Fangs for the Memories (20 page)

She nodded, overcome by uneasiness.

He smiled again.
“Too bad.”
Then he inclined his head and left the coffee shop.

Jane watched him. He paused for a moment outside the doors, tugging up the collar of his jacket against the cold, and then he disappeared around the corner.

She blinked and shook her head. What had that been about?

Suddenly Rhys was at her side, his eyes searching her face, his expression concerned. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, startled by this intent behavior. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Other than I’m jealous of a woman merely talking to you
.

He studied her a moment longer. Then he shook his head, seeming almost bewildered. “I don’t know—I just had the strangest sense…” He laughed, a low, self-deriding rumble. “Just imagining things, I guess.”

He held out a lidded paper cup. “Here you go.
Spiced
chai
.
Tall.”

“T
hank
you,” she said, accepting the drink. The heat through the insulated paper felt comforting against her cold fingers.

“Do you want to drink it here or walk on to the park?”

“Let’s keep walking.” Between the strange man with the eerie eyes and the gorgeous brunette, Jane felt the need to get away from this place.

But before they could exit, the tall brunette walked over to Rhys. “It was very nice meeting you,” she said. Her voice was sultry with the hint of an accent.

“Likewise.”
Even though he was polite, Jane noticed that no interest showed in his eyes.

The brunette cast a quick look at Jane, her eyes dropping for a fraction of a second to the faint mustard mark on her coat. Then she turned back to Rhys. She fished in the pocket of her fitted, leather jacket and pulled out a business card, holding out the small rectangle to him.

“If you ever want to get together.”

Jane knew she was probably doing a fair impression of a beached cod, her mouth gaping open, her eyes wide with shock. But she could not believe the woman’s audacity.

Jane quickly gathered her wits and moved closer to Rhys and linked her arm through his, silently letting this woman know that at least for tonight, Rhys was with her.

The woman ignored the hint. Not that Jane considered her actions a hint but rather more a flashing warning sign.

“Take it,” the brunette said, waving the card at Rhys again.

Jane had certainly never been possessive of a man, but she was darned if she was going to let this woman openly proposition him as if she didn’t even exist.

She reached forward and snatched the card out of the woman’s hand.

“Hey,” the brunette said, glaring at Jane.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said, forcing as much politeness into her voice as she could muster. “I guess you didn’t understand. But Rhys is mine.” Oh, my! Had she actually said that?

Instead of looking contrite or even irritated, the woman actually looked unconvinced, until Rhys said to her, “She’s quite right. I am completely hers.”

The woman paled. She snatched her card back, spun and left the shop.

But instead of feeling triumphant, Jane felt slightly ill again.

“Are you all right?” Rhys asked, leaning forward to look into her eyes.

“Can we go?” She wanted to get out of there—suddenly the air seemed too warm, and the smell of coffee was too cloying.

“Sure.” He continued to hold her arm as he led her to the doors.

As she breathed in the cold winter air, she realized something that was very, very frightening. She wanted Rhys to be hers—no matter their situation.

Christian stood in the shadows across the street, watching his brother and his mortal whore leave the trendy coffee bar. He’d known it was risky to approach the mortal with Rhys so close, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He liked the thrill of getting so close to her.
Although he didn’t understand why Rhys hadn’t sensed him.
Christian hadn’t bothered to mask his energy. He hadn’t cared if Rhys saw him. He’d wanted Rhys to see him.

He wanted Rhys afraid. The time was long past due for Rhys to understand the fear of losing someone he cared for, that she could be taken, snatched away. And even if returned, she would never be the same.

Under the guise of doing the right thing and of protecting his family, Rhys had taken
Lilah
and returned a woman only half there, a woman never fully Christian’s again.

Christian watched as the couple disappeared down the bustling street, vanishing into the crowd.

“Now it’s my turn to return the favor, big brother,” Christian murmured under his breath.

Rhys glanced at Jane out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t spoken since they left the shop, since the incident with the forward woman. She hadn’t even commented when they left the street to head into the park.

Of course, he had been quiet, too. Lost in
his own
thoughts.

Something had happened back there—something outside of the pushy, rude woman. He couldn’t quite figure it out, what exactly it had been, but while he was ordering Jane’s drink, he’d had the strangest sensation that she wasn’t safe. That something bad was about to happen. But when he’d finally been able to go to her, she’d been fine.
Nothing out of the ordinary, other than the brunette.

He glanced at Jane again, and he smiled slightly to himself. She’d definitely been irritated by the aggressive woman.

“So, I’m yours, am I?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice teasing, although he quite liked the idea of Jane being possessive.

Jane immediately blushed. “I—I just couldn’t believe that woman’s audacity.”

“So are you saying that you don’t really want me?”

She didn’t speak for a moment, keeping her attention focused on her feet. “I do want you.”

Rhys caught her wrist to pull her to a halt. He turned her to face him. “Why do you say it as though you think you should be ashamed?”

Her wide eyes met his, and he did see shame there.
“Rhys, how you feel right now?
It’s not real. It’s—it’s like we are both living in a fantasy world, and eventually reality is going to return. And I’m afraid of how you will feel when that happens.”

He frowned, confused and also a little upset. How could she think this was fantasy?

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “This is real. Now
is
real, and all the things I feel for you are very real.”

She looked down at the cup of tea that she’d barely drunk since they left the coffee shop. She fiddled with the edge of the plastic lid.

“You don’t know me,” she said slowly. “Not really. And maybe—maybe once you do you won’t want—you might decide I’m not what you want.”

“You’ve said that before, after we made love.
That I don’t know you.
And I suppose that is true, that we haven’t had long together, to get to know everything about each other. But what I do know, I want.”

Her eyes stared into his, almost pleading. “But you may not later—and I don’t know if I can risk that.”

“It isn’t possible for me to stop wanting you. I’ve waited a long time to feel this way. I can’t tell you how I know, but I do know this feeling will never leave my system. You will never leave it.”

She continued to stare up at him. The shame had disappeared, but now it was exchanged for longing. She still didn’t believe him, but she wanted to.

And she would.

He pulled her against him, his mouth finding hers. He intended for the kiss to be persuasive, a sweet lulling caress that would calm her doubts.

But as soon as he tasted the velvety texture of her lips, clinging hungrily to his, all thoughts of coaxing were gone.

He wanted her.

Need tore through his veins, urging him to deepen the kiss. She responded, opening to him, giving him access to the sweet moisture of her mouth.

Sweet moisture.

He groaned as her tongue touched his, a fleeting brush.
A tiny taste.

Just a tiny taste.

He nipped at her bottom lip, the flesh fragile and sensitive. His teeth sank just a little harder into the
pillowy
softness.
Pink and warm and so, so sweet.

Jane gasped, and Rhys immediately released her.

He stared down at her, his chest heaving, as he realized that his hunger for her had so easily spun out of control.
By a mere kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

She shook her head, looking as dazed as he felt. “No, it was…” The tip of her tongue touched her lower lip, making it glisten in the lamplight.
Red and shiny.

His stare locked there for several seconds before his stunned mind registered what he was looking at—she was bleeding.

“Jane,” he said, alarm chilling the desire in his limbs. “Damn.” He reached for her, his fingers nudging her chin up to get a better look at what he’d done.

Jane frowned. “What?”

“Your lip is bleeding. I must have bitten you.”

She brought her hand up to touch her mouth. Her fingers looked very pale, small and elegant, brushing over the reddened skin.

She frowned down at her fingertips,
then
showed them to him with a reassuring smile.
“Barely a nick.”

He stared at the faint crimson smear on her fore and index fingers. Revulsion filled him. How had he lost control like that? He’d never intended to hurt her.
Never.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Please stop looking at me like you’ve mortally injured me. I didn’t even notice until you pointed it out.”

“But you gasped.”

She smiled again, this time sheepishly. Her cheeks reddened to nearly the same color as her lips. “Only because— because I was feeling—overcome.”

He peered into her green eyes. The darkness of the night and the shadows of the trees surrounding them couldn’t dull the vividness of their color.

But even though she gave him another encouraging smile, he couldn’t let go of the irritation he felt with himself.

“Maybe we should go back.”

She hesitated, and for a moment he thought that she was going to say something, but then she simply nodded, falling into step beside him.

On their quiet walk back to the club, Jane’s mind raced. She felt confused, scared and exhilarated all at once. But Rhys had that effect on her, a way of making her feel more than she ever knew she could. He made her feel more alive.
More aroused.
More beautiful.

And that kiss. She released a shaky breath. That kiss had been like being tossed, head first, into a sea of unadulterated passion.

When he had tasted her, nipped her… She’d felt his desire throughout her entire body. She had felt him inside her as surely as she had when they had made love.

How could she feel all of that from just a kiss?

Granted, Rhys really knew how to kiss. Even now, her toes curled in her scuffed oxfords.

But her rational mind reminded her that she needed to try and remain distanced from him. She needed to remember that they didn’t really know each other. That she needed to wait.

But her heart told her that between his sweetness, his wonderful smile and his gorgeous eyes, she was already lost. She was already crazy about him, and no amount of repeated warnings and logical reminders could keep her from this man.

The boom of bass brought her out of her reverie. She was surprised to see they were back at the club.

Now a long line of eccentric-looking patrons waited to get inside. Rhys didn’t even look at them. He, too, seemed lost in his own thoughts, and from the serious look on his face, they didn’t appear to be particularly nice ones.

They headed down the alley, and he knocked hard on the steel door. After a few moments, she heard the series of locks click, and Mick opened the door. He stood back to let them enter. The fluorescent light reflecting off his bald head was the only hint of animation on the huge man’s features.

Rhys nodded his t
hank
s at the man, but didn’t speak either. He led her to the elevator.

As before he held the grate and waited for her to enter. She did, standing in the center of the elevator.

He dropped the grate and pushed the button marked with a four.

Jane turned slightly, so she could look at him, his lean, muscled body,
his
beautiful face.

She remembered what she’d thought about him, when she’d first seen him, sitting on that bar stool next to her. He was a heartbreaker.

He still could be
, her head warned her.
And it could be your heart that he breaks
.

He suddenly turned his head. His eyes like pools of molten amber locked with hers, pulling her into their heat.

It’s too late
, her heart told her.
You are already in too deep
.