Everlasting Desire (Everlasting 2)

With a nod, Rhys drew her into his embrace, then gently brushed the hair away from her neck. “Relax, child,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He caught her gaze with his as he slid his knuckles down the length of her neck. “That’s right, just relax.”

Unable to look away, Megan stared at the two of them. It was almost as if they were making love. As Rhys continued to speak quietly to Shirl, her eyes took on a glazed, faraway look. Her body sagged against his, her head fell back over his arm, her eyelids fluttered down.

Megan’s heart slammed against her rib cage when Rhys lifted his gaze to hers. Preternatural power crawled over her skin. For a moment, she was tempted to go to him, to throw her arms around him and surrender to the longing she read in his eyes.

It took all the willpower she had to look away.

Only to feel her gaze drawn back to the scene before her.

Rhys’s attention was wholly focused on Shirl now. He stroked his fingers along the length of her neck again; then, bending over her, he sank his fangs into the soft skin of her throat.

The faint, coppery scent of blood rose in the air.

Megan’s hands clenched in her lap. She should stop him now, before it was too late. Could she revoke Shirl’s invitation?

Shirl moaned softly, then went completely limp in Rhys’s embrace.

“What’s wrong?” Megan asked anxiously. “Is she…?” The words stilled in her throat when he lifted his head to look at her. His eyes glowed red. She saw blood on his fangs before he licked it away.

Feeling light-headed, Megan watched as he bit into his own wrist, then held the bleeding wound to Shirl’s lips.

“Drink, Shirl.” His voice was low yet edged with steel.

With a soft cry, Shirl grabbed hold of his arm and pressed her mouth to the wound.

Fighting nausea, Megan lurched to her feet. She could feel Rhys’s gaze on her back as she fled the room and staggered up the stairs.

Safe in her bedroom, with the door locked, she fell across the bed and cried bitter tears for the death of her best friend.

Tomás Villagrande lifted his head, the lovely dusky-skinned woman in his arms forgotten as, somewhere in the heart of the city, Rhys Costain brought a new vampire into the fold.

Chapter 25

When she had no tears left, Megan dried her eyes. Admonishing herself to stop being a coward, she went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, then went back downstairs. She had to make sure Shirl was still alive. No, not alive. Undead.

Rhys looked up when she entered the room. He hadn’t moved. As far as Megan could tell, neither had Shirl. She looked even paler than before. And she didn’t seem to be breathing.

Megan met Rhys’s gaze. “Is she all right?” she asked anxiously. “Is she…?”

“She’ll be fine,” Rhys replied. “She’ll sleep tonight and all day tomorrow.” He brushed a lock of hair from Shirl’s cheek. It was an achingly tender touch. And then he looked at Megan. “When the sun goes down, she’ll rise as a new vampire.”

Megan swallowed hard against the bile that burned the back of her throat. A new vampire. Shirl had always been fascinated with the Undead. Maybe this was what she had been searching for her whole life.

Rhys studied her, one brow raised. “You don’t approve.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course not! You’ve turned my best friend into a…”

“Go on, say it,” he challenged. “I’ve turned her into a monster, like me.”

Megan took a step back, as if to distance herself from the truth. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“Stay out of my head!”

“I wish I could.” He eased Shirl down onto the sofa, then rose, his eyes sparking with anger.

Power rolled off him in waves. That, combined with the barely suppressed fury in his eyes, frightened Megan to the depths of her being, but she refused to let him intimidate her. Clenching her hands at her sides, she glared up at him, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What had happened to the man who had once made love to her so tenderly, she wondered, even as an annoying voice in the back of her mind whispered that Rhys Costain wasn’t a man at all.

“Monster.” He spat the word at her. “It’s what you see when you look at me now, isn’t it?”

She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t force the words past her lips.

“Damn you!” Hissing the words, he closed the distance between them quicker than her eyes could follow and pulled her body up against his. “Damn you,” he repeated, but this time, it sounded like a caress.

He kissed her then, a low growl rising in his throat as his tongue plundered her mouth. There was no gentleness in him, no tenderness.

She reeled under the assault on her senses—the hard length of his body pressed intimately against hers, the heat of his tongue dueling with her own. His arm was like a band of solid steel holding her prisoner. She whimpered softly, barely able to breathe as his arm tightened around her, pulling her closer still.

She knew he wanted to hurt her, to prove, in some perverse way, that he was the monster his actions showed him to be. But, monster or not, she clung to him, her body quickly responding to the strength of his arms, the force of his kisses, the way his hand caressed her hair.

Rhys muttered something under his breath as he released her, and even though she didn’t recognize the language, she knew he was swearing. Some words sounded the same no matter how you said them.

Turning away, Rhys scooped Shirl into his arms. “I’ll take good care of her,” he said curtly, and with his gaze riveted on Megan, he vanished from her sight.

“Show-off,” Megan murmured, and burst into tears.

Rhys carried Shirl to his penthouse lair, settled her in his bed, then went out onto the balcony, his thoughts in turmoil. Why had he agreed to turn Megan’s roommate? Had he hoped, in some distant part of his mind, that by saving Shirl he could regain Megan’s affection?

He snorted with disgust at his own foolishness. If anything, he had caused Megan to hate him all the more. And now he had an unwanted fledgling on his hands.

The wind stirred, whispering through the trees, sending leaves and debris skittering along the sidewalk.

And on the freshening wind, Rhys caught the scent of an unfamiliar vampire. Cursing softly, he was about to vault over the railing to the street below when the vampire materialized beside him.