Immortal Sins

"You did not ask."

"Rourke..."

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his fingertips, then drew her into his arms and kissed her. Falling back on the blanket, he carried her with him, so that her body covered his. He kissed her again and yet again, his hands sliding restlessly up and down her sides, her back, skimming over her bu**ocks.

Kari reveled in his touch, in his nearness, and then drew back. "Are you sure this is a dream? It feels so real."

"I wish it were real," he said, his voice husky with yearning.

He lifted the hem of her gown, his hand sliding up to caress the inside of her thigh.

"Oh," she murmured. "That feels wonderful."

"I can make it feel even better."

Her breath escaped her lips in a long, shuddering sigh. "Rourke..."

"Relax, love." He rained kisses along her neck, his tongue hot and slick as he laved the sensitive skin behind her ear.

With a sigh, Kari closed her eyes. It was only a dream, after all. She might as well do as he said and relax. But as his hands caressed her, arousing her, she found it impossible to believe that their bodies weren't really entwined, that everything that was happening was only happening in her mind.

Rourke stayed linked with Karinna until he felt the sharp sting of the rising sun. Promising that he would return as soon as the sun went down, he broke the connection between them and retreated to his lair in the shed.

Drifting on the brink of the Dark Sleep, he smiled as he thought of the hours he had spent with Karinna, even if it had only been in her dream. But, dream or not, he had enjoyed every minute of the time they had shared.

Still, he wanted more than dreams, more than just memories.

Tomorrow night, he would explore another means of spending time with her. It was more risky than linking his mind with hers, but it might give him some idea of how to break the spell that bound her.

Rourke inhaled deeply. If his plan failed, Vilnius would have the last laugh after all.

Chapter 32

Rourke woke with the setting of the sun. After leaving the shed, he went into Karinna's house. His nostrils filled with her scent as soon as he stepped inside. For a moment, he simply stood there, drawing in the fragrance that was uniquely hers, remembering the nights they had spent together, the warmth of her smile, the merry sound of her laughter, the trusting touch of her hand in his, the sinfully sweet taste of her kisses.

Muttering an oath, he made his way up to the second-floor bathroom, where he took a shower, then changed into a pair of clean blue jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. He combed his hair and brushed his teeth, thinking that he very much liked the toothbrush and toothpaste Karinna had bought for him.

After pulling on a pair of socks and his boots, he went hunting. Being anxious to see Karinna didn't leave him time to be picky. He preyed upon the first single mortal he encountered, fed quickly and deeply, and sent the young woman on her way with no memory of what had happened.

Returning to the house, Rourke went into the living room and stood in front of the painting. If the plan he had come up with before he succumbed to the Dark Sleep the night before worked, he would be able to free Karinna. Of course, even if he could get into the painting, there was no guarantee that he would be able to get out again, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Linking his mind to hers was satisfying in many ways, but no matter how real what they shared seemed to be, it was little more than an illusion. If he had to spend the rest of his existence in a world of canvas and paint, so be it. Better that than to go on living without the woman he loved. Hopefully, he would be able to get into the painting and get them both out. If not, he was prepared to accept whatever Fate had in store for him as long as he could share it with Karinna.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on the canvas. He imagined he could feel the grass beneath his feet, smell the gentle breeze blowing off the lake, hear the birds singing in the trees. Ignoring the pale sun rising behind the trees, he willed himself into the painting.

He hadn't been sure it would work, but between one heartbeat and the next, Rourke found himself on the other side of the glass. He stood there a moment, every muscle taut, as he waited to see if the painted sun would ignite his flesh, but he felt no heat, no burning on his skin.

He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened. For a moment, he wondered why the wizard's sun had no power over him when everything else seemed so real, and then he shrugged. What mattered was that he was inside the painting.

He took a minute to examine his surroundings. Vilnius had been a truly amazing wizard. Like the painting Rourke had inhabited for three hundred years, this one was more than mere paint and canvas. On this side of the glass, the grass was deep and fragrant, the water lapped gently against the shore. He noticed little things he hadn't noticed before, like the doe and her twin fawns resting in the shadows beyond the tree line, and the gopher peeking out of a hole. Birds chirped and twittered in the leafy green branches overhead, a bushy-tailed gray squirrel perched on a limb, scolding him as he passed by.

Hurrying to the water's edge, Rourke drank in the sight of the still figure of the woman he loved. He didn't know if Karinna was aware of his presence or not. She sat in the sailboat, unmoving, her gaze focused on the distant shore.

On a whim, Rourke sat down on the grass. After removing his shirt, boots, and socks, he dove into the water and swam out to the sailboat.

Hauling himself over the edge of the craft, he shook the water from his hair, then sat beside Karinna on the hard wooden seat.

She didn't move, didn't blink, but he could see the faint rise and fall of her chest.

"Karinna? Can you hear me?"

When she didn't respond, he spoke to her mind.

"Karinna, do you know that I am here, beside you?"

"Yes. What are you doing here? How did you get in? What if you can't get out?"

"Let me worry about that. I have an idea, one I know you will not like."

"Will it get me out of this place?"

"I do not know," he replied honestly.

"At this point, I'm willing to try anything."

"I want to bring you across."

"No! Anything but that."

"I think it is the only way. Vilnius's death did not end the enchantment. Perhaps yours will."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I will stay in here, with you."

She didn't speak, but he could feel her inner turmoil, knew she was remembering what he had told her of his time inside the painting, how excruciating the pain had been because he couldn't satisfy his hunger. If bringing her across didn't break the enchantment, the two of them would spend centuries enduring that same kind of agony. Or maybe not. If he could enter and leave the painting at will, he could leave to feed, and she could feed from him, but he didn't tell her that. Best that she accept the worst than cling to some false hope.