Fangs For The Memories

CHAPTER 16

Rhys lifted his mouth from her breast, licking his lips. He watched Jane as she panted in rapid, shallow breaths, the muscle of her body still clenched, still reacting to the intensity of her climax.

He licked his lips again, tasting the force of her release on them, sweet and warm in his mouth. The taste alone had brought him to the edge-but he'd held on, unwilling to come anywhere but inside her.

How did you taste her release? his mind questioned, the thought vague and distant but still there. How did he know it was the specific tang of Jane's passion on his tongue?

He didn't know. He didn't care. He just knew he'd drunk in the very essence of her-and she'd tasted just as he knew she would. Like all things good, all things pure.

Unable to stop himself, he slipped her underwear down her legs. She barely reacted, her eyes closed, her breath still labored.

He parted her thighs, looking at the lovely, moist flesh there. He stroked her, her sex quivering under his fingertip.

She gasped, gazing up at him, passion weighting her lids and making her eyes a vivid green under her dark lashes.

"Can you still take me?" he asked, praying she wouldn't say no.

She smiled, tremulously. "Yes. Oh, yes."

He positioned himself and slowly buried himself deep inside her. Her heat surrounded him; her muscles embraced him, accepting him, welcoming him.

He kissed her then, taking her sweet moans and gasps in his mouth as he began to move inside her. She clung to him, moving with him, and he realized he had truly discovered heaven.

Jane woke to find herself draped over Rhys's chest, his arm flung around her back. Probably exactly how they had finally collapsed into exhausted sleep, worn out by their lovemaking.

She shifted off his chest, stretching. Her muscles complained and her limbs were heavy.

She looked over at Rhys. He slept as he always seemed to-dead to the world. His beautiful, thick hair fell around his head on the pillow. His dark lashes were long and slightly curled under his closed lids. He looked almost angelic in his sleep-certainly not of this world. An archangel fallen to earth.

She smiled to herself. This had to be a dream. She didn't know anything-anyone-could be this wonderful. She supposed she always expected making love to be nice and fun, but she hadn't been prepared for the reality of it.

Making love with Rhys was fun all right, but nice? No. It was amazing, breath-stealing, erotic beyond words and…

She stretched again, her muscles crying out. And very, very demanding.

She looked at him for a moment longer, then rolled over to slip out of the bed. She walked to the chair where their discarded clothes were tossed and grabbed Rhys's sweater. Tugging it over her head, she moved toward the bathroom.

Nature called, even as her exhausted body instructed her to crawl back into bed and curl up once again against Rhys.

The bathroom was dark and a little chilly. She flipped on the light and looked around. The chill in the air was nothing but exactly that-a draft, a normal temperature drop. Not the eerie, creeping cold she'd experienced the past two nights.

After going to the bathroom, she crossed to the sink to wash her hands. As she worked the soap between her palms, she frowned. There was something strange about this bathroom, all the same. Not creepy or frightening, just something different. She looked around, trying to decide what it was.

No mirrors, she suddenly realized. What bathroom didn't have a mirror? She was reminded of Rhys's earlier reaction.

I don't like mirrors.

Why on earth not? He couldn't look in a mirror and see anything less than physical perfection.

So what did Rhys see when he looked in a mirror? Maybe the flaw wasn't physical-maybe he saw the thing he was repressing. The cause of his curious amnesia.

She shook her head as she turned off the water faucet. Great, she could be his armchair shrink to go along with his quack physician. Rhys needed professional help-and she did mean that in the nicest way possible.

She wandered back into the bedroom. Rhys still slept in the same position, totally unaware that she'd gotten up. She crept up to him, gently lifting a lock of his silky hair. The strands slipped through her fingers back to the white pillow.

The symbolism wasn't lost on her. But she had to get him help, even if that meant ultimately losing him. She knew it, but another part of her liked things just as they were. She liked his sweet words. His promises of a future together. But she had to do the right thing.

Sighing, she left the edge of the bed and searched the floor for her panties. Finding them in a ball at the foot of the bed, she tugged them on, then looked at the clock on the night-stand. It read 3:58 P.M. She'd slept the day away just as she had since moving in with Rhys and Sebastian. It was amazing how quickly she'd fallen into their schedule.

But it was still early enough to try and contact a doctor-a specialist who, hopefully, could give some definitive reason for Rhys's memory loss.

She gazed back at Rhys for a moment, then sighed. She would do the right thing.

Once she was clad in a thick terry cloth robe, she headed to the kitchen to make some breakfast-or rather dinner- and look for a phone book.

She heated a mug of water in the state-of-the-art microwave, which looked as if it had never been used until she got here. She added two slices of bread to a toaster that looked equally unused. And as her bread toasted and her tea steeped, she searched the kitchen for a telephone book. Given the mostly empty state of the cupboards, she found the book rather easily.

Grabbing her toast and tea and the cordless phone, she headed into the dining room to look through the yellow pages.

How did a person go about finding a specialist in amnesia? She flipped to the Ps, looking under physicians. Did Rhys need a neurologist? Should she just make him an appointment with a general practitioner who would examine him and then suggest the next course of action? Or maybe she should talk to a psychiatrist, since there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him physically. Absolutely nothing wrong.

She chewed on her toast, debating over the names in black print on the yellow paper. That was all these doctors were- names. Should she just pick one?

She sighed, read through several of the names again, then picked one. Sabrina Harrison, MD. She supposed choosing a doctor based on the fact that they shared the same last name was as good a reason as any.

She picked up the telephone and began to dial the number when Sebastian strolled into the room.

"Hey, what are you doing?" He yawned and rubbed a hand over his bare chest.

"I…" She didn't know whether she should tell him. She didn't want him to be offended that she'd taken matters into her own hands. But something did need to be done for Rhys.

"Did you know that Rhys's memory loss is selective?"

Sebastian frowned as he pulled out a chair and joined her at the table. "It is?"

"You didn't notice that he's fine with a lot of things a viscount from the nineteenth century wouldn't be? Lights, running water-that sort of thing?"

He considered what she said. "Now that you mention it- yeah, he is cool with that stuff."

"And," Jane hesitated for a second. "We went out last night and walked all around the city-and nothing upset him."

His relaxed posture suddenly grew straighten "You weren't supposed to go out."

Jane felt a slight wave of guilt, but that was quickly smothered by indignation. "I know that. And I tried to stop him, but he was determined. Besides, he's fine-like I said, nothing shocked him or upset him."

"But he still doesn't remember what he is, right?"

She stared at him for a moment. "What he is?"

Sebastian waved a hand with impatience. "What. Who. I meant he doesn't realize that he's not a viscount, right?"

She shook her head, still confused by the wording of Sebastian's questions. "No-as of last night he still thinks he's a viscount."

"And you didn't notice anything strange while you were walking around, did you?"

Jane frowned. "You mean other than your brother thinking New York was London?"

"Right. But you didn't notice anyone odd around? Other than my brother."

Jane started to shake her head, then stopped. "There was this… No, it wasn't anything."

Sebastian leaned forward, his eyes intent. "What?"

"It was just this guy." She gave a slight laugh. "It was nothing. He was just odd-nothing scary or anything."

"You're sure?"

She nodded. Who would be around-watching them? Was this part of what Rhys was trying to forget? Was this part of what she'd forgotten? A tingle of uneasiness played over her skin.

But Sebastian sagged back against the chair, looking relieved.

"Is there something else I should know about?" Jane asked, again watching his reaction closely.

"No." He sat up again. "No. I just don't think it's a good idea for either of you to be out in the city right now. You're new here. Rhys isn't thinking clearly. I'd hate for you to end up in a bad part of the city or something."

She supposed his worries made sense. Although Rhys seemed to know his way around just fine. Another odd factor in his memory loss.

"You seemed almost relieved that Rhys is still experiencing memory loss." Why would Sebastian want Rhys to continue to believe he was someone else?

"No," Sebastian said immediately. "No. That isn't it. But I–I didn't want him to suddenly remember everything out on the streets. He could be confused and upset. I'd rather"- he sighed, looking shaken-"I'd rather he was here with me. So I can help him."

Jane eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then decided it was unfair not to believe Sebastian's words. Rhys was his brother, after all. He had every right to want to be there for him.

"I know you want to help him," she said, reaching out to pat his hand. "So do I. That's why I've decided to go ahead and call another doctor." She pointed to the phone book. "I know you have a family doc-"

"No!" Sebastian declared, reaching to snatch up the phone. "No," he repeated more calmly when he saw Jane's startled expression. "Dr.-No-is a very renowned physician. Rhys couldn't possibly do any better than him."

"Dr. No?"

"Yeah, he's Asian."

She regarded him closely for a moment, trying to decide if he was serious. He looked back at her with sincere eyes and a stony set to his jaw.

Finally she sighed. "I understand you want your doctor, a person you trust. But he hasn't come to examine Rhys yet. That doesn't seem very professional to me."

"Well, he is very busy. Because of how renowned he is. But I'll call him again. Now." Sebastian stood, waving the phone in determination. "Right now."

He headed to the kitchen, pausing to give the phone another resolute shake in the air, then closed the door behind him.

She stared at the door, then turned back to her breakfast, taking a bite of her toast. Sebastian had to be up to something. No one had all the answers like he did, even if they were very weird answers.

She finished her toast, and was taking a sip of tea, when Rhys walked into the room. His furrowed brow relaxed once he saw her-almost as if he was afraid she wouldn't be there.

Silly man.

"Good morning." She smiled.

He smiled back, and again, she was struck by the sheer beauty of his features. Her heart skipped against her breastbone.

"I was disappointed you weren't in bed with me when I woke," he said, sitting at the table across from her. "I had plans for you."

"You did?"

He nodded, his smile widening. "I did promise to taste you all over, and I know I missed a few places."

She stared at the sexy curve of his lips, then looked up to his eyes. They sparkled with desire and a hint of amusement.

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Her skin tingled at every minute spot that those talented lips had touched.

"You are very bad," she told him, her eyes drifting back to his mouth, wondering exactly where he wanted to taste her now.

"Mmm-hmm," he agreed, the sound low and velvety.

She shifted in her chair, then shifted again. Finally, she crossed her legs.

"So what are you doing?" He reached over and pulled the thick phone book across the table toward him. His eyes skimmed over the columns of names before she could grab the book back and flip the pages closed.

"A physician?" He frowned up at her. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"No," she said, but didn't get to say anything more before Sebastian came back into the room, announcing as he entered, "I reached Dr. No. He'll come tonight."

Rhys looked at his brother and then to Jane. Both of their shocked expressions made it clear that he was not intended to hear about the doctor's visit.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Neither Jane nor Sebastian said anything for a moment. Then they spoke at the same time.

"It's-"

"I-"

They looked at each other, and both fell silent again.

"Jane." He reached out to grasp one of her hands. Her fingers were cold. "Is the doctor for you?"

Her eyes held his. Then she slowly started to shake her head. "N-"

"Yes," Sebastian said abruptly. He stepped farther into the room. "Yes. Since-since you mentioned she might be pregnant, Jane decided that she should see a physician. Just in case."

"Then why didn't you come to me?" Rhys asked her. Jealousy tightened his chest. Why would she go to Sebastian?

Jane opened her mouth to say something, but Sebastian cut her off before she could utter a sound.

"She didn't want you to worry."

Rhys frowned at his brother. He was acting very strange. All agitated and-shifty.

Something wasn't right here.

"Jane, do you mind if I talk to my brother alone for a moment?" Rhys asked.

She narrowed her eyes at Sebastian, but then stood. "No, not at all."

Rhys squeezed her fingers gently before releasing them and watching her leave the room. Once the door was shut behind her, Rhys turned back to his brother.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Sebastian tried to gather his wits and come up with a plausible story-quickly. He should have come up with a better lie, but his first thought had been that Jane was going to tell Rhys the truth. And he had to stop her. Rhys didn't need to know that the «doctor» was for him. He was afraid Rhys might remember he was about two centuries past needing medical attention.

"What do you mean?" Okay, he was definitely stalling. Stalling's good.

"Why did Jane come to you to help her find a physician?"

"For the very reason I said. She didn't want to worry you."

"Is there something I should be worried about?"

Sebastian hesitated again. "She-she's worried that she can't have children."

Rhys stared at him. "Why?" he finally asked.

"It runs in her family."

"Barrenness runs in her family?"

Sebastian nodded. "Her moth-no-her sister is barren."

"She doesn't have a sister."

Shit. "Oh, well, she must have said her mother's sister was barren. Yeah, that was it."

Rhys studied him, his eyes full of skepticism. "What does she expect this doctor to tell her? It's too soon to know if she's with child or not."

"I think she just wants to make sure she is healthy. As healthy as she can be to carry your-babe." Sebastian tried hard not to roll his eyes. Why was he doing this, again?

Rhys considered that. "I suppose if it makes her feel more relaxed, then it can certainly do no harm."

Sebastian nodded, relieved that he seemed to be accepting the story. But, man, he was only keeping this shit up for a few more days. If Rhys got his memory back after that, and he was too stupid to realize he needed Jane, that he could find happiness with her, then that was his own problem. Sebastian was sick of making up these cockamamie stories. He had far better things to do.

"Speaking of the possibility that she is already with child…"

Sebastian fought back a groan, knowing what was coming.

"Did you arrange the special license?"

"Yes. It's in the works."

Rhys nodded. "And you will get the vicar to come here to perform the ceremony as soon as it is ready?"

"Absolutely." Right after he found someone to pretend to be Dr. No. And again, why was he doing this?

The suspicion finally left Rhys's face, and he actually smiled. "Good. Now, please excuse me while I go join my betrothed."

"By all means," Sebastian said, then sneered at the closed door after his brother exited. Rhys better appreciate this once he got his memory back. It wasn't every brother who'd create fictional doctors and materialize "special licenses" just to get the guy laid.

Sebastian sighed. As Dickens wrote in A Christmas Carol, he was a martyr to his own generosity.

Jane paced around her room, wondering what Sebastian was telling Rhys. She could only imagine. And why on earth had he lied to Rhys and said the doctor was for her? As soon as he actually arrived, it wouldn't take Rhys long to figure out that the doctor was examining him.

Once again she wondered which one of the Young brothers was the crazy one.

She sighed. It didn't much matter how they got Rhys help, she supposed, as long as he did get it.

Again her resolve was laced with reluctance. She wanted him to get his memory back; she just desperately hoped he still wanted her afterward. That he wouldn't think she took advantage of the situation. That he wouldn't think she was awful and pathetic.

"You should have come to me," Rhys said from behind her.

She spun to look at him. He stood in the doorway, looking so tall and broad. And stern.

"I…" She had no idea what to say. What had Sebastian told him?

He pulled the door closed and strode into the room, stopping directly in front of her. "I'm to be your husband, not Sebastian. Your worries are my worries. Your problems are my problems. And we will work them out together."

She stared up at him, her heart thundering at the possession in his amber eyes. She didn't understand most of what he meant. But she still loved the protectiveness of his words. The idea that he would be there with her-no matter how difficult things in her life got.

"You won't go to him again?"

"No." She wouldn't. She hadn't. She blinked. This was all so confusing.

"You will only come to me?"

She nodded.

He kissed her then. The pressure of his mouth as possessive as his words had been. She submitted, loving the power there, and the yearning she tasted under all his dominance.

He broke off the kiss, his chest rising and falling with his need. "And you will only come for me."

Her passion-addled mind couldn't quite wrap around what he was telling her. Then he slid a hand under the fold of her robe and cupped her bare breast, his palm slightly rough and burning hot.

She gasped, the sound more a hiss through her teeth.

He leaned down, his breath caressing her skin and stirring her hair like a warm breeze. "Tell me, Janie. Tell me no one else will ever touch you like this. No one else will ever know what it's like to be buried deep inside you."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her heart threatened to hammer its way out of her chest. His demands were so thrilling, so arousing. And so, so easy for her to agree to.

"No one," she breathed, before she turned her head and captured his lips, kissing him with all the greed and hunger she felt for him, too.

His one hand continued to hold her breast, while the other slipped around her back and pulled her tight against him. Her hands sank into his hair, and they clung to each other, their bodies, their mouths, demanding things for each other that maybe neither of them could give when they finally fell back to earth. Back to real life.

But it didn't matter at this moment.

He finally broke his hold, but only to walk her backward across the room. When her heels bumped the rise of the step to her bed, he lifted her onto it. He followed her up, his mouth falling on hers, his kiss rough and hungry.

And then they were both falling, her soft mattress coming up to catch them.

He lifted his mouth from hers, and his hands found the belt at her waist, yanking it. He parted the robe, baring her body to him. He stared at her, and even though his unruly hair fell forward and shrouded part of his face, she could see his amber eyes glinting in the lamplight. Immediately she was reminded of that feral look she'd seen the first night she met him.

For a moment she was frightened. This Rhys seemed so different from the one who'd made love to her before. That Rhys was gentle and giving.

This one looked wild, starved. His eyes raked over her nakedness, as though he wanted to consume every inch of her, yet despite her uncertainty, she responded. Her nipples puckered into tight throbbing buds. Her vagina pulsed, and she could feel the moisture beading between her thighs. She wanted him. She wanted his possession.

He seemed to sense her submission, and he fell on her. His mouth sucked at her breast, pulling the nipple deep into his mouth, his teeth scraping against the throbbing flesh.

She cried out, the sensation almost too much, teetering somewhere between pleasure and pain. But still his aggressive touch aroused her madly as she writhed underneath him, her hands knotting in his hair, pulling him closer.

While his mouth tormented her breasts, his hand slipped between her thighs. Spreading her open, he stroked the dampness there. His fingers were as rough as his mouth, and just as excruciatingly exciting.

She wiggled against him, unsure what to do. How to please him.

"Just let me taste," he muttered against the curve of her breast, and for a moment she wasn't sure if the voice was truly his or a figment of her own arousal-hazed mind.

He moved down her body, his lips trailing wet kisses and little nips over her belly, heading lower and lower. Until he knelt between her spread thighs.

She whimpered and tried to close her legs. But he caught them, keeping them open.

"I want to look at you." His voice was low, almost gruff. "Open them wide, Janie."

A ragged breath escaped her as she looked at him kneeling there, his eyes burning like a ravenous beast, and she knew he wanted her as his meal.

She felt the heat of a blush scorch her cheeks, seeping down toward her chest. But then she also felt a matching heat between her thighs.

Her legs quivered, but she did as he asked, letting them fall open.

He groaned, his eyes fixing on the point at the apex of her thighs that begged for him. He touched her then, using both hands to spread her labia, exposing her.

"So beautiful," he murmured. "And mine. Mine alone."

She closed her eyes, overcome by his words, the hunger in his expression and her own spiraling need.

She felt his hair brush her inner thigh first, but that tickling sensation was quickly obliterated by the sweep of his tongue, fiery and rough, licking over her.

She gasped, then cried out as his tongue found her clitoris, lapping the hardened bud, circling it, finally sucking it with greedy lips.

She called out his name, begging him to-she didn't know what exactly. She just knew he was the only one who could give her the completion she needed.

Rhys closed his eyes, drinking in the flavor of Jane. Her hands twisted in his hair, and her hips bucked up against his mouth. She moaned his name over and over again, her head thrashing back and forth on the mattress.

His tongue left her clitoris and darted into the heat of her vagina, tasting her arousal, tasting the need and the thrill growing stronger in her very essence.

And as her passion spun, and she spiraled wildly toward the release, the fierce, frantic hunger in himself took complete control.

He had to taste her. Deeper, more fully than the juices of desire. He wanted to be one with her, to feel her life mingle with his. He had to satisfy this blinding hunger that tore at him.

He again lapped the rigid little nub at the top of her sex, and she cried out, pressing herself hard to his mouth. He felt his teeth sharp against his own lips, and he shifted his mouth, moving upward until he was kissing the curls covering her plump mound.

He opened his eyes, staring up at her, hoping that seeing her would help him focus, help him keep control. But it had the opposite effect. Her skin was creamy in the light, her breasts jiggling as she squirmed against his mouth. Her eyes closed, her mouth parted as she breathed in shallow puffs.

He closed his eyes.

God, he wanted her. For his very own. For eternity.

He heard her scream, the sound sharp, piercing. Then he felt her convulse under his mouth. Then the sweet, delicious flavor of her release swirled over his tongue. He drank in her climax deeply as his own orgasm met hers.

She cried out again and again as their orgasms united, and Rhys ceased to be and Jane ceased to be. They were one- their passion one.