Everlasting Desire by Amanda Ashley

music and the near-hysterical screams of thousands of crazed female fans. White vapor rose from the stage floor and curled around Drexel’s ankles. Cameras flashed. Girls fainted. Yellow-shirted security guards prowled the front of the stage and the edges of the crowd, leaping into action now and again to prevent overeager fans from jumping up on the stage.
    Rhys glanced at Megan when she tugged on his arm. “What do you think of him?” she asked, shouting to be heard over the roar of the crowd.
    â€œHe’s good.” The kid might be young, but he knew how to play to the audience. They had fallen under his spell the minute he walked out on the stage, and he never let them go. Rhys had to admire that.
    The band had been playing for about an hour when Rhys detected the acrid scent of smoke. Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. The smell was coming from backstage, and getting thicker and stronger by the minute.
    â€œCome on,” he said, grabbing Megan by the hand. “We’re getting out of here.”
    â€œWhy? What’s wrong?”
    â€œNo time to talk about it now.” He slid his hand up until he had a firm grip on her forearm.
    â€œRhys!” She twisted, trying to break his hold. “I’m not ready to go.”
    â€œYes, you are.” He pulled her along behind him until they reached the aisle.
    A security guard stepped out in front of Rhys. He glanced at Megan, who was still trying to wriggle free of Rhys’s grasp. “Something wrong here?”
    â€œThere’s a fire,” Rhys said curtly. “Backstage. You’d better get these people out of here before it’s too late.”
    The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Fire?”
    â€œCan’t you smell it?” Rhys glanced back at Megan. She had stopped fighting him, her gaze riveted on the stage where long, yellow tongues of flame were eating their way up the backdrop.
    Drexel and the band seemed unaware of what was going on until shouts of “fire!” grew so loud, they drowned out the band. The music came to an abrupt halt when Drexel glanced behind him. The drummer jumped to his feet when the backdrop dissolved in a shower of rainbow sparks. Without the barrier, the acrid stink of burning wood and fabric grew stronger, heavier. Panic erupted on the stage and spread through the audience as thousands of people blindly fought their way through the smoke toward the exits, tripping over each other in their haste.
    Muttering an oath, Rhys swept Megan into his arms and transported the two of them out of the building to the sidewalk across the street.
    Megan stared up at him, her eyes wide. “What happened? How did you do that?”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œGet us out of there so fast. I don’t even remember leaving the building.”
    â€œThat’s understandable. You were afraid. The mind can play funny tricks on you when you’re scared.”
    Frowning, she shook her head. “No.” One minute they had been inside; the next, they were here. She had no memory of what had happened in between.
    Rhys set Megan on her feet, then folded his hands over her shoulders. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he spoke to her, his voice low and hypnotic. “I carried you through the crowd and out of the building. We were lucky to escape so quickly.”
    â€œYes,” she murmured. “Lucky.”
    When he was certain she believed what he wanted her to believe, he released his hold on her mind and turned his attention to the people still running out of the building, which was now engulfed in flames. The screams of those trapped inside, the sobs of those who had escaped, the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh rode the night air. And over all, the wail of sirens as fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances rolled to the scene.
    Freed of his spell, Megan blinked up at Rhys. “Drexel? Do you think he’s…?”
    She couldn’t say the word, couldn’t bear to