Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,24

its bared teeth.

He frowned as he stared at the empty syringe. His blood had saved Kara's life and, in the process, had wrought a mysterious change in hers. No wonder the doctors were so curious about the unusual antibody in Kara's blood, so eager to test it. No doubt they would be even more interested to discover the true source of that healing power.

He stared at the syringe for a long moment, wondering if mingling his blood with that of another human would produce the same healing agent.

Feeling morbidly curious to see the effect of his own blood in action, he gave the rat a second dose of poison; then, when the rodent was on the brink of death, he injected the rat with his own blood. In less than twenty seconds, the rodent recovered completely.

Alex swore softly as he turned the rat loose outside, then went into his study to work, and to ponder the events of the last few minutes.

The study was his favorite room in the house, the only one that held anything remotely personal, and those items were few: a lock of AnnaMara's hair, kept in a lacquered box; a piece of jade he had picked up in China more than a century ago; an ivory elephant he'd bought in Ceylon; a tapestry that had been woven for him by a woman he barely remembered; several pieces of Navajo pottery; a statue he had found in a small shop in Venice.

There were several paintings on the walls: a peaceful landscape done in muted shades of green and gold, a picture of a young woman who looked remarkably like AnnaMara, a turbulent seascape that was painted in shades of dark blue and gray.

The largest painting hung over the fireplace. It was a brooding piece of work by an unknown artist. The scene depicted a man clad in a long black cloak, looking small and alone as he stood on a mountaintop, his head tilted back as he gazed at a magnificent sunrise.

Not much to show for two hundred and thirty-five years, Alexander mused, and yet he had never been one to pick up souvenirs, to keep mementos of his past. Perhaps because he had such a long past. Or perhaps it was because there had been few occurrences, or people, he wished to remember.

But he would remember Kara. If he lived another two hundred years, he would never forget her. Though he had known her but a short time, she had become a part of him. Knowing it was wrong, knowing that his interference in her life had already cost her dearly, he was nevertheless determined to stay with her as long as possible.

To protect her, if necessary.

To love her, if she would let him.

For as long as she would let him.
Chapter Eight
Kara woke late that afternoon, feeling as though she were awaking from a bad dream. Scattered images lingered in her mind: waking up in a sterile room, being strapped to a bed, Dale Barrett draining her of blood, a nightmare image of Alexander, his mouth stained with crimson.

Fever dreams, she thought, looking around. But this was no dream. She was in a strange bed, in a strange room, clad in a hospital gown.

She sat up, realizing that, in her drugged state, she had confused dreams with reality. But that still didn't tell her where she was.

Slipping out of bed, she drew on the robe hanging on the back of the door, then padded out of the room and down the stairs. The house was empty, silent. She peeked into the parlor, admiring the oak floor, the paneled walls. The furniture was sparse: a curved sofa with a high back, a single chair covered in a dark green print. An enormous bookcase took up one entire wall. An entertainment center stood oppositethe sofa, complete with a TV and a stereo.

There was a small bedroom furnished with a bed and nothing more, a small old-fashioned bathroom with a claw-footed bathtub, and a large kitchen. There was a coffee maker on the counter, along with an unopened can of coffee, a box of filters, and a small box of sugar.

Her stomach growled as she plugged in the coffee pot and filled the container with water. The refrigerator, which was the oldest one she had ever seen, was empty save for a carton of milk, a package of bacon, a dozen eggs, a jar of blackberry jelly, and a carton of butter. There was a loaf of whole wheat