She moped all day Wednesday. By Thursday night, she was angry with Rhys, and furious with herself. How could she have been so naive? She wasn’t a dewy-eyed teenager. She was a grown woman. So, she’d made a mistake. It was time to get past it. She had been attracted to the man, there was no denying it. So attracted she had slept with him, but she told herself she didn’t care. It was over and done.
As the evening wore on, she convinced herself she hadn’t even liked him that much. She had just been lonely, looking for a little attention, and she had gotten carried away because he was so damned good-looking. Because he had made her feel special. Because his kisses had made her go weak in the knees.
“Hah! Weak in the head is more like it!” she muttered. A few kisses, a few dances, a few compliments, and she had taken him to her bed. How could she have been so gullible? So incredibly stupid! Well, she was glad he was out of her life, the jerk. And relieved that she would never have to see him again.
Until she saw him walk through the door Friday night.
Rhys paused near the entrance, his gaze sweeping the interior of the shop; then, not caring that Mr. Parker was watching, not certain of what Megan’s reaction would be, Rhys crossed to where Megan was standing and drew her into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and kissed her long and hard, right there in front of her boss and anyone passing by who happened to look in the window.
He kissed her until she was breathless, pliant in his embrace, and then he kissed her again. “I missed you.”
She blinked up at him, her lips slightly swollen from the force of his kisses.
In the distance, Mr. Parker cleared his throat as a customer entered the store.
Muttering an oath, Rhys took a step away from Megan, though he continued to hold her gaze with his own. “Can I see you later?”
“What?” She blinked several times as though to clear her head.
“Can I see you later?”
“Oh.” She touched her fingertips to her lips. “Yes, of course.”
“Till then,” he said with a wink, and left the store, whistling softly.
He was a fool, Rhys thought, no two ways about it. But three days without seeing Megan had proved to him, once and for all, that he didn’t want to live without her. No doubt he would be hurt in the end. Sooner or later, she was bound to discover what he was, and the preternatural shit would hit the fan, but until then, he planned to spend as much time with her as he could. And when it was over…well, he’d worry about that when it happened.
But for now, he had a date.
He was at the back door at two A.M. sharp, waiting for her. One look, and Megan wanted to throw herself into his arms. She had to remind herself that she was still mad at him for making love to her and then letting three whole days and nights go by without a word.
As though reading her mind, he drew her into his arms. “Forgive me?” he asked, and kissed her.
Megan tried to hold onto her irritation, but with his lips on hers, it was impossible. When he finally let her come up for air, she said the words she had been wanting to say, even though she feared it would be a mistake. “I love you.”
Dammit, why hadn’t he seen that coming? “Megan.”
Shoulders slumped, she looked away. She knew it! Why hadn’t she just kept her big mouth shut?
“Megan, look at me.”
Still not meeting his gaze, she said, “Forget I said anything. I’m going home.”
Rhys blew out a sigh, his arms tightening around her when she tried to pull away. “Dammit, Megan, you don’t know how complicated this is.” He knew she was attracted to him. Why hadn’t he realized that a woman like Megan DeLacey wouldn’t take a man to her bed unless she loved him? Maybe coming here tonight hadn’t been such a good idea after all. But when he thought of leaving her again, he just couldn’t do it.
She met his gaze, her eyes sparking with anger. “Let me go.”
“Calm down, woman. You must know I love you, too, or I wouldn’t be here now.”
She stared at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“Come on,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”
Megan unlocked her car, then handed him the keys, and he drove her home. She was a bundle of nerves by the time they pulled into the driveway. Rhys parked the car, then came around to open her door.
Hand in hand, they walked up the porch steps. Megan unlocked the front door, felt her heartbeat jump into double-time when he swung her into his arms and carried her across the threshold.
Like a bride, she thought, resting her head on his shoulder.
They didn’t talk as he carried her up the stairs to her room. Setting her on her feet, he removed her shoes one at a time, his hand lingering on her calf, and then, ever so slowly, he undressed her, his gaze and his hands caressing each inch of exposed flesh.
When she stood naked in front of him, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, then started to remove his shirt, but she batted his hands away. “My turn.”
A faint smile played over his lips as she peeled off his shirt and his trousers. She hesitated when only his briefs remained.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he said, and laughed when her cheeks turned bright pink.
Spanning her waist with his hands, he fell back on the bed, drawing her down on top of him. He kissed her lightly, his hands sliding up and down her back, reveling in the feel of her bare skin beneath his fingertips, the little purr of contentment that rose in her throat.
Rolling onto his side, he drew her body up against his. He liked it that she could be bold one minute and bashful the next. He liked the way she looked at him, the way she moaned softly as he aroused her, the way her body welcomed his.
In spite of his vow not to drink from her, he couldn’t resist the allure of her blood. Holding her close, he nipped lightly at the soft flesh beneath her ear and, when she didn’t object, he bit a little deeper. He took only a small taste, reveling in the sweetness as her blood flowed over his tongue.
Megan moaned low in her throat. She didn’t know what Rhys was doing but she hoped he would never stop. Heat sizzled through her, heightening her desire until she was lost in a hazy world of sensual pleasure, uncertain of where he ended and she began.
She cried his name aloud, her nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, as heat spiraled through her, erupting into flames that threatened to consume her. She held onto him, her body writhing restlessly beneath his, until the fire cooled and she lay sated and content in his arms.
Rhys rolled onto his side, carrying her with him, so that they lay face-to-face, their bodies still meshed. Megan felt like purring as his hand lightly stroked her back.
Murmuring his name, she closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
Rhys gazed at the vision in his arms. Warm and womanly, she carried the fragrance of flowers in her hair, the musky scent of sex—hers and his—on her skin. It pleased him that he had satisfied her as no other. He had shamelessly read her mind, knew that no other man had ever pleasured her as he had. The knowledge stroked his ego. Not that satisfying women had ever been a problem for him, before or after he became a vampire. Women had always been drawn to him. He had loved them and left them without a qualm. But Megan, ah, sweet Megan with her honey-brown eyes and tender heart, she was different. If he lived to be a thousand, he knew he would never forget her.
A familiar tingling warned of dawn’s approach. He could feel the sun long before it was visible.
If only he could stay. If only he could make love to her each night, see her face upon waking. He had never regretted being a vampire. Once he had been turned, he had faced it, accepted it, and moved on. But now, for the first time in his long existence, he knew he would gladly give up immortality for the chance to spend one mortal lifetime in this woman’s arms.
Slipping out of bed, he dressed quickly, then stood at her bedside, debating whether to wake her. He decided against it. It would be dawn soon, no time to stay and make love to her again as he so longed to do.
Murmuring, “I love you,” he brushed a kiss across her cheek and left the house, hoping he had time for one quick errand.
Megan woke feeling wonderful until she looked to her left and saw that she was alone in bed. Again. And then she smiled. Once again, Rhys had left her after a night of lovemaking, but she couldn’t be angry this time, not when the blankets were covered with vibrant red rose petals. Not when there were vases of flowers on every surface in the room. Not when she read the note he had left on his pillow:
Megan, my love.
You will be in my thoughts,
and in my heart,
until I hold you in
my arms once again.
RC
Picking up the note, she kissed it, then slid out of bed. She couldn’t stop smiling, not while she showered, not while she pulled on a pair of sweats. She scooped up the loose petals and dropped them in a bowl before making the bed.
Taking a rose from one of the vases on the dresser, she plucked the petals one by one. “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me….” She knew it was foolish, but she couldn’t help shouting with joy as the last petal proved that he loved her. It was nonsense, a child’s game, but it reassured her just the same.
Tucking his note in the pocket of her sweatpants, she went downstairs. There were more flowers in the living room, on the tables, on the mantel. Red ones, white ones, pink and yellow ones. And still more in the kitchen, on the table, on the counter, on top of the refrigerator.
At home and later at work, it seemed the hours would never pass. Time and again she patted the note in the pocket of her dress for reassurance. He loved her. She would see him soon.
Rhys sat in his car in the parking lot at Shore’s, his phone pressed to his ear. He scowled when Nicholas informed him that there had been two killings in Las Cruces, three in Albuquerque, and at least five in Santa Fe. “What else have you found out?”
“Nothing,” Nick admitted. “The killer’s as elusive as Jack the Ripper. So, what do you want us to do now?”
“Keep looking.”
