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Chapter 20
Back at work on Monday morning, Kari poured herself a cup of coffee, then booted up her computer and read her e-mail. As she sat at her desk, immersed in mundane tasks, everything that had happened in the last few weeks seemed like some kind of distant fever dream. It was hard to imagine that not only was Rourke made of flesh and blood, but he was also a vampire, and even harder to believe that she had made a hurried trip to Romania and managed to smuggle Ana Luisa out of the country. And that now, in addition to a sexy 767-year-old vampire, there was a witch who was over three hundred years old living in the city. Not to mention the vampire who had made Rourke, and the vampire with whom the wizard's daughter was currently residing.
Kari glanced around thinking that the people she worked with would never believe any of it.
By noon, she could scarcely believe it herself. Caught up in fonts and hues and page layouts, it was hard to imagine that there were vampires sleeping somewhere in the city, or that one of them was taking his rest in the shed in her backyard. At least she thought he was. She hadn't seen him since last night, when they had made out on the sofa. This morning, she had been tempted to peek into the shed to see if he was there, but the thought of seeing him while he slept filled her with trepidation. And even if she'd had the nerve, it would have been impossible, since she knew he locked the door from the inside.
She met Tricia for lunch at the coffee shop on the corner and they spent a pleasant hour getting caught up. Kari was dying to tell her friend everything. She needed someone to confide in, someone she could trust who could keep her grounded in reality, but the last time she had told Tricia about Rourke, he had wiped the memory from Tricia's mind.
Kari picked up a French fry, wondering just how he had managed that, and if he had ever wiped anything from her own mind. That was a scary thought, even scarier than his ability to do so. He might have erased one memory or a hundred and she would never know it!
The rest of the day passed quickly. She finished a project for one of her major clients, spent two hours on the phone with another client who had decided, at the last minute, that he wanted to change his whole presentation.
Lost in her work, she didn't have a chance to think about who would be waiting for her at home.
Jason Rourke's image jumped to the forefront of her mind as soon as she drove out of the parking lot. A fair-haired angel, Tricia had called him. Ha! Angel, indeed! She was sure he had more in common with fallen Lucifer than Gabriel.
Would Rourke be waiting for her at home? Did she want him to be? She knew it would probably be better if he just disappeared from her life, but she couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again even though she couldn't see that they had much of a future together. She was twenty-five, he was 767. She slept at night, he slept by day. She liked food and sunshine and vacations at the beach, he drank blood and hunted the shadows for prey. She would grow old, he would stay forever the same.
At the front door, she took a deep breath and then put her key in the lock, wondering whether she would feel relief or regret if he wasn't there.
She found him in the living room watching the six o'clock news, the daily paper scattered at his feet. A wellspring of happiness bubbled up inside her when she saw him there. He looked so normal, sitting in front of the TV clad in a black T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, just like any other man relaxing after a hard day's work. Only he wasn't an ordinary man, and he didn't have a job.
He looked up as she entered the room. She frowned, perplexed by the intensity of his gaze. Was he angry? Had he come to take her by force, or tell her good-bye? He couldn't be angry, she thought, smiling inwardly, not after last night. Still, her stomach knotted as she waited for him to say something.
"Good evening, sweeting."
Relief swept through her as his voice washed over her. He definitely wasn't angry.
"Hi." She dropped her handbag on the sofa table and kicked off her shoes.
He held out his hand, and when she took it, he drew her gently toward him, pulling her down onto his lap. "How was your day?"
"I was busy playing catch-up all day. How was yours...never mind."
One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry grin, and then, cupping her nape in one hand, he drew her head down and kissed her, his breath mingling with hers, his hands lightly skimming over her shoulders and down her back, sliding seductively over her hip and along her thigh.
"Rourke..."
He kissed her again, longer, deeper. Heat flowed from his mouth to hers. Her stomach quivered as his tongue teased the corner of her mouth, then slid inside, tasting, teasing, evoking sensations that Kari felt in the very core of her being. She moaned softly, yearning toward him, longing to feel the long, hard length of his body stretched out beside hers, a part of hers....
With a soft cry of protest, she drew away and gained her feet, surprised that her legs were strong enough to hold her. Her insides felt like Jell-O, her legs like limp spaghetti.
Rourke looked up at her, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I want you," he said in a voice like honeyed velvet. "You want me. Why do you continue to fight the attraction between us?"
She stood there, feeling foolish and confused. She wanted him and they both knew it, but deep down inside, though she was loath to admit it even to herself, she was afraid of him, afraid of his preternatural powers, afraid that letting him make love to her would, in some way, steal her free will and make her his slave. He had erased all memory of himself from Tricia's mind. How did she know he wasn't planting ideas in her mind now? What if he had been manipulating her? What if her feelings weren't even her own? Maybe he was making her think she wanted him, but what would be the point? If he wanted her, all he had to do was take her. She was no match for him, physically or otherwise.
He held out his hand, palm up. "Come to me, sweeting."
His voice, so soft and sensual, was filled with gentle persuasion.
She waited, wondering if he was playing with her mind, relieved when she was able to resist.
"No." She shook her head even though she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again. "No."
He rose, towering over her. "Why do you continue to deny yourself what you want?" he asked, and there was no mistaking the fine edge of anger and frustration in his tone.
"Because I've never...I mean, I don't...I mean..." It was one of the reasons she had broken it off with Ben. He had hurled insults at her, his voice filled with disdain as he had accused her of being old-fashioned, frigid, a cold fish, because she wouldn't sleep with him. People didn't wait until they were married these days, he had said angrily. What was she trying to prove? Did she want him to beg?
