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Adrianna was proof of that.
He dragged a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how he would be able to leave her when this was over, didn’t know if he wanted to go on existing without her. But he couldn’t go on putting her future at risk. She deserved to live a long and happy life surrounded by people who loved her. Getting out of her life was the best thing he could do for her.
But first, he had to destroy Villagrande. It was the only way to protect Megan.
And when it was done, he would tell her good-bye.
Chapter 41
Megan woke slowly, certain that something was wrong. And then, between one breath and the next, memory came flooding back. She had killed her best friend last night. She remembered it all now, the horrible encounter with Villagrande on the boat, then traveling, vampire-style, to the Delacourt house in Boston.
But all of that was swallowed up in a wave of guilt and grief. Shirl was dead. The words repeated in her mind over and over again. Shirl was dead. It hadn’t been a nightmare. She had plunged a wooden stake into her friend’s back and pierced her heart.
Megan bit down on her lower lip as hot tears stung her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. Conscious of Rhys sleeping beside her, she tried to muffle her sobs, but it was no use. Memories of the fun she and Shirl had once had swam to the surface of her mind. She remembered all the good times they’d had visiting their favorite day spa, going to the movies and shopping, the shared confidences, the foolish hopes and dreams they had confessed to each other late at night in front of the fire, Shirl’s excitement when she was accepted by the top modeling agency in the city.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Oh, Shirl, I’m so sorry.” She glanced at Rhys. If she had never met him, Shirl might still be alive. Yet, even as the thought crossed Megan’s mind, she knew it wasn’t true. As cliche as it sounded, Shirl had had a date with death. Becoming a vampire had just postponed it a few weeks. Maybe you couldn’t cheat death. Maybe, when it was your time to go, the Grim Reaper would find you one way or another….
Megan shook the morbid thoughts from her mind, then used a corner of the sheet to wipe away her tears. What was done was done, and there was no going back. Shirl had changed once she became a vampire, and not for the better. Megan had been forced to make a choice last night. She hadn’t had time to think it over or to weigh the consequences. Her best friend had been about to kill Rhys, and Megan’s heart had made the decision.
Trying to ignore the guilt that still gnawed at her, Megan slid out of bed, turned on the bedside lamp, and glanced at her surroundings. The curtains, a pale sage green, matched the walls. The ceiling was white, the floor was polished hardwood. The furniture looked like antique mahogany. The bathrobe and gown she had worn the night before were nowhere to be seen.
Feeling the need to relieve herself, she went into the bathroom and closed the door. Clean towels had been laid out, as well as two bathrobes, a pink one for her, a black one for Rhys. A pair of toothbrushes, still in the packages, and a new tube of toothpaste sat on top of the towels. Megan couldn’t help grinning. It had never occurred to her that vampires brushed their fangs.
After brushing her teeth, she wrapped up in the fluffy pink bathrobe and tiptoed down the hall toward the stairs.
She passed two doors, both closed. Were Erik and Daisy sleeping in twin coffins behind one of them?
Belting the robe tighter, Megan made her way down the stairs. She wandered through the house—living room, family room, dining room, bathroom, laundry room. Daisy’s taste ran to bright colors. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to indicate that a pair of vampires lived in the house and yet, even though Megan was sure it was only her imagination, the rooms seemed eerily silent.
“Like a tomb,” she muttered. Which she supposed it was, since there were three of the Undead resting here.
She paused in the kitchen doorway, wondering what the odds were of finding anything to eat in the refrigerator. Moving across the floor, she reached for the handle, then hesitated, hoping it wasn’t filled with bottles of blood. After taking a breath, she opened the door, and breathed a sigh of relief. Inside, she found bacon, a dozen eggs, a carton of butter, a package of Swiss cheese, another of ham, and a quart of milk. She found small jars of mayonnaise, ketchup, and mustard on the counter, along with a loaf of bread, a small frying pan, and a spatula.
Daisy was indeed a good hostess. She had obviously gone to the store late last night so Megan would have the fixings for breakfast this morning and lunch later in the day.
Concentrating on the task at hand, Megan fried bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast. She ate in the living room. In an effort to keep her grief at bay, she focused her thoughts on Daisy Delacourt, wondering how long she had been a vampire and whether she missed being mortal. If it wasn’t for the blood thing and not being able to be outside during the day, being one of the Undead might not be so bad. Not so bad? What was she thinking? Vampires killed people. Being Undead made formerly normal, fun-loving young women like Shirl into monsters….
Megan set her plate on the coffee table as fresh tears scalded her eyes. She cried for what she had done, for what Shirl had become, and for Shirl’s parents, who would never know what had happened to their daughter. She cried because she loved Rhys with all her heart, because she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life, and because she was sorely afraid she was going to lose him.
Gradually, her tears subsided. Depressed and lethargic, she curled up on the sofa and fell asleep.
When she woke, the sun was going down. Feeling stiff, she sat up and stretched her arms over her head. She heard the faint sound of hushed voices from the next room. Her ears perked up when someone—Daisy?—mentioned her name. Megan frowned. Why were they talking about her?
Rising, she tiptoed toward the door. She didn’t approve of eavesdropping, as a rule, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
“What makes you think she’ll be safe without you?” Daisy’s voice, her tone slightly impatient.
“He could have killed her,” Rhys said. “He damn near got me.”
“Listen,” Erik spoke up. “Between us, we can look after her. We’ll get Alex to come and stay here during the day. Daisy’s dad, too, if necessary. With all five of us guarding her, she should be okay.”
“And what if she isn’t? How am I supposed to live with myself if she gets killed because of me?”
“It’s that serious, huh?” Erik asked, a note of wry amusement in his voice.
