Fangs For The Memories

CHAPTER 2

The chill of the winter air on her face and in her lungs immediately made Jane feel less light-headed. She closed her eyes and lifted her head toward the sky. After another couple deep breaths, she felt almost normal.

"That better?" Joey asked, standing close to her.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him gratefully. "Yes. I don't usually drink."

He left her side and peered down the alley that ran along the side of the bar. "There's some stairs down this way. Why don't we sit for a few?"

Jane wandered over to him, following his gaze. The alley was a long, dark tunnel except for one dim light bulb in the center illuminating a set of concrete stairs. Trash cans stood beside the stairs, open, spilling over with garbage.

"I think maybe I should just head back to my hotel," she decided.

"Hotel?"

She nodded. "Yes, just got here yesterday afternoon."

He gave her a disbelieving look. "That's crazy. I just got here yesterday, too. I used to live here, but I've been away."

She smiled.

"Come on. Come sit for a few minutes."

She hesitated, but his smile was so charming, she finally agreed.

The cement steps were cold and mottled with stains of God knew what. Jane opted to lean against the wall. Joey didn't seem to have the same qualms about the stairs.

They were quiet for a few seconds.

"So where did you live before you came back here?" Jane asked.

"A place in Jersey."

"Oh, I've never been to New Jersey."

He stood up, shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and kicked an empty can down the alley. The metallic sound echoed off the concrete walls surrounding them. "I can't say I was too fond of it. My life there was really-confining."

Jane could understand that. "I grew up in Maine, which is a beautiful state, but the town I grew up in was too small, too suffocating. People got labeled at a young age, and they could never escape that label. Never."

Joey walked toward her, and for the first time, she realized he was rather big. His boyish face gave the impression he would be thin, lanky, but he was actually quite broad and muscular.

"Now, you see, I get that. I've been labeled myself." He stepped closer, stopping only inches from her. "You know, baby, you are really a pretty lady."

"No," she denied, her skin heating even in the cold. Even though she didn't know Joey, the flattery was nice. She'd never had a man say that to her.

"I haven't seen a lady as pretty as you for a long time."

Again the flattery made her chest swell. She didn't quite believe him, but the words were nice to hear.

He stepped a little closer-still not touching her but making it clear he wanted to.

She liked his compliments, but she wasn't willing to kiss him. She didn't know him. And she just wasn't the type of woman to do such a thing.

Then again she was in New York City to start a new life. To find some excitement.

Was she really considering kissing a stranger? No. Then the beautiful stranger popped into her head. Would she kiss him?

What was she thinking? She must be drunk. She giggled.

"What?" Joey asked, leaning a hand on the wall so that if Jane moved she'd brush against him.

She sobered. She didn't want to give him the impression she was interested. She shifted down the wall a bit.

"I was just thinking what a crazy day I've had." Maybe if she kept talking, he'd get the idea.

"Oh, yeah?" He moved toward her again.

She swallowed. Maybe she should just leave. Something in his eyes suddenly made her nervous.

"What happened?" he asked, and she decided it was possible she was just being paranoid. She told him about her job and apartment and then her hours in the police station.

"Man I hate police stations. I've spent way too much time there myself."

"Really?"

He nodded. He stepped closer, and his hand came up to hold her waist, then slid down to cup her derrière.

She jumped, and he chuckled. "Skittish, eh?"

She swallowed. She was in way over her head. She didn't know how to handle alcohol or men or life in the city. All she knew how to deal with was grieving families and funeral arrangements. And not one of the funeral mourners had ever touched her bottom!

"I think I may have given you the wrong idea. I think I should go back inside."

He didn't remove his hand. "Oh, no, baby, you have been giving me all kinds of good ideas."

His fingers pulled at the hem of her skirt.

Panic stole her breath, but she forced herself to breathe, to stay calm.

"You-you know I really do have to get inside. That guy beside me at the bar-he's my boyfriend. I–I was just trying to make him jealous." She was grasping at straws, but it was all she could think of at the time.

Relief trickled through her as his fingers paused. But then he shrugged. "Baby, if he was worried about you, he wouldn't have let you leave with me."

His mouth came down roughly on hers.

She struggled, pushing at his chest, and he broke off the kiss, but used his free hand to grip her neck in a choking lock, shoving her hard against the wall.

Her mouth gaped open, but no sound came out and no air in. She was going to die.

Just then his hold relaxed slightly, and she managed to struggle in a hitched breath.

"Now, listen, baby." His voice was hard and his boyish features contoured. "I ain't had a woman in three years. So I don't care if it's all nice and friendly or if it's rough. Cuz either way, I plan to fuck you."

Black spots started to appear before her eyes. She couldn't pass out. She didn't think that would stop this guy.

The hand at her hemline moved to the front of her skirt and pulled it upward.

She had to keep him talking. Buy a little time.

"Thr — three years is a long time." Her voice didn't even sound like her own, breathy and shaking.

He grunted. "Ain't too many women in the pen."

It took her terrified brain a moment to grasp what he meant. This guy had been in prison! Fear shot through her. He might have done this before. He might have killed.

But she rallied her willpower, forcing herself to stay as calm as possible. "What-what did you serve time for?"

"This and that. All just labels. Unfairly given," he assured her with a grin, his boyish smile now sinister.

She swallowed, struggling for another shallow breath. "That is terrible."

"Well, I'm thinking what you've got under this skirt will go a long way to making me feel a whole lot better." He had her skirt up around her waist, and again black spots flashed in front of her eyes. She was going to pass out. She closed her eyes and fought for a air.

All of a sudden, Joey's bruising grip was gone, and she was able to pull in a deep, lung-filling breath.

She opened her eyes. Joey wasn't there, but she didn't look around to see where he was. She ran, not seeing, just knowing she had to get back to the street, to the bar. Suddenly, she slammed into something solid, immovable.

Arms closed around her, and she screamed.

"Shh," a deep, husky voice said. "It's okay."

She blinked up to see the beautiful stranger holding her. She sank against him, allowing him to support most of her weight. Relief churned with nausea in her stomach.

Suddenly he swung her up into his arms, turned and walked out of the alley. Once on the street, he stopped, but he still held her.

"Are you okay?"

Jane nodded, but didn't speak. Her heart still pounded painfully in her chest while her breath came in ragged bursts.

He continued to hold her against his broad chest. His arms feeling so solid, so safe.

Finally, she calmed and realized that she must be getting heavy. "I'm okay to stand."

He seemed almost reluctant to let her go, but he did lower her to her feet. Although he kept an arm at her waist as if he thought she might faint.

She wouldn't-she didn't think.

"Thank you. I–I can't even think about what would have happened if you hadn't stopped him."

He nodded slightly, but didn't say anything. He stared down at her, those amber eyes unreadable. After a few moments, he shrugged out of the expensive leather jacket he wore. "Here, put this on."

She shook her head. "I have my blazer. I'm fine."

He shoved it toward her. "I'll be fine, too. Put it on."

His gruff kindness touched her. And she'd thought that boyish Joey was the nicer of the two.

She accepted the coat, pulling it on, and was shrouded in cold leather. She shivered. Strange that it would be so cold given that it had just been on his large body.

"Do you live around here?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm at a hotel a few blocks from here."

He nodded. "I'll walk you there."

She smiled gratefully, but then the smile slipped as she cast a wary look down the alley.

As if reading her thoughts, the stranger said, "He's long gone. The coward."

She glanced into the dark tunnel once more, then gestured down the street. "It's this way."

Before Rhys fell into step beside the little mortal, he concentrated. The ex-convict coward was still in the alleyway, unconscious. He lifted his head and breathed in deeply to commit the coward's scent to memory, so if the man should rouse and run, Rhys would be able to find him. He meant to make a meal of that one as much for the pixie as for himself.

But the pixie's sweet, brilliant scent kept overwhelming the coward's tainted stink. He'd never known any mortal's scent to be as strong and alluring as hers.

Then her voice as well as her smell distracted him. "Is everything okay?"

He inhaled once more, fairly certain he would be able to track the ex-con if he fled. He turned to her.

She stared up at him, her pale skin lustrous in the streetlight. Her eyes wide, concern clear in their green depths.

Again the sweetness of her amazing scent filled the air. This mortal was truly good. Unbelievable.

He cleared his throat and answered her more gruffly than he intended. "Yes. You said your hotel was this way?" He pointed in the same direction she just had.

She nodded.

They headed down the cracked concrete.

Maybe it had been her genuine goodness that had allowed Rhys to sense that the pixie was in trouble. He'd still been sitting at the bar when all of a sudden the whole room had been flooded with her smell. But it wasn't the same scent as when she'd first arrived. It had been flowery and warm-but there had been a sharp undertone to it. Then all her emotions were clear to him. Desperation, terror, pain.

That had never happened to him before. He'd never been able to read the emotions of a mortal not near him. In fact, the only one he could connect with across any distance was his brother, Sebastian. And he was a vampire, too.

He glanced at her again. With his black coat wrapped around her, the pixie did look a bit like a child dressed up as a vampire for Halloween. But she wasn't. And he should have no connection with her.

But he had.

"I had been just about to apologize to you when that guy showed up again."

Rhys frowned, confused by her sudden announcement. "Apologize?"

She nodded, not looking at him, but watching the sidewalk in front of them. "For being so rude to you."

"Rude?"

She glanced up at him. "I yelled at you."

She did?

"I asked you what you were looking at," she clarified.

He shook his head, and felt a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That wasn't yelling. In this city, that was just a typical greeting."

The pixie laughed slightly, but it broke off into a strangled sob. She stopped, holding her hands over her face. Her shoulders shook.

Rhys stood beside her, listening to the heart-wrenching crying, feeling her awful distress. The pain of it in his own chest almost crushed him. He found he wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know how to do that. He hadn't consoled anyone in-so long. But cautiously, he touched her shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay."

She swiped at her face, obviously irritated with herself for falling apart. "I'm sorry." She forced a shaky smile at him. "This was supposed to be a new beginning. I sold everything I own, my house, the family business, everything, to start this great, new life. But after today, I'm thinking I made a big mistake."

He didn't know what to say. She was talking about life, and he didn't have one of those. "Maybe tomorrow will be better," he offered lamely.

She stared at him for a moment. Then a genuine laugh escaped her, even though she did hiccup slightly at the end of it. She rose up on her tiptoes and flung her arms around his neck. She pressed her warm, soft lips to his cheek.

If his heart were beating, it would have stopped. When was the last time he'd felt the warmth of a human's embrace, the tenderness of a kind touch. But it wasn't tenderness that he felt in return. Not even close. Raging, searing hot desire ripped through his icy body.

He wanted this woman. He wanted to sink into her heat. Devour her. Making her scream for him. And he wasn't talking about with his fangs. Although he couldn't imagine what it would be like to taste her as she orgasmed for him.

His cock spiked and his fangs unsheathed.

Roughly, he disengaged her arms from around his neck and set her away from him.

"I'm sorry," she said, although she couldn't quite keep the wounded look from her eyes.

He quickly ran his tongue along his teeth to make sure his fangs had receded. "No, I just…" What could he say? I didn't want to either screw you or bite you or both right here on the sidewalk. "I just don't want you to think I'm like that coward back there."

She smiled, then shook her head. "I'd never think you were like that guy. That man is a violent monster. You saved me."

Damn, if she knew the truth about him. She'd run so fast.

"We better keep walking." He had to get away from her. He had to put distance between them and sever this connection he felt with her. He didn't understand it, but he knew it was dangerous. Any association with a mortal could only bring them both pain. That's why he'd work so hard to stay away from them, except the ones as empty as he was.

She looked around nervously and matched her steps to his rapid pace.

Her hotel was a nondescript building, square and rundown with tread-worn carpeting and shabby sofas in the small lobby.

She followed his gaze. "I was only supposed to be staying here a couple days. Now I might have to stay a little longer." When she saw his deepening frown, she added, "It shouldn't be longer than a week or so."

He nodded, but he hated to leave her here. Still, she was safer here than with him. He didn't think he could keep looking into those green eyes of hers and not touch her. His longing for her appeared to be growing by the second. And although it was lust, the feeling seemed to be laced with something else. A craving for warmth, and caring, and affection. All things that were dangerous for him to want.

"Okay, well, good luck," he said.

The slight curve of her lips was more a forlorn grimace than an actual smile. "Well, like you said, things will probably get better tomorrow."

She waved at him and started toward the rumbling, creaking elevator. She stopped.

He felt a wave of anticipation. Maybe she would return and touch him once more. There couldn't be any harm in that since he'd never see her again.

"I almost forgot." She shrugged out of his coat and held it out to him. "Your coat."

He stepped forward and took it from her.

"What is your name?"

The sudden question took him by surprise for a moment. "Rhys. Rhys Young." The irony wasn't lost on him.

She smiled. "Thank you, Rhys Young."

He nodded, but just as she stepped onto the rickety elevator, he called out, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Jane Harrison."

Suddenly the elevator's silver doors started to shut. Jane put out a hand to stop them; the ancient machine did not respond. He heard her good-bye before the doors muffled her voice completely.

"Good-bye, Jane Harrison." He wished he hadn't asked for her name. It would be so much easier to forget her if he didn't have a name.