Everlasting Desire (16 page)

“What about you?” Winchester asked. “Are you gonna stay here with us?”

“No. If Villagrande's out to take over my territory, you guys should probably stay as far away from me as you can. Maybe you should all take a vacation to the East Coast for as long as he's here.”

“You want us to leave you here alone?” Rupert asked.

Adams frowned. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“He needs to stay here,” Julius said. “He's the only one who has a chance against Villagrande.”

“Let's hope.” Rhys slapped his hands against his thighs. “Unless anyone has anything else to say, this meeting is over.”

Rhys didn't hang around to see what the members of the Council decided. He had a sudden need to see Megan, to hold her close while he still could because, unless he was badly mistaken, the preternatural crap was about to hit the fan.

 

Megan woke to someone quietly calling her name. She smiled as she recognized the soft, seductive voice.

“Rhys.” She murmured his name as she sat up and turned on the light. “What are you doing here at this time of the morning?” she asked, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. “It'll be dawn soon.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and slipped his arm around her waist. “I needed to see you.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah.”

She smothered a yawn behind her hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No.”

“Is this about Shirl?”

“In a way.” Leaning forward, he inhaled her scent, then kissed her cheek.

“Rhys, you're scaring me. What's going on?”

“That vampire your friend is tangled up with—Tomás? I think he's after my territory.”

“You're not going to fight him for it, are you? I mean…are you?”

“I sure as hell hope not.”

She looked up at him, her gaze searching his. “You can beat him, can't you?”

“I don't know.”

“But…don't you have the same powers he does? I mean, aren't all vampires created equal?”

“No. There are a number of variables involved in becoming a vampire. The most important thing is who sired you. If you're made by one of the old ones, you automatically inherit some of his power. The longer you exist, the stronger you get, mentally and physically.”

“Who made you?”

“I don't know. I never knew her name, or how old she was. She found me one night and took me to her home. I didn't know what she was. She said she was going to give me a gift, and that she was going to destroy herself when the sun came up.” He paused, remembering. “I was young. She was beautiful. We made love all that night, and then, just before dawn, she turned me. When I woke the next night, she was gone. She left me a note telling me what I had become and what I needed to do to survive.”

“Do you know who made Villagrande?”

“No. Nobody knows who made him, or how old he is.”

“But he's older than you?”

Rhys nodded.

“And that makes him stronger?”

“Right.”

“You never told me how old you are,” Megan said, momentarily distracted by Rhys's mention of age.

“Sure I did.”

“You told me you were twenty-five. Is that the truth?”

“Close to it. I was a week shy of my twenty-first birthday.”

Megan groaned softy. “You're only twenty?”

“And you're twenty-nine. It doesn't bother me. Don't let it bother you.”

He was right. There was no point in worrying about it, especially now. “So, you're in danger?”

He shrugged, as if it didn't concern him in the least, but she sensed the tension in him, knew he wasn't as confident as he wanted her to believe.

“What can I do?”

“I don't want you involved in this.”

Reaching up, she drew his head down and kissed him. “I'm already involved.”

“Villagrande is ruthless, and he plays for keeps.”

“What does he want with Shirl?”

Rhys traced the curve of her cheek with the tip of one finger. “What does any man want from a beautiful woman?”

“Don't change the subject.”

“I don't know what Villagrande wants. I don't know what he's planning. I only know I've got a bad feeling about the whole thing. It might be wise for us to stay apart for a while. I don't want him finding you through me.”

“No! How can you suggest that when we just got back together?”

“Megan, I'm only thinking of your safety.”

With a toss of her head, she exclaimed, “I'm not afraid of him!”

That foolish declaration scared him more than anything else. “Well, I am. One more thing. I want you to change the locks on the doors first thing in the morning. If Shirl comes here again, I want you to revoke her welcome.”

“What? Why? Oh! Because she's with him now.”

“Right the first time.”

“And she can invite him inside.”

“You catch on quick, darlin'.”

“You don't think she'd let him hurt me, do you?”

“I don't know, but it's better to be safe than sorry.”

Megan nodded, amazed at how quickly her life had been turned upside down yet again.

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.

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.

Looking over the man's head, she smiled at Tomás.

“Take him,” Tomás said. “You'll never know what it's truly like to be a vampire until you've made your first kill.”

Shirl licked her lips. The urge to drain her victims dry was always there when she fed, but so far, she hadn't succumbed to it. She wasn't sure why, but it was a line she was reluctant to cross.

“Are you a vampire or not?” Tomás challenged. “Sooner or later, you have to let go of your old notions of right and wrong. You're a predator now. He's prey. Take him!”

Shirl gazed into the frightened eyes of the man caught in the web of her embrace. She knew Tomás was watching her. How could she disappoint him again?

Experiencing a moment of regret, she smoothed the man's hair from his brow, then glanced at the woman on the blanket. Was she his girlfriend? His wife? Did they have children waiting for them at home? Feeling the weight of Tomás's gaze, she thrust the troubling questions from her mind.

After a murmured, “I'm sorry,” she lowered her head, sank her fangs into the man's neck, and drank.

It was intoxicating, the taste of his blood, the thrill of power that moved through her as she subdued his struggles with her superior strength.

Rhys didn't have to wait long to discover Villagrande's intentions. He had spent the evening with Megan, kissed her good night, and tucked her into bed a little after 1
A.M
. He was outside, taking a turn around the house, when his cell phone rang.

“Costain? It's Nicholas. Winchester has been destroyed.”

“How do you know?”

“Winchester wanted to watch the football game tonight, so the two of us went to his place. We were playing poker later when Villagrande showed up. He destroyed Winchester before I realized what was happening.”

“Why not you?”

“He needed a messenger boy. He told me to tell you he's taking over the West Coast. He said you can either swear allegiance to him or he's going to destroy the rest of us, one by one. And then you.”

“Where's the rest of the Council?”

“Here, at the meeting house. We're all here. What are you going to do about Villagrande?”

“I wish I knew.”

“None of us are strong enough to take him.”

“I know. Have you told the others what happened?”

“Not yet. I called you first.”

“What did you do with the body?”

“I left it where it was.”

“Okay, I'll take care of it.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Stay there until you hear from me. No one's to leave the house, understood?”

“Yeah.”

“And don't say anything until I get there.” Muttering an oath, Rhys ended the call. He lingered on the porch for several minutes, his brow furrowed. He needed to dispose of Winchester's body, and then he should probably meet with the Council members and let them know what was going on.

“Dammit!” Rhys dragged a hand through his hair. He had to decide what he was going to do. Villagrande had laid down an unmistakable challenge, and it was up to Rhys to answer it.

“So, what's it gonna be?” he muttered. “Stay and fight? Or tuck your tail between your legs and run like a damn dog?”

He grunted softly. Why hadn't he thought of it before? There was a third option, and one he might have to use if things got any worse.