Chapter 30
Upon rising the next evening, Rhys went to his club to mull things over. He nodded at several of the regulars, noted that most of the rooms were full.
Sitting at the bar, he ordered a glass of vampire wine. He sipped it slowly, his thoughts turned inward. There was no doubt that Villagrande posed a threat, but until the other vampire made a move, Rhys didn’t know how big that threat was.
If Villagrande intended to take over the West Coast, then Rhys had two options. He could stay and fight, or he could surrender and move on. The first option would most likely end in his destruction; the second would destroy his pride.
And then there was Megan. He didn’t want her caught up in the middle of things. He didn’t know much about Tomás Villagrande except that he could be charming when it suited him. But the charm was only an act. Villagrande was a predator without equal, callous, cruel, and totally merciless. Adrianna was a prime example of Villagrande’s ruthlessness. The fact that he would avenge himself on her over something so trivial only proved how brutal he could be.
Rhys dragged a hand over his jaw. Most vampires were coldhearted killers. Hell, he had done his share of killing in the past and would likely do so again. He was a predator. Hunting was second nature to his kind.
A deep breath filled his nostrils with Megan’s scent. It clung to his clothes, his skin. Brave little mortal, he thought in amusement, declaring she wasn’t afraid of Villagrande. If she knew just how cold and calculating his kind could be, she would run screaming from his presence.
Rhys drained his glass. Until he knew what Villagrande had in mind, he would stay close to Megan. He would guard her house while the sun was down, keep watch outside of Shore’s whenever she was there, see that she made it safely home after work. Later tonight, before he sought his lair, he would return to her home and set wards around it to reinforce the power of the threshold.
He looked up when Veronique draped an arm over his shoulders. She was a comely young woman, with long blond hair and hazel eyes. Her slender figure was sheathed in a clingy black knit dress that left little to the imagination. If he’d had a favorite among the women who came to the club, it would have been Veronique.
She smiled at him, a come hither smile that few men—living or Undead—could resist.
“It’s been a long time since we shared a room.” She had a soft, sexy voice that conjured images of sweaty bodies entwined together. Bending down, she ran her tongue around the inside of his ear. “It’s hours until dawn.”
With a throaty growl, Rhys pulled her down onto his lap. He kissed her, a careless touching of his lips to hers. A kiss that meant nothing. “Not tonight, my sweet.”
“Not even a taste?” she asked, pouting.
“Will that make you happy?”
“You make me happy, mon coeur. I’ve missed you.”
Rhys shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”
She knew better than to question him. Instead, she lifted her hair from her neck, then tilted her head to the side in silent invitation.
And because he was fond of her, because he was thirsty, he lowered his head and took what she so freely offered.
Chapter 31
Shirl ran alongside Tomás, thrilling to the speed and power of her new body. When he jumped over an eight-foot fence, she followed him effortlessly. When he scurried up the side of a building as agile as a spider, she did likewise. When he jumped from the roof of the building to the one across the alley, she leaped after him, laughing as she did so. There was nothing to be afraid of. She was practically indestructible. Her headaches had disappeared. She was never tired. She had the strength of twenty men. Every sense was clearer, sharper. Oh, yes, she loved being a vampire. It was like being Wonder Woman, Superwoman, and Catwoman, all rolled into one.
Of course, there were times when she missed her favorite foods, when she yearned to bask in the sun, but Tomás had assured her that her longing for such things would lessen with each passing night until they ceased to matter at all. And she believed him.
Tomás jumped from the roof to the street below and once again, Shirl followed him.
“I’ve worked up an appetite,” he remarked. “How about you?”
She nodded, anticipation rising at the thought of hunting the night. It was exciting, searching for prey, chasing them down, feeling their fear, listening to the frantic beating of their hearts as they pleaded for help, for mercy. Tomás was a merciless hunter. He never left his prey alive.
Shirl hadn’t yet taken a life. She had been tempted, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. But she would, because Tomás expected it of her.
The beaches along the coast were his favorite hunting grounds, not only because he loved the sea, but because the ocean made it easy to dispose of the bodies if he was so inclined. They had hunted Manhattan Beach, Marina Del Ray, Laguna, Venice, and Santa Monica. Tonight, he took her to the Hermosa Pier. It was a popular night spot due to its many restaurants, bars, and nightclubs. There were usually long lines on the weekends. Shirl had been a frequent visitor in the past, and she hadn’t been above using her celebrity to get to the head of the line.
It took only moments to get from the city to the beach. Tomás agreed to spend a few minutes walking along the shore before they went in search of prey.
After removing her shoes, Shirl waded into the water. She had always loved the beach, the feel of the warm sand between her toes, the whisper of the waves rolling in. Now, with her heightened senses, it was even better. She laughed softly as the waves lapped at her ankles. The air was filled with the bouquet of sand and salt and seaweed. The evening breeze caressed her cheeks and danced in her hair.
She paused as a whiff of prey chased everything else from her mind.
Tomás had smelled it, too. A man and a woman were stretched out on a blanket just a few yards away, so wrapped up in each other they were unaware that they were no longer alone on the beach.
“I’ll race you!” Shirl cried, and took off running.
In spite of her head start, Tomás beat her. He was already bent over the woman’s neck when Shirl reached the blanket.
She smiled down at the man, who was looking on in horror. Mesmerized by Tomás, the man was unable to move.
His eyes grew wide with fear when Shirl lifted him to his feet as though he weighed no more than a child.
“Don’t be afraid,” she cooed. “I’m not going to hurt you.” And so saying, she gathered him into her arms, the hunger pounding through every fiber of her being in time to the frantic beat of his heart.