Evelyn blinked at him.
“This is no time for jokes,” George said angrily. “My daughter is dying.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Clenching his fists, George started to rise. There was no doubt in Rhys’s mind that the man was looking for any excuse to hit something. He had been through hell in the last month, and, up to now, he had managed to hold it all together.
Drawing on his preternatural power, Rhys forced the man back into his chair.
“What the hell!” George exclaimed. “Who are you?”
“I told you, I’m a vampire. Do you need more proof?” And so saying, Rhys bared his fangs and unleashed the monster within him. He knew what they saw. He had seen enough of the Undead to know that his face took on a hardness no human’s ever wore, that his eyes were blood red.
Evelyn opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged.
George stared at him. “Why are you telling us this? Are you going to…” His face paled.
With a shake of his head, Rhys retracted his fangs and willed the beast back inside. “I’m telling you because I’m going to take Megan to my place. I’m going to bring her across. I think it’s the only way to save her.”
“You want to turn my daughter into a vampire?” George shook his head emphatically. “I won’t hear of it.”
“George, let him do it.”
“Are you out of your mind, woman?” George exclaimed. “He wants to make her into a monster!”
“I don’t want to lose Megan.” Evelyn turned pleading eyes on Rhys. “Do it. If it will bring Megan back to us, do it.”
George brought his fist down on the arm of the chair. “Dammit, Evie, you don’t know what you’re saying!”
But Evelyn wasn’t listening to her husband. Her gaze was focused on Rhys. “Please,” she said, “save her for me.”
“I’ll do my best, but there are no guarantees.”
Evelyn bit down on her lower lip, obviously disturbed by the implication that something might go wrong. And then she squared her shoulders. “You’re our only hope.”
“Megan wouldn’t want this,” George said. “And if she knew what you were, she wouldn’t want you, either.”
“She knows.”
George stared at him, all the fight gone out of him.
“I’m taking her out of here tonight,” Rhys said quietly. “I want you to go talk to her doctor and tell them you’ve decided to take her home to die. I’m sure they’ll try to talk you out of it. Just stand firm. Sign whatever papers you have to.”
George nodded, though it was clear from the look on his face that he was against it.
“When that’s done, I think the two of you should go home. There’s nothing else you can do here.”
Evelyn clutched her husband’s arm, her expression growing even more anxious. “But you’ll bring her to us, after? You swear it?”
Rhys nodded. “When she’s ready to see you, I’ll bring her home. You have my word on it.”
Chapter 48
After the necessary papers were signed, Megan was wheeled out to the curb to a waiting ambulance. Once the nurse who had accompanied Megan returned to the hospital, George dismissed the ambulance. Evelyn sobbed quietly as she kissed Megan’s cheek.
Rhys lifted Megan from the gurney. “We need to go.”
“Remember your promise,” Evelyn said. Sobbing now, she kissed Megan’s cheek.
George stared at Rhys. “I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you are.” His voice broke.” If anything happens to my daughter…”
Rhys nodded. “I hear you.”
Since George and Evelyn knew what he was, there was no need for subterfuge. Rhys removed the casts from Megan’s legs, then willed the two of them to his penthouse.
Doubts plagued him as soon as he laid her on his bed. What if it didn’t work? What if he took too much and killed her? What if his blood brought her out of the coma but left her body unable to move, her mind unable to function?
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ran his knuckles along her check. She was cold. Cold and unresponsive.
Guilt burned through him. No matter how you sliced it, this was all his fault. If he had stayed out of her life, she wouldn’t have been looking for a wedding dress on that fateful day, wouldn’t have been crossing the street at just that moment. Wouldn’t be lying here, more dead than alive.
His fingertips slid down the side of her neck to rest in the hollow of her throat. He could feel the faint beat of her heart, hear the sluggish flow of blood wending its way through her veins, the labored sound of her breathing.
“If you’re gonna do it,” he muttered, “you’d damn well better do it before it’s too late.”
Murmuring, “Forgive me for breaking my promise, my love, but I can’t let you go,” he drew her into his lap and brushed the hair away from her neck.
He didn’t realize he was crying until the red of his tears dripped onto her cheeks.
“Forgive me,” he said again, and lowered his head to her throat.
She didn’t respond when his fangs pierced her skin.
He drank, and her blood was warm and sweet and more satisfying than anything he had ever known.
He drank until the spark of life within her guttered and then, biting into his own wrist, he held it over her mouth, lightly stroking her throat in an effort to make her swallow.
“Drink, my love,” he pleaded. “You’ve got to drink.”
Nothing. No movement, no fluttering of her eyelids, no change in her breathing or heartbeat.
“Megan!”
His blood dripped into her mouth, slid down her throat.
Slowly, so slowly that at first he thought he was imagining it, her skin grew warmer, color returned to her cheeks, her heartbeat grew stronger, steadier.
“That’s it! Come on, darlin’, fight!”
When she swallowed, he placed his wrist closer to her mouth. Relief poured through him when her hand came up, grasping his wrist to hold his arm closer.
“Megan.” Murmuring her name, he caressed her cheek with his free hand. “Drink, Megan. Take as much as you want,” he said fervently. “As much as you need.”
Megan reached upward. It was like rising from the bottom of a deep, dark pit with nothing to guide her. She had no recollection of how she had fallen, no explanation for the pain that engulfed her, no memory of anything but a shadowy figure with blazing red eyes….