A Whisper of Eternity - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,56

today?"

"Not yet.Pretty quiet." He touched the tip of her nose with his finger. "I guess you've been painting."

"Yeah.Guess I should have looked in the mirror before I left the house."

"Well, it's pink. People will just think you're sunburned."

"Right."

"So, what did you do inMaine ?"

"I was visiting a friend."

"You left kind of suddenly, didn't you?"

"Kind of."

"School will be starting soon," he remarked. "I sure hate to see summer end."

"Me, too."She gazed out at the ocean. There was something almost hypnotic about watching the waves. She had always loved the ocean. Endless and deep, sometimes calm, sometimes wild with energy, a vast, ever-changing sea that was home to thousands of creatures from tiny sea horses to gentle whales and man-eating sharks.

"Are you busy tonight?"Bryan asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Are you seeing him?" There was no mistaking the hard edge of jealousy inBryan 's voice.

"Yes."

"He's no good for you. Why do you insist on going out with that man? There's something about him. Something not right."

"Oh,Bryan ."

"Don't patronize me. Just because you're older doesn't mean you're wiser."

"I didn't say that, but Dominic's a good man."

Bryansnorted derisively.

"Maybe I'd better go."

"No!" He laid a restraining hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But I really should go. I've got work to do."

"You're not mad, are you?"

"No, of course not.See ya later."

Back home, she poured herself a glass of milk, then went upstairs. Glass in hand, she regarded the blank canvas, then, setting the glass aside, she mixed her colors and began to paint.

She had fully intended to start on another seascape; instead, her brush strokes sketched a tall man wandering through a moonlit garden.A man who stood beneath a lamp post and cast no shadow on the ground.

Intent upon her task, she paid no attention to the time as she carefully applied each brush stroke. His face, pale in a wash of silver moonlight, was harsh and yet beautiful. His eyes, dark and shadowed, were filled with the secrets of eternity. His mouth was well-shaped and sensual, with just a hint of a roguish grin. A long black cloak fell in graceful folds from broad shoulders. It was by far the best thing she had ever done. There was carefully leashed power in every line.

Stepping away from the canvas, she studied the portrait wrought by her hands and her heart. "Perfect," she murmured, laying her brush aside."Absolutely perfect."

"You flatter me."

She whirled around, startled by the sound of his voice.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you."

She glanced at the window, surprised to see that the sun was setting. "I didn't realize it was so late."

He drew her into his arms, stared at the painting over the top of her head. Again, she had captured him on canvas and he studied the image intently.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Very much.Is this how you see me?"

"Yes."

"And is this how I appear?Or merely an artist's interpretation? "

She looked up at him. "Both, I guess," she replied, and then frowned. "Is it true you can't see yourself in a mirror?"

"Yes."

"If I took your picture, would it come out?"

"No."

"So you haven't seen your face in over two thousand years." She shook her head. "That's incredible."

He jerked his head toward the painting. "This is better than a mirror," he said with a wry grin, "though I doubt I ever looked quite so handsome in mortality."

She glanced over her shoulder at the canvas. "It's how I see you."

He cupped her cheek in his hand. "I believe love has colored your perception," he murmured, and lowering his head, he kissed her.

She clung to him as he deepened the kiss, caught up in a maelstrom of emotion. Her eyes were closed, yet she saw colors brighter than ever before. She imagined she could feel each thread that made up the fabric of his clothing. It seemed as though she could feel each particle of air around her. She caught the scent of rain, and even as awareness crossed her mind, she heard the dull roar of thunder, the patter of drops against the window.

Overwhelmed, she drew back to stare up into Dominic's eyes.

He answered her question before she could ask.

"You are feeling what I feel," he said quietly."Seeing things as I see them."

"But why?"

"I have taken your blood. Not enough to bind us together, but enough that, if I open my senses, you can see and experience a part of my feelings."

Well, that was a scary thought! "What would happen if I had takenyour blood?"

"We would be forever bound. My thoughts would be yours,