Everlasting Desire (10 page)

Sitting beneath a cottonwood tree in Alamogordo, Tomás Villagrande gazed up at the vast vault of the sky. With his preternatural vision, he saw many more of the heavenly bodies than did mere mortals. Whether at sea or ashore, he had always been fascinated by the night sky, had often wondered if there was indeed life on other planets. Of course, he didn't believe in aliens—either gray or white or green. The one thing he did believe in—the one thing he feared—was the existence of a supreme being. Believing in heaven, he also believed in hell. And judgment. Should his own existence ever end, he knew he would have to account for the hundreds of lives he had taken.

With a sigh of disgust, he shook such thoughts away. He had no intention of ending his existence any time soon. And worrying about what awaited him was pointless. He couldn't change the past, couldn't resurrect the people he had killed, or the ones he had loved.

And he had loved many since he became a vampire. He grinned. “So many women,” he murmured. “So much time.”

He had loved a woman from Alamogordo back in the 1800s. A pretty little Navajo girl with tawny skin, long ebony hair, and bright black eyes. Alamogordo had changed a lot since those days. Once a small railroad, ranching, and farming community, it was now a thriving metropolis. Not far away stood Oliver Lee State Park. In the past, numerous battles had taken place there between the Indians and the cavalry. Today, it was a historic landmark.

Yes, he mused, the city had changed and grown. Alamogordo was also home to Holloman Air Force Base and the White Sands Missile Range. Mortals never changed, he thought with a rueful shake of his head. They were always looking for new and better ways to destroy themselves.

Rising, he strolled through the desert, enjoying the quiet, the moonlight. Animal predators gave him a wide birth, sensing a killer even more deadly than themselves.

Pausing, he stretched his arms over his head. It was time to move on. He had a score to settle with an old friend on the West Coast.

He grinned as he made his way toward his temporary lair, then began humming, “California, here I come….”

Rhys heaved a sigh as his gaze moved over the faces of the Vampire Council. As usual, none of the members were happy to be there. Winchester was slouched in his chair, cell phone in hand. Nicholas was paring his fingernails with a wicked-looking blade.

Adrianna smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt, then looked up, a pout on her pale lips. “Have you forgotten you're a vampire?” she asked, a whine evident in her tone. “What's with all these early meetings?”

“He's probably got a date again,” Julius replied with a smirk.

“Indeed?” Rupert perked up, his dark eyes glowing. “Does she have a friend?”

“All right, that's enough!” Rhys said, scowling. “We're not here to set up a dating service.”

“So, what are we here for?” Nicholas asked. “Not that I'm complaining,” he added quickly. “But I'd rather be home.”

Rhys nodded. One of his vampires had reported several killings in Phoenix, leading Rhys to believe that the rogue had left New Mexico. He had ordered Nicholas and Seth Adams back to LA the following night.

“It's obvious the rogue isn't staying long in any one place.” Rhys leaned back in his chair, his elbows resting on the arms, fingers steepled.

“And just as obvious that he's heading in our direction,” Adams remarked.

Adrianna turned her gaze on Rhys. “Maybe he's coming in
your
direction.”

Ignoring her, Rhys said, “I'm getting tired of asking this question, but have any of you heard anything?”

As usual, they had nothing concrete to report. There were rumors—Morag had gone to ground; Sandoval had left Spain; a young vampire had challenged Baiba for Russia and been destroyed—but then, there were always rumors. They flew thick and fast in the vampire world.

Rhys dismissed them all out of hand. The only one that piqued his interest concerned Tomás Villagrande. One of the East Coast vampires had told Rupert that Villagrande's yacht was no longer anchored off the coast of New York.

“You don't think he's the rogue, do you?” Adrianna asked, glancing nervously around the room. “You don't think he's coming here?”

Hastings leaned forward. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not! Why should I?”

“I don't know,” Hastings said, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. “You tell me.”

“Is there something going on we need to know about?” Rhys asked. “If so, spit it out now.”

Adrianna squared her shoulders. “We had a little disagreement some years ago.”

“What kind of a disagreement?” Hastings asked.

“None of your business,” Adrianna retorted.

Winchester looked up from his cell phone.

Adams and Hastings exchanged glances.

Rupert looked at Rhys, waiting for his reaction.

“None of our business?” Rhys repeated, his voice like ice over steel. “In light of current events, you might want to rethink that.”

“We had a squabble a long time ago, that's all. I'm sure he's forgotten all about it by now.”

“Is that right?” Rhys asked. “What did you squabble about?”

When Adrianna didn't answer immediately, Julius said, “It's gotta be one of two things. Territory or prey. What else is there?”

Rhys nodded, his gaze on Adrianna's face. “Which one was it?”

“Territory,” she replied sullenly. “I wanted to stay in Maine. He wouldn't let me.”

Hastings shook his head. “There's got to be more to it than that.”

“I think so, too,” Rhys said. “What is it?” When Adrianna didn't answer, he trapped her gaze with his. “I can make you tell me,” he said. “And you won't like it.”

She glared at him, her expression mutinous. “I killed a woman he had marked as his.”

“That wasn't very bright of you,” Hastings remarked.

“Shut up!”

“All right, that's enough,” Rhys said. “If Villagrande's coming here, I doubt it's to avenge something that happened years ago. If he wanted to destroy Adrianna, he'd likely have done it by now.”

“Then why else would he be coming here?” Nicholas asked.

“Maybe he just wants to sail in the Pacific for a while,” Rupert suggested. “Hell, don't we all like a change of scene every fifty years or so?”

“I don't give a damn where he makes port,” Rhys said, “but if he starts killing in my territory…” He shook his head. “That's something else.”

“Do you think you can take him?” Julius asked, his close-set brown eyes glittering at the thought of two ancient vampires battling one another.

Winchester shook his head. “Villagrande's never been bested in a fight, we all know that.”

“There's a first time for everything,” Adams said.

“This isn't getting us anywhere,” Rhys remarked, getting to his feet. “See yourselves out. I'm leaving.”

Outside, Rhys slid behind the wheel of the Jag, then pulled away from the curb, his thoughts turned inward. He supposed it had only been a matter of time until trouble rolled into town again. He caught a faint scent of the hunter as he drove toward Megan's house, but he wasn't in the mood to go looking for a fight now, didn't want to go to Megan with blood on his hands. Besides, as far as he knew, the hunter wasn't doing much hunting.

He pushed all thoughts of Villagrande and the Vampire Council from his mind as he pulled into Megan's driveway. The next few hours belonged to him.

Filled with anticipation, he knocked on the door, felt his whole body spring to attention when she opened it wearing nothing but a smile.

Rhys slid his arm around Megan's shoulders. It was late Saturday night, and they were sitting on the sofa in her living room. The fragrance of her hair and skin surrounded him, the scent of her blood drugged his senses.

He nuzzled the side of her neck, thinking how much his life had changed since that first night when he had walked into Shore's. Sometimes, he almost forgot who and what he was. Sometimes he felt almost human again.

Two weeks had passed since Megan had met him at the door wearing nothing but a come-hither smile. They had been the best two weeks of his existence, which was saying something, he thought, considering his longevity. He continued to meet Megan at Shore's when she got off work. On her days off, he spent his nights in her company. Sometimes they went dancing at his club; other nights they went to the movies, or spent the evening at his place, curled up in each other's arms. Last weekend, they had gone out with Shirl and her boyfriend. Rhys had been somewhat surprised that Shirl had agreed. It was obvious she didn't trust him.

But that didn't matter now. Nothing mattered but the woman in his arms. It wasn't easy, dating a mortal. She was so fragile, he had to be on guard every minute to make sure he didn't hurt her, to keep his supernatural strength carefully under wraps. But it had been worth it. He had been on his best behavior the last two weeks and had finally managed to put the last of her doubts and fears to rest. Of course, he always fed before going to her house. There was nothing more obvious than a hungry vampire. He had seen a few in his time, and it was never a pretty sight.

His existence would have been perfect, Rhys mused, if not for the new hunter in town, and the rogue vampire who was slowly making his way toward the West Coast, pint by pint, and body by body. He hadn't heard of any more vampire killings in the last week. Did that mean the rogue had finally had his fill? Or did that new hunter in town have something to do with it?

“Rhys?” Megan tapped his forehead lightly. “Hey, Rhys? You in there?”

“What? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about some club business.” He didn't like lying to her, but he could hardly tell her the truth.

“It is anything you want to talk about?” Megan asked.

“No.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “When we're together, I don't want to think about anything but you.”

“Stop thinking,” she murmured, “and kiss me.”

“My pleasure, as always,” he replied, and claimed her lips with his.

 

Megan was standing on the front porch with Rhys later that night when Shirl came home from a date with Greg.

Shirl was humming the first few notes of the wedding march as she skipped up the stairs. A nod at Rhys, a wink at Megan, and Shirl went inside and closed the door, giving Megan and Rhys some privacy.

Love was in the air, Megan thought. She hadn't seen her roommate looking so happy in a long time. It was obvious from the glow in Shirl's eyes that she was in love with Greg. Megan grinned inwardly, wondering if people could tell just by looking at her that she, too, was in love.

Rhys waited until Shirl closed the door, then pulled Megan into his arms. “I'll see you tomorrow night,” he murmured.

Megan closed her eyes as his lips touched hers in a long, slow kiss that made her knees weak and her toes curl.

Another quick kiss, a wave, and he got in his car and roared off into the darkness.

Megan was smiling when she walked into the living room.

“Things seem to be going hot and heavy between the two of you,” Shirl remarked. After kicking off her shoes, she flopped down on the sofa, and looked up at Megan, one eyebrow raised.

Megan tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Hot and heavy didn't begin to describe it, she thought, as she curled up on the other end of the sofa.

“No more doubts about him?” Shirl asked.

“Not really,” Megan replied, though that wasn't exactly true. “It's just that a lot of little things bother me, like the way his eyes sometimes glow red, and the way he sometimes seems to just fade into the darkness.” But none of that seemed important when she was with Rhys.

Shirl toyed with a lock of her hair, her expression thoughtful. “Doesn't it seem strange to you that you never see him during the day, and that every time we offer him something to eat, he refuses?”

Megan shook her head. Rhys had a nightclub to run; she assumed that it kept him busy during the day. As for his not having dinner with her, the few times she had invited him, he had always had a valid excuse. Still…“What are you getting at?”

“He wears a lot of black.”

“Hello? He runs a Goth club, remember? Besides, it looks good on him.” And even as she said the words, she remembered standing in Shore's parking lot and thinking that Rhys looked like the night, because he was the night. The memory sent a shiver down her spine. “Shirl, just what are you trying to say?”

“You'll laugh.”

“No, I won't.”

“Well, if I really believed in such things, I'd say he was a vampire.”

Megan stared at her a moment. “A vampire? Are you serious?”

“No, of course not, but…”

“Go on.”

“You said it yourself. His eyes turn red. He sort of disappears into the night.” Shirl made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “You know me, I'm always looking for the real thing.”

“That's what you say, but I remember how fast you dumped that guy who wanted to drink your blood.”

“Isaac, yeah,” Shirl said. “Well, I never told you this, but he didn't just want to drink my blood. He wanted to cut me with a razor and let the blood drip into a silver goblet. It was just too creepy.” Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples.

“Another headache?” Megan asked.

“Just a little one.”

“There's no such thing as vampires, girlfriend, but those headaches are real. I wish you'd go to the doctor.”

“Nag, nag, nag. You're worse than my mother. Stop worrying, will ya? And as for vampires, haven't you been listening to the news? They're finding bodies drained of blood from one end of the country to the other.”

“You can't believe what you hear on the news, you know that.”

“Maybe not,” Shirl said. “But they showed a picture of the last victim. You might not want to believe what you read, but it's pretty hard to ignore a dead body. And on that happy note, I'm going to bed.” Rising, she picked up her shoes. “I'll probably be gone when you get up in the morning. Greg's taking me fishing.”

“Fishing? Since when do you like to fish?”

“Since Greg asked me to go with him.”

“Have fun,” Megan said, grinning as she tried to imagine Shirl baiting a hook.

“Ah, the things I do for love,” Shirl exclaimed dramatically. “Night, Meggie.”

“Good night.”

Megan went up to bed a few minutes later. Lying there in the dark, she thought about what Shirl had said, then laughed softly. Vampires, indeed.

 

Sunday night, Megan convinced Rhys to go to one of the free concerts in Griffith Park. She had wanted to sit up front, near the band, but Rhys persuaded her to sit near the back. He told her it was so he could kiss her without an audience, but that was only a part of the truth. Being in the midst of hundreds of people played havoc with his self-control.

Sitting on a blanket, with Megan cradled between his thighs, his arms around her waist, he could pretend he was no different from any other man. His desire sparked to life when she shifted in his embrace. He nuzzled the back of her neck, his senses filling with her unique scent, making it easy to ignore everyone else. She moaned softly when he nipped at the smooth skin beneath her ear lobe, her soft sigh of pleasure stirring other hungers best left unfed. And yet the scent of her blood, the steady beat of her heart, all called to the beast within, urging him to drag her into the shadows and satisfy both of his hungers. His arm tightened around her waist, imprisoning her as the urge to feed grew stronger.

“Rhys?” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he replied, his voice rough. “Why do you ask?”

“You're hurting me.”

“What?” Muttering an oath, he relaxed his hold on her and leaned back, putting some space between them. “Sorry.”

Megan frowned. Why was it that, every now and then, his eyes took on that reddish hue? Was it a trick of the colored lights playing over the park? But what about when they were alone and there were no lights?

“Are you ready to go?”

“Not really,” she said. “Why? Are you?”

He was more than ready to leave. So many people, all sitting close together, so many beating hearts…He had thought if he put some distance between himself and the crowd, it would help, but it hadn't. And then there was Megan, her body pressed close to his. A constant temptation.

He took a deep, calming breath. “We can stay if you want.” Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss across her cheek. “I just need to stretch my legs. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Before she could ask any questions, he stood and melted into the shadows. The area away from the concert was dark; there were no paths, lights were few.

He had been kidding himself, he mused, as he put the crowd behind him. There was no way on earth that he and Megan could have a life together. The only reason the relationship between Delacourt and Daisy had lasted was because Daisy had accepted the Dark Gift. Rhys hadn't known Megan long, but he was pretty sure she would reject the idea of becoming a vampire out of hand.

He was about to return to the concert area when he became aware of two things simultaneously. Megan had followed him, and the hunter was right behind him. Rhys swore softly. If he met his end tonight, it would be his own damn fault. He had been so busy thinking about things that could never be, he had let his guard down.

Fangs bared, he whirled around and came face-to-face with a big bear of a man who brandished a nasty-looking pistol in one gloved hand, and a large wooden stake in the other.