Everlasting Desire

“Ah, my sweet innocent,” he had replied, still grinning. “Do you really expect me to remember after so many years?”

Now, as his hands moved masterfully over her body, she didn’t care if he had made love to one woman or a million. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the touch of his hands deftly arousing her, the painful pleasure of his fangs against her skin, the unequaled delight of his flesh melding with hers.

She clung to him, never more vitally alive than when Tomás made love to her. With her enhanced senses, she was acutely aware of everything around her—the tangy scent of the salt air, the gentle rocking of the boat, the sound of waves lapping against the hull. But, most of all, she was aware of the man who brought her to fulfillment again and again before the rising sun chased the moon and stars from the sky.

Chapter 36

When Megan woke in the morning, she was alone in bed. She frowned, wondering when Rhys had left, and where he had gone. After inviting Daisy and Erik to stay at his penthouse, Rhys had indicated he would be spending the day at her place. Had he changed his mind and decided to go home?

Sitting up, she hugged Rhys’s pillow to her chest, then buried her face in its softness, inhaling his unique scent. He had never stayed over. Why not, she wondered, then shook her head. How could she be so obtuse? He obviously didn’t want her to see him while he was at rest. She wondered if there was some kind of vampire law that prohibited vampires from spending the daylight hours with mortals? She shook her head. That sounded preposterous, even to her. So, what reason could there be? Was it because he looked dead when he slept?

The thought made her shudder. She hadn’t given much thought to that part of being a vampire. She knew they took their rest during the day, but she had assumed they slept like everyone else. Did he dream?

Did he wear pajamas? Somehow, she didn’t think so, but if he did, she was certain it would be bottoms only. Black silk.

Did he sleep in a coffin? She had been to his penthouse, seen his bedroom. No sign of a coffin there, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one stashed away somewhere else.

Shaking off her morbid thoughts, she went into the bathroom to shower and get dressed.

Megan had just finished breakfast when a delivery man arrived with a single, perfect red rose in a smoked crystal bud vase. She didn’t have to read the card to know it was from Rhys, but of course, she read it anyway. It said simply, “I love you. RC.”

An hour later, another delivery man showed up on her doorstep bearing two red roses in a blown glass vase with a card that said, “I’m counting the hours until I can see you again. RC.”

She received four red roses and a heart-shaped balloon an hour later. The note said, “I’m thinking of you. RC.”

She was waiting at the door when the next delivery arrived. Eight perfect red roses in an elegant silver vase, and a heart-shaped box of Belgian dark chocolates. The note said, “I can’t wait to kiss the chocolate off your lips. RC.”

An hour later, she received sixteen long-stemmed blood red roses in a Waterford crystal vase. The card read, “See you soon, my love. RC.”

Whether she was changing the sheets on her bed or mopping the kitchen floor, Megan couldn’t stop smiling. He loved her. She laughed softly as she stuffed a load of towels into the dryer. Sure, he was a vampire, but no relationship was perfect. They still had a lot of issues to discuss and decide, but she was confident they could work things out. And if they couldn’t…? She shook her doubts aside, determined to ignore the negative and focus on the positive.

Megan had just finished clearing the dinner dishes when the doorbell rang. She glanced around the living room as she went to answer the door, thinking the room looked like a florist shop that specialized in exquisite red roses.

She smiled as she started to open the door and then, without knowing why, she hesitated, her hand on the latch. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Shirl. Why won’t my key work?”

“I changed the lock,” Megan said, and then, taking a deep breath, she added, “You’re not welcome here.”

“Meggie, what are you saying?”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t come in.” Megan closed her eyes against a sudden rush of tears. Shirl had been her best friend for years. And then she frowned, certain that Shirl wasn’t alone. She could almost taste the preternatural power coming from the other side of the door, power far too strong to belong to a fledgling vampire.

“Meggie, I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Are you alone?”

There was a brief pause before Shirl said, “Of course I’m alone.”

A peek through the peephole showed that Shirl was lying. A tall man clad in a dark green shirt, brown pants, and boots stood off to the side.

“Villagrande.” The name whispered past Megan’s lips. According to Rhys, Villagrande was the oldest vampire in the world. What was he doing here?

“Indeed.” His voice was deep, tinged with an accent Megan didn’t recognize

She took a step backward, discomfited by the knowledge that he had heard her murmur his name. Taking a deep breath, she looked through the peephole again, watched as he reached for the door handle. What was he doing? He couldn’t enter without an invitation. Could he? Maybe the rules no longer applied when a vampire was as old as he was.

She waited, hardly daring to breathe, as his hand curled around the doorknob.

There was a flash of bright white light, a crackle like static electricity, followed by a sharp curse from Villagrande.

Megan recoiled. And then she grinned. It was obvious that whatever magical whammy Erik Delacourt had placed around her house was working perfectly.

Her grin faded as quickly as it had come. Rhys would be arriving soon to take her to work. What would happen if he showed up while Villagrande was still there? Would they battle it out on her front porch?

When she looked through the peephole again, Shirl and Villagrande were nowhere to be seen.

Rhys swore softly when Megan told him what had happened with Shirl earlier that evening.

“Why do you think he came here?” It was a question she was reluctant to ask because she was sure she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Could be a lot of reasons,” Rhys said. “Maybe he just wanted to see where you live. Maybe he was looking for me.”

“You left out the most logical reason,” Megan said. “That he wanted to use me to get to you.”

Rhys nodded. He hadn’t wanted to suggest that, but he should have known Megan was smart enough to reach that conclusion on her own. Just as surely as there was crap and corruption in Washington, he was sure that had been Villagrande’s motive.