“But there was so much blood…” Megan murmured, frowning.
“Just a flesh wound,” Rhys said with a grin.
When the police were satisfied that they had all the information they needed, they handcuffed the two suspects, who had regained consciousness as soon as the police finished interrogating Rhys.
“We’ll be in touch, Mr. Parker,” one of the officers said, and then they marched the suspects out of the store.
Mr. Parker locked the front door behind the police, then walked back to where Rhys was standing. “Mr. Costain, I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”
“No need.”
“Please,” Mr. Parker said, pulling his checkbook from the inside pocket of his suit coat. “I’d be happy to give you a reward.”
“If you insist,” Rhys said. “How about a new shirt?”
Mr. Parker blinked at him. “A new shirt? That’s all you want?”
“That’s it.”
Shaking his head, Mr. Parker fetched the most expensive shirt the store had to offer. Handing it to Rhys, he said, “How about a new coat? That one’s ruined.”
Rhys shrugged. “Sure.” He didn’t really need another coat, but what the hell? It would give him an excuse to see Megan again. “I’ll stop in and look around next time I’m in the neighborhood.”
“Very well,” Mr. Parker said. “Megan, if you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”
“I’ll see her home,” Rhys said.
Mr. Parker looked doubtful, but there was no arguing with Costain’s expression or the implacable tone of his voice.
Taking Megan by the hand, Rhys lifted her to her feet. “Ready?”
“Yes, but…”
Before she quite knew how it happened, they were in her car, with Rhys behind the wheel.
“I can drive,” she protested.
“Not tonight.” He slid the key into the ignition.
Megan frowned. She didn’t remember giving him her keys.
After a glance in the rearview mirror, he pulled away from the curb.
“What made you come back to the shop?” Megan asked. “And what happened to all the things you bought earlier?”
“I dropped them off at my place.”
“You must live close by.”
He shrugged. “Close enough.”
She gave him the directions to her house, then wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly chilled. Nerves, she thought, but that was to be expected. She had just been through a traumatic experience. She and Mr. Parker could have been hurt, killed. If Rhys hadn’t come along when he did…
She shook her head. He had been shot because of her. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew in the deepest part of her being that he had come back to the store because she had been in danger, which begged the question: how had he known?
Rhys slid a glance in her direction. “You doing okay?”
She nodded, but she couldn’t stop trembling. “You came back because of me, didn’t you?”
He hesitated a moment before he said, “I was hoping to change your mind about that drink.”
“I could sure use one.” She didn’t believe for a minute that was why he had returned to Shore’s. She was tempted to pursue the matter, but she just didn’t have the energy.
They drove in silence for a few moments, and then she frowned. “Where are we going?”
“You said you needed a drink. I know just the place.”
“It’s late. I don’t think…”
“One drink,” he said, “and I’ll take you home.”
Looking at him, at the gleam in his fathomless dark eyes, she knew without a doubt that Rhys Costain was more dangerous than a dozen armed thugs.
Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of a brick building. The name BLUE MOON flashed in turquoise neon above the entrance.
Rhys came around the front of the car and opened the door for her. She hesitated when he offered her his hand, reluctant to touch him without knowing why. When he continued to stand there, his arm outstretched, she heaved a sigh, then placed her hand in his. His fingers were cool as they closed over her own.
He handed her out of the car, then stripped off his ruined coat and bloody shirt and dropped them into the gutter. Opening the Camry’s rear door, he pulled out the shirt Mr. Parker had given him. After removing it from the wrapper, he shook it out and slipped it on.
“Nice,” he said, running his hand over the navy blue silk. He gestured toward the club. “Shall we?”
Megan gestured at the gutter. “What about your clothes?”
“I’ll have someone from the club dispose of them.”
“Oh.”
“Shall we?”
Still somewhat dazed, Megan nodded.
The Blue Moon was a small club that catered to jazz enthusiasts. Old black-and-white photos of famous, and not-so-famous, musicians lined the walls, interspersed with pages of sheet music autographed by singers and songwriters.
Rhys guided Megan to a vacant booth and slid in beside her. He could sense the tension rolling off her in waves. A part of it was due to the incident at Shore’s, but Rhys knew his presence caused the majority of her nervousness. She was afraid of him without knowing why.
He smiled inwardly. He knew why. Some mortals were sensitive to the presence of his kind. On some instinctive level, they recognized the danger he represented. Most dismissed it, overwhelmed by his vampire glamour.
He ordered a bottle of vintage red wine, then settled back against the seat. His gaze trapped hers as, ever so gently, he whispered peace to her mind, his words easing away some of the tension that gripped her.
When she relaxed, he said, “So, tell me about yourself.”
“There’s nothing much to tell. I was married, but it didn’t work out….”
“Why not?” It was a silly question. Few marriages lasted any length of time these days, but any man who let Megan get away was crazy.
“Oh, a lot of reasons. He was too young, not really ready to settle down. I wanted a home and a family. He didn’t. He liked partying and riding motorcycles with his friends on the weekends.” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “It was years ago. He’s married now. They just had a baby. I guess I should have waited for him to grow up.”
He didn’t miss the wistful note in her voice. “You never married again?”
“No. Once was enough.”
“Once burned, twice shy?” he asked with a rueful grin.
“Something like that. How about you? Have you ever been married?”
He shook his head.
“I’m surprised.”
“Oh? Why?”
“You’re young, rich, handsome….” She shrugged. “It just seems like someone would have snatched you up by now.”
“You think I’m handsome?”
“In a dark, devilish sort of way, yes.”
Devilish. He laughed softly. If she only knew. “Go on,” he coaxed. “Tell me more.”
“There’s not a lot to tell. I live with a friend of mine. I work.” She shrugged. “Sounds boring, doesn’t it?”
“If you don’t like it, change it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I’ve always enjoyed my job and the people. At least until tonight.”
“The friend you live with…?” He waited, jaw clenched, afraid of what he might do if her roommate was a man. Just because she hadn’t married again didn’t mean she wasn’t involved.
“Shirley. We’ve been friends since college. She’s a high fashion model, very pretty. You’d like her.”
“I like you.”
The words, the tone of his voice, the sultry look in his eyes, sent a shiver down her spine. She took a sip of her wine, hoping it would calm her. His thigh brushed against hers, but it was more than his nearness that unsettled her.
She eased her leg away from his. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”
A smile flitted across his face before he said, “I own a little nightclub on the oth
er side of town.”
“Oh? What’s it called? Maybe I’ve been there.”
He laughed softly. “I doubt it.”
“Why? What kind of club is it?”
“It’s a Goth hangout.”
“Goth?” she asked, frowning. “You mean those weird people who dress all in black and pretend to be vampires, that kind of thing?”
“Exactly.”
“Are they into the blood thing?”
“Some of them are.”
“Shirl dated a guy who was a Goth a year or so ago. She was really into that kind of thing for a while. You know, the whole vampire mythology, but I can tell you, she broke it off with him pretty darn quick when he said he wanted to drink her blood.” Megan grimaced. “I’m not sure vampires really exist. I mean, I’ve never met one. Have you?”
“Who can say? They don’t advertise it, you know.”
“No, I guess not.”
Rhys refilled his glass, then looked at her, eyebrows raised. “More?”
“Yes, please.”
He refilled her glass, wondering what she would say, what she would think, if she knew a five-hundred-year-old vampire was sitting beside her, contemplating how he might steal a taste of her blood.
When the band broke into something soft and slow, Rhys set his glass aside. “Care to dance?”
“Are you sure you want to?” She gestured at his arm. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“I’m a quick healer. So, what do you say?”
She considered it a moment, then nodded.
On the dance floor, he took her into his arms without hesitation. Her body fit against his perfectly, as he had known it would. She was warm with the juices of life, supple in his embrace. He took a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the clean scent of jasmine, the musky scent of a young female. And blood.
Her gaze met his. He knew what she was going to ask even before she spoke. “I have to know,” she said, almost apologetically. “Just how old are you?”
“Twenty-five.” The lie slid easily past his lips. He was too young for her at twenty, too old at five hundred and twelve. “Relieved?”
“Yes. You look younger.”
“A blessing, don’t you think?”
“Some people never seem to age. Sometimes I hate to look in the mirror, you know? The other day, I found a gray hair.” Shirl was even more afraid of growing old than Megan was, since when Shirl’s looks went, so did her career.
“Not to worry,” he said with a faint smile. “You’ll always be beautiful.”
“Flatterer.”
“I call ’em the way I see ’em.” He regarded her a moment before asking, “If you could stay young forever, would you?”
She considered it a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Growing up, growing old, it’s what life is all about.”
“Yes,” he remarked. “Life.”
The song ended, and he escorted her back to the table.
Life, Rhys thought as he drove her home a short time later. Its flame burned bright within her, drawing him in, warming the cold, desolate places in his soul.
If he drank from her, he knew he would never be cold again.
Megan stood at the window, watching Rhys walk away. She had suggested he drive home in her car or call a cab, but he had dismissed her suggestions with a wave of his hand, saying the walk would do him good.
She had been a bundle of nerves during the drive home, wondering if Rhys would try to kiss her good night, wondering if she should let him. The knowledge that she had even considered it still astonished her. Maybe he wasn’t as young as she had thought, but she hardly knew the man. Still, a hero deserved a reward, and after what he had done tonight, he was definitely a hero.
Awfully full of yourself, aren’t you, Megan? Thinking one of your kisses would be ample reward for saving your life!
As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. When they reached her house, Rhys walked her to the door, made sure she was safely inside, and bid her a chaste good night.
She watched him until he was swallowed up in the darkness; then, after double-locking the front door, she went through the rest of the house, making sure all the windows were closed and locked, drawing the drapes to shut out what was left of the night. Funny, that while sitting in the club with Rhys, the events at the store had seemed distant, almost as if they had happened to someone else, but here, in her own home, she was suddenly afraid. She knew there was evil and violence in the world. She saw it in living color on the nightly news, but, until this evening, she had never experienced it firsthand.
She could have been killed tonight. They could all have been killed.
Folding her arms over her chest, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Maybe it was time to buy a gun, or at least a canister of pepper spray.
After changing into a T-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms, she went into the kitchen and fixed a cup of hot cocoa. She was sitting at the table, waiting for the chocolate to cool, when Shirl shuffled into the room. Even without makeup, her blue eyes puffy from too little sleep, and her long, silver-blond hair mussed, Shirl was gorgeous.
“I’m sorry,” Megan said. “Did I wake you?”
“It’s all right,” Shirl replied, smothering a yawn with her hand. “I have to be up in a couple of hours anyway.” She dropped into the chair across from Megan’s. “What are you doing up so late? Or so early? Did you just get home?”
“Yes.” Megan wrapped her hands around the mug. “We had some trouble at the store tonight.”
“Oh?” Shirl stared at her, suddenly wide awake. “What happened? Did anyone get hurt?”
“No.”
“Well, come on, girl, I want details.”
With a sigh, Megan quickly told her about Shore’s newest client and how he had come to the rescue. “Just like Batman,” she finished, “but without the mask, of course.”
“Too bad,” Shirl said with a grin. “I like men in masks.”
Megan had to laugh at that. It was one of things they had in common, liking masked heroes. Batman, Spiderman, the Lone Ranger. They all wore masks.
“Did he at least have a cape?” Shirl asked hopefully.
“’Fraid not,” Megan said, smothering a yawn. “I think I’m ready for bed. Do you want to go out tomorrow night?”
“I can’t. I have a date.”
“You do?” Megan exclaimed. “With who?”
“Geez, don’t look so surprised.”
“Well, it has been a long time. For both of us.”
“His name is Greg, and he’s a patrol sergeant with the LAPD. Six-foot three, brown hair, brown eyes. Divorced. No children.”
“When do I get to meet him?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow night. So, what about this guy, Rhys? Any vibes there?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Megan replied, shaking her head. “He’s only twenty-five.”
“So you’re four years older than he is. So what?”
Megan shrugged. “I don’t believe him.”
“You think he’s older?”
“No, younger. A lot younger. But it’s more than that. He’s…” She bit down on her lower lip as she tried to find the words to describe Rhys Costain. “Different.”
“Different how? Two heads? Three arms? One eye in the middle of his forehead?”
“No, nothing like that. I don’t know how to explain it. He scares me, and I don’t know why.” She ran her fingertip around the edge of her cup. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but…he changed his shirt after he was shot…”
“What’s so crazy about that?”
“Hush. I saw his arm when he changed his shirt and I swear—I swear!—the wound in his arm was gone. I mean, gone like it was never there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Well, I could be wrong. It was dark, but…”
“You’ve had a rough night, girlfriend. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you.”
“Maybe.”
Megan blew out a sigh. “Sometimes, when I’m with him, I get the feeling he’s hiding something. Something dark and dangerous.”
“Hey, if you’re having scary thoughts about this guy, then I’d say follow your instincts and stay away from him.”
Good advice, Megan thought as she rinsed out her cup and made her way upstairs. Good advice, indeed.
Chapter 4
Although Rhys had little to do with the affairs of mortals in general, he made it a point to keep abreast of what was happening around the world, especially in the United States. Especially now, when he was no longer just Master of the City, but Master of the West Coast Vampires.
He grunted softly as he recalled the battle that had increased his territory. It hadn’t been a battle he had sought, but he had never run from a fight. He had destroyed the other vampire without a qualm, and now his domain included Oregon, Washington, and Idaho as well as California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Montana.
He was always amazed at the violence humans were capable of. His kind were supposed to be the monsters, yet man’s cruelty to his fellow beings made vampires seem benevolent by comparison.
Someone had once said there was nothing new under the sun. It was proved nightly, on the news. This evening was no different. Gang killings. Teachers having affairs with underage students. Congressmen being arrested for nefarious dealings. The rich preying on the poor. War in the Middle East. The price of gas going up and down like a yo-yo on steroids.
Rhys was about to turn off the set when the perfectly coiffed female anchorwoman said, “This just in from our sister station in New York City. The bodies of a man and a woman were discovered near the Hudson River only moments ago. According to undisclosed sources, both victims appear to have been drained of blood.”
It was the last three words that caught his attention. They seemed to echo off the walls.
Drained of blood.
Rhys leaned forward, his gaze focused on the screen. In his gut, he knew those three words could mean only one thing. There was a vampire on the rampage somewhere in the city of New York.
Switching off the screen, Rhys opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The cops would never catch the vampire responsible for the killings, just as they would never solve the crime. It would take another vampire to bring the rogue down. Or a damn good hunter.
Everlasting Desire Page 3