Everlasting Desire

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Everlasting Desire Page 11

by Amanda Ashley


  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.

  Chapter 16

  Sitting beneath a cottonwood tree in Alamogordo, Tomás Villagrande gazed up at the vast vault of the sky. With his preternatural vision, he saw many more of the heavenly bodies than did mere mortals. Whether at sea or ashore, he had always been fascinated by the night sky, had often wondered if there was indeed life on other planets. Of course, he didn’t believe in aliens—either gray or white or green. The one thing he did believe in—the one thing he feared—was the existence of a supreme being. Believing in heaven, he also believed in hell. And judgment. Should his own existence ever end, he knew he would have to account for the hundreds of lives he had taken.

  With a sigh of disgust, he shook such thoughts away. He had no intention of ending his existence any time soon. And worrying about what awaited him was pointless. He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t resurrect the people he had killed, or the ones he had loved.

  And he had loved many since he became a vampire. He grinned. “So many women,” he murmured. “So much time.”

  He had loved a woman from Alamogordo back in the 1800s. A pretty little Navajo girl with tawny skin, long ebony hair, and bright black eyes. Alamogordo had changed a lot since those days. Once a small railroad, ranching, and farming community, it was now a thriving metropolis. Not far away stood Oliver Lee State Park. In the past, numerous battles had taken place there between the Indians and the cavalry. Today, it was a historic landmark.

  Yes, he mused, the city had changed and grown. Alamogordo was also home to Holloman Air Force Base and the White Sands Missile Range. Mortals never changed, he thought with a rueful shake of his head. They were always looking for new and better ways to destroy themselves.

  Rising, he strolled through the desert, enjoying the quiet, the moonlight. Animal predators gave him a wide birth, sensing a killer even more deadly than themselves.

  Pausing, he stretched his arms over his head. It was time to move on. He had a score to settle with an old friend on the West Coast.

  He grinned as he made his way toward his temporary lair, then began humming, “California, here I come….”

  Chapter 17

  Rhys heaved a sigh as his gaze moved over the faces of the Vampire Council. As usual, none of the members were happy to be there. Winchester was slouched in his chair, cell phone in hand. Nicholas was paring his fingernails with a wicked-looking blade.

&n
bsp; Adrianna smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt, then looked up, a pout on her pale lips. “Have you forgotten you’re a vampire?” she asked, a whine evident in her tone. “What’s with all these early meetings?”

  “He’s probably got a date again,” Julius replied with a smirk.

  “Indeed?” Rupert perked up, his dark eyes glowing. “Does she have a friend?”

  “All right, that’s enough!” Rhys said, scowling. “We’re not here to set up a dating service.”

  “So, what are we here for?” Nicholas asked. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added quickly. “But I’d rather be home.”

  Rhys nodded. One of his vampires had reported several killings in Phoenix, leading Rhys to believe that the rogue had left New Mexico. He had ordered Nicholas and Seth Adams back to LA the following night.

  “It’s obvious the rogue isn’t staying long in any one place.” Rhys leaned back in his chair, his elbows resting on the arms, fingers steepled.

  “And just as obvious that he’s heading in our direction,” Adams remarked.

  Adrianna turned her gaze on Rhys. “Maybe he’s coming in your direction.”

  Ignoring her, Rhys said, “I’m getting tired of asking this question, but have any of you heard anything?”

  As usual, they had nothing concrete to report. There were rumors—Morag had gone to ground; Sandoval had left Spain; a young vampire had challenged Baiba for Russia and been destroyed—but then, there were always rumors. They flew thick and fast in the vampire world.

  Rhys dismissed them all out of hand. The only one that piqued his interest concerned Tomás Villagrande. One of the East Coast vampires had told Rupert that Villagrande’s yacht was no longer anchored off the coast of New York.

  “You don’t think he’s the rogue, do you?” Adrianna asked, glancing nervously around the room. “You don’t think he’s coming here?”

  Hastings leaned forward. “You got a problem with that?”

  “Of course not! Why should I?”

  “I don’t know,” Hastings said, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. “You tell me.”

  “Is there something going on we need to know about?” Rhys asked. “If so, spit it out now.”

  Adrianna squared her shoulders. “We had a little disagreement some years ago.”

  “What kind of a disagreement?” Hastings asked.

  “None of your business,” Adrianna retorted.

  Winchester looked up from his cell phone.

  Adams and Hastings exchanged glances.

  Rupert looked at Rhys, waiting for his reaction.

  “None of our business?” Rhys repeated, his voice like ice over steel. “In light of current events, you might want to rethink that.”

  “We had a squabble a long time ago, that’s all. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it by now.”

  “Is that right?” Rhys asked. “What did you squabble about?”

  When Adrianna didn’t answer immediately, Julius said, “It’s gotta be one of two things. Territory or prey. What else is there?”

  Rhys nodded, his gaze on Adrianna’s face. “Which one was it?”

  “Territory,” she replied sullenly. “I wanted to stay in Maine. He wouldn’t let me.”

  Hastings shook his head. “There’s got to be more to it than that.”

  “I think so, too,” Rhys said. “What is it?” When Adrianna didn’t answer, he trapped her gaze with his. “I can make you tell me,” he said. “And you won’t like it.”

  She glared at him, her expression mutinous. “I killed a woman he had marked as his.”

  “That wasn’t very bright of you,” Hastings remarked.

  “Shut up!”

  “All right, that’s enough,” Rhys said. “If Villagrande’s coming here, I doubt it’s to avenge something that happened years ago. If he wanted to destroy Adrianna, he’d likely have done it by now.”

  “Then why else would he be coming here?” Nicholas asked.

  “Maybe he just wants to sail in the Pacific for a while,” Rupert suggested. “Hell, don’t we all like a change of scene every fifty years or so?”

  “I don’t give a damn where he makes port,” Rhys said, “but if he starts killing in my territory…” He shook his head. “That’s something else.”

  “Do you think you can take him?” Julius asked, his close-set brown eyes glittering at the thought of two ancient vampires battling one another.

  Winchester shook his head. “Villagrande’s never been bested in a fight, we all know that.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Adams said.

  “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Rhys remarked, getting to his feet. “See yourselves out. I’m leaving.”

  Outside, Rhys slid behind the wheel of the Jag, then pulled away from the curb, his thoughts turned inward. He supposed it had only been a matter of time until trouble rolled into town again. He caught a faint scent of the hunter as he drove toward Megan’s house, but he wasn’t in the mood to go looking for a fight now, didn’t want to go to Megan with blood on his hands. Besides, as far as he knew, the hunter wasn’t doing much hunting.

  He pushed all thoughts of Villagrande and the Vampire Council from his mind as he pulled into Megan’s driveway. The next few hours belonged to him.

  Filled with anticipation, he knocked on the door, felt his whole body spring to attention when she opened it wearing nothing but a smile.

  Chapter 18

  Rhys slid his arm around Megan’s shoulders. It was late Saturday night, and they were sitting on the sofa in her living room. The fragrance of her hair and skin surrounded him, the scent of her blood drugged his senses.

  He nuzzled the side of her neck, thinking how much his life had changed since that first night when he had walked into Shore’s. Sometimes, he almost forgot who and what he was. Sometimes he felt almost human again.

  Two weeks had passed since Megan had met him at the door wearing nothing but a come-hither smile. They had been the best two weeks of his existence, which was saying something, he thought, considering his longevity. He continued to meet Megan at Shore’s when she got off work. On her days off, he spent his nights in her company. Sometimes they went dancing at his club; other nights they went to the movies, or spent the evening at his place, curled up in each other’s arms. Last weekend, they had gone out with Shirl and her boyfriend. Rhys had been somewhat surprised that Shirl had agreed. It was obvious she didn’t trust him.

  But that didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered but the woman in his arms. It wasn’t easy, dating a mortal. She was so fragile, he had to be on guard every minute to make sure he didn’t hurt her, to keep his supernatural strength carefully under wraps. But it had been worth it. He had been on his best behavior the last two weeks and had finally managed to put the last of her doubts and fears to rest. Of course, he always fed before going to her house. There was nothing more obvious than a hungry vampire. He had seen a few in his time, and it was never a pretty sight.

  His existence would have been perfect, Rhys mused, if not for the new hunter in town, and the rogue vampire who was slowly making his way toward the West Coast, pint by pint, and body by body. He hadn’t heard of any more vampire killings in the last week. Did that mean the rogue had finally had his fill? Or did that new hunter in town have something to do with it?

  “Rhys?” Megan tapped his forehead lightly. “Hey, Rhys? You in there?”

  “What? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about some club business.” He didn’t like lying to her, but he could hardly tell her the truth.

  “It is anything you want to talk about?” Megan asked.

  “No.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “When we’re together, I don’t want to think about anything but you.”

  “Stop thinking,” she murmured, “and kiss me.”

  “My pleasure, as always,” he replied, and claimed her lips with his.

  Megan was standing on the front porch with Rhys later that night when Shirl came home from a date wit
h Greg.

  Shirl was humming the first few notes of the wedding march as she skipped up the stairs. A nod at Rhys, a wink at Megan, and Shirl went inside and closed the door, giving Megan and Rhys some privacy.

  Love was in the air, Megan thought. She hadn’t seen her roommate looking so happy in a long time. It was obvious from the glow in Shirl’s eyes that she was in love with Greg. Megan grinned inwardly, wondering if people could tell just by looking at her that she, too, was in love.

  Rhys waited until Shirl closed the door, then pulled Megan into his arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he murmured.

  Megan closed her eyes as his lips touched hers in a long, slow kiss that made her knees weak and her toes curl.

  Another quick kiss, a wave, and he got in his car and roared off into the darkness.

  Megan was smiling when she walked into the living room.

  “Things seem to be going hot and heavy between the two of you,” Shirl remarked. After kicking off her shoes, she flopped down on the sofa, and looked up at Megan, one eyebrow raised.

  Megan tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Hot and heavy didn’t begin to describe it, she thought, as she curled up on the other end of the sofa.

  “No more doubts about him?” Shirl asked.

  “Not really,” Megan replied, though that wasn’t exactly true. “It’s just that a lot of little things bother me, like the way his eyes sometimes glow red, and the way he sometimes seems to just fade into the darkness.” But none of that seemed important when she was with Rhys.

  Shirl toyed with a lock of her hair, her expression thoughtful. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that you never see him during the day, and that every time we offer him something to eat, he refuses?”

  Megan shook her head. Rhys had a nightclub to run; she assumed that it kept him busy during the day. As for his not having dinner with her, the few times she had invited him, he had always had a valid excuse. Still…“What are you getting at?”

 

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