Everlasting Desire (Everlasting 2)
“I’m fine, just a little shaky.” Clutching Rhys’s jacket closer, she got out of the car. Rhys was instantly at her side, his arm sliding around her waist to steady her.
Shirl glanced up at him and realized there had been nothing to worry about. On some innate level, she knew this man would never let anything happen to Megan.
“Why don’t you make us some tea?” Rhys suggested. “And add a little brandy to Megan’s, if you’ve got it.”
With a nod, Shirl hurried back into the house.
“I’m fine,” Megan said, seeing his worried expression. “Really.”
“Uh-huh.” Swinging her into his arms, he carried her inside. He knew it wasn’t necessary. She could have walked, but he needed to hold her. He knew even better than she did how quickly a life could be snuffed out. He had been responsible for dispatching a few himself.
In the living room, he lowered her to the sofa. Taking his coat from her, he slipped it on, then covered her with the afghan folded over the back of the couch. Sitting beside her, he took her hands in his. “You’re cold.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah.” He needed to feed, something he had been doing more of since meeting Megan. It was the only way to keep his skin from feeling abnormally cool.
“Here we go.” Shirl glanced at Rhys as she placed a tray on the coffee table. “I brought sugar, milk, and honey, since I don’t know how you like your tea.”
He grinned up at her. “I don’t like tea.”
“Oh. Can I get you anything else?”
His gaze moved to the pulse throbbing in her throat, and then he shook his head. “No, thanks.”
She stared at him a moment; then, with a shrug, she picked up the teapot and filled two cups. She added a spoonful of honey to one of them, and handed the other to Megan.
“Did they say anything on the news about how the fire started?” Rhys asked.
“Something about the wiring backstage. I don’t know what that backdrop was made of, but it went up like flash paper. The band was lucky to make it off the stage. I saw Drexel on the news. They said he’s going to be all right.” Shirl grinned at Rhys. “They interviewed one of the EMTs. He said some really intense guy insisted he take care of Drexel right away, even though he wasn’t that badly hurt. I’m guessing that was you.”
“You’d be right,” Rhys said, chuckling.
“I thought so. I’m just glad you’re both all right.” Shirl glanced at Megan, who was yawning. “I think it’s time I put you to bed.”
Megan nodded. The tea, heavily laced with brandy, must have been doing its work. She was suddenly very sleepy.
“Come on,” Rhys said, gaining his feet, “I’ll carry you upstairs.”
“I can walk,” Megan said, smothering another yawn.
“I know you can,” he agreed, lifting her into his arms, “but why should you?”
She couldn’t think of a single reason. Instead, she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“Look at that,” Shirl said. “She’s asleep already.”
Rhys brushed a lock of hair from Megan’s cheek, then bent his head to kiss her brow. Thanks to his preternatural power, she would sleep through what was left of the night and wake up feeling glad to be alive.
He looked up to find Shirl watching him, an inquisitive expression on her face. “Something wrong?”
“Who are you?”
He lifted one brow. “What do you mean?” It was an inane question. He knew exactly what she meant.
“There’s something about you. Something…” She shook her head. “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something not quite right.”
“I’m going to take Megan up to bed.”
“You’re not going to tell me who you are, or what you are, are you?”
“No. All you need to know is that I’m in love with Megan, and I would never hurt her.”
Shirl nodded. She didn’t know much about this man, but she could see the truth of his words in his eyes.
She led the way up to Megan’s room and turned down the covers on the bed. After Rhys lowered Megan onto the mattress, Shirl shooed him out of the room and shut the door. She undressed Megan, eased a nightgown over her head, then pulled the covers over her before allowing Rhys back into the room.
“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” Shirl said, and left the room.
Rhys sat on the edge of the bed, one hand lightly stroking Megan’s cheek. She might have perished in the fire if he hadn’t been there tonight. The thought cut like a knife. Even though she wasn’t hurt, he was hesitant to leave her, but Shirl was waiting downstairs to lock up after him. It was the only thing keeping him from leaving by the window. Using his supernatural powers would only add to her suspicions. Rising, he kissed Megan’s cheek before going downstairs.
He found Shirl by the front door.
“Good night, Mr. Costain.”
Stifling a grin, he murmured, “Good night, Miss Mansfield,” and left the house.
She stared after him. Megan had been right to be wary of Rhys Costain, Shirl decided as she turned off the lights in the living room. He was remarkably handsome. He was polite. He dressed well and drove a great car, but…She shook her head. Something about him definitely wasn’t right.
“Mr. Costain,” she murmured. “Who are you?”
Feeling a sudden chill, she closed and locked the door. Maybe that double-date she and Megan had talked about wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
Chapter 12
In the morning, Megan woke feeling wonderful. Smiling, she sat up and stretched her arms over her head. It was a beautiful day.
Rising, she took a long, hot shower, washed her hair, brushed her teeth, wrapped up in her favorite fluffy robe, and went downstairs to get the Sunday paper.
Humming softly, she fixed a cup of hot chocolate, then sat down and spread the paper on the kitchen table.
She frowned when she read the headlines:
INFERNO AT DOWNTOWN ROCK CONCERT
EIGHT DEAD, TWO HUNDRED INJURED
How could she have forgotten about the fire? She quickly read the article, which gave a brief review of the concert, then went on to say that the cause of the fire was still under investigation, although the preliminary report pointed to defective wiring and faulty smoke detectors.
Reading the paper brought all the unbelievable horror of the evening rushing back—the terror that had engulfed her, the almost hypnotic glow of the flames as they licked at the building, the bodies of the dead being put into shiny black body bags.