Kathy Love - Fangs For The Memories

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.

Jane closed her door, bolted the main lock as well as slipping the chain lock into place. Then she rushed around the double bed to the dingy windows, pulling back the coarse beige curtain. She caught a glimpse of Rhys just as he disappeared around the street corner.

She sighed and closed the curtains. Tonight had been a nightmare, yet she didn't feel nearly as shaken as she should. Her limbs were weak, and her heart seemed to be beating a little out of rhythm, but she wasn't sure whether that was residual fear or the overwhelming attraction she felt for Rhys.

This is stupid. She'd just been attacked, nearly raped. Possibly killed. And she was thinking about Rhys, although he had been her hero. And it was much nicer to think about him than what might have happened if he hadn't been there.

Maybe that was why she felt so attracted to him. Wasn't there a name for this kind of thing? Hero worship?

Of course, any woman in her right mind would be attracted to him. Beautiful men like Rhys didn't happen along every day. Still, she'd never been the type to become instantly enthralled with a man. Then again, her life had never really allowed room for crushes.

She unbuttoned her blazer and dropped it on the bed. She kicked off her pumps and padded into the bathroom. She needed a hot shower. Maybe that would make her feel more normal.

She turned on the water, then crossed to the mirror over the sink. Just as with everything else in the room, it was old and discolored. But Jane could see herself well enough.

Her lower lip appeared a little swollen from being kissed so roughly. Her complexion was paler than usual, but overall, she looked relatively unscathed.

She patted her ruffled hair and felt a twinge of pain on the back of her head. She gently fingered the spot and found a small lump there, probably where her head had hit the concrete wall when that jerk had choked her. Not bad, though. It certainly could have been a lot worse.

She started to unbutton her blouse and noticed redness around her throat. She pulled back her collar, examining it closer. Mostly just irritation, it probably wouldn't even bruise.

She finished undoing her shirt and tossed it out onto the bed with her blazer. The mark had probably been made by the chain of her necklace being ground into her skin as he'd throttled her.

She tested the shower's water temperature, when she stopped. She returned to the mirror, wiping the steam off the glass.

Her necklace was gone.

"Oh, no." She touched her neck as if the gold chain had to still be there, and she just couldn't see it. No, it was gone.

She sat down on the closed toilet seat. Tears filled her eyes. This was truly the last straw of an awful, awful day. The necklace held the wedding rings of her parents, and she wore it always-a small way to keep her parents close to her.

The chain must have broken when that man was strangling her. She ran out to look around the bed, hoping the chain had gotten stuck in her clothing. Nothing. No necklace. No rings.

She checked the bathroom mirror again, examining her neck. The marks definitely looked like abrasion created by a chain.

It had to have fallen off between here and the bar.

She debated for a minute. She should wait until morning, then go search. But if the rings fell off on the sidewalk, anyone could find them between now and then.

She couldn't wait. She didn't want to ever go near that bar again, but she had to. She had to find those rings.

She turned off the shower and hurried to throw back on her blouse and blazer. She added her heavy winter coat and sneakers.

She unlatched the chain lock, then paused. What if Joey was still hanging around the bar?

She rushed to the bathroom and dug through her toiletry bag. Finding a travel-size aerosol hair spray, she shoved the can in her coat pocket. It wasn't mace, but she'd bet it would work in a pinch.

Rhys walked into the dark alley. The coward was still there. Still unconscious. He hoped he could rouse him, because he wanted that asshole to experience the same fear Jane had. Except no one was going to save him.

Rhys found him exactly where he'd dropped him. He hadn't even changed positions. Rhys leaned over to capture the inert man by the jacket, when a flash on the ground caught his attention. He released the man and reached past his shoulder to pick up the sparkling item. It was a delicate gold chain. The clasp was broken, but two rings still dangled from the thin metal.

The gold was warm in his hand. He lifted it up to his nose, already knowing what he would discover. The necklace belonged to Jane. He could smell her, and he had no idea how or why, but the touch of the inanimate object warmed him, literally to the bone, as though she was hugging him.