Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 11

  "What a critique. I don't know if that's good, or bad."

  "You're here, aren't you? Do you think for one moment that it was your decision alone that made you move to this miserable little town?" He looked at her and smirked. "Lady, I've been controlling you since I first knew you were on the planet. You haven't had a thought or an idea that wasn't put there by me."

  "But how…"

  His eyes narrowed on hers, and he spoke with a menacing softness. "The widow is a very powerful woman." Then he stepped up to her and closed his fingers around the tops of her arms and pulled her close. She could feel his hot breath as he leaned close to her. "The things you wrote, Chyna, I'll never forget. With your pen, you painted some freakin' pictures that burned a hole in my head. I'm your Rogue of Love, Chyna. I'm the dark and dangerous Gypsy that won your heart and plunged himself into you." His lips brushed her ear. "And if I'm not, I will be. I can be anything you want me to be."

  She struggled against him. "So that’s what you meant when you told me to give you a name. You wanted to be one of my heroes—” She hesitated, thinking about Dagan. “—and you almost were."

  "Yes. I knew your history of falling in love with your heroes. Can you blame me for wanting to be one of them? That’s why I patterned myself after your Rogue of Love, and your unholy vampire in Taste of Blood. I knew you were in love with them. But I had to show you I was different than the rest. I had to show you I was real. It was the surest way for you to fall in love with me. It would have been perfect if it had worked, but every time I held you in my arms you disappeared.”

  “Were you just going to continue this indefinitely?”

  “No, of course not. When the time was right I was going to come into your life. That’s the reason for the little speech I gave.”

  When you want me bad enough, I’ll step into your world, just as you have stepped into mine.

  Chyna looked up at him. “You bastard. that night at City Lights I thought I was going crazy. I’ll never forgive you for what you did to me. I almost got sick. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep without dreaming—”

  “Chyna,” he whispered passionately, “can I help it if I’m an impatient man?"

  She tried to get away, but he held her tighter. "I want a sample, goddammit. I want your legs wrapped around me, and I want to plunge myself so deep inside you, it hurts."

  She pushed away from him. "I'm getting out of here. You're insane."

  He stopped her, clenching her arm painfully. "Why, because I want you? Then every freakin' man in the world must be insane." He jerked her around when she tried to get away. "You want me too. Don't deny it. Right there on the floor in front of the fireplace you almost gave yourself to me."

  "Yes, I did, but thank God I had an alarm clock that was faithful and suffered the consequences."

  "What about me for God's sake?" He looked down at her with burning eyes. "I'm laying on top of you, ready to sink myself into that tight, succulent little cunt when—"

  "My, you're certainly graphic."

  He jerked her to him angrily, and slurred his words seductively. "You can write it, but I can’t say it?”

  "Not to me."

  "You wanted me once, Chyna. Tell me what has happened to change that."

  Suddenly she stopped struggling and looked him right in the eyes. "Because since I've been here, I've gotten to know you. You're a bastard, Quinn Grayson. A conceited, arrogant bastard. You're more of a monster that your brother, Kirk. He's only scarred on the outside, but you're scarred on the inside. Thank you for saving my life, and I'm sorry I can't repay you with love, but it'll never happen, so get used to the idea.” She paused, looking at him closely. “I will say one thing for you, though. You've helped me to learn something about myself since I've been here. All my life I thought I wanted a handsome hunk of a man like you, but I'd rather have someone like Kirk with all his scars than a bastard with a perfect face like yours any day…or night."

  He wrenched her arm, making her frown. "Well I didn't save you for somebody else bitch, and I'll have you, just you wait and see."

  Tears filled Chyna's eyes as he brutally pushed her against the desk.

  "Be in the car in five minutes, or you'll never see your fucking house again. At least what there is left of it."

  After Quinn slammed out, Chyna leaned her head down into her hands and cried. She looked up when she heard something, and saw a dark silhouette standing in a shadow watching her.

  "Hello, Ms. Marsh," the raspy whisper drifted out of the shadow.

  Embarrassed, she dabbed at her eyes. "What in hell do you do, materialize out of thin air? Have you been there all along?"

  "Yes."

  She was silent for a moment, then whispered tearfully, "You should have made your presence known."

  The shadow chuckled. "You make a fine Scarlett O'Hara, but I'm hardly Rhett Butler.”

  She lifted her eyes and looked at the dark silhouette. “Kirk—” Rising slowly, she started toward him.

  "Stay right where you are, Ms. Marsh."

  "Let me see you, Kirk."

  "The last time you saw me, you screamed."

  "But you surprised me. I promise I won't scream this time."

  "The storm is over, Ms. Marsh. I think it's about time you went back home."

  "I can't." She lowered her head and blotted a stream of fresh tears. "My house was destroyed, and the telephone lines—" Her words faded when she looked back up and saw the shadowy corner empty of life.

  Suddenly Quinn appeared at the door. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Myself,” she replied as she rose from the couch. As she pushed past him, she wondered if she’d lost all her senses letting Quinn escort her around. Depending on anyone gave her a feeling of helplessness, but with no choice but the obvious one, she was reminded that she needed to see how her car had made it through the storm.

  * * * *

  The car rocked and bumped over the ruts in the narrow road making Chyna toss back and forth. When her house came into view, she couldn't believe it. The car had barely come to a halt when she quickly slammed out of it and ran toward the wreckage that used to be her house. Her wide, unbelieving eyes raked across the disaster while tears blinded her eyes.

  When Quinn saw her stooping to pick up little things here and there that meant something to her, his anger flared. Her life was with him now, and the thought of her wanting anything that was attached to her past was intolerable.

  Chyna walked into what had been her study. Her computer was destroyed, and all of her books. When she saw the scattered pages blowing in the wind, pain stabbed at her heart. She didn’t feel as if she was experiencing the death of mere paper characters, but those of her own children…her family. One by one she picked up the torn pieces of the colorful artists designs that the cruel, violent wind had torn into fragments and desperately held them to her heart. Feeling the deep loss, she then fell to her knees among the rubble, her shoulders shaking with tears of torment.

  Quinn walked over to her, held her by the shoulders and pulled her up gently.

  Taking her in his arms, he said, "I tried to warn you, Chyna.” He turned, and gently pulled her along with him. “Come on, let's get out of here."

  "No,” she sobbed, then began nervously wiping the tears from her face. “I want to get some things. Whatever's left."

  "There's nothing left. Can't you see? It's all been destroyed."

  "No," she sobbed, as fresh tears began falling down her cheeks. "I can't leave it, it's mine."

  “Chyna, it’s no use. You’re holding on to a memory. What used to be.”

  Chyna whirled on him. “You bastard. You’re glad my house is gone.”

  “I’m only glad that part of your life is gone. It’s yesterday. You and me, we’re the future.”

  “You’ll never be in my future,” she yelled and ran to the car.

  Clenching his teeth in anger, Quinn slammed the car into gear and drove it up to Cat's Paw. They didn't speak the rest
of the way, and as soon as the car bumped up into the drive, Chyna jumped out and ran up to the mansion.

  Quinn watched her, hating her and loving her at the same time. He refused to accept the fact that she didn't want him, and his nostrils flared in anger as he stared after her. Since when did Quinn Grayson ask a woman what she wanted anyway? What he wanted, he took, and the sooner she learned it, the better off she would be. He was glad her house was gone, and felt no remorse in the part he had played in destroying it. He thought about the day of the hurricane, and the power he felt in the wind, the lightning, and the thunder. The widow had outdone herself. The elements had been conjured up that day just for him, and directed like an arrow right toward Chyna's house. He didn't know if the hurricane came from Heaven or hell, but as long as it brought her to him—he didn't care!

  Chapter 10

  Elaine turned quickly when she heard someone slamming through the front door. She opened her mouth to say something, but Chyna had a look on her face that clearly told her she didn't want to talk. Within only seconds, Quinn followed her, his eyes riveted upward, watching Chyna climb the staircase. Instead of running up after her, he went into the study, retrieved something, then ran up the sprawling staircase two steps at a time, the look on his face stormy.

  Elaine knew there would be trouble between them the minute Quinn found out that Chyna refused to be pushed around. It seemed that Quinn's controlling personality had met it's match against Chyna's independence, and now they couldn't even be in the same room without battling. She looked up toward the bedrooms thinking she might go up and try and make peace, but just about then she heard something fall and break. She begrudgingly turned her head toward the kitchen where Venita was doing the dishes. Elaine had found out that Venita was very sweet, but extremely clumsy.

  * * * *

  Chyna had only been in her bedroom a few seconds when she heard a knock. "Go away!"

  "I just want to apologize. Don't make me do it through the door!"

  Chyna tried to calm herself for a moment, then walked stiffly toward the door and cracked it open.

  Quinn made a move to come in, but Chyna quickly blocked his way. This angered him, and his eyes narrowed. "Let me in."

  "No."

  "Do you realize I could very easily pick you up and throw you off the veranda with one hand?"

  "Is that the way you apologize?"

  "All right, I'm sorry. I said some things I shouldn’t have. It won't happen again."

  "Thank you."

  "Now, may I come in?"

  "No."

  "You fucking bitch!” he shouted, his face contorted with hate. “Some day you'll beg me for it! Do you hear? You'll beg!”

  "In your dreams, creep!" She pushed on the door to close it, but he strong-armed his way in.

  Watching her turn her back to him, anger spread through him. "Would you like to know who really destroyed your house?"

  Her eyes widened, and she turned. "What do you mean? The hurricane did it."

  "With a little help from the widow.”

  “That’s not possible. No one can control the elements.”

  “I told you not to underestimate the widow’s power, didn’t I?”

  “You mean you—?”

  “Yes.”

  "You stinking bastard! What in hell gives you the right to come into my life and turn it upside down?”

  “I’m sorry if you’ve suffered, but it was the only way.”

  “The only way to what, for God’s sake?"

  "To bring you here, and then to keep you here."

  “Get this straight Quinn Grayson, the decisions I made, I made on my own.” Her voice slowly rose with her anger. “My life is my own, do you understand? Not you, not the widow, not God in heaven, or the devil in hell makes my decisions for me.”

  Quinn smirked. “I doubt you could make a decision that doesn’t somehow involve Chapter One, Page One.”

  “Why you…you…” Her words slowly faded when she saw Quinn bring something out from behind him. It was her book, Rogue of Love, the one he had retrieved from the study drawer. While she stood watching, like a child he slowly began tearing pages out and shredding them with his evil fingers.

  “That, my dear is what I think of your precious Curt Jensen, the bloodthirsty, Vlad Alesandru, the oversexed Lexard Shane, and all the rest. I’ll see to it that every one of your outlandish creations meet their deserved end.”

  She looked down at the pages that littered the floor of her room and looked back up at him again, seeing Quinn for what he really was. He wasn’t only jealous of Kirk, he was jealous of her mind—her writer’s mind—because that was where every male protagonist that Chyna had ever created lived. It was true that she fell in love with her heroes, but it was something every female writer did. It meant nothing. But to Quinn, if Chyna loved them, they were enemies—paper enemies—another adversary for him to overcome. It was that elusive part of her that belonged to her alone—a place deep inside her that he couldn’t invade except to cast contempt upon them, and destroy them before her eyes.

  Looking at the horror in her eyes, he said, "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

  "Stay away from me Quinn Grayson," she whispered.

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. "Did you ever make it with a crazy man?” he asked, his voice deep and raspy. “Who knows, you might like it."

  Chyna struggled when he suddenly grabbed both her arms and pulled her against him.

  "It'll give you something to put in your next book. You have to be careful though, and describe it just right. You know, every kiss, every moan, every groan, every erotic feeling that goes through you during every fucking plunge."

  She turned her head away so he couldn't see her tears, but he grabbed her hair and turned her face back toward his.

  “Don’t turn away from me, bitch,” he said, then pulled her roughly to him and rubbed himself against her so close she could feel every curve of his body. “Don’t hold me like that, Quinn, let me go."

  "What? The little slut that writes the trashy novels is getting virtuous?"

  "You bastard, I write what I have to. Sex sells."

  "Speaking of selling, what would you take for a little action, huh?"

  "You're a pig!" she yelled, then spat in his face.

  After quickly wiping at his face, he backhanded her so hard, she landed on the bed. Standing over her, he unbuckled his belt and shouted, "For once in your life, you're going to deliver, you smut-writing little cockteaser. You're not going to wiggle that sexy little ass around Quinn Grayson and get away with it,"

  In only seconds he fell on her, his heavy body pinning her to the mattress. His hands were all over her, and he cursed as her clothes seemed to resist his invasion. His heavy breathing was loud in her ears, and she felt his cock growing and pushing against her. All of a sudden he came up off her and practically flew through the air, thudding loudly against the opposite wall. Chyna felt a bolt of horror go through her when she looked up and saw a dark hulking figure with a scarred up face bending over her.

  With compassion in his flashing blue eyes, he asked, "Are you all right, Ms. Marsh?"

  "Y-yes," she whispered with a trembling voice.

  As he reached out to help her up from the bed, he was violently grabbed from behind.

  "You sorry scarred up freak, get your hands off her."

  Kirk turned and backhanded Quinn, sending him reeling.

  Quinn looked up at Kirk with his mouth bleeding. "What's the matter, Frankenstein. Afraid I won't leave any for you?"

  "Shut your filthy mouth, Quinn, and get out of here."

  "Don't tell me what to do, you ugly monster. Why in hell don't you go back down to your stinking dungeon and die."

  Kirk stalked toward Quinn, his scarred face full of fury. He grabbed Quinn by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards through the door.

  Quinn stumbled, hitting the corridor wall with a thud. "You son of a bitch. You think she's gonna look at you
, with that face? What's the matter? You think ugly turns her on?" He pulled himself up, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Well, good luck, Frankenstein, you're gonna need it." Quinn turned away laughing, his laughter echoing down the dark corridor.

  Kirk turned toward Chyna. When he saw her curious eyes raking over his grotesque face he quickly turned away, allowing only the undamaged part to show.

  She was speechless as she sat there and stared. It was the first time she had ever seen him outside his draping shadows, and somehow her tongue wouldn’t move. It wasn’t fright, but surprise that closed her mouth. His hair was dark and long like Quinn’s, and he was built slightly huskier than Quinn’s slim frame. Being careful not to scare him away, she rose from the bed gently, and hesitantly walked over to him. Very carefully, she reached out and touched his arm.

  "Don't hide your scars from me, Kirk," she whispered.

  It was getting late, and the room had deepened in shadow, but none surrounded him. He stared straight ahead, his face rigid, his handsome profile etched against the deepening darkness. You would never know what was on the other side until he turned, then the full horror of his face would leap out at you, ripping a scream from your throat.

  “I don’t want to scare you, Ms. Marsh,” he said softly. “I’ll go now.”

  “No, please,” she pleaded, reaching out to him ever so gently. When he reluctantly faced her, her breath caught in her throat, and his eyes lowered in shame.

  She slowly lifted her hands and stroked the monstrous face, imagining the handsome features that lurked beneath the puckering scars. It was so unfair. Why had they been so horribly ripped away? She looked again at the lush, succulent lips, and could only imagine what it would be like to be kissed by them. His eyes were a compassionate blue, and his lashes thickly fringed. His dark hair was tousled on top, dropping down along his forehead just above his deeply arched brows. As she continued to stroke him, she saw that his eyes were boldly searching her face, clearly admiring the curve of her full, sensuous mouth, the look in her bewitching eyes, and the dark, thin wings of her brows.