Fangs For The Memories. Kathy Love

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.

      Chapter 3

      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.

      He stared at the rings in his palm for a moment. Was she married? Had she been married? What would it be like to have someone that sweet, that lovely, in his life every day?

      He ground his teeth. Stop! There was no point. No point wondering. But he shoved the necklace in his jacket pocket anyway.

      He returned his attention to the lifeless man. He grasped him and lifted him fully off the ground. He shook him like a rag doll, and the man groaned to life.

      Joey was disoriented for only a moment. Then he saw Rhys. His eyes bulged, and he opened his mouth to speak, or more likely scream.

      Rhys shifted himself around and slammed the man hard against the concrete wall. The man moaned.

      “How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine, my friend?”

      “Wh-what are you?”

      Rhys smiled, knowing the wide curl of his lips would fully reveal his two long, very sharp canines. “I’m the one who is going to speed up your arrival in hell.”

      Rhys yanked Joey to him and sank his teeth deep into the ex-convict’s neck. Blood coursed through Rhys, but he didn’t taste it, didn’t savor it. He thought about Jane’s sweet scent and those innocent green eyes. He thought about the tenderness of her touch. And he thought about his desire for her.

      The coward struggled for only a few seconds, then fell limp.

      Rhys didn’t kill the mortals he fed from. Even though he used only the dishonest and depraved as his food source, he didn’t believe he, a beast himself, had the right to act as their judge and jury.

      Tonight, he planned to let that belief slip his mind.

      But at the last moment, when the man’s heart would cease to beat, he pulled away. As full of rage as he was at this man, who dared to injure someone as true and kind as Jane, he couldn’t kill him.

      He dropped the coward to the ground and stepped back from him. Rhys wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, disgusted with the man, disgusted with himself.