Everlasting Desire

by Amanda Ashley

  Avenging himself on Adrianna was the first order of business. He could, as Costain had suggested, forget about seeking revenge. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the face or the name of the long-deceased woman who had been the cause of their feud, but if he let Adrianna’s lack of respect go unchallenged, others might see it as a sign of weakness.

  And then there was the West Coast. He had forgotten the beauty of the Pacific Ocean, the mild climate, the long-legged, tanned California girls. Why visit for a short time when he could just take over the territory? Of course, it might prove a difficult task. Rhys Costain was a force to be reckoned with. He was strong and more powerful than expected, but that would only make the coming battle more challenging.

  As for the woman in Costain’s lair, she excited him, though Tomás was at a loss to explain why. He had never seen her. Didn’t know her name. But her scent, the beat of her heart, they called to him in ways he didn’t understand. And since she wasn’t Costain’s woman, taking her shouldn’t be a problem.

  Chapter 26

  Megan woke early after a night plagued with bad dreams. Rising, she pulled on her robe and tiptoed down the hall to Shirl’s bedroom to assure herself that it had all been a nightmare. She would look in Shirl’s room and find her friend asleep in her bed, the covers pulled over her head, her Beauty and the Beast night-light burning.

  Taking a deep breath, Megan quietly opened the door. The room was dark. The bed was empty. So, it hadn’t been a dream. Last night, Rhys had turned her roommate into a vampire. And now Shirl was in his lair, sleeping the sleep of the Undead, and when she woke…

  Megan shuddered. She couldn’t help wondering what her roommate would think when she woke tonight and discovered she was really and truly a vampire. Would she regret it, or would she still believe it had been the right decision? What would she think when she couldn’t see her reflection in a mirror anymore? Shirl had always been a little vain about her looks, but then, who could blame her? She was gorgeous. How would she react to the reality of having to drink blood to survive? Granted, Shirl’s former diet had been pretty restricted, but even celery had to be better than blood.

  Megan had done a lot of research on the Undead in the last week or so. She wasn’t sure how much of what she had read on the Web was fact and how much was fiction. But, thanks to Rhys, she knew the blood thing was real.

  Megan shook her head. Her roommate barely weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. Megan simply couldn’t imagine her petite friend prowling around in the dead of night looking for prey.

  Her mind kept coming back to the fact that Shirl was sharing Rhys’s lair. Was she also sharing his bed? Rhys was an attractive man. Shirl was a beautiful woman…. Megan pushed the troublesome thought from her mind. It was none of her business. She had no claim on Rhys. And Shirl…what was she going to do about Shirl? Was it safe to live with a vampire? Especially a new vampire?

  Shirl woke slowly. She felt funny. Different. Not quite herself. She lifted a hand to her head. Was she dying? Was this what death was like, this sudden clarity of sight and sound? A reminder of the perfection of life before it was snatched away? The room was dark, yet she could see everything clearly—the faint crack in the ceiling overhead; each individual thread in the silk sheet that covered her; the tiny dent on the edge of the antique dresser across from the bed.

  She sat up, feeling slightly disoriented. This wasn’t her room. Where was she?

  She jumped when the door opened and a light came on, then let out a sigh when she saw who it was.

  “Rhys.” She blinked at him as everything that had happened the night before came rushing back. She frowned, and then she smiled. “It worked.”

  “So it would seem.” He stepped farther into the room, his gaze moving over her. “How do you feel?”

  She thought about it a moment, then said, “Wonderful! My head doesn’t hurt anymore!” Leaping off the bed, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you!” she cried exuberantly, and kissed him.

  She was beautiful, her body was pressed against his, and he did what any other man would do. He kissed her back, pretending, for a moment, that it was Megan in his arms. And then he gently pushed her away.

  “No regrets?” he asked.

  She laughed softly. “I don’t think so, but it’s a little early to tell.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I think I’m hungry.”

  Rhys nodded. Her eyes had taken on a red hue. “Time for your first lesson.”

  “Lesson?”

  “Vampire hunting 101,” he explained. “Rule number one. I’m the Master of the West Coast Vampires. You’re my fledgling. This is my territory. As long as you stay here, you do as I say. Got it?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “You’re learning,” he said, ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. “Rule number two. I’m the only one who’s allowed to hunt in this city, and I do it only rarely. Smart vampires don’t hunt where they live.”

  Shirl nodded. That made sense.

  “Number three. For as long as you exist, there will be a blood connection between us. I’ll always be able to find you, and if you bring trouble into my territory, I’ll destroy you. Got it?”

  “Y…yes.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Will you tell me something?”

  “Depends on what you want to know.”

  “How long have you been a vampire?”

  “Five hundred and twelve years.”

  She backed away from him and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Wow.”

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Go where?” She glanced around the room, noting the heavy curtains across the window, the fact that there was no mirror over the dresser, the heavy lock on the door.

  “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but I thought…”

  “What? That I’d feed you?”

  “Well, yes, sort of.”

  “As a rule, vampires don’t feed off their own kind. A taste now and then is okay, but no more than that.”

  “Oh.” She bit down on her lower lip. She had known she would have to drink blood, but she had assumed it would be something she could work up to gradually.

  “So, are you ready?” He didn’t wait for her reply.

  Shirl gasped when he scooped her into his arms. A kind of dizziness engulfed her, and, when the world righted itself, they were outside a small tavern. She could hear waves in the distance, smell the salty tang of the ocean, hear the conversation coming from inside the bar. “Where are we? How did you do that?”

  He shrugged as he set her on her feet. “Just another way of getting around when you’re in a hurry. We’re in Manhattan Beach. When we go into the bar, I want you to look around, find someone who appeals to you, and call him, or her, to you.”

  “What? You mean, just call them? Out loud?”

  “No, mentally.”

  “I’m not psychic.”

  “You’re a vampire. You can pretty much do whatever you want. Come on.”

  Shirl followed him into the tavern. It was nothing like what she was used to. The interior was shabby, the air was stale, heavy with the stink of smoke and sweat. Three young men were playing billiards in the far corner of the room. A woman Shirl realized was a hooker was discussing her price with a nervous-looking, middle-aged man. Several other men and women sat at the bar. A pair of young women stood in front of the jukebox, trying to decide what song to play.

  Shirl pressed her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the cacophony of conversation and thoughts that bombarded her. And the smells! Perspiration, perfume, alcohol, cigarette smoke, soap, and deodorant. It was overpowering. But it was the beating of so many living hearts, the rush of blood through miles of veins, that overrode everything else. She groaned softly. She was hungry, so hungry.

  She glanced at the men and women sitting at the bar. One of the men turned to look at her. He was young, in his midtwenties, with shaggy brown hair, blue eyes, and a mustache. He looked clean and didn’t smell too bad
. His name was Don, but people called him Sharkey.

  Feeling a little foolish, she concentrated on sending him a mental summons. To her astonishment, he stood and walked toward her, his expression somewhat bemused, as if he couldn’t believe what he was doing.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he murmured. “What’s a gorgeous gal like you doing in a dump like this?”

  Shirl licked her lips. “Would you come outside with me?”

  “Sure, honey,” Sharkey said with a wink and a smile. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I want to show you something.” Shirl looked at Rhys. Am I doing this right?

  At his nod, she took Sharkey’s hand and led him outside and around the corner of the building into the shadows beyond.

  When Sharkey noticed Rhys following them, he tried to pull out of her grasp. Shirl didn’t know which of them was more surprised when he couldn’t break her grip.

  “Now what?” Shirl asked, looking to Rhys for help.

  “Let’s see what kind of vampire you are,” he said, grinning. “Just follow your instincts.”

  “Vampire!” Sharkey exclaimed. “What the hell?” He tried again to jerk out of Shirl’s grasp. “Dammit, let me go!”

  Shirl gazed deeply into his eyes. “Be quiet and hold still!” she said angrily, and when he complied, she looked over at Rhys again, waiting for his approval.

  “You’re doing just fine.”

  Shirl swallowed hard. Pain gnawed at her insides, a horrible twisting pain worse than anything she had ever known. Worse, even, than the headaches that had driven her to this. She took a deep breath, her gaze drawn to the pulse throbbing in the hollow of the man’s throat. She could smell his fear. And his blood. And suddenly he wasn’t a man anymore, he was prey. The hunger raged inside her. Desperate to end it, she pulled the man into her arms, felt an ache in her gums as her fangs extended.

  Fangs.

  Vampire.

  Bending the man back over her arm, Shirl lowered her head to his neck. You can do this. She was surprised at how quickly and easily her fangs pierced his flesh. She had expected the act to be abhorrent, the taste disgusting. How could she have been so wrong? Nothing in all the world had ever tasted so wonderful or satisfied her so completely.

  Rhys licked his lips as the scent of fresh, hot blood rose in the air. “Enough, Shirl,” he said quietly.

  She lifted her head, her narrowed eyes as red as the blood on her lips.

  “Enough,” he repeated.

  Stop, now? Was he mad? She wanted more, and when she finished with this man, she wanted another. And another. She glared at Rhys, and then she lowered her head to the man’s neck again.

  “Enough, dammit!” Rhys said. “Any more, and you’ll kill him!”

  “I don’t care!”

  “Well, I do.” Before she realized what was happening, Rhys snatched the man from her grasp, and then slapped her across the face. “I said enough!”

  Stricken, she stared at Rhys, horrified by what she had almost done. She didn’t want to kill anyone. And yet she wanted more. She wanted it all.

  “You will listen to what I say,” Rhys said angrily. “And you will do what I say, or I will destroy you. I warned you once. I’ll have no killing in my territory.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured contritely, and then she looked up at him. “How can you stop when they taste so good?” She licked the blood from her lips. “You didn’t tell me it would taste so good.”

  “If you want to be a monster, that’s fine with me. But not in my town.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  He grunted softly. “You can control it if you want to. It won’t be easy at first, but you can do it. Now, you need to lick the wounds in his neck to seal them, then tell him to go back to the bar and get something to drink. And, most importantly, you must always remember to wipe the memory of what’s happened from his mind.”

  “I can do that? Erase his memory? How?”

  “Join your mind with his. You’ll know what to do.”

  Rhys watched Shirl carefully. He’d had his doubts about how well she would adapt to becoming a vampire, but she seemed to be one of those who accepted the Dark Gift without a qualm. Sometimes he wondered if some people were predestined to join the ranks of the Undead.

  He watched Sharkey stagger around the corner. The man would never know it, but he’d had a close encounter with death that night.

  The thought had barely crossed his mind when the scent of another vampire reached his nostrils, and Tomás Villagrande strolled into view.

  “You!” Rhys hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Taking in the sea air,” Villagrande replied.

  “Uh-huh. You followed us. Why?”

  “I wanted to meet the newest member of our community,” Villagrande said, smiling at Shirl. “And one of the loveliest, I might add.”

  Shirl smiled uncertainly before murmuring, “Thank you.” She took a step closer to Rhys. She didn’t know who the stranger was, but she knew instinctively that he was an old vampire. Old and dangerous. His power washed over her.

  Tomás reached for her hand. Bending over it in an old-world bow, he said, “Tomás Villagrande, at your service.”

  Feeling totally out of her element, Shirl said, “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Villagrande.”

  “Please, my dear Shirley, call me Tomás.”

  “Enough of your smooth talk, Villagrande,” Rhys said irritably. “I have a lot to teach her before the sun comes up.”

  “Indeed?” Tomás smiled at Shirl again. “If you’re going to learn how to be a vampire, why not learn from the oldest of our kind? I can teach you things he does not yet know.”

  Shirl looked at Rhys. What should I do? Villagrande frightened her, yet she was drawn to him on some deep primal level that she didn’t understand. Was it just the overwhelming sweep of his preternatural power? Or something more mundane, like the fact that he was quite remarkable-looking. Sort of the way she imagined a Barbary pirate might look. Rhys, tell me what to do.

  He shook his head, the movement almost imperceptible. This is something you’ll have to decide for yourself, but I would advise you not to go with him.

  “Thank you for the offer,” Shirl said, “but I think I’ll stay with Rhys.”

  Irritation flashed in Villagrande’s eyes. With an obvious effort, he reined in his anger. “I hope you don’t regret it.”

  Shirl flinched. Had he just threatened her? In an effort to placate him, she murmured, “Perhaps another time.”

  But it was too late. He was already gone.

  Shirl looked up at Rhys. “I think we could have handled that better,” she said, her expression pensive.

  “You think?”

  “He’s old, isn’t he? Older, even, than you are.”

  “Yeah. No one knows just how old.”

  “I could feel his power. It was…scary.” Scary, and exhilarating.

  Rhys grunted softly. There wasn’t much on this earth that scared him, but Tomás Villagrande was at the top of the list.

  Chapter 27

  Megan spent all of Saturday, Sunday, and Monday worrying about Shirl. Was her friend truly a vampire now? How was she handling it? Megan hadn’t decided if having a vampire for a roommate was a good idea, but Shirl was still her best friend, and she was concerned about her welfare. Time and again, Megan picked up her cell phone and dialed her roommate’s number, but there was no answer.

  By Tuesday afternoon, when Shirl still hadn’t called, Megan’s worry for her friend bordered on anger. Shirl must know that Megan would be worrying, wondering. The least she could do was call, and if, for one reason or another, Shirl couldn’t make one lousy phone call, then Rhys should have done it.

  Megan arrived at Shore’s early that night, glad to have an excuse to get out of the house and mingle with people who didn’t have fangs, drink blood, or sleep in coffins.

  At midnight, force of habit had her glancing at the front door. She shook
her head, wondering how long it would take her to stop expecting Rhys to show up.

  At 12:05, he strolled into the store with Shirl on his arm.

  Megan stared at Shirl. Her friend had always been beautiful but now…Megan shook her head. Impossible as it seemed, Shirl was even more gorgeous than ever. The changes were subtle. Anyone who hadn’t known Shirl before wouldn’t be aware of them, but they were there. Her skin was a little more translucent, a little paler. Her hair was thicker and more lustrous. And she possessed an almost tangible aura of seductive power that hadn’t been there before.

  But it was Rhys who held Megan’s gaze. He wore a long-sleeved black silk shirt open over a blood-red T-shirt, and a pair of snug black jeans. He reminded her of a wild jungle cat, lean and lithe. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

  “Megan!” Shirl hurried toward her, moving with the same fluidity that Megan had noticed in Rhys.

  Feeling like the ugly duckling welcoming the swan, Megan forced a smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi?” Shirl repeated with a frown. “Is something wrong?”

  “Why should anything be wrong?” Megan tried to mask her anger behind a smile, and failed. “Why haven’t you called me? I’ve been worried sick.”

  “I’m sorry,” Shirl said. “I guess it was thoughtless of me, but…”

  “It doesn’t matter now.” Megan glanced at Rhys, then back at Shirl, and couldn’t help feeling…what? Jealous? That was ridiculous, and yet, like it or not, she felt like an outsider, as if they had joined an exclusive club to which she could never belong.

  She was relieved when a man entered the shop, breaking the awkward silence between them. “I’m glad you’re all right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a customer.”

  Relief turned to regret as she watched Rhys and Shirl leave the store.

  When Megan got off work that night, Rhys was waiting for her in the parking lot. She couldn’t stifle a rush of pleasure at seeing him standing beside her car.

  “Megan, we need to talk.”