She blinked up at him when he took his mouth from hers, blurted, "Don't stop," and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. What was she thinking, letting a vampire kiss her? Worse, what was she doing kissing him back and asking for more?
His hand stroked her hair. "I need to go."
"Go?" She stared at him, confused. "Go where? I thought you were staying here."
"I need to feed." His gaze dropped to her throat. "Or I could stay...."
The hunger in his eyes was evident even in the dark. It quickly cooled her desire. With a shake of her head, she lifted a protective hand to her throat. "I don't think so."
"I will not be gone long. Do you think you will get an answer to your e-mail tonight?"
"I don't know. It's possible, I guess. Depends on how often they read their mail."
"Will you be awake when I return?"
She nodded, thinking she would stay awake forever if he would just kiss her again.
His hand caressed her cheek, and then he was gone.
Kari stared at the spot where he had been. Amazing, she thought, that he could disappear so quickly.
She closed the door to the shed and went into the house. She had a vampire for a roommate. She could only wonder what kind of changes she would have to make in her lifestyle to accommodate him.
Rourke strolled along the dark streets, his thoughts centered on Karinna, always Karinna. In his day, it was practically unheard of for a woman to live alone or work outside the home. Women lived with their parents until they married, and then their husbands provided for them. A wife's only duties had been to obey her husband, warm his bed, and bless him with an heir. Poor women often had worked in the fields alongside their husbands, and it wasn't unheard of for women to give birth in the fields and then continue working.
In his day...He grunted softly. His day. How very long ago that had been! And how differently everything was now. Given time, he thought he might come to like this century. Time. It was the one thing he had in abundance. Time...how quickly the wheels turned. Everything he had ever known was gone; everyone he had ever known was dead and buried. His wife, his children, his parents, his brothers, all gone.
He wondered idly how he would have spent the last three hundred years if he hadn't been imprisoned in that accursed painting. After leaving his wife and family, he had roamed the world, explored new cultures, learned new languages. He had reveled in his preternatural powers, gloried in his strength, satisfied his lust for blood and for flesh in every clime and on every continent. To be a vampire was to be invincible, immortal. He had looked forward to each new night. There had been so much to see, so much to do, and he'd had the time to see and do it all. Until Vilnius...
The scent of prey scattered his thoughts of the past.
The woman was emerging from a store, a bag of groceries in each hand. Clad in a pair of white slacks and a green shirt, she was tall and thin, with straight brown hair and troubled brown eyes.
A thought took him to her side. Murmuring, "Let me help you with that," he reached for one of the bags.
"No, that's all right," she said, her voice and expression betraying her anxiety at being accosted in the parking lot by a complete stranger.
"It is no trouble." He searched her mind for her name. "Cynthia."
She stared at him, confused. "Do I know you?"
"You will."
Staying as far away from him as she could, she fumbled in her handbag for her keys, unlocked the trunk, and placed her bag inside. Rourke placed his sack beside hers.
Murmuring, "Thank you," she closed the trunk and moved quickly to the driver's-side door.
When she would have opened the car door, Rourke placed his hand on her arm. "Wait."
"Please," she said, her voice thick with fear. "Don't hurt me."
"You need not worry about that."
"I have two small children, Janie and Joey. Please, they need me. I'm all they have."
"Hush, now," he said, drawing her into his embrace. "There is nothing to fear."
She stared at him through fear-filled eyes, her heart hammering in her breast. The scent of her fear teased his nostrils and quickened his hunger. He spoke to her mind, calming her until she stood quiescent in his arms, and then he lowered his head to her neck. Anyone passing by would see only a man embracing a woman. He drank slowly, savoring the warm, rich, coppery taste on his tongue. It had been so long since he had been able to slake his thirst, so long. Strength and power flowed into him. He was immortal, invincible.
When he had quenched his thirst, he sealed the tiny wounds in the woman's neck with a flick of his tongue, then helped her into the car.
"You will go home now, Cynthia," he said, his gaze holding hers. "You will get something to drink, and then go to bed."
She looked up at him, her expression blank.
"You will forget this happened," he said, bending her mind and will to his. "You will forget me."
The woman looked at him a moment longer, and then, with a nod, she put the key in the ignition and started the engine. She sat there for a moment, and then, with a slight shake of her head, she turned on the car's headlights and pulled out of the parking lot.
Rourke watched her drive away, and then, whistling softly, he started back toward Karinna's house. A dog barked at him; Rourke stilled it with a look. A cat, sitting on a wall, hissed at him as he passed by. Rourke grinned into the darkness. You couldn't fool animals, he thought. Domesticated or wild, they all sensed that he wasn't human.
He found Karinna sitting at her computer when he arrived. He paused in the doorway, admiring the way the lamplight shone in her hair and brought out the natural flush in her cheeks. She was a beautiful woman, perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever known.
Kari sensed Rourke's presence almost immediately. Feeling like a rabbit in the presence of a hungry wolf, she went suddenly still all over. She knew what he had been doing while he was gone; it filled her with a primal urge to run, to hide. He wasn't a wolf, of course, but he was a dangerous predator of another kind: a vampire who had been out doing what vampires did--feeding on some luckless victim to preserve his own life. She comforted herself with the knowledge that he didn't kill them.
Rourke stood behind her chair, unmoving, silent. He knew what she was thinking, feeling. The scent of her unease filled the air, and so he stood there, waiting, wondering if she had decided to ask him to leave.
The silence stretched between them.
"Karinna?"
Just her name, softly spoken, but she heard the question in his tone, knew he was waiting for her to tell him to stay or go.