A WHISPER OF ETERNIT

Page 44



dreaming about past lives? Was reincarnation a reality even though she didn't believe in it? And if her dreams were truly recollections of the past surfacing from the depths of her subconscious memory, if they were indeed true, then it stood to reason that she had known Dominic before, and that he really was a…

Swallowing, she forced the word past her lips."Vampire."

Oh, but that was impossible, almost as impossible as the notion that she had known him in countless lives before.

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her reverie. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she grabbed her robe and hurried downstairs.

She opened the door and exclaimed, "Oh, my!" at the sight that met her eyes. Her front porch was covered with red roses.In vases.In baskets.In boxes. And amid the flowers were stuffed animals and balloons, all bearing notes that said the same thing. "My heart beats only to see you again."

She picked a rose from one of the vases and inhaled the heady fragrance. "Oh, Dominic," she murmured. "This must have cost you a fortune."

It took several trips to carry it all into the house. When she was finished, her living room, bedroom, and kitchen looked like a florist shop. There were cute little stuffed bears and bunnies and puppies on every chair and on her bed. Vases and drinking glasses and pitchers were filled with roses that were beautiful and smelled divine.

She found herself smiling all through the day, whether she was painting a new seascape, watering the grass, or fixing dinner… she frowned as she tossed the salad. She had never seen Dominic eat, never seen him drink anything other than an occasional glass of wine. She never saw him during the day…

With a shake of her head, she pulled a bottle of bleu cheese dressing out of the fridge. Just because she hadn't seen him in the daytime and hadn't seen him eat didn't mean he was a vampire. Vampires were ugly, disgusting creatures with long fangs and hairy hands and foul breath who skulked in the shadows of the night preying on the innocent and unsuspecting, and…

"Stop it!"

Leaving the salad on the counter, untouched, she went upstairs to look at the painting she had done of him, noticing, for the first time, that it was no longer facing the wall, as she had left it. Who had turned it around? Why hadn't she noticed that before?

She stared at the painting, thinking again that it was the best, most lifelike portrait that she had ever done. His hair gleamed inky black in the light of the moon, his eyes seemed to follow her around the room; she could almost hear her name on his lips.

Turning the painting toward the wall, she left the room, and closed the door behind her.

He was at her door with the setting of the sun. He filled his eyes with the sight of her, his need to make her his almost overpowering. He had followed her through the centuries, never able to make her fully his, waiting impatiently for her soul to be born again, searching, always searching, until at last he found her again.