you something to eat.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, but didn’t really comprehend his words. She just wanted to sleep-to drift on this puffy cloud of satisfaction.

  “I’ll be right back,” he assured her, although his voice seemed miles below her.

  She nodded, or maybe she didn’t. She continued to float.

  Rhys scrutinized Jane. Other than the faint smile still lingering on her lips, she didn’t look like a woman who’d just experienced sexual gratification.

  The pallor of her skin matched the sheer curtains framing the bed, white and translucent. He could see the pale blue traces of her veins under her eyes. Her lips, which always looked rosy, were now an unnatural color of muted mauve.

  He watched her breathing as he had that morning. Her chest no longer rose and fell in a deep soothing rhythm, but rather in shallow, rapid starts.

  God, what had he done? A rush of fear and anger rushed through him. Fear for her and anger at himself. He had caused this-whatever was wrong with her-although he couldn’t quite figure out what he’d done. But he did know that as soon as he had touched his mouth to her and felt her reaction to him, everything was a blur. All he could remember was both of their passions swirling around him, spurring him on until they’d both shouted out their climaxes.

  He closed her robe to protect her chilled skin. She was so pale, so fragile; she appeared like a porcelain doll tossed carelessly onto the bed.

  Another wave of anger coursed through him.

  What had he done?

  He stared at her a moment longer, then started toward the bathroom. But at the last minute, he changed his mind. She was so exhausted; he didn’t trust that she could actually sit up, alone, in the bathtub.

  Besides, she was too pale. Food. She needed food.

  He returned to the bed and carefully pulled the comforter over her as much as he could without disturbing her.

  But she still opened her eyes to gaze up at him. She smiled again. “Hi.”

  “Hi. Are you comfortable?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I feel-nice.”

  He smiled back, but his lips turned down as soon as her eyes fluttered shut again. She was responding to him. That was a good sign, but she still needed food.

  He adjusted the blanket a bit. Then he headed to the kitchen.

  Once in the narrow room, he stood there, looking around. What did Jane eat? He didn’t know. He didn’t even know what to prepare. Had he ever prepared any sort of meal? He didn’t think so.

  Damn his drunken stupidity for sending Cook on holiday.

  Finally, he strode over to the refrigerator, yanking the door open. Surely he could make something.

  He frowned at the meager selection of food on the shelves. Eggs, milk, orange juice and some cheese. Plus the bags of… What the hell was that stuff anyway?

  He grabbed one of the pouches filled with dark liquid and the orange juice, then headed to the cupboards to see if there was anything there that he could fix Jane.

  As he searched the cupboards, he unstopped the container of dark fluid and took a sip. He grimaced slightly as he swallowed. The drink tasted cold and stale, with a strange hint of chemicals under the salty flavor.

  Jane had tasted so much sweeter.

  He pushed that thought out of his head. He didn’t have time to reflect fondly on his sex life at the moment. Jane needed food.

  He browsed the cans on the shelves. Tuna-in a can? Bleh, he thought as he absently took another swig of the chilled red liquid.

  He reached up and picked up another can wrapped in white paper. “Deviled Ham? Does she really eat this?”

  He placed that back on the shelf and opted for something called peanut butter. He at least knew what butter was, and when he sniffed the creamy brown substance, it didn’t smell too awful.

  He considered the peanut butter again for a moment, trying to decide what she would eat it on. Crackers? Bread?

  He spotted a loaf of bread on the counter. Bread it was.

  After opening several drawers, he located a knife and began to prepare Jane’s meal.

  “What the hell did you do?” Sebastian said from right behind him.

  Rhys started, smearing the gooey butter on his thumb. He turned to glare at his brother. “What the hell, Sebastian. Why are you lurking around like the dead?”

  Sebastian smirked slightly. “It’s what I do.” But then his expression grew serious again. “Where’s Jane? Is she okay?”

  Rhys frowned. Was she okay? He wasn’t quite sure. “She’s in her bedroom. Resting.”

  Sebastian stared at him for a moment, then nodded as if he decided Rhys was telling him the truth. “What are you doing?” He gestured to the knife in Rhys’s hand and the glob of peanut butter on his thumb.

  “Jane is hungry. I was making her something to eat.”

  Sebastian nodded again, his expression looking even more relaxed. “Good. That’s a good idea. That will definitely help.”

  “Help?” Did Sebastian know that something was wrong with Jane?

  Sebastian waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”

  No, he didn’t.

  “Listen,” Sebastian said. “I’ve got to go out for a while. You will be okay, right?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Rhys said gruffly, suddenly annoyed with this conversation. Of course he’d be fine. And Jane would be fine, too. He had things under control. He was in control.

  Sebastian studied him for a moment, then said, “Good. I’ll be back in a bit. Make sure you drink plenty of that.” He pointed to the pouch of liquid on the counter. “It’s good for you.”

  Rhys didn’t respond, but watched Sebastian until he disappeared out into the hallway which led to the elevator.

  He stood there for several more seconds, even after Sebastian was gone. Why did he get the feeling Sebastian knew something he didn’t?

  “Great,” Sebastian muttered as he pulled down the grate to the elevator. At this rate, he was going to have to get a doctor for real. And not for Rhys.

  He’d smelled the feeding as soon as he’d walked into the kitchen. Rhys had reeked of residual bloodlust, and of Jane.

  If Rhys got carried away, things could get dangerous very quickly. Fortunately, Sebastian had been able to sense Jane. And she was fine-a little on the dry side, but nothing that wouldn’t repair itself with some food and rest.

  Sebastian lifted the grate and stepped out onto the second floor and the back entrance of the nightclub.

  He was just going to have to be more careful about Rhys getting enough blood. If he fed regularly, the bloodlust shouldn’t be an issue. He just had to make sure Rhys was drinking the blood from the blood bank.

  He reached the heavy steel door that led into back of the club. But right now, he had to find a Dr. No.

  Rhys placed the plate and glass of orange juice on the nightstand, then sat down on the edge of Jane’s bed.

  She lay against the pillows in exactly the same position as when he left. One small hand rested on her stomach; the other was flung back next to her head. She looked so small, so delicate. And again he was disturbed by the pastiness of her skin.

  You can’t
do this, his mind told him. You don’t deserve her, and she certainly doesn’t deserve what you are doing.

  He closed his eyes, forcing those thoughts from his head. He wasn’t doing anything aside from caring for her. He wanted to protect her, to hold her close to him, to make love to her. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. It was the natural reaction of any normal man toward the woman he would soon marry.

  A man. His brain locked on to that word. Normal. He wasn’t norm…

  He closed his eyes, willing these strange thoughts away. And when he opened his eyes again, he stared at Jane. Then gently, he brushed his index finger over the curve of her cheek. Her skin still felt cool, but he could detect a little pinkness returning to her lips.

  He touched his hand to her brow. She would be okay, and from now on, he’d be more careful. Less demanding in his lovemaking. He’d take care of her.

  “Jane? Janie, love, wake up.”

  She blinked up at him, another smile ready on her lips. “Mmm.” She stretched, causing the covers to slip away from her, and her robe parted slightly, revealing the inner curve of one of her breasts.

  Control, Rhys’s mind warned him. He forced his eyes to her face, but her sweet smile and sleepy gaze didn’t lessen the desire budding inside him one iota.

  “I…” He frowned, trying to recall what he wanted to tell her. After a deep breath, he managed, “I brought you some food. I think you should try to eat it.”

  “I am hungry,” she said, trying to brace her arms under her so she could sit up.

  He placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. Then he twisted his body around so his back was against the headboard, and he pulled her up so she was situated between his legs and she could recline with her back against his chest.

  He picked up the glass of orange juice. “Here, drink this.”

  She lifted her head slightly, placing her hand over his as they both guided the cup to her mouth.

  She took several large swallows, before pushing the glass gently away.

  He set it aside and reached for the plate. Placing it on her lap, he said, “I hope you like it. It’s something called peanut butter.”

  “I love peanut butter,” she said, but she didn’t make a move to pick up the slathered bread.

  He tore off a piece of the bread, his arms rubbing against her sides as he did so. Then he raised the tidbit to her lips. “Please, you need to eat this.”

  She dropped her head back against his chest, and from his taller angle he could see her eyes were closed again.

  Panic tore through him. Had she passed out? Was she all right?

  “Janie?”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  His relief was so sharp at hearing her speak that he didn’t even hear her words. “What?”

  “Janie. Why do you call me that?”

  He frowned. He didn’t even really notice that he did. The nickname just seemed natural to him.

  “If you don’t like it-”

  “No,” she interrupted him, her eyes still closed, a slight smile curving her lips. “I like it. I just wondered why you called me it.”

  He thought for a moment. “Jane doesn’t seem to fit you. It’s too ordinary, too plain.”

  Her smile widened, revealing a slight dimple in her right cheek. “That’s me, Plain Jane.”

  “No,” he said quickly. “There is absolutely nothing plain about you. You are so lovely and sweet and so, so desirable. How could you ever think otherwise? Especially after the way I lose total control in your arms? Good God, I want to make love to you every time I’m near you.”

  Her eyes opened, her gaze locking with his. “I… I hope you continue to feel that way for a while longer.”

  “I will feel that way for a bit longer than a while. I hope you are prepared for forever.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers-needing her to believe him. Needing to know she felt the same.

  Jane tilted her head back, accepting his wonderful, persuasive kiss. Forever. That wouldn’t be long enough to be with this man.

  Even as tired as she was, her body began to hum again. His desire mingled with hers-drawing her need out, around him. It was as though their yearning was completely linked, tied to each other’s until she couldn’t tell where they ended. They were one. How could a kiss make her feel so encompassed, so possessed?

  But that overwhelming possession was as revitalizing as any type of nourishment or any amount of sleep.

  Too soon, as seemed to be Rhys’s way, he broke off their kiss and told her. “You still need to eat.”

  She shook her head. It was truly uncanny how he seemed able to read her thoughts.

  But she didn’t question it. Instead, she obediently opened her mouth and allowed him to pop a piece of peanut butter bread inside.

  She chewed slowly but didn’t really taste it. Instead she watched as he ripped another piece off the slice and held to her lips. A bit of peanut butter was smeared on his fingers, and as she took the next bite, she flicked her tongue against the pad of his thumb, savoring the sweet, roasted flavor mingled with the taste of his skin.

  She couldn’t miss the slight hiss of Rhys’s breath near her ear, and his reaction made her feel powerful and so, so aroused.

  Rhys continued to feed her, and she continued to eat with relishing brushes of her tongue and her lips against his fingers.

  All too soon, the food was gone.

  She twisted so she could look up at him. His eyes were hooded and his breathing a little uneven.

  “Your color looks much better.” His voice was low and had taken on that husky tone that seemed to stroke over her skin.

  “I feel great. Not even tired.” She wiggled against him so her hip rubbed along his groin.

  He lifted an eyebrow and gave her a slow, sexy grin. “Is that so?”

  She shifted again, and this time felt his penis, rock hard and ready.

  Her own breathing hitched. She was insatiable. Then she looked at him. His gorgeous features, his muscled chest, that sexy smile. If she was going to be insatiable, this was the man with whom to be it.

  She shifted again, but he placed his hands on her hips, stopping her movement.

  “Sweetheart, I’d like nothing more than to make love to you. But I think you need more time to rest.”

  “I feel great,” she insisted.

  “How about this?” His fingers caressed her waist through the thick terry cloth of her robe. “I’ll get you a little more juice, and if you drink it all, then we’ll talk about making love.”

  “Talk about it, huh?”

  “Talking can be pretty exciting.” He wagged his eyebrows.

  Her heart hopped in her chest. She had no doubt talking about sex with Rhys would be more than exciting. Talking about the weather was pretty darn thrilling with this man.

  But she sighed as if she had to think about his offer. Yeah, right. “Okay, I’ll drink the juice.”

  He gave her a quick kiss, then slid out from behind her.

  “Rest. I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded and watched him leave, his back and his tight little derrière just as gorgeous as the rest of him.

  She fell back against the mattress and stared at the sheer canopy over her bed, a ridiculously happy smile on her lips.

  She knew she should be acting wiser about the whole situation. That she should be preparing herself for the eventuality of Rhys getting his memory back. But right this minute, she couldn’t seem to stay focused on that. In an odd way, they both seemed to be repressing things they didn’t want to think about.

  She sighed, not feeling sad precisely. She felt far too good to feel upset. But her happiness was diminished a little.

  She rolled over onto her side, moving her hands up to rest them under her cheek. But as she did so, she brushed her breast, and pain prickled her skin. Not sharp pain, but rather an annoying stinging like a paper cut.

  She frowned and pushed aside her robe, looking down at the swell of her left breast
. At first she didn’t see anything, although the faint stinging continued. Then she noticed the marks. Two spots, deep pink. She almost missed them because they blended with the color of her areola.

  But as she studied them closer, there was no denying the marks were there.

  She brushed her finger over them, trying to decide what they could be. They looked like puncture wounds-but puncture wounds that were mostly healed.

  She couldn’t imagine she would miss an injury like that-especially long enough for them to heal. She inspected the marks a bit more.

  Vaguely, she recalled Rhys biting her there last night. But there was no way that nip could have created such an abrasion. His bite hadn’t been painful. In fact, it had been amazingly, overwhelmingly erotic.

  Plus, even if it had been possible for his bite to create those marks, they would be fresh, not nearly healed as these appeared.

  She shrugged and closed her robe, trying to simply dismiss it. But in the back of her mind, she knew something was strange about the marks.

  “Very strange,” she repeated out loud. That seemed to be the norm here.

  Just then, Rhys stuck his head in the doorway. Gone was the sexy smile. Now his normally full, sculpted lips were compressed into a straight line.

  “Sebastian says there is a doctor here.”

  Even though Jane knew she should finally be relieved that Sebastian had gotten the doctor here, apprehension filled her chest.

  She forced a smile. “Good. I’ll get dressed.”

  Rhys nodded and hesitated as though he wanted to say something else. Then he nodded again. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

  She watched as he closed the door, and still she remained on the bed. Suddenly she wished Sebastian hadn’t gotten the doctor to come. After this evening, she wanted just a few more perfect days with Rhys.

  She knew he was centurially challenged. She knew he couldn’t continue on that way, but a few more days, that couldn’t hurt.

  Her conscience warred with what she wanted and what she knew was right. But she desperately wanted to keep feeling all the things Rhys made her feel-attractive, exciting and so cared for. Those sensations were too novel, too wonderful, to lose just yet.