It was tempting, so tempting. But what if it didn’t work out? Did she want to try again? Risk her heart again? What if some other maniac vampire showed up? “I don’t know.”
“I promise I won’t ever leave you again, unless you tell me to go.”
And still she hesitated.
“Megan.”
She bit down on her lower lip. How could she resist the love she heard in his voice, the longing in his eyes? She had agreed, perhaps rashly, to marry him not long ago. Did she still want that? Did she really want to spend her life with a man she would never understand? Did she want to give up the chance to have a family and live a normal life?
He was reading her mind again. She could see it in the clenching of his hands, the tightening of his jaw.
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said, his voice tight. “It won’t happen again.”
She stared at him, her heart pounding. He was leaving. What if she never saw him again? Did she want to spend the rest of her life without him?
Preternatural power filled the air, and she knew that in moments he would vanish from her sight.
“Good-bye, Megan.”
“No!” She grabbed his arm, realizing in that moment, when he was about to leave her, perhaps forever, that she couldn’t live without him. “Don’t go!”
She frowned as a slow smile spread across his face. Pulling her hand away from his arm, she glared at him. “That’s so unfair!”
“What?”
“Oh, I hate you! You were reading my mind again, weren’t you? You knew I wouldn’t let you go!”
Chuckling softly, he reached for her, but she pulled away. “No, not until you promise to stop reading my mind.”
“I’ll do better than that,” he said, still grinning. “I’ll teach you how to block me.”
“There’s a way to do that?” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
He shrugged. “Because I like reading your mind,” he admitted. “I like knowing what you’re thinking about me.”
“So, can you read everybody’s mind?”
“Pretty much. In the beginning, it took a lot of concentration to block them all out.”
“Can all vampires do it?”
“As far as I know.”
“So, how do I block you?”
“You have to erect a barrier around your mind. Visualize it as a brick wall, or a dam, or some other structure that’s solid.”
“And that works?” she asked skeptically.
“It takes a lot of practice, but that’s the only way I know.” Seeing the look of concentration on her face, he took her hands in his and gave them a gentle shake. “Do you have to try it now?”
“I guess not.”
“So, what do you say we go to your place? I’ll grovel at your feet until you forgive me, and then we can indulge in some hot make-up sex.”
Megan laughed as she fumbled with her keys. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I know.” His hand curled over hers. “Leave your car here. I’ve got a lot of groveling to do, and I want to get to the huggin’ and kissin’ before dawn.”
Before she had time to say ah, yes, or no, they were in her bedroom. Rhys was sitting on the foot of the bed, and she was on his lap.
“Vampires,” she muttered.
Rhys fell back on the mattress, carrying her with him. When they landed, they were lying face-to-face. “Be honest, would you have me any other way?”
“No.” She might wish for him to be human, but if he was, he wouldn’t be the Rhys she had fallen in love with.
“You promised to marry me, remember?” His hand slid slowly up and down her back, a gentle caress.
“Hmm, I’m not sure that promise is still valid, since you went off and left me.”
“No?”
“No.”
He pulled her body closer to his. “I want you.”
She could feel the hard evidence of that want against her belly.
“And you want me.” His voice was a low purr in her ear.
“Are you reading my mind again?”
“No. I can smell it on you.”
“You cannot.”
“It’s a sweet, musky scent, guaranteed to drive a man wild.”
She grinned. “Are you wild?”
“Baby, you’d better believe it.” He bared his fangs. “Want me to show you?”
“Oh, Grandma, what big teeth you have.”
He leered at her. “That ain’t all that’s big.”
“Are you gonna show me that, too?”
“You bet.”
“Will I like it?”
“I’ve never had any complaints.” Rhys swore softly when she went suddenly quiet. Damn. He didn’t have to read her mind to know she was wondering how many women he had known, how many he had loved. He hoped she wouldn’t ask, but since she was a female, it was inevitable.
“Rhys?”
He blew out a sigh. Here it comes.
“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“You can ask me anything.” He was only surprised she hadn’t asked before.
“Have there been a lot of…Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”
“There’s only been one other woman who ever meant anything, Megan.”
“Did you love her very much?”
“I thought I did. I was a young man, a young vampire back then. I’m not sure how much of what I felt for her was love, and how much was lust, but it was nothing compared to what I feel for you. So, are you still willing to marry me, pretty Megan?”
Cupping his face in her hands, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Read my mind.”
Chapter 47
Megan turned slowly in front of the triple mirror. The dress, long and off-white with fitted sleeves and a square neck edged with lace, made her feel like a fairy-tale princess. What would Rhys think of it?
They hadn’t talked about when or where they would get married. Hadn’t decided whether to run away to Vegas or stay in town and have a judge perform the ceremony. Either way, she was going to be ridiculously overdressed. Still, a girl only got married for the first time once, and she had always dreamed of a dress exactly like this.
It was a little after four when she left the bridal shop, the wedding gown in hand. After laying the dress in the backseat of her car, she walked across the street to 31 Flavors and ordered a hot fudge sundae with extra whipped cream and a cherry. Tonight, she and Rhys had a lot to talk about. When and where to get married. Who, if anyone, to invite to the ceremony. Where they would live. As for what would happen when the difference in their ages became impossible to ignore, she refused to think about it. She loved Rhys, and he loved her, and that was all that mattered.
Megan was smiling when she left 31 Flavors. Humming softly, she started across the street toward her car.
A loud screech of brakes was her only warning. She screamed once. And then everything went black.
Rhys jackknifed into a sitting position, Megan’s scream still ringing in his ears, but when he tried to link his mind to hers, he found only emptiness.
Stone-faced, Evelyn DeLacy stood at her daughter’s bedside, one of Megan’s hands held tightly in her own. George stood on the other side of the bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. Evelyn tried not to look at her husband, tried not to hear his sobs. She had to keep her emotions under control. If she didn’t, she knew she would shatter into a million pieces and, like Humpty Dumpty, they would never be able to put her back together again.
A drunk sixteen-year-old boy driving a stolen car had hit Megan as she crossed the street. Megan had been in surgery for seven hours. The doctors had told Evelyn and George that if Megan survived the next twenty-four hours, there was a chance that she would recover, though it was unlikely she would ever walk or use her left arm again.
Evelyn didn’t care about that or anything else. All she wanted was for Megan to wake up. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she gazed at her daughter’s battered face, at the casts on her legs and arm, at the bandages that covered numerous wounds, at the tubes and wires that hooked her to beeping machines.
As she brushed a lock of hair from Megan’s brow, Evelyn murmured a silent prayer, asking, begging, for a miracle.
She looked up, startled, as a tall man with dark blond hair and impenetrable dark brown eyes appeared in the doorway. Something about him made her take several steps forward, putting herself between the stranger and her daughter’s bed. “May I help you?” she asked.
Rhys paused in the doorway when he realized Megan wasn’t alone. He had been so intent on getting to her, he hadn’t bothered to scan the room for anyone else. There was no doubt that the stranger was Megan’s mother. She was a pretty woman with reddish-brown hair and blue eyes. The man was tall with brown hair just going gray at the temples. His eyes were the same shade of brown as Megan’s.
Rhys inclined his head slightly in the woman’s direction. A quick search of her mind told him her name was Evelyn. The tearful man standing across from her was Megan’s father, George.
Rhys stepped farther into the room. “I’ve come to see Megan.”
“Are you a friend of hers?” Evelyn asked.
“You could say that.”
George DeLacey wiped his eyes, his narrow gaze assessing as he looked Rhys up and down. “Who are you?”
“Rhys Costain.”
George shook his head. “She never mentioned you.”
Rhys looked past Megan’s parents to where she lay, a slim, pale-faced figure swathed in bandages. He had followed the scent of her blood to this place. Try as he might, he had been unable to link with her mind. The thought that she might never regain consciousness frightened him in ways nothing else ever had.
He took a deep breath. “I just want to see her,” he said quietly. Nothing they said or did would stop him, but he would try to get their permission first.
