Megan blew out a sigh. She should call her parents. Still, she hesitated as she imagined telling them she was getting married. What could she say? Hi, Mom. Dad. Guess what? I’m in love with a vampire and as soon as he destroys the bad guy, we’re getting married.
Megan chewed on her thumbnail. How could she explain why Rhys never went out in the sun or why he didn’t eat? How long could she make excuses for his odd behavior before her parents got suspicious?
When the trouble with Villagrande was over, she would have to go up to Redding and spend a few days with her folks. After all, news like this really should be related in person, at least the part about getting married. The vampire part would have to wait.
A subtle shift in the atmosphere told her that the sun was going down, and the vampires were rising. She knew Rhys would be the first to appear. She could sense his presence in her very bones, and even as she tried to understand how that could be, he was there, striding toward her. And she was smiling, her heart lifting at the sight of him.
She went into his arms gladly, a warm sense of contentment and belonging sweeping over her as he drew her close. His lips moved in her hair, his breath warm as he whispered that he loved her.
“I knew you were coming,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “Even before I saw you, I knew you were nearby. How is that possible?”
“It’s the blood link we share. It grows stronger every time you share your blood with me.”
She looked up at him. “Am I going to turn into a vampire?”
“No, love. Not unless you want to.”
“Would you love me more if I was like you?”
Hope sparked in the depths of his eyes. “Megan!”
“Don’t get any ideas!” she said, pushing him away. “I didn’t say I wanted to be a vampire. I just wondered if you’d love me more if I was.”
“I love you more every day.” He drew her into his embrace once more. “Mortal or vampire, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“But I’ll grow old…”
Rhys covered her mouth with his hand. “It doesn’t matter.” At any rate, he wouldn’t be there to see it. If he were an honorable man, he would tell her now that he intended to leave her as soon as Villagrande had been taken care of, but he didn’t want to face the consequences. He knew she would object, perhaps strenuously. She might insist on going home, and he couldn’t allow that. Better to say nothing, he decided, and enjoy whatever time together they had left.
“Oh, sorry,” Daisy said, entering the room, “we didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“There’s a bed upstairs, you know,” Erik said, his voice tinged with amusement.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rhys retorted good-naturedly. “Like you never kissed Daisy in the living room.”
“Well, not when we had company,” Erik said, winking at Daisy. “We’re going out for”—he glanced at Megan and grinned—“a bite, you should excuse the expression. We won’t be gone long.”
“Do you want anything from the store?” Daisy asked.
“Maybe some chocolate ice cream,” Megan said. “And a box of brownie mix.”
“How could I have forgotten chocolate!” Daisy exclaimed with a grin. “It’s a staple in every woman’s diet.”
“Behave yourselves while we’re gone,” Erik said. Taking Daisy by the hand, they vanished from sight.
“I wish I could just disappear like that,” Megan exclaimed.
“I can arrange it. Just say the word.”
“Are you going to nag me about becoming a vampire?”
“Would it help?”
“No. I’m happy just as I am, thank you very much.” And so saying, she flounced into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of grapefruit juice.
Rhys followed, of course. Standing in the doorway, he couldn’t help admiring her softly rounded buttocks, the curve of her breasts, the way her hair framed her face. The flowery scent of her perfume mingled with her own unique scent, teasing his senses. How was he ever going to let her go?
Seeing him, Megan lifted the glass in a silent toast. “I like eating and drinking too much to give it up. And even though you won’t admit it, you must miss it. How could you not?”
He snorted softly. “After five centuries, I don’t remember what any of it tastes like.”
She leaned back against the counter. “Did you miss it after you were first turned?”
“No. The scent of cooked meat was nauseating. Fruits and vegetables held no appeal.”
“But you drink wine. Red, of course.”
He chuckled softly. “Yes, the redder the better. It’s the only thing I can drink.” Seeing her look of wry amusement, he added, “Other than the obvious, of course.”
“Of course.” Turning toward the sink, she rinsed out the glass and put it in the dishwasher. The machine must have come with the house, she mused, since she couldn’t think of any reason why vampires would need a dishwasher or any other appliances, for that matter. Facing Rhys again, she said, “I wonder why you can drink wine.”
He shrugged. “I have no idea.” He didn’t tell her that, among vampires, it was a common practice to add a little fresh blood to the fruit of the vine.
“Are you going out later?”
“No.” Closing the distance between them, he drew her into his arms. “I fed earlier.” Before Megan came into his life, he had only fed once a week or so, sometimes less. The hunger, insatiable and irresistible in new vampires, burned less hot with each passing year, though there were circumstances that sparked that primal need. Lovemaking was one of them. Unwilling to put Megan’s life at risk, afraid of losing control when they made love, he was careful to feed each night.
Megan locked her hands around his neck; then, rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him because he was so close, because she couldn’t be near him and not want him. Because she loved him.
She was startled when, with a low growl, he crushed her body against his. His tongue plundered her mouth, hot and wild, as he backed her up against the wall, sending waves of sensual heat to her very core. Suddenly desperate to have him, she wrapped her legs around his waist, a groan rising in her throat.
“Now, Rhys,” she said, gasping. “Now!”
Muttering an oath, he dragged his mouth from hers and set her on her feet just as Erik walked through the back door carrying a sack of groceries. Daisy and Alex were right behind him.
A rush of embarrassment heated Megan’s cheeks when Erik said, ever so dryly, “I knew we should have knocked.”
Megan kept her back to the others. How was she ever going to face these people again?
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Megan,” Erik said cheerfully as he set the bag on the counter. “Sex is a fact of life, you know. We all do it.”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice muffled against Rhys’s chest, “but not in someone else’s kitchen.” Not in front of two vampires and a man she had only met once before.
Glancing over Megan’s shoulder, Rhys said, “You wanna give us a few minutes?”
“Of course,” Daisy said, and followed her husband out of the room.
“You might want to put that ice cream away before it melts,” Alex said as he sauntered toward the door. “There’s enough sexual heat in here to melt iron.”
“Well, that was humiliating,” Megan remarked as she put the ice cream in the freezer. Delving into the sack again, she saw that Daisy had thoughtfully included a can of whipped cream and a jar of hot fudge.
“It could have been worse,” Rhys said with a grin.
Tossing a bag of cookies into the cupboard, she muttered, “I suppose.” Five minutes later, and they would have been caught in the act.
Laughing softly, he took her by the hand. “Come on, darlin’, you can’t hide in the kitchen forever.”
“Wanna bet?” Reluctantly, she accompanied him into the living room.
Erik, Daisy, and Alex were sitting on the sofa. Avoiding their eyes, Megan sat on the love seat. Rhys sat beside her.
“So,” he said, “what’s going on?”
“We ran into Alex at the market. I think you should hear what he has to say.” The seriousness in Daisy’s tone told Megan it could only be bad news.
Rhys leaned forward. “Spit it out.”
“We haven’t had any vampire trouble since you left town,” Alex said. “Until last night. I met a friend of mine who’s a hunter. He said an entire family was found drained of blood out on Centre Street.” Alex took a deep breath. “The youngest victim was only six months old.”
“That’s awful!” Daisy exclaimed.
“Damn right,” Erik said.
Megan stared at Rhys. A muscle worked in his jaw, his hands were clenched. “Do you know who did it?” he asked, his voice grim.
Alex shook his head. “I don’t know. But it was clearly a vampire. He didn’t bother to make it look like anything else.”
Rhys stood. “I need the address.”
Megan sprang to her feet. “You’re not thinking of going there!”
“I have to know if it’s Villagrande.”
“How could it be?” she asked. “How could he know where we are?”
“I should have known leaving LA would be a waste of time,” Rhys said quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Villagrande’s the oldest of our kind. We’ve been kidding ourselves, thinking we could hide from him. I have a feeling he’s there, waiting for me.”
Megan grasped his arm. “You can’t go. I won’t let you!”
“Maybe I can talk to him, tell him to keep LA.”
“And what if that’s not enough anymore?” Erik glanced at Megan.
She knew what he was thinking. It wasn’t just about territory now. Villagrande was angry because she had destroyed Shirl.
“If he wants a life for a life,” Rhys said, “I’ll give him mine.”
“No!” Fear for Rhys, fear for her own life, leeched the strength from Megan’s legs, and she dropped down on the love seat. “I’m the one who killed Shirl.”
“This isn’t open to discussion, Megan,” Rhys said, his voice gruff. “I told you before, this is between Villagrande and me. No one else.”
“You know you can’t face him alone,” Erik said. “Hell, I’m not sure the five of us together can beat him.”
“He’s so old,” Daisy remarked, a note of awe in her voice. “Who knows, maybe he is indestructible.” With a shake of her head, she murmured, “Maybe he really is immortal.”
“Only one way to find out,” Alex said with a cocky grin.
“The address,” Rhys said, his voice sharp. “I want it now.”
With an apologetic glance at Megan, Alex gave Rhys the street address.
Before she could beg him not to go, Rhys was gone. Springing to her feet, she cried, “Erik, you’ve got to go with him! Please! You said it yourself, he doesn’t stand a chance alone.”
“She’s right,” Alex said, pumping his arm in the air. “Erik, let’s you and me go kick some vampire ass.”
Megan sighed and glanced at her watch. It seemed like Rhys, Erik, and Alex had been gone for hours.
She was about to ask Daisy how she could appear so calm when her husband might be fighting Villagrande at that very moment, when Daisy suddenly rose to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” Megan asked, her mind filling with horrible possibilities.
“I thought I heard Erik calling me.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe something’s gone wrong.” Daisy moved toward the front door. “Erik?”
Rising, Megan walked up behind Daisy. “I don’t hear anything.”
“He’s calling me,” Daisy said, her brow furrowing.
“Why doesn’t he come inside?”
“He’s badly hurt. He…oh, no!”
“What is it?” Megan asked anxiously. “What’s happened?”
“Megan, I’m so sorry. He said Alex is badly hurt and…and Rhys is dead.”
Megan pressed her hand to her chest as the room began to spin. Rhys was dead…dead…dead. “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it….”
A high-pitched cry came from outside. Shouting Erik’s name, Daisy opened the door and dashed out into the night.
Megan started after her, only to come to an abrupt halt as a dark shape filled the doorway.
Before her mind could register what she was seeing, pain exploded through her head and everything went black.
Chapter 45
Rhys stood in the shadows on Centre Street, his senses reaching out toward the brown-and-beige, two-story Colonial house. The yard was well kept, the lawn green, with a few shrubs in front. Five steps climbed to the front porch. Rose bushes grew on either side of the stairs.
The stink of death shrouded the place. Under the stench of fear and blood, the unmistakable smell of vampire lingered in the air. A distant part of his mind wondered how Villagrande had gained entrance to the house.
A thought carried Rhys into the living room. He wouldn’t have been able to enter the house uninvited if the family had still been alive, but murder had been done here, destroying the threshold’s basic protection. He had no need of an invitation. And no need to wonder further how Villagrande had gained entrance. The blood splattered on the floor inside the entryway told the tale. Someone had unwittingly invited Villagrande inside. And died because of it.
Rhys moved silently through the dark rooms, following Villagrande’s trail. The vampire had struck the four other members of the family while they slept, as evidenced by the blood-stained sheets and blankets carelessly tossed over the bodies.
Rhys lingered in the nursery where the last murder had occurred. The room was decorated with fairy wallpaper and pictures of Tinker Bell. The baby had died last. A Tinker Bell quilt, bright with blood, covered the dead infant. A Peter Pan lamp stood on the dresser beside a framed photo of a woman holding a baby. The mother and child? The woman was young and pretty, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. The baby was rosy-cheeked and blue-eyed.
Rhys swore softly. He had done some pretty despicable things in the course of his existence, but he had never killed an infant. Would he do such a thing if he existed as long as Villagrande? Would he view mortals as nothing but prey, his to do with as he pleased? The thought brought him up short and with it came the realization that he was close to feeling that way now. Or he had been, until Megan had come into his life. She had reminded him of how frail mortals were, how tenuous and precious their hold on life.
Megan. Needing to know she was all right, he closed his eyes, concentrating on the bond between them, and felt nothing. Only two things could prevent him from linking with her; she was either unconscious, or dead.
Before he could determine which, he sensed Villagrande’s approach. An instant later, the vampire materialized in the room. Preternatural power radiated from him, enhanced by the fresh blood he had recently consumed.
“So,” Tomás said. “We end it, now.”
“What have you done with Megan?”
A smile that was pure evil spread across Villagrande’s face. “You’ll never know.”
“Dammit, where is she? What have you done to her?” He couldn’t ask the question uppermost in his mind. Couldn’t ask if she was dead, afraid that saying it aloud might make it so.
“Me?” Villagrande spread one hand over his heart. “I’ve done nothing.”
“Don’t play games with me, you bastard. Where is she?”
Villagrande rocked back on his heels. “She killed Shirl. She wounded me. I will have my revenge.”
“No! Dammit, if you want a life, take mine.”
“I intend to.”
Rhys glared at the other vampire, his mind racing. How had Villagrande managed to bypass the safeguards on Delacourt’s house? And having done so, what had he done to Erik, Daisy, and Alex? Had he destroyed them all?
The thought had scarcely crossed his mind when Erik and Alex appeared in the room.
Villagr
ande looked at them and laughed. “Three against one, Costain? Hardly sporting.”
“I don’t want to have to fight you,” Rhys said. “Take the West Coast. Take my life. Just spare Megan.”
“It’s too late to make deals.” Villagrande’s gaze swept over the three of them. “You have all defied me,” he declared imperiously. “And the penalty is death.” And with that ultimatum, he sprang toward Rhys, fangs bared, hands transforming into lethal claws.
Baring his own fangs, Erik leaped onto Villagrande’s back, but Villagrande shook him off, like a pit bull shaking off a rat. Erik slammed into Alex, and the two of them sailed through the air, a tangle of arms and legs as they hit the wall, hard.
Rhys charged toward Villagrande, the only thought in his mind to destroy the vampire who threatened Megan’s life. They came together in a furious rush. Villagrande’s power lashed out at Rhys with the force of a tornado.
Rhys was hardly aware of the pain as Villagrande’s teeth and claws savaged his neck and chest. The physical pain was as nothing compared to the ache in his heart at the thought that Megan might be dead. If she was dead, it was all his fault. He never should have drawn her into his life.
He knew a moment of respite when Erik leaped into the fray again, momentarily drawing Villagrande away.
Alex crawled toward Rhys, his left arm dangling uselessly at his side. Holding out his good arm, he said, “Drink.”
Rhys didn’t argue. With a low growl, he buried his fangs in the other man’s wrist. He didn’t have time to take much, but even a little helped. He spared hardly a glance for Delacourt, who lay facedown on the floor. There was no time to worry about Delacourt, no time to think of anything but his own survival. He refused to believe Megan was dead. She was out there, somewhere, and she needed him. It was that thought that gave him the strength to meet Villagrande’s next attack.
They battled in silence, fangs and claws shredding cloth and flesh alike. The air was thick with preternatural power and the coppery scent of blood.
Breathing hard, Rhys fell back. Blood flowed freely from numerous bites and gashes on his face, neck, chest, and back.
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