My Immortal Read Free

for?”
    “I know who you are. You can do this.” His face shined from the rivulets running down his cheeks, the lamplight reflecting off of his empty, joyless face.
    She tossed her sodden hair back over her shoulder, pressing her bare breasts against the softness of his damp linen shirt. It was a foolish request, one he would live to regret, but Rosa thought Damien was deserving of regret. He had a black heart, cold and arrogant, and she was attracted to the idea of him being indebted to her.
    This wasn’t the normal way of things, but she was young and impulsive. She thought it would be satisfying to see this proud man forced to serve her and the father, as he would have to if she granted him the escape from death he requested.
    She hesitated long enough to warn, “If I do this, I can’t undo it. Do you understand?”
    Though his eyes darkened, he nodded. “Yes, I understand. Do it for me.”
    With a shrug, she told him, “It’s done.”
    And with a soft groan, he moved, slamming her onto him, pumping up and down, exploding her mind and body with a thousand little gunshots of pleasure as she threw back her head in utter abandon.
    “Thank you,” he murmured into her mouth as he kissed her hotly, the porch steps creaking beneath his boots as they rocked. “You won’t regret it.”
    Though regret was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment, she knew, with the clarity of one who can sense without seeing, that there was going to be hell to pay for this one.

Chapter One
     
    As Damien du Bourg stood in the Liverpool Museum, iPod at his ears, and stared at The Punishment of Lust by Segantini, he knew he had to have that painting.
    The dreamy, muted colors of the canvas showed the regret, the pain, the hopelessness that Damien knew as intimately as himself. It was his lust that had killed Marie, and his lust that had lured Marissabelle, yet they had taken the punishment for his sins.
    Like the two women drifting in the empty landscape in front of him, he too was wrapped in shroudlike, clingy bonds of pain, suspended in nothingness for eternity.
    “Excuse me,” he said to the female security guard who had been discreetly trailing him.
    “Yes?” She crossed her arms over her ample chest and eyed him suspiciously. Not an attractive woman, she looked like life had given her a reason to distrust, and he was sorry for that, sorry that she too knew pain.
    “Do you know where I can buy a print of this painting?”
    “The gift shop might have it.” Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Do you know where the gift shop is?”
    Damien smiled, knowing the effect it would have. “No. Perhaps you could point me in the right direction?”
    “I guess I can walk you over there.”
    “ Merci . Thank you, I appreciate it.”
    She gave an unexpected smile in return, and a plain face became almost pretty. It was a rationalization on his part, that random acts of sexual kindness could make up for what he had done, but it was the only way he could live with himself, and he had a long life to live.
    Damien readjusted his plans for the evening to include the suspicious security guard and her Rubenesque body.
     
     
     
     
    From: Busylizzie
To: Marley Turner
Subject: Hey, sis!

Hey Marley miss you lots. Would say wish you were here but if you were here I guess we wouldn’t be having any fun because this is definitely not the place for a prude like you. LOL. Parties every night and the hottest most amazing guy I’ve ever met in my entire life. I swear, I am going to stop at nothing until I have married this guy, Mar. His name is Damien du Bourg, isn’t that the most sexiest name ever? And Louisana (sp?) is sexy too, it’s hot all the time and all the guys are sweaty, it’s like a hunk calendar 24/7. Damien lives in this totally weird huge mansion—hello, it even has a name, Rosa de Montana, isn’t that cool??—and it’s like his ancestors house. Did I mention he’s totally rich? < g > He won’t let me poke around