Everlasting Desire (Everlasting 2)

“Megan?”

“How can I trust you when you lied to me the other night?”

Shirl was quiet for a long moment, so long that Megan wondered if she was still on the line.

“I couldn’t help it,” Shirl said. “Tomás told me to.”

“Do you do everything he says?”

“No, but—”

“I can’t talk anymore. I have to get back to work. Why don’t you call me tomorrow night?”

“All right,” Shirl agreed.

Megan felt a twinge of guilt when she heard the disappointment in Shirl’s voice.

“I miss you, girlfriend,” Shirl said quietly.

“I miss you, too. Good night.”

Megan hung up the receiver, then stood there, replaying the conversation in her mind, until Mr. Parker knocked on the door.

“You through in here?” he asked. “Clark’s out front waiting for you.”

With a nod, Megan pasted a smile on her face and went out to wait on her least favorite client.

Later that night, on the way home from work, Megan told Rhys about her conversation with Shirl. “I told her to call me tomorrow night.” She looked at Rhys and shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”

“She said Villagrande’s out of town?”

“Yes. Is that important?”

“I don’t know. Did she say how long he’s going to be gone or where he was going?”

“No. So, do you think I should see her?”

Rhys pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. “What does your gut tell you?”

“I don’t know. I miss my friend, but I don’t know if I trust the vampire. What should I do?”

“It’s up to you.”

“You don’t trust her, do you?”

“Right now, I don’t trust anyone.”

Megan heaved a sigh. “I think I have to see her.”

Rhys nodded. He wanted to see Shirl, too. He was beginning to think bringing her across had been a mistake. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be there with you. Wait here.”

As he had every night, Rhys got out of the car, his senses probing the night. Only when he was certain that Villagrande hadn’t been there did he pull into the garage.

Inside the house, Megan turned on the lights, dropped down on the sofa, and kicked off her shoes.

Seeing the look on her face, Rhys sat beside her. “Give me your foot.”

She turned sideways on the sofa and obligingly placed her left foot in his hand. She sighed as he began to massage her ankle. “That feels wonderful.” She closed her eyes, reveling in the soothing touch of his hands.

A few minutes later, he lifted her other foot.

“You’re in the wrong business,” she murmured. “You should be a masseur.”

“Is that right?” His hand moved up, his fingers kneading her calf.

“I’ll give you an hour to stop that.”

“Only an hour?”

“I’m easy,” she said. “Take two.”

His hand slid farther up her leg, stroking the tender flesh of her inner thigh. “Two hours should be just about right.” And so saying, he swung her into his arms and carried her swiftly up the stairs to her room.

The light came on, seemingly of its own accord, as he laid her on the bed. His clothing disappeared as if by magic, and then he stretched out beside her, his hands and lips teasing, touching, tasting, as he undressed her.

She clung to him, every nerve humming with anticipation, her heart beating in time with his, her hands restless as she caressed him in return.

“Open to me, Megan.” His voice washed over her, softly entreating. He was asking for more than her physical surrender. Wanting to please him, she lowered every inhibition, letting their minds merge so that each caress was shared. She knew his thoughts, sensed his pleasure when she rained kisses on his cheeks, his neck, his chest. She experienced his desire, so different from her own, and yet the perfect complement to hers.

She writhed beneath him, lost in his touch, yearning for more, more. She cried his name as he rose over her, his eyes dark, glowing with need, with a craving she would never understand or share.

“Let me.” His voice was ragged with longing, with a need she couldn’t begin to imagine.

And because she loved him, because she wanted to please him, she turned her head to the side, giving him access to her throat. She moaned softly when he bit her, the faint sting swallowed up in the sensual pleasure that exploded through her as his body melded with hers. The sheer wonder of it was almost more than she could bear as she experienced his climax as well as her own.

Drifting, floating somewhere between worlds, she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, marveling at the latent strength that flexed beneath her questing fingertips. His hair, soft and silky, brushed her cheek as he lowered his head to kiss her, a long, slow kiss that had her wanting him again.

“So soon?” He nuzzled her neck, his tongue hot against her cooling flesh.

“Only if you want to.”

“Silly question,” he murmured, and then he was moving inside her again, carrying her away to heights only he could climb, evoking sensations only he could arouse.

He was gone in the morning, but she was used to that by now. At loose ends, nervous at the thought of seeing Shirl later, Megan did something she hadn’t done in months. She went to church.

Not wanting to talk to anyone, she arrived a few minutes late. Slipping into the back row, she closed her eyes and listened to the choir. They were singing “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing,” which was one of her favorite hymns. The words soothed her.

When the hymn ended, the reverend began to preach. He spoke of the resurrection, when the soul and the body would be reunited, never to be separated again. Did vampires have souls? Or did the soul leave the body when a person was turned? But that didn’t seem right. Wasn’t it the soul that kept the body alive? What happened to vampires when they were destroyed? She knew Rhys had killed to survive. Would he find forgiveness in the next life? And what about hunters? If vampires didn’t have souls, was killing them a sin?

Megan pressed her hands to her temples. Maybe coming to church hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

When the service was over, she went for a walk in the park across the street from the church. Here, with the touch of the sun on her face and a gentle breeze stirring the leaves on the trees, it was hard to believe that vampires were real, or that anyone would choose to become one. And yet, Shirl didn’t seem to have any regrets. Was it that easy to go from human to vampire? To exchange warm sunny days for endless night? To give up strawberry sundaes and bread fresh from the oven for a warm liquid diet? To give up the chance to marry and have children and grandchildren and instead, live long enough to watch everyone you knew and loved pass on?