by Kathy Love
Jane jumped, her hand coming up to her chest. “Rhys! You startled me.”
He sat in one of the large, comfy chairs, his clothes rumpled, his feet up on the coffee table. From the look of him, he’d been up all night. His eyes shadowed, dark.
“Have you been up all night?”
“Day,” he corrected.
She wandered over to the chair across from him and perched on the edge, her hands on her knees. Again another rush of uneasiness came over her.
“Do you not feel well?” She hoped that was what was causing the apathetic look in his eyes.
He didn’t answer for a moment. “Jane.”
Just by the way he said her name-that one, single syllable-she knew. Funny, she should know so much from a tiny, little word. Her own name.
“You’ve gotten your memory back.” Not a question, just absolute certainty.
He nodded, and neither of them looked pleased.
“Yes, last night.”
“Are-are you okay?”
He shrugged as if it didn’t matter one way or the other. “I’m… I’m as I’ve always been.”
She didn’t know what he meant by that. “Are you hurting over the loss of Elizabeth?”
“You know about her?” His question was sharp, his eyes narrowed.
“Yes.”
“Sebastian?”
She nodded, then straightened the ruffle of her skirt, unable to look at his hard eyes.
“He’s been busy.”
Her head came up. “He was trying to protect you, and he told me about Elizabeth and Christian to help me understand what was happening with you.”
“And did you understand?”
She tilted her head, her heart aching for this cold, hurting man. “Of course. Loss is a terrible thing, and I certainly do know about that. And I know how much you love your family. How responsible you feel for them. And no one could blame you for just wanting to forget.”
He studied her again, those eyes of his like amber. Hard and ancient, but so beautiful.
“Don’t make me sound noble.”
She stood, moving over to the sofa so she could be closer to him. “Rhys, you can’t continue to beat yourself up over Christian. And you can’t change that Elizabeth is gone.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked as if he was clenching his teeth. “Do you know anything about my fight with Christian? Do you know how Elizabeth died?”
“No, but-”
“Then you shouldn’t assume that I couldn’t have prevented either.”
“I know you, Rhys. If you could have, you would.” She pressed her hand to the knee closest to her, needing to touch him, comfort him.
He immediately stood up, moving to the fireplace. He remained with his back to her as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
She closed her eyes briefly. Uneasiness jelled to fear in her belly.
“Jane.”
She’d once loved to hear her name on his lips; now she hated it.
“I made a mistake.”
She closed her eyes again as every fear she’d had since she’d first touched him, kissed him, came to life in front of her.
“I’m not the person you have come to care about. I’m not even remotely like the person you think you know. And I don’t want a relationship with you.”
Pain ripped through her chest, but somehow it immediately transformed to anger. “You could at least look at me when you are telling me this.”
The muscles in his back bunched under his shirt as he gripped the mantel, but he did turn to look at her.
For a brief moment, she thought she saw pain there, pain that matched her own, but it quickly disappeared behind an emotionless mask.
“Jane, I’m sorry that I’m hurting you.”
She nodded, keeping her back straight, her jaw high, even though she wanted to dissolve into tears. But she wouldn’t cry. She’d prepared herself for this. Right?
But then there had been last night.
“Are you doing this because I said I loved you?”
Rhys immediately shook his head. “No. I’m doing this because I know we aren’t right for each other, and it is simply better if things just end now. Before we get too involved.”
“So making love, saying I love you, that isn’t too involved.” She bit the inside of her lips. She wasn’t going to fight this. She might not know much about men, but she did know she couldn’t make one of them love her if he didn’t.
But he did. She felt it. She knew it.
“So who is right for you, Rhys?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was as cold as his amber eyes.
“Jane. I don’t want to go into this. Our relationship never should have started. It should have ended that first night, when I left you at your hotel.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No. It didn’t. And I am very, very sorry for that.”
“Why? Because you don’t care about me? Or because you care too much?”
Rhys stared at Jane. This wasn’t going how he’d anticipated. He’d expected tears. He’d expected her to plead for them to have a new start.
He’d never expected this cool poise. Jane had always been a little self-conscious, a little unsure. But now she sat before him, her green eyes determined, her chin held high like a fairy queen. Tiny and fragile, but so regal.
She had never looked more beautiful.
Then his gaze dropped to the bandage placed diagonally over his mark. He had to make her leave. She would be fine. And much safer if she cut all ties to him.
“Listen, Jane, I don’t know how to make this any clearer. I’m sorry that you believe yourself in love with me, but the fact is, I do not love you. And I’m not interested in a relationship.”
She flinched, just slightly, at his straightforward words, but then her chin popped right back up, her jaw set.
“I don’t believe you.”
Damn, he wanted to kiss her. To pull her into his arms. To hold her forever.
But instead, he pushed all his desires aside like he had for hundreds of years. This couldn’t be about what he wanted. He had to keep Jane safe.
“Jane,” he said, his voice low, but he filled each word with patronizing pity. “Stop this. You are just embarrassing yourself and me.”
This time she couldn’t quite keep that small chin aloft. She still stared at him with those relentlessly green eyes, but he could tell his words had finally hit their mark. Finally made her doubt him.
He turned back to the empty fireplace, so he wouldn’t have to see her pain. “I’m sorry that things turned out this way. But I’m sure you can see that I’m not who you thought I was. And you are not the kind of woman I’d be interested in.”
There was silence behind him, and he wanted to turn around. He wanted to go to her. But he remained still, his hands gripping the mantelpiece as if he had to anchor himself to something not to be drawn to her.
“Just tell me one thing.” Her voice was quiet, and although she kept her composure, he could tell she was broken. He could feel it, like a painful, gnawing ache in his chest.
“What?”
“Why did you want me in the first place?”
He closed his eyes, the pain so agonizing he couldn’t pull in the breath to speak.
“Because you were there.”
He heard her rise and walk toward the door, then the faint rattle of the doorknob under her hand.
He allowed himself to glance in her direction.
She paused, just briefly, and he thought, hoped, she would look at him. But she didn’t. With her back still iron-rod straight, she walked out of the room. The door swung shut behind her.
Rhys looked around, unsure what to do now. Then he wandered back over to the table to take a drink from the scotch that had been his constant companion. Instead of bringing the glass to his lips, he just stared into its golden depths.
He tried to pull in a breath, but the ache only intensified, tightening in his chest until he felt strangled by it.
He�
��d always believed he didn’t have a heart. That no vampire really did-not like a mortal.
He cursed loudly, then spun and threw his glass into the fireplace. The crystal shattered into thousands of tiny, splintery pieces.
Just like his nonexistent heart.
CHAPTER 23
Jane didn’t quite recall how she got to her bedroom. Or how her unsteady legs managed to hold her, but once she was inside, with the door shut, she collapsed on the bed.
She stared blankly at her hands folded in her lap, knotted together to keep them from shaking.
She sat that way, for how long she didn’t know, feeling nothing. Or maybe conscious of everything at once, each emotion blotting out the other until she just felt empty.
But gradually, one emotion rose to the forefront. Pain. A horrible, heart-wrenching ache that seemed to cripple her.
She took in a deep breath to suppress the hurt, but when she exhaled, a broken sob escaped her. The pitiful sound shattered her fragile hold.
She lifted her trembling hands to her face and cried. She cried over Rhys’s cold, emotionless words. She cried because she knew he was giving up something that was real and true. And she cried for herself, because she was right back where she always seemed to end up. Alone.
No. She swiped at her tears angrily. Angry with herself for feeling so hopeless. She couldn’t make Rhys change his mind, but she wouldn’t give up. She wouldn’t let this ruin her.
“You can find love again,” she vowed out loud, to the room, to herself. But even before the words faded, she knew she’d never find anything like what she had with Rhys. She knew she wouldn’t ever feel the same way about another man.
You’re being over dramatic, her mind told her. But her heart assured her she wasn’t. She’d shared a connection with Rhys that came only once in a lifetime.
Maybe this was what her father and mother had shared. Maybe theirs was a love so deep, her father couldn’t recover from it being severed. Jane had always believed that her father could have let go if he’d wanted to. If Jane was important enough to him. But maybe he just couldn’t.
She rose, her pain suddenly laced with agitation. She couldn’t deal with that. She couldn’t live the rest of her life still longing for something that was out of reach. She’d done that with her father. She’d done that with the normalcy of being a kid. She couldn’t keep wanting.
She had to get out. To be surrounded by people, by noise. She needed to know there was still plenty of life out there for her.
She looked for her coat, pausing to decide if she should put on warmer clothes, but she didn’t want to take the time. She needed to leave now.
Where was her darn coat? She checked several places but couldn’t find it, her search becoming more desperate with each unsuccessful location.
Finally, she stopped rummaging through the room, remembering that the parka was in Rhys’s room, in the chair where he’d thrown it, when she’d agreed to make love with him again.
She hesitated. She didn’t want to run into Rhys. At least not until she’d had time to think and compose herself. But she wasn’t going to be able to do that here. Surrounded by everything Rhys.
She straightened her spine and headed for his room. The door was still open. And Rhys wasn’t in there. She didn’t pause to wonder how she could tell that; it was just instinctive, something she knew.
She darted in and found the coat. She paused long enough to tug the thick parka on. As she pulled up the zipper, her knuckles brushed against the hard, cool topaz at her chest.
The pendant suddenly felt heavy around her neck, and she fumbled to get the small clasp undone. Once the necklace was off, she held it in front of her, the pendant twirling back and forth. The jewel winked at her in the lamplight as if to say that everything the necklace had come to mean to her was a colossal joke.
She placed the necklace on Rhys’s nightstand and then left. She didn’t slow down until she reached the freight elevator. She struggled with the large metal gate, but finally got it down. She pressed ground level.
The gate was even more difficult to get open, and just when she was starting to get a little worried, that she might be stuck on the stupid elevator, Mick appeared.
He easily lifted the grid for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, feeling silly and annoyed. She needed to be stronger. Physically and mentally.
Mick nodded. His usual silent self.
This time, she was too consumed with her own problems to find his stillness unnerving. She headed right to the metal back door and began turning the various locks. Finally she shoved the door open and breathed in the cold winter air.
“Be careful out there,” Mick said, and for the first time, she realized he was right behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder at the huge man. “I will.”
He nodded and reached over her head to hold the door open for her.
She slipped out into the alley, glancing back at Mick.
He nodded again, and she gave him a tentative smile back. Funny she should feel a strange affinity to the man now. Now that she’d be leaving.
She turned back toward the street, her heels clicking on the concrete as she hurried into the bustling city.
*
Rhys knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He had to check on Jane, make sure she was okay.
He paused outside her closed bedroom door, but she wasn’t there. He concentrated; he couldn’t feel her anywhere in the apartment. Her scent still drifted in the air, but it had faded to only a faint hint like the smell of roses drifting away on a breeze. Soon it would be gone altogether.
Was she gone? Already?
He placed his hand on the doorknob, holding it for a second before making up his mind. Finally he opened the door and peered inside.
Relief overcame him. Her suitcase still sat beside the bureau. She hadn’t left for good. He knew he shouldn’t be happy. That the goal was to get her out of here as soon as he could. To put distance between her and Christian. And himself. But he wasn’t ready for her to be gone quite yet.
But she was gone. At least for a while.
His first instinct was to follow her. To see where she was going. To make sure she was safe. But he headed in the direction of his bedroom instead. He was going to have to let her go soon enough, and he wouldn’t be able to follow her then.
But what if Christian is out there watching her?
Rhys spun on his heels, striding toward the elevator.
Once he was downstairs, he went directly to Mick, where he sat in his office watching several monitors, the images from different security cameras around the club.
“Did Jane leave this way?”
Mick nodded.
“Do you know which way she went?”
Mick nodded again.
“Follow her.”
Mick rose, reaching for his jacket on the back of his chair.
“Just make sure she is safe.”
“What am I looking for?”
Mick had worked for Rhys and Sebastian long enough to know that Rhys wouldn’t send him after her unless there was a very real threat.
“Christian.”
Mick’s eyes widened just slightly, the only sign that he was startled by Rhys’s announcement. But he didn’t waste time heading for the door.
Rhys watched the giant disappear outside. Mick seemed to understand much quicker than Rhys what kind of threat Christian could pose.
*
“Excuse me, do you have the time?”
Jane turned from the bookstore window, where she was half-heartedly browsing the new titles in the window.
She blinked, looking into pale, pale blue eyes. Eyes she’d seen before. She instantly recognized him as the man from the coffee bar.
She hesitated, uneasiness stealing her voice.
The man smiled. A warm smile. A friendly smile. And she immediately wondered at her nervousness. Just wary given her bad experiences on the streets of
New York.
She laughed self-consciously as she realized she was staring. But it was hard not to look at those eyes.
“I don’t have a watch.”
“Sorry to bother you then.” He didn’t leave, but rather moved beside her to look at the books.
She pretended to browse them again, uncertain why she didn’t just walk away.
“Have you read Interview With a Vampire?”
She glanced at him. “No. Is it good?”
“Very.”
She nodded, unsure what to say.
He frowned at her then. The lines across his brow somehow adding to the beauty of his face rather than detracting from it. “Do I know you?”
She quickly shook her head, then laughed again. “Well, you bumped into me once. Literally.”
Recognition dawned in his pale eyes. “Oh, yes. I think I used a rather bad pick-up line on you?”
“Did you?”
He shrugged. “If you don’t remember it that way, then neither do I.”
She couldn’t help but smile at his glib charm. She glanced back at the books, not really seeing them.
“I know this is rather forward. And it’s really going to sound like a pick-up line now, but would you be interested in joining me for something to eat? There is a great café across the street.” He gestured to a restaurant on the other side of the busy road.
Jane started to say no, but something about the man made her waver. Maybe it was the shape of his lips or the tilt of his eyes; something in his appearance looked so familiar. Outside of meeting him in the coffee shop.
What the heck, she decided. It felt nice to have the attention of this very attractive man, especially after the awful evening she’d had thus far. A little conversation would be a good distraction. Good for her ego.
She cast another look over to the restaurant he’d suggested. The building’s façade was very quaint, decorated like a Parisian café. And it buzzed with patrons.
Not a dark alley. Or a seedy bar. She certainly would be safe enough there.
“Actually, I am a little hungry.”
He grinned, obviously very pleased. “Great.” He held out his hand, a nicely shaped hand with a broad palm and long, blunt-tipped fingers. “I’m Chris.”
She smiled, touching her fingers to his. “Jane.”
