Fangs For The Memories. Kathy Love
his brother. Why was he talking so stiltedly? And when had his English accent gotten so pronounced? They’d both lost their accents almost totally over the decades.
Rhys returned to pick up his scotch. Then he crossed back to the fireplace, leaning an arm on the mantel. He took a sip of the golden liquid, then sighed. “I am quite pleased with the match, I must say. When Father had told me that he had arranged for me to wed an American, I had been more than a little outraged.”
Sebastian remembered, even though the incident had happened nearly two hundred years ago. Was that why Rhys was talking and acting so strangely? Somehow he believed he was back in nineteenth century England?
“I was picturing a hulking woman who pushed a plow through the fields all day,” Rhys told him, and it took a moment for Sebastian to realize what he was talking about.
“A woman with no social graces,” Rhys continued. “A savage, in truth. But out of respect for Father and Mother, I would have married her.”
Sebastian almost chuckled at that. Man, Rhys had really dodged a bullet on that one. Rhys’s image of his American fiancée was dead on. Sebastian couldn’t recall her name—Bertha, he seemed to think. And she had been a hulking, abrasive and very unattractive woman.
In fact, Sebastian wished he’d remembered ole Bertha earlier. When Rhys was lamenting being a vampire, which he did often, Sebastian could have reminded him that he could have lived and died in the arms of big Bertha.
Which brought him back to the mystery of who Jane was and what happened in that alley last night. Jane didn’t know. And it was pretty darn obvious Rhys had no clue either as he was quite happily back in merry old England.
Sebastian concentrated on Rhys. He couldn’t sense anything physically wrong with him—even his maimed neck had healed completely. So why was he acting this way? Rhys was too angsty to be insane. Insanity would normally be way too fun for him.
“Where are Christian and Elizabeth? I want them to meet Jane. They will love her.”
Suddenly Rhys’s current predicament didn’t seem quite so amusing. He had somehow forgotten the past two centuries. And all the painful things that had happened in that time. Elizabeth’s death. Christian’s hatred toward them both—but especially Rhys.
The loss of his siblings had devastated Rhys, but he’d subsisted, not ever returning to the Rhys whom Sebastian had known in life, but he kept going. Somehow Sebastian didn’t think Rhys could survive losing them all over again.
Wait, if he didn’t remember Elizabeth’s death, and he didn’t remember his rift with Christian, then he certainly didn’t remember he was a vampire. He didn’t have a clue that he was undead.
“Sebastian,” Rhys asked sharply. “You are a thousand miles away. Did you hear me? Where are Elizabeth and Christian?”
“They are—at the country estate,” Sebastian said quickly. What the hell was the name of that old place?
“At Rothmere?”
That was it. “Yes. Remember, Christian took Elizabeth there, because her friend was having a house party?”
Rhys frowned, obviously trying to recall. “Elizabeth is always attending this or that. I cannot keep track.”
Sebastian took a swallow of his scotch. This was too weird. Who knew a vampire could even get amnesia, but that appeared to be exactly what Rhys had.
Rhys walked over and turned on the floor lamp beside a tan, overstuffed chair.
Sebastian watched him closely, expecting him to react to the whole concept of electric lights—an invention they didn’t see until the late 1800s, nearly fifty years after their undeaths.
But Rhys didn’t react. He sat down and refilled his glass. He held up the decanter to Sebastian.
“Please,” Sebastian said. He was going to need a couple drinks to grasp what was going on here. It was on the tip of his tongue to remind Rhys what he was, but he hesitated. Rhys was calm, content—unlike he’d been in centuries. Perhaps it was better to let him remain blissfully oblivious for a while longer. At least until Sebastian understood more of what had happened to him.
“Jane is far more perfect than I could have hoped for.” Rhys sighed and leaned back in the chair.
“Yes.”
“I must admit, though, I do not seem to recall how she got here. Nor do I remember last night.”
“You’ve forgotten a good bit more than just last night,” Sebastian said wryly, but quickly covered his comment. “You and Christian were celebrating your upcoming wedding before he left with Elizabeth.”
Rhys nodded, readily accepting that explanation. Christian had always been the wildest of the three brothers. He would be the one who would have convinced Rhys to make the party last well over a few days.
They drank silently for a few moments, and Sebastian tried to figure out what he should do about this. Maybe he should talk to some of the other vampires that frequented his nightclub. Maybe one of them had heard of this disorder. And he would definitely ask about any rogue vampires in the city—a vampire who was attacking other vampires.
“Upcoming wedding?” Rhys asked, suddenly. “Jane and I are not wed already?”
Sebastian shook his head. “No. Jane only got here last night.”
“Good Lord, you mean to say, she got off the ship, and I herded her straight into my bed and compromised her? While I was drunk, no less?”
Sebastian blinked. This was just way too weird.
“She seemed agreeable to it.”
Rhys shook his head, his eyes dark with self-reproach. “That is simply not how one treats their intended. And the wedding will obviously have to happen as soon as possible. I cannot have her reputation in tatters because I was a randy, soused caper-wit.”
Randy, soused caper-wit? Did they really ever talk like that?
“Sebastian,” Rhys said, drawing Sebastian’s attention back from the oddities of the English language. “I intend to keep Jane. To find happiness with her.”
At first, Sebastian found Rhys’s wording strange. Keep her.
But his attention was immediately drawn back to Rhys as a wave of overwhelming need flooded the room. Then it was promptly replaced by a devastating, heartbreaking sense of loss that seemed to weight the air and crush Sebastian.
Sebastian blinked, forcing himself to focus on his brother, realizing the emotions came from him.
Rhys stared straight ahead, his eyes distant, almost as if lost in a trance.
Sebastian started to ask Rhys what was wrong. But before he could get the words out, images began to bombard his brain like a rapid-fire slide show. Visions of Elizabeth. And Christian. Other things from their pasts.
Sorrow nearly choked Sebastian—as the visions continued at a speed that offered only brief glimpses of lives now lost.
And just when Sebastian thought he couldn’t handle any more, that his brain and emotions were going into overload, the grief evaporated away.
One final image flashed in Sebastian’s mind. Jane. Then that image, too, vanished.
The air grew lighter—only the subtle scent of Rhys’s desire for her drifting through the room.
Sebastian blinked. What the hell was that? The flashes had been similar to what happened to him when Rhys had been attacked. He was again feeling what Rhys was feeling.
He looked at his brother. Rhys’s gaze no longer had that faraway look. He actually even smiled again, although there was a determined edge to the set of his mouth.
“I cannot explain it,” he said, and for a moment, Sebastian thought that Rhys knew what had just occurred. “I