Fangs for the Memories (27 page)

She caught his fingers. “Rhys,” she said slowly, uncertain how to say no to him now. After all the times she had adamantly said yes.

“Love, I’m not some rutting beast,” he said with a slight smile, although she could see the hurt in his eyes. “I just wanted to make you more comfortable.”

She suddenly felt guilty. She had no reason to mistrust him. He’d never pressured her. She was the one who was taking from him.

Deftly, he removed her jeans, then plumped the pillows and tucked the covers over her.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked quietly, as he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.

She shook her head. “I think I need to be alone.” Having
him
so close clouded her judgment, and she needed to think about what was right for him.

He
nodded,
resignation in the gesture as if he’d known her answer already.

He kissed her forehead, and her eyes grew teary at the sweetness of his touch. How could she lose this? How could she walk away from something she’d craved her whole life?

He turned off the lamp and started to leave the room. In the doorway, he stopped, his tall form silhouetted against the hall light. “Janie, everything will be fine.”

She closed her eyes. She hoped so.

Jane had no idea how she could have fallen asleep, not with all the worries she had on her mind. But she had.

She opened her eyes and looked at the alarm clock. The numbers glowed
eleven thirty-one A.M.

She let her eyes drift closed, exhaustion still enveloping her. Given her new sleep schedule, this was far too early to get up anyway.

She started to doze off again, when something prickled over her skin. Her eyes snapped open, and she lay perfectly still.

The prickling intensified until she was covered with goose bumps, and her hair felt as if it were standing on end.

She closed her eyes. Not again.

But just as she told herself that she had to be imagining the sensation, a heavy weight pinned her down to the bed.

She willed herself to stay calm. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. She was still
sound
asleep, and whatever this was couldn’t hurt her.

Her heart thundered in her ears, but she forced herself not to struggle, even though everything within her said to fight.

Vaguely, over the thrum of blood rushing through her veins, she heard the creak of the bed as the “thing”
pressed ,
her harder into the mattress. Again, her instincts told her to fight, to flee.

But she lay perfectly still, trying to overcome her terror to comprehend what held her. She realized after several moments the “thing” did seem to have a form. It was a body, she could sense that. Yet, when she moved her hand to touch it, she encountered nothing.

Suddenly, the form began touching her. She shivered as cold fingers stroked over her legs, then her arms.

She began to struggle then, unable to control the fear consuming her.

But the shadow fingers caught her wrists and pinned them to her sides, and for the first time she heard breathing, low and steady.

She tried to shift her head away from the sound, but it moved closer.

Then she heard it.
A voice low and guttural—unnatural in its deepness.
Whispering against her ear.

“Hello, Janie.”

Rhys awoke and was out of bed in a single movement.

Jane.

She was in danger. He didn’t question how he knew it. He simply knew it. Fear scented the air like
a strong
, cloying cologne.
Jane’s fear.

Even though he was aware that his body was still bone-weary, almost as if there was some external force weighing down on him, his movements were fast, if not quite as agile as usual. He rushed for her room. The doorknob turned easily in his hand. For some reason, he’d half expected it not to.

Jane lay in the center of her bed, her arms down at her sides, her legs out straight and her eyes wide. Terror gleamed in their green depths. She appeared to be restrained in that position, held by some unseen force.

Rhys paused for only a second as an acrid scent swirled around him, strong and foul. But he forced himself to ignore the scent and raced to the bedside.

As he reached out to touch Jane, the overpowering smell began to evaporate. She jerked toward him as if she’d been struggling and the bonds had finally been released. She scrambled toward him, flinging her arms around him, her hands touching his face, his
hair,
as if she didn’t quite dare believe he was real.

“
Shh
,” he whispered, touching her, too. Relief flooded him. She was fine. She was safe. He’d made it in time. In time for what, he couldn’t say. But it didn’t matter. He made it.

“Did—did you see it?” Her voice shook, and her eyes still looked wild.

“No,” he told her, but he had felt something.

“Rhys, I tried to convince myself it was a dream.
Some crazy nightmare that I was having.
But tonight, I know, whatever it is, it’s real.”

He stared at her for a moment, his attention on her, but also focusing on what had been there. The smell was completely gone; only Jane’s fear remained.

“You’re sleeping with me.”

She nodded, crawling out of the bed. He wrapped an arm around her and led her out of the room. She shivered against him, and her skin felt icy under his hands.

Once they were in his room, under the covers, her body pulled tightly to his, she finally asked, “Did you feel anything?
A presence?
Something?”

He started to nod, but then stopped. What good would it do to tell her what he’d experienced? He didn’t even understand it himself. Instead he breathed in the fresh scent of her hair, of her skin. Whatever he’d sensed was
gone
. Jane was safe. That was all that mattered.

“I think you must have had a very vivid dream.” He rubbed his hand up and down over her back, hoping the caress would calm her.

She was silent for a few moments.
Disappointment that he didn’t believe her radiated from her skin.

He did believe her. He just didn’t want to. He didn’t want to think about what that smell
meant,
what it symbolized. He wouldn’t.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

His hand paused.
“Ghosts?”

She nodded, her short hair tickling his chin. “Yes. I never did.
Even growing up in a funeral
parlor
.
Maybe because of growing up in one.
Maybe because of my father.
But now…
Now I don’t know.”

“Janie, it wasn’t a ghost,” he assured her. Again, he didn’t question how he knew that.

She lifted her head, and even though there was no light in the room, Rhys could see the bright green of her eyes. “So you don’t believe in some sort of existence after death?”

Oh, he believed. He knew.

But instead of telling her that, he kissed her. Savoring the life he tasted there.
And the goodness.

“I think you had a very bad nightmare,” he told her after they parted.

She let out a slow breath. “It seemed so real.”

“Some nightmares are very real.” He knew his words were an understatement.

“How did you know I needed you?” Her voice was growing calmer, quieter, and he realized his touch was lulling her into a drowsy state.

But her innocent question made him feel agitated, uncomfortable. Another question that he knew the answer to, but the answer shouldn’t make sense. He was a viscount. A man who ran several estates, had the luxury of a reasonable fortune, and who enjoyed a good fox hunt. He was a normal fellow, about to be blessed with a marriage to a truly remarkable woman. He shouldn’t be able to sense her fear, feel and taste and smell it in the air.

“I must have heard you cry out,” he finally said, realizing it was the only logical answer.

She snuggled closer to him, and she managed to say through a yawn, “I don’t remember crying out.”

She hadn’t cried out, not verbally. But she had been calling to him. And he’d heard her loud and clear.

“It called me Janie,” she mumbled, just before she drifted off into a tranquil slumber, but the soft words left
Rhys’s
body cold.

He knew the name Rhys had given her. It didn’t mean anything. She had a nightmare.

A nightmare they shared.

Christian lay on his makeshift bed, his body completely drained to the point he couldn’t even lift a finger. He’d be lucky if he could even rouse tonight to feed. But the crippling exhaustion was well worth it. His outer body journey had shown him much, plus it had just been fun.

His powers were growing stronger. Very few middling vampires could actually leave their physical form and travel in the daylight.

He was still weak, and couldn’t sustain the travel, but he had done well enough. He’d scared his brother and his little mortal.

He closed his eyes. And he’d learned something else interesting. Rhys still had no idea who or what had been in the room.

Avenging
Lilah’s
death was really going to be painfully simple.

“Now you’re the one who is freezing,” Jane murmured against
Rhys’s
ear as she snuggled closer to him, her chest pressed to his back, her head on the pillow next to his.

“I’m fine,” he said, although he knew his voice sounded nearly as cool as his skin felt. A voice in his head kept repeating that he needed to pull away, distance himself from her.

But she didn’t seem to notice his detached reaction as she snaked her arms around him, splaying her small hands on his chest. Her leg looped over his as if she could act as
his own
personal blanket.

He closed his eyes, willing himself not to respond.

Her fingers brushed over the coarse hair on his chest. Her thumbs inadvertently, or maybe not so inadvertently, rubbed over his flat nipples until they hardened. Warm breaths stirred his hair.

He didn’t have to let her go. He could take care of her. Keep her safe. He could.

She moved behind him, levering herself up to nibble his ear, then to press sweet, hot kisses along the column of his neck.
Then along his
jawline
.

His reaction was immediate, his cock engorging against his stomach. He rolled over, pinning her under him, kissing her, his mouth telling her how much he needed her.
Even if he shouldn’t.

“How do you do that?” she murmured against his lips.

“Do what?”

“Make me forget everything.”

He chuckled dryly. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”

She touched her fingers to his face. “Are you forgetting something?”

Her question startled him. It was too probing, too accurate.

He shifted away from her, a look between a frown and irritation on his flawless features. “Weren’t we originally discussing you forgetting, not me?”

“Yes. But don’t—don’t you suppose there are things you are forgetting, too.”

Rhys sat up, his first reaction to pull away. But then his emotions calmed. He had no reason to be upset by her words. After all, the answer was very simple. If he was forgetting anything, it was only to be with her, to protect her.

“I would imagine we all forget things that are unpleasant. It’s a way of dealing.”

She sat up, too, and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand brushing lightly over the tense muscles of his back.

“Just remember—no matter what, you can always have me.”

Her soft words were like bolts of lightning. He couldn’t imagine anything more awe-inspiring, but with so much potential to damage him, and more importantly, her.

No, everything was fine. The strange events in Jane’s room were…

It was nothing.

He leaned over and kissed her.

“Since that is settled, I think we should take a bath.” He rose from the bed. “Stay here while I draw the water.”

Jane watched as he strode into his bathroom, unable to stop
herself
, even though her mind whirled. A totally muddled mind couldn’t stop her from appreciating him, his long muscular legs, firm bottom and broad shoulders.
Beautiful…

But she could not believe what she’d said!

No matter what, you can always have me.

She fell back against the mattress, her heart still jumping against her rib cage. It seemed as though the overactive organ had made the decision her brain should have. What had happened to last night, and trying to do what was best for both of them? What had happened to being rational?

She’d always considered herself a sensible person.
Sensible to the point of dull.
But since she walked into that seedy bar on Christmas Eve, the person she knew had totally disappeared. And all because of a pretty face.