Fangs for the Memories by Kathy Love Page A

unexplained. Who was he kidding? Nothing made sense. He really hoped Rhys had snapped out of his lust-induced delirium and had some sort of explanation.
    It didn’t take long for Sebastian to find Rhys—in the library, a large room full of books and music, and Rhys’s favorite room in the apartment.
    Rhys sat in a chair, leaning back against the cushions, legs crossed, looking unusually relaxed. Two glasses of scotch were already poured and waiting on the table.
    “There you are,” Rhys greeted with a broad, warm smile. “I thought we might have a drink to celebrate.”
    Sebastian blinked. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen that smile, certainly not since Rhys crossed over. And Rhys celebrating? Brooding was about as celebratory as Rhys got.
    “Is Jane settled with her tea?”
    “Yes. She’s fine.”
    “Good.” Rhys stood and crossed to the giant stone fireplace that took up most of one of the walls. He picked up a fire poker from the hearth and stirred the smoldering ashes. Then he tossed a log onto the orange coals.
    “She is lovely, is she not?”
    “Jane? Yes.” Sebastian studied 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