Muttering “sorry,” he released her, then sat up. “Is anything wrong?”
“No. No, I was just…” she shrugged, “curious.”
“Ah.” His gaze probed hers. “Were you repulsed by what you saw?”
Megan shook her head. “No, but you weren’t breathing.” She stared at his chest. He was breathing now.
“I don’t have to breathe,” he said. “I do it when I’m awake because it makes me less conspicuous. But when I sleep there’s no need.”
“Oh.” Just when she thought she knew it all, there was more creepy stuff to learn. It made her wonder once again if they could make things work between them. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
“I’m not.” He held out his hand in invitation. “As you can see, I’m wide awake now.”
“What?” She frowned, and then she saw the evidence of his desire beneath the sheet. “Oh! Now? In the daytime?”
He arched one brow. “With you, anytime.”
Laughing, Megan peeled off her clothes and crawled under the sheet. Doubts be damned, Rhys was here now, and she wanted him. And if he broke her heart later, then, so be it. Maybe it was time to live in the moment, to grab happiness with both hands while she could and stop worrying about the future. After all, she reminded herself, life was uncertain, and no relationship was perfect.
But he was, she thought, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Wrapped in his arms, she kissed and caressed him with an abandon she had never felt before, no doubt because now, for better or worse, she had tied her future to his. He must have sensed the change within her because his kisses grew longer, deeper, as his hands stroked her flesh.
She whispered, “I love you,” when he rose over her.
“And I love you,” he said, his voice a throaty growl in her ear. “Be mine forever, Megan, my love. Say you’ll marry me.”
“I will.”
He reared back, a look of surprise on his face.
She grinned at him. “Didn’t expect me to say yes, did you?”
“Well, not without taking a few days to think it over.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Of course, but—are you sure?”
“Very sure,” she murmured, and pulled him closer, linking her arms around his neck as his body merged with hers, his movements strong and slow, arousing her until she writhed beneath him, her mind empty of everything but her need for Rhys.
She felt his fangs at her throat. Her body arched upward, the pleasure of his bite sweeping her over the edge. She sobbed his name, her nails digging into his back as wave after wave of sensual heat flowed through her.
Sated, she closed her eyes, felt herself smiling as she curled up against him. He loved her. They were going to be married.
She was on the brink of sleep when Rhys jackknifed into a sitting position. “Dammit! He’s struck again.”
“What?” Megan blinked up at him.
“That bastard, Villagrande. He’s killed another of my people.”
Suddenly wide awake, she sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “How do you know?”
He raked his fingers through his hair, then gained his feet. “I know.”
“How?”
“I just know.” There was no way to explain it, but he knew Hastings had been destroyed, his existence snuffed out at Villagrande’s hand only moments ago. Pacing the floor, he muttered, “That makes four.” Dammit! Why hadn’t Hastings stayed with the others?
“What are you going to do now?”
Rhys paused in front of the window. Drawing the curtains aside, he stared out into the gathering darkness. “I’m going to give him what he wants.”
Chapter 39
It was nearing nine o’clock that night when Megan got out of the shower. Glancing at the clock, she decided there was no point in getting dressed. Instead, she pulled on her bathrobe, then went downstairs. Since she was too hungry to cook anything that took more than a few minutes, she settled for scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice.
It had been an exhausting day, what with working in the yard and then making love to Rhys, not once but three times. Tugging her bathrobe around her, she smiled at the memory, then yawned behind her hand. He might be inexhaustible, but she wasn’t! Not only that, but she hurt in places that had never hurt before. And in some places she hadn’t even known she had, she thought, amused. But it was a pleasurable kind of pain, a reminder of the most wildly erotic, passionate afternoon of her life.
A day she would never forget because Rhys had proposed to her and she had said yes. She smiled as she recalled how she had said yes without a second thought, and how surprised he had been when she accepted. She was getting married. All she had to do was name the day and decide whether she wanted a big church wedding with all the trimmings. Or a small, intimate ceremony. Or if they should just elope.
Her smile faded as she recalled Rhys’s anger and distress when he sensed that another of his vampires had been destroyed by Villagrande. Had Rhys meant it when he said he was going to give Villagrande what he wanted? And what, exactly, did that mean? She was sorely afraid there might be more to it than just leaving the city.
With a sigh, she rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then stood at the sink staring out into the darkness.
Rhys had gone out, but he would be back soon. She was thinking about slipping into a sexy black nightgown she had bought on a whim and never worn when the doorbell rang. Wondering who it could be, she drew her robe around her and went to the door.
Looking through the peephole, she saw her former best friend standing alone on the front porch. But it wasn’t surprise that had Megan gasping. It was the blood dripping down Shirl’s face and neck, the complete lack of color in her face.
Without thinking of the consequences, Megan opened the door and reached for her friend. Shirl staggered forward, then came to an abrupt halt at the threshold.
Megan tugged on her arm, frowning, and then, after muttering “Shirl, come in,” she helped her friend inside and guided her to the sofa. “Shirl, what happened to you?”
“Tomás…he got angry with me because I refused to try to trick you into coming to the boat. He beat me and drank from me and…”
“Are you going to be all right? What can I do?”
“I could use a glass of wine.”
“Of course.”
Megan hurried into the kitchen, her thoughts tripping one over the other as she opened a bottle of wine and pulled a glass from the cupboard. Shirl needed to get away from Tomás, she thought as she filled the glass. But that wasn’t all. Shirl needed fresh blood to heal her wounds and a place to stay. Maybe Rhys would know what to do.
Megan was still weighing possibilities when she returned to the living room, only to come to an abrupt halt when she saw Tomás Villagrande standing in front of the hearth, a smirk on his face.
Feeling betrayed, Megan looked at Shirl, who had miraculously recovered. “How could you?”
“We’ve no time for this,” Villagrande said.
Before Megan could respond, he was at her side, his arm snaking around her waist. She stared up at him, a hard, cold knot of fear forming in her stomach as his gaze trapped hers.
His eyes grew darker, more intense. He whispered one word. “Sleep.”
And the world went black.
Megan woke slowly. Her first thought was to wonder why the room was rocking back and forth. Were they having an earthquake? She took a deep breath, and her nostrils filled with the scent of the ocean. It took her a moment to realize she was on a boat.
A boat? Frowning, she tried to sit up, only then realizing that her hands were tied behind her back. A quick glance showed she was lying on a narrow bunk. In the dim light of a hanging lamp, she could see that the floor was highly polished. A patch of sky sprinkled with stars was visible through the porthole across from the bunk. How long had she been unconscious? How had she gotten here?
Fear hit her then, hard and quick, in the pit of h
er stomach. Feeling as though she was going to be sick, she rolled onto her side as the memory of what had happened came rushing back. Shirl had come to the house with some phony story, and Megan had swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. And then Shirl had invited Villagrande inside, and he had hypnotized her or something.
Where was he now? And what was he going to do with her? Nothing good, she was sure of that. She told herself there was nothing to worry about. Rhys would find her.
And then she gasped. Of course, that’s why Villagrande had kidnapped her. Because he knew Rhys would come after her.
But maybe she was worrying for nothing. Rhys had said he was going to give Villagrande what he wanted, so maybe there was nothing to fear. If Rhys wasn’t going to fight Villagrande for control of the city, then the conflict should be over.
So why didn’t that make her feel any better?
Her heart skipped a beat when the cabin door opened. A moment later, Shirl came into view looking as long-legged and gorgeous as always. Tonight, she wore a pair of skintight white pants and an emerald green silk shirt.
Megan glared at her. It was hard to remember that Shirl had once been her best friend. They had shared a home, laughter and tears, their secret hopes and dreams. Looking at Shirl now, all Megan saw was a stranger. Rhys had told her that becoming a vampire brought out the best or the worst in people. It had definitely brought out the worst in her former best friend.
Shirl moved closer to the bunk. “Would you believe me if I said I was sorry?”
Megan struggled into a sitting position. “What do you think?”
“I can’t help it, Meggie. I have to do what he says.”
“I don’t believe that either.”
“He promised not to hurt you.”
“And you believed him?” Megan asked incredulously.
“Meggie, you’re my best friend.”
“Then untie me and let me go. There’s no need for any of this. Rhys isn’t going to fight your lover for the city. He’s going to leave.”
“Did Rhys tell you that?”
“Yes. Where’s Villagrande?”
“He went hunting.” A dreamy smile played over Shirl’s lips. “He loves to hunt when the moon is full. I don’t know why.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?”
“I went earlier. Sometimes he likes to hunt alone.” Shirl lifted one shoulder and let it fall, as if it was of no concern whether he hunted alone or not, but she couldn’t disguise the petulant tone in her voice.
Megan shook her head. “I look at you and I hear you, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You talk about hunting as if it’s nothing at all. Have you forgotten that you were once human? That all you wanted was to live a normal life? And now you’re no better than he is.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Shirl murmured.
“Then let me go! If there’s any humanity left in you, let me go before it’s too late.”
“He’ll only find you again,” Shirl murmured, sounding both resigned and proud at the same time. “No matter where you go, he’ll find you. You can’t hide from him. You can’t fight him. He’s not only immortal, Meggie. He’s invincible. And some day, I’ll be just like him.”
Megan closed her eyes as Shirl’s words crushed her only hope of escape. She didn’t know what Villagrande had done to Shirl, but it was obvious he owned her, body and soul. Megan had a terrible suspicion that Shirl would kill her without a qualm if Villagrande said the word. And that was the scariest thought of all.
Rhys whistled softly as he made his way back to Megan’s house. If he had known what spending the day in Megan’s bed would lead to, he would have done it a hell of a lot sooner, he thought, and then swore softly. He would have to be more considerate of Megan in the future. He had behaved like a rutting bull. She hadn’t complained, but in the future, he needed to remember that she didn’t have the same strength and stamina that he did. Had it been up to him, they would still be in bed, but she had needed rest and nourishment, and so he had told her he needed to feed and left the house.
He had contacted Nicholas earlier and learned that the three remaining Council members were staying in one of Volger’s lairs in Blue Grass, Iowa, and that several of Volger’s vampires, along with a few trusted humans, were also on the premises to keep an eye out for Villagrande. Rhys had snorted when he heard the name of the town. Blue Grass had a population of just over a thousand; twenty-five percent of the residents were under the age of eighteen. And then he had grinned inwardly. Julius had always had a taste for young blood.
As for Hastings, no one knew where’d he gone. According to Nicholas, Hastings had been there one night and the next he was gone. The general consensus was that he’d headed back to Medford and Villagrande had found him there.
“Stupid,” Rhys had muttered. If Hastings had just stayed put, he’d still be alive.
Nicholas had added that they were all getting antsy and wanted to know when they could return to their own lairs.
Rhys had assured Nicholas it would be soon, and hoped that was the truth. As for himself, he hated to leave LA, but what the hell, the world was a big place. He hadn’t been to Italy in a while. He wondered if Megan had ever been to Naples or Sicily, and then frowned. He was taking a lot for granted. True, she had said she would marry him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to quit her job or leave the country. For that matter, they hadn’t set a date for the wedding, either. He didn’t know if she wanted a big wedding or if she would be content with something more intimate, say just the two of them. One thing he did know—she was going to make a beautiful bride.
A glance at the sky showed it was almost eleven. Smiling, he quickened his step, eager to see her again.
He knew, before he opened the front door, that she was gone. A single, indrawn breath told him what had transpired. Oh, not the details, but Shirl’s scent was strong in the air, as was Villagrande’s. Rhys didn’t know how the other two vampires had managed to penetrate the protective wards and spells that had been placed on Megan’s house, but that didn’t matter. All that was important now was that Villagrande had Megan.
Rhys swore a vile oath as he stepped back and slammed the door. Dammit! So much for Erik’s protective magick! Why the hell hadn’t it worked? And where was Megan?
He followed her scent until it disappeared and then, closing his eyes, he took several slow deep breaths and opened his senses, homing in on the blood bond that connected them.
It drew him unerringly down the coast toward San Diego.
Speeding through the night faster than the human eye could follow, he prayed he wasn’t too late.
Chapter 40
Megan didn’t hear him coming, but she knew when Villagrande boarded the ship. It was as if a dark shroud settled over the craft. Evil slid along her skin and crawled inside her like some loathsome insect. She knew, somehow, that when she had seen him before, he had been masking his true self, and that what she sensed now was the real Tomás Villagrande. Had he been masking his true nature from Shirl? Or was she so infatuated with his supernatural power and his promises that she had turned a blind eye to the truth of what he was?
He appeared beside the bunk between one heartbeat and the next. Eyes red, fangs bared, he was a nightmare come to life.
“So.” Moving closer to the bunk, he swept his gaze over her. It made her feel dirty, defiled. “It’s time for dinner.”
Megan stared up at him. Heart pounding, body trembling uncontrollably, she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Like a fox helplessly caught in the jaws of a trap, she could only stare up at him while a voice in the back of her mind whispered that this was what death looked like.
Thoughts flew through her mind like leaves in a wind storm. She would never see her parents again. Never see Rhys. Never be a bride. Darkness swirled at the edge of her consciousness, and she prayed she would pass out before Villagrande sank his fangs into her throat. What if he didn’t intend to kill her? What if he turned her into a vampire?
For a fleeting moment, she thought she would rather be a vampire than die so horribly, but then Villagrande grinned at her and she knew she’d rather be dead than become what he was.
His fangs lengthened. Gleaming. Bright white. She took a deep breath as fear coiled deep in the pit of her stomach. She tried to look away from his hellish gaze, but like a rabbit mesmerized by a snake, she could only lie there, waiting for death to strike.
Megan tensed when Villagrande lowered his head to her neck, but then a curious thing happened. As soon as his fangs touched her skin, a shower of bright golden yellow sparks exploded between them. Villagrande reared back, a vile curse issuing from his lips.
Startled, Megan cried out, her whole body tensing in fearful anticipation as the fiery embers rained down on her face and neck, but there was no pain. The bright yellow sparks vanished when they touched her skin.
Villagrande wasn’t so fortunate. The embers burned his skin wherever they touched, leaving raw, red patches.
He reeled backward as Shirl burst into the cabin. “Tomás, what’s going on…?”
She had scarcely uttered the words when Rhys appeared behind her in the doorway. His eyes took on a warm red glow when he saw Villagrande, and, before Megan could move or speak, Villagrande and Rhys were on each other.
With her hands still bound behind her back, Megan struggled to sit up as the two vampires battled each other. The smell of blood and scorched flesh mingled with the scent of sea and salt, making her stomach churn.
Villagrande hurled Rhys against the wall with such force, Megan was surprised the wood didn’t crack from the impact. With a feral cry, Rhys sprang to his feet and lunged at Villagrande, his hands like claws, his fangs dripping blood.
It was a battle unlike anything she had ever seen. Like two superheroes, they flung each other to and fro, fangs and claws rending preternatural flesh that healed almost instantly. Blood splattered on the walls, the ceiling, the deck.
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