Everlasting Desire by Amanda Ashley Page B

prowled the edges of the crowd like wolves on the scent of prey, hoping to chase down a good story.
    â€œCome on,” Rhys said, “let’s get out of here.”
    She didn’t argue this time.
    Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Rhys led her to his car, helped her inside, fastened her seat belt.
    â€œDo you want to talk about it?” he asked.
    She shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened, didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t get the images out of her mind—the relentless flames, the firemen rushing into the inferno, putting their own lives at risk to try to save others. It was frightening, the way the fire had spread so quickly. She thought of all the people who had gone to the concert looking to have a good time and had lost their lives. Images of the covered bodies lying in the street flashed through her mind. If not for Rhys’s quick thinking, one of those bodies could have been hers. It was the first time she had ever seriously considered her own mortality. She was young and healthy. Dying was something that happened to other people.
    Rhys slid a glance at Megan. She was trembling now. After removing his jacket, Rhys tucked it around her. He needed to get her home, warm her up with some hot tea, and put her to bed before she collapsed.
    He had no sooner pulled up in front of Megan’s place when Shirl came running out the front door, her bathrobe flying behind her. She yanked open the car door, then dropped to her knees. “Megan! Are you all right? I saw the fire on the news. I was so worried!”
    â€œI’m fine, just a little shaky.” Clutching Rhys’s jacket closer, she got out of the car. Rhys was instantly at her side, his arm sliding around her waist to steady her.
    Shirl glanced up at him and realized there had been nothing to worry about. On some innate level, she knew this man would never let anything happen to Megan.
    â€œWhy don’t you make us some tea?” Rhys suggested. “And add a little brandy to Megan’s, if you’ve got it.”
    With a nod, Shirl hurried back into the house.
    â€œI’m fine,” Megan said, seeing his worried expression. “Really.”
    â€œUh-huh.” Swinging her into his arms, he carried her inside. He knew it wasn’t necessary. She could have walked, but he needed to hold her. He knew even better than she did how quickly a life could be snuffed out. He had been responsible for dispatching a few himself.
    In the living room, he lowered her to the sofa. Taking his coat from her, he slipped it on, then covered her with the afghan folded over the back of the couch. Sitting beside her, he took her hands in his. “You’re cold.”
    â€œSo are you.”
    â€œYeah.” He needed to feed, something he had been doing more of since meeting Megan. It was the only way to keep his skin from feeling abnormally cool.
    â€œHere we go.” Shirl glanced at Rhys as she placed a tray on the coffee table. “I brought sugar, milk, and honey, since I don’t know how you like your tea.”
    He grinned up at her. “I don’t like tea.”
    â€œOh. Can I get you anything else?”
    His gaze moved to the pulse throbbing in her throat, and then he shook his head. “No, thanks.”
    She stared at him a moment; then, with a shrug, she picked up the teapot and filled two cups. She added a spoonful of honey to one of them, and handed the other to Megan.
    â€œDid they say anything on the news about how the fire started?” Rhys asked.
    â€œSomething about the wiring backstage. I don’t know what that backdrop was made of, but it went up like flash paper. The band was lucky to make it off the stage. I saw Drexel on the news. They said he’s going to be all right.” Shirl grinned at Rhys. “They interviewed one of the EMTs. He said some really intense guy insisted he take care of Drexel right away, even