Life After Dark: Book Two of the Dark Series

Chapter 94

Carrie stood still by the window. One hand rested on the wall, while the other held onto the fragile, lace curtain. The dimmed light from the bedside lamp made her barely noticeable if anyone would have cared enough to glance up at the brownstone, perhaps looking for a glimpse of her in the window. No one did.

She sighed as she watched Robert trudge down the deserted sidewalk...away from the brownstone, away from her. The sigh wasn't one of relief or sadness. It was one of regret. Regret for the time she and he had lost, and regret for losing a little bit of herself along the way. Thirty years, she thought, dropping the curtain back into place. Thirty years...gone.

They had made so many plans and had dreamt so many dreams. But now it was all over. The love was gone, and nothing had replaced it. Not even hatred. Just an emptiness which was waiting to be filled.

Continuing to face the window, she clasped her hands in front her. Her fingers brushed against the familiar band of gold. Without a second thought, she removed it and closed her fist around it.

"Asuka gawa

Kawa yodo sarazu

Tatsu kiri no

Omoi sugu beki

Koi ni aranuku ni."

She released a long breath at the sound of Stefan's husky voice. She was amazed at the feeling of comfort and peace his presence gave her. She moved to face him. She noted the concerned look in his brilliant green eyes, as well as the questions he held there. She hoped she would have the answers. She asked, "Was that Japanese?"

"Yes." He nodded. He moved away from the door to stand before her. His gaze was careful and unwavering. He ached to touch her, but he was unsure as to whether or not it would be appropriate in light of their uninvited visitor. He swallowed hard, remembering his brief, but unforgettable conversation with Robert Jensen. The man was weak, pernicious, and ignominious, but at one time, he held her heart. Why? How?

"Stefan?" she asked her voice quiet and a little timid. What was he thinking? Aloud, she said, "What does it mean?"

He laughed softly at his lapse. "It's a poem. Translated, it means, 'The mists rise over...The still pools at Asuka. Memory does not...Pass away so easily.'"

"It's beautiful, but it sounds so tragic," she replied softly. Her thoughts turned inward as she inadvertently voiced her concerns aloud. "Is that how you see me? As tragic?"

"No," he denied, taking a step closer to her. Her brushed her cheeks with the back of his hand, reveling in the softness of her skin. "Not tragic. I see you as a beautiful woman who continues to remain an enigma to me."

"Me?" she laughed in surprise. "An enigma? I don't think so. I think I'm very easy to read."

"Perhaps to some, but not to me." He gave her another brief caress and stepped away from her. He went to the window and glanced down at the street below. It was quiet and still, much like the bedroom where only moments before promised to be their sanctuary as they embarked on an erotic journey. Turning from the window to face her once again, he offered her a brief smile before he sat on the window seat.

"Well," she shrugged, "what would you like to know? I'll trade you."

"Trade?" he asked with a smile. He laughed softly as she nodded in reply and moved to sit beside him. A curious frown creased his brow. "You have a few questions of your own?"

"I have more than a few," she told him.

"Such as?" he asked, a teasing note to his voice.

"Maybe you should go first," she suggested, shifting her position so that their thighs were just a breath away. She shifted again and smiled wickedly when their thighs touched.