A Whisper of Eternity

Tracyrose after a restless night. If she dreamed, she didn't remember doing so. Dressing quickly, she checked out of the motel, then stopped at a nearby cafe for breakfast.

She felt more relaxed this morning. Fears were always less scary in the light of day; there was comfort in the presence of other people. And, if Dominic was really a vampire, he wouldn't come out during the day. She blew out a sigh. There was noif . She'd seen too much to deny the truth any longer.

She ate a leisurely breakfast - hot cakes smothered in butter and syrup, bacon and scrambled eggs. She didn't often indulge in such things but this morning, it seemed right.

After leaving the cafe, she stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few snacks and sodas for the road, filled up the gas tank,then turned onto the freeway, heading north. She turned the radio on to her favorite country station and settled back for a day of driving. Perhaps she'd go toCanada , she thought. Maybe she would meet one of those sexy Mounties and settle down and raise a family in the great northwest.

Dominicrose the instant the sun slid behind the horizon. Dressing quickly, he materialized in the house above.

Standing in the center of the living room floor, he let his senses sweep through the house. She wasn't home. He sniffed the air. She had not come home last night.

Where was she? He cursed softly. Had he not respected her wishes all these centuries, had he taken her blood as he so longed to do, there would now be a bond between them, a connection that would lead him to her with no more than a thought.

Going upstairs, he went into her bedroom. Her closet door was open. Most of her clothing was gone.

Jaw clenched, he went to her studio. If he needed further proof that she was gone, he found it here. Though several canvases remained, including the painting she had done of him, her painting supplies were missing.

She had run away. Run away from him. Anger burned through him as he flew down the stairs and out of the house.

Standing in the driveway, he unleashed his senses. It was easy to pluck her scent from the air, to follow the near invisible tracks of her car's tires.

"You will not escape me so easily," he murmured.

And dissolving into a fine gray mist, he followed her trail.

To the freeway.

To the motel where she had spent the night.

To the cafe where she had eaten breakfast.

To the grocery store, the gas station, and back to the freeway.

And, at last, to the motel where she slept, unaware that he watched her.

Tracywoke slowly. Eyes closed, she stretched her arms and legs;then , with a yawn, she sat up.Time to hit the road again. She had covered several hundred miles before she stopped for the night. At this rate, she'd soon be crossing the Canadian border.

She frowned as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Something wasn't right.

The room wasn't right.

Rising, she padded across the floor and opened the drapes.

And looked out over a huge yard surrounded by an enormous wall.

Was she dreaming again? It was a silly question, and she knew it, but she pinched herself anyway. Ouch! She was definitely awake.

Fear was a cold, hard knot in her belly as she slowly turned and glanced around the room. It was large and square. There were tall, narrow windows set in three of the walls; the bed she had slept in took up most of the fourth. Several thick rugs covered the hardwood floor. There was an armoire in one corner, a small cherrywood dressing table and matching chair stood between one pair of windows. Her suitcase sat on the floor near the door.

Where was she?

And how had she gotten here?

She didn't like the answer that quickly came to mind.

She put on a pair of jeans and a sweater over her nightgown, then went to the door and tried the latch, surprised when it opened. Stepping through the doorway, she found herself in a long, dark corridor. Her bare feet made no sound on the dark red runner as she tiptoed toward the head of the stairs and peered over the railing. She listened for a moment and then, convinced there was no one there, she tiptoed down the winding staircase and hurried toward the front door.

It didn't appear to be locked, but it wouldn't open.

Frowning, she wandered from room to room, opening the draperies as she went.

The house was bigger than any she had ever seen, including her own. There was a living room with a big stone fireplace, a huge dining room, a library whose walls were lined with shelves filled with books, a large room with a polished oak floor - a ballroom, perhaps? She wandered through the kitchen and pantry, noting they were both stocked with food. There was a music room that held a very old piano, a violin, and a harp. There was another room she thought might be the solarium.

She tried every door, every window - they refused to open. Were they locked from the outside?

Was this place some sort ofTwilight Zone bed and breakfast?

Going back upstairs, she poked her head into the rooms that lined the corridor. They were all bedrooms or sitting rooms furnished with antique oak furniture. She was glad to see that the house seemed to have all the modern conveniences, except a telephone. And mirrors, she thought, frowning. She didn't recall seeing a single mirror in the whole place.

The last room she looked into seemed very much like her studio at home. It contained a long table,a half -dozen empty jars and cans, a small box of rags, a couple of easels, and several blank canvases in a variety of sizes. The case that held her paints and brushes sat just inside the door, along with the blank canvases and the easel she had brought from home.

Returning to the room she had awakened in, she sat on the edge of the bed. How was she going to get out of here? She hit her head with the heel of her hand. Her cell phone! Why hadn't she thought of it sooner?

Grabbing her bag, she rummaged inside, only it wasn't there. Whoever had brought her here must have taken it.

With a sigh, she tossed her bag aside and glanced at her surroundings. It was a pretty room. The walls were covered in old-fashioned paper with pink cabbage roses. The ceiling was high; painted angels and nymphs smiled down at her. There were wrought-iron candelabras on the walls, a small Tiffany lamp on the cherrywood table beside the bed. The bedspread was a deep, dusky rose, as were the heavy draperies at the windows.

Hunger drove her downstairs once again. In the kitchen, she went through the cupboards. They were fully stocked with canned goods, bread, crackers, Jell-O, cake mix, a dozen brands of cereal, hot fudge, marshmallows, flour, sugar, salt and pepper, spices and condiments, a wide variety of candy bars, and practically anything else she could possibly want, including the items she'd had in her car.

The refrigerator held milk, cream, butter, sodas, lunch meat, and several kinds of cheese; the freezer was filled with meat, frozen vegetables, and three kinds of ice cream.

At least she wouldn't starve to death.

But where the devil was she?

And who had brought her here?

She couldn't believe that someone could have taken her out of the motel room and transported her here without waking her. Nevertheless, here she was.Which brought her back to her original question.

Where was she?

After eating a bowl of cereal and sliced peaches, she went through the house once again, trying every door and window, but to no avail. In the living room, she picked up an iron poker, turned her face away, and swung the poker at the window. The glass should have shattered, but nothing happened.

She stood there for several minutes and then, resigned to the fact that there was no way out, she went into the library, found a copy ofWutheringHeights , and curled up in a chair. She spent the rest of the morning reading the bittersweet love story of Cathy and Heathcliff .

After lunch, she went upstairs, laid out her paint brushes, set up a canvas, and spent the rest of the afternoon painting the view out her bedroom window.

It was only when the sun began to set that fear once again began to make itself known.

She wasn't surprised when Dominic appeared in the doorway. He wore a long black cloak over a black shirt and black trousers. His feet were encased in soft black leather boots. Though she had refused to admit it, she had known, on some deep level of awareness, that this was his house.

He inclined his head in her direction. "Good evening. I trust you found everything you needed."

"Yes." Her fingers clenched around the brush. It was hard to speak past the lump of fear in her throat. "Thank you." Though why she should thank him was beyond her. He had brought her here without her consent, after all.

He took a step into the room.

She took a step back.

He lifted one brow. "Are you afraid of me now?"

"How did I get here? Why am I here?"

"I brought you here because I wanted you here."

"Why didn't I wake up?"

"Because I did not wish you to."

The fear in her throat moved downward and congealed in her stomach. She started to ask another question, but before she could form the words, he was standing in front of her, only inches away. She gasped, startled. She hadn't seen him move.

"I will not hurt you, my best beloved one."

"Where are we?"

"This is my house."

"But where are we?"

"Ah. We are in a distant corner ofMaine ."

"So, I'm your prisoner now."

"You are my guest."

"A guest who can't leave.Sounds like prison to me."

"We need time to get to know each other again. I will not be shut out of your life this time. I will not share you with another. This time, you will believe. This time, you will be mine."

"So you're going to keep me locked up inside this house?" She stared down at her hands, noticing, for the first time, that she was holding the brush so tightly, her knuckles were white. "And what if I believe and I still don't want you? Still don't want to be what you say you are?"

"Then I will let you go."

"Why won't the doors or windows open?"

"Because I did not wish them to, but they will open for you now."

"Did you take my phone?"

"Yes."

There was no need to ask why.

She glared at him, angry and more than a little frightened.

Gently, he took the paint brush from her hand and dropped it into a can of turpentine. "Come," he said quietly, "walk with me."

Though it sounded like an invitation, she knew she had no choice. When he offered her his hand, she took it. Together, they walked down the stairs. The front door opened at a wave of his hand and they stepped outside.

The night was cool and clear. A full moon hung low in the sky, bathing the trees and flowers in a wash of silver. Electric lights illuminated a flagstone path that led around the side of the house and through a wrought iron gate that opened into an enormous yard. Tall trees grew in the distance. Closer at hand were flower beds filled with roses and shrubs. There were trees cut into a variety of shapes: a bear standing with one paw raised, a unicorn looking over its shoulder, an elephant standing on its hind legs, a giraffe, a whale, a seal, a dragon. There were a number of fruit trees and, further down the path, a small natural pond. A large gazebo stood in the middle of the yard, surrounded by rose bushes. A high wall surrounded the yard and the house. She made note of the trees that grew near the wall. It wouldn't be too difficult to shinny up one of the trees and climb over the wall.

Dominic's hand tightened on hers. "The wall is electrified.To discourage vandals."

Tracylooked at him sharply. Was he reading her mind?

"There is nothing beyond the wallsave a large forest," Dominic went on. "The nearest house is thirty miles away."

"If you live here, why were you staying at Nightingale House?"

"I did not say I lived here. Only that it belongs to me."

"And what am I supposed to do here? Oh! The seascape! I'm supposed to ship it to Mr. Petersen next week."

"I will take care of it."

"But..."

"I will take care of it."

"His address is in my book."

He nodded.

"How long are you going to keep me here?"

He shrugged. "That remains to be seen."

She looked up at him and their gazes met and locked. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine as he moved toward her, one arm curling around her waist to draw her up against him. He was going to kiss her - she knew it. Well, she had no intention of kissing him, not while he was keeping her here against her will. No way!

She put her hands against his chest to push him away, but it was like trying to move a block of granite.

Gently, he caught both her hands in his, and then he placed one finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back to give him better access to her lips. She started to object but before she could form the words, he kissed her, driving all thought of protest from her mind.

Tracy's eyelids fluttered down as his mouth covered hers. Whatever else he might be, the man knew how to kiss. Had she always responded like this, always felt as if her bones were melting, as if her blood was on fire? She pressed herself against him, a sense of feminine satisfaction flowing through her when she felt his response to her nearness.

He broke the kiss briefly,then claimed her lips once again, more aggressively this time. His tongue teased the seam of her lips until, with a sigh, she opened for him.

She moaned softly, all thought fleeing her mind. There was only Dominic, his tongue exploring her mouth, his hands moving over her back, her breasts, lightly massaging her belly, making her burn like a fire out of control. He released her hands and she wrapped her arms around him, her body intimately molded to his, certain she would fall if he let her go. Faint images whispered through her mind. It took her a moment to realize they were fragments of his life. She saw him as a young boy tending sheep on the side of a grassy hill. He was tall, even then, his skin dark, his hair long. He sat on a rock holding a small black lamb in his arms. In the distance, she saw a hut with a thatched roof. The scene changed and he was strolling down a cobblestone street with two other young men. They were laughing as they walked along. The scene changed yet again, and Dominic was seated at a small table in what looked like an inn. A woman sat beside him, a beautiful woman with long red hair and skin that was almost translucent. The woman smiled at him, a come-hither look in her dark eyes, and Dominic followed her out of the inn. The scene changed yet again and she saw the two of them sharing an embrace in a dimly lit room, saw the woman's lips draw back to reveal a pair of small white fangs...

Startled by what she saw,Tracy drew back, frowning.

Dominic looked down at her, askance.

She shook her head in wonder. "I... I saw you..."

He lifted one brow. "Saw me?Where?"

"You were a little boy holding a lamb... a young man laughing with two other men." She swallowed hard. "I saw you with a woman. A beautiful woman with red hair..."

" Kitana."

"She bit you."

"Aye, she did indeed."

"She was a vampire?"

There was a wrought iron bench under one of the trees. Dominic sat down, and after a moment,Tracy sat beside him.

"I had just turned twenty-five when I met her," he said. "Until then, I had done little, seen little. I knew nothing of the world beyond our little village, had no ambition other than to tend the sheep with my father. It was not a bad life. I had a few friends, and I had met a woman I planned to marry. And then I met Kitana . She was a wild Gypsy woman, more beautiful than any creature I had ever seen. She tempted me beyond all reason and I was suddenly filled with a restlessness I did not understand. And then one night she asked me to go away with her. She said she could arrange it so that I could be what she was, promised that I could live with her forever, if that was what I desired. I said yes without a moment's thought. Naive as I was, I thought she meant I would be as wild and free-spirited as she. I had no idea then what she really was, or what being like her entailed."

"So, you're saying she was a vampire?"

He nodded. "Yes. She was very old, and very powerful."

"Did it hurt? Becoming a vampire?"

"The bite did not hurt. What came later was... frightening, more than anything else, though she could have made it easier for me."

"What came later?"

"What difference does it make, if you do not believe?"

"What happened to her?To Kitana ?"

"We spent many years together and then one night I woke up and she was gone. It was while I was looking for her that I found you the first time. I knew the moment I saw you that we were fated to be together."

"How did you find me in all those other lives you claim I've had?"

"I do not know how to explain it, but somehow, sooner or later, I am drawn to where you are." He smiled faintly. "But this time, it seems, you were drawn to me."

She didn't want to think about what that might mean. "Did you ever see Kitana again?"

"From time to time."

"Why did she leave you?"

"She found another young man. I imagine the world is filled with those she has brought over and abandoned." He did not tell her that once Kitana had tired of her youngman, she had come to him again, wanting to take up where they had left off. They had not parted on the best of terms. He had told her it was over between them. She had vowed that one day she would bring him to his knees.

"You're saying there are hundreds of vampires running around sucking people dry and no one knows?"

He laughed softly. "It is easy to pass among mortals. They do not want to believe vampires exist and so they dismiss the little things they see that are beyond their comprehension. As for sucking people dry, that is rarely done these days except by overeager fledglingswho cannot control their hunger."

"Did you... have you ever... done that?"

"Not for many years."

Tracygazed out over the gardens. They were beautiful, even in the moonlight. The air was fragrant with the scents of earth and grass, trees and flowers. It was beyond bizarre to be sitting here having such an outlandish conversation.With a vampire.

"Where do you sleep?"

He pressed a kiss to her palm. "That is one question I cannot answer."

She regarded him curiously."Why not?"

"There is no need for you to know."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Should I?"

"I don't see why not. I knew where you... where you slept at Nightingale House."

"Indeed."

"Are you afraid I might... let's see, whatare the ways to destroy a vampire ?" She frowned, trying to remember how it was done in the movies. "You can cut out its heart, or chop off its head, or burn it up. Isn't that right?"

"It?" he asked with a wounded expression. "Do I look like an 'it' to you?"

He didn't kiss like an 'it'! Oh, no, he was all man in that regard. "Don't change the subject," she admonished. "Let's see, what am I forgetting? Oh, the ever popular stake through the heart."

"Shall I hide the axe and the matches?"

"No need," she said, laughing in spite of herself. "I couldn't dissect a frog in biology class. I think you're safe from me."

He laughed with her.

Warmth passed between them, bringing with it a sense of camaraderie from shared laughter.

His gaze rested on her lips again.

Her heart seemed to skip a beat.

Before she succumbed to the look in his eyes and the yearning of her own heart, she said, "What's it like for you, during the day? What happens when the sun comes up?"

"The sun steals a vampire's strength. We are overcome with a lethargy that is, in the beginning, impossible to resist. We sleep the sleepof, you will pardon the expression, the dead."

"And if someone found you while you were asleep, what then?"

"Very young vampires are totally helpless when the sun is up. After many centuries, some vampires are able to stay up after sunrise and rise before sunset."

"Can you?"

"Yes, though my powers are weak until after dark."

"And if someone invaded your resting place, would you know? Would you be able to protect yourself?"

He nodded. "Self-preservation is as strong with us as with anyone."

"Has anyone ever tried to... to destroy you while you were at rest?"

"Yes."

"What did you do to them?"

He did not answer, only gazed at her through fathomless gray eyes.

"You killed them, didn't you?"

"Should I have let them destroy me?"

"No, of course not."She smiled faintly. "It was self-defense, after all." She didn't ask how many times he had defended himself, didn't want to know how many men or women he had killed to defend his life or to satisfy his thirst.

Silence settled between them.Tracy was keenly aware of Dominic's presence beside her. Their conversation, while interesting, had been quite disconcerting. Feeling a sudden need to change the subject, she asked him how she was supposed to pass the time.

"In any way you wish.Paint. Read. Walk in the gardens. If there is anything you want or need, you have only to let me know."

"And you'll get it for me? Kind of like my own personal Santa Claus?"

"If you wish to think of it like that, yes."

Tracysmothered a yawn behind her hand. Though it was still early, she was suddenly sleepy.

Dominic stood and offered her his hand. "Come. You've had a long day, and much to think about."