Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (14 page)

Stepping into the doorway from where Quinn had been listening, he said, "I’m afraid you can’t even think about leaving now. Your house has been completely destroyed."

Chyna looked up at him, surprised. "I can't believe that. I know it was pretty badly hit, but it can still be saved, surely."

"I'm afraid not. I didn't want to tell you, but I can't keep it from you any longer."

She had learned not to trust Quinn, and became suspicious. "I want to see it.” She looked from Quinn to Elaine. “Can someone drive me?"

Quinn seemed uncomfortable. "Chyna, you've been through quite a lot, you may not be strong enough yet."

Chyna jumped up. "Am I a prisoner in this house?" Chyna asked, angrily.

Quinn's eyes widened. "Of course not."

"Then I want to go tomorrow and see how bad the damage is. Will you take me, or do I start walking?"

He was silent for a moment, then relented, "All right, but I'm warning you now, you won't like what you see."

"And one more thing, regarding Kirk. If he wants to see me, then I see no reason why I can't go down."

"I've already told you, he doesn't want to see anyone."

"He doesn't want to see anyone now, but that may change." She stubbornly pushed past him and went to her room.

Quinn turned and watched her as she walked away. Feeling a jealous rage rise up in him, he clenched his teeth in anger. "She seems awfully damned interested in that monster downstairs. Maybe if I had a few scars on my face, she might look at me once in a while."

The next morning after breakfast Quinn sat in the study making out some bills. The big noisy knocker on the door sounded. Looking at his watch, he knew that must be the widow's daughter. Dropping his pen, he hurried to let her in, hoping she was presentable. When he opened the door, instead of the widow's daughter, he saw a very young and very attractive eighteen-year-old with a short, reddish-blond, pixie cut. Her cheek-bones were high, her hair curled around her cute, impish little face and her trim body was a mass of lush curves. Quinn looked at her, speechless. When he finally found his voice he asked, "Yes, may I help you?"

The girl picked up the chalk board she had on a chain around her slender waist and wrote something on it. Dropping the chalk that was attached by a string, she then held it up for him to read. "I am Venita."

When Quinn saw it, his mouth dropped open. "You're the dirty, skinny, little rat-faced girl from the lighthouse?"

She looked embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just…well." He lifted his hand, motioning up and down her body.

She began furiously writing again. "You said to clean up."

When Quinn read it, he chuckled. "Yes, I did, didn't I?" His eyes scanned every curve of the gorgeous teenager, his eyes lingering on her cleavage. "My God, what a little soap and water can do."

Again, her hands flew across the chalkboard. "Can I still have the job?"

"Oh, of course." He stepped back. “Come in, please.” Ushering her in gently, he said, “I don’t believe you’ve ever been in the mansion, have you?”

She shook her head and began writing on her blackboard. “Only through the win…” Suddenly realizing she was giving away a secret she began furiously rubbing the chalk marks. Her hand stilled abruptly when she felt Quinn’s hand close over hers.

“It’s okay,” he said, “I understand.”

Looking up at him she gave him a shy smile, then felt his arm circle her shoulders and gently herd her toward the kitchen. She loved the feel of his touch and nestled in his embrace as they walked. Venita was ecstatic. She’d waited for this day. Her eyes darted toward him, lingering on his handsome face. She knew he was attracted to her, but would he touch her? She had heard what her mother had said to him. Would it scare him off?

Venita’s beauty, her innocence caused a deep arousal in Quinn, but something made him hesitate. It was a deep, scratchy old voice that hammered at his brain.

She's not to be touched, do you hear? She’s never been with a man, and if you dare touch her, you'll regret it every day that you live. Do I make myself clear?

His eyes roamed over her body. The creamy skin that invited his touch, the cleavage that practically reached up and grabbed him. God, how was he going to resist that? The vision of her bouncing breasts started a hot, searing fire in his groin—one that had to be relieved somehow.

A hot, tight virgin would do nicely.

He pushed the kitchen door opened and saw Chyna and Elaine looking at some pictures.

"How handsome he was," Chyna said as she looked closely at the photograph. "I'm amazed. He's an absolute hunk."

Quinn eyed them curiously. "What do you have there?"

Elaine looked up smiling. "A picture of Kirk right before the accident."

Quinn watched Chyna go through the pictures, stopping every time Kirk’s image appeared in a snapshot. Wanting to interrupt her rapt attention to his handsome brother, he said, "Ladies, I'd like you to meet Venita D'Arcy. She's the daughter of the widow who lives in the lighthouse. She'll be helping out a little around here."

A friendly smile on her face and in her voice, Elaine spoke softly. "How do you do, Venita? I'm Elaine, Quinn's sister."

Venita smiled shyly, and nodded.

Chyna smiled warmly. "Hello, Venita. I'm Chyna Marsh, Quinn's, uh, f-friend, I guess.” Her eyes quickly cut to his, to see his reaction to her stammer.

“Hard for you to get it out?” he muttered angrily, looking at Chyna with eyes that glittered like blue ice.

Just then Venita winced, and Chyna saw Quinn’s hands pressing into her flesh. She rose slowly, reached over and pulled Venita away from him. Putting Venita safely behind her, she looked up into Quinn’s cold eyes. "Quinn, I need to speak with you for a moment."

"Of course,” he rasped, then turned to his sister. “Elaine, will you take care of Venita? Just see that she knows what her job will be, and what's expected of her."

"Yes, of course." Elaine glanced from Quinn to Chyna worriedly. She had found that Chyna was no shrinking violet, and to Quinn's need for control, that could be dangerous.

Quinn escorted Chyna into the study, then closed the door. He knew what this little meeting was going to be about, so when he turned, he plunged his hands into his pockets, spread his legs confidently, then looked down at her intently, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm ready to go see my house. You told me you'd take me."

"I warn you again, you won't like what you see."

"Quinn, for God's sake I'm not a child that you have to hide unpleasant things from. I need to know the extent of the damage so I can file a claim with the insurance company."

Looking at her thoughtfully, he brought his hand up and rubbed his chin as if wanting to say something, but not knowing quite sure how. "Chyna, why don't you let me take care of all that for you?"

Chyna looked at him with cold eyes, her words edged with ice. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite capable of doing it myself." She looked down at the burgundy wrapper she wore. “I need to get something to wear. I’m tired of living in bathrobes.”

"I’m just trying to help. To spare you all the bother."

"It's totally unnecessary." She lifted her determined chin, and asked, "Now, when do we leave?"

He reached out and touched her arm softly, but she pulled away. "I don't understand,” he said with an intimate tone. “Why have you been avoiding me since you've been here? After all, we shared some pretty intimate moments in front of the fireplace."

Chyna’s eyes widened. She was astonished for a moment and stared at him in disbelief. When she finally found her voice her words stumbled over themselves miserably. "H-how…how did you know about that?"

"I was your partner, how could I not know about it?"

"But it was only a dream, a fantasy. I didn't even know you then."

He looked at her seductively, his scorching eyes telling all. "But I knew you."

"So what? Knowing me doesn't give you access to my dreams."

Turning, he casually walked over to the window, pulled the curtain back and looked out toward the lighthouse. "Remember I told you about the widow being a witch?" He turned back to her. "She arranged it. For a fine fee, I might add."

"She put a spell on me?” Chyna asked with a subdued laugh. “Please. You surely don’t expect me to believe that."

"Then you explain how I did it."

She thought for a moment, then her eyes boldly met his. "I guess I can't, but I know one thing,” she said, her voice hissing her anger, “you have no right to play with my life, Quinn Grayson. To use it for a cheap trick. A parlor game."

"Parlor game?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. You see, a lot of deep, dark, mumbo-jumbo had to be said to get into your dreams."

"But why? What was the point? I can't see that anything was accomplished other than a handful of sleepless nights, and a few headaches."

He shrugged. "It was just my way of, I don’t know, getting your attention, I guess." He looked at her and smiled. "You'll have to admit that it worked. Remember City Lights? You just about sent me into orbit."

"What in hell do you think it did to me? I thought I was going crazy, you bastard. Besides, I can't believe that a man that looks like you felt he had to resort to trickery to get my attention. Why, for God's sake?"

His temper flared, sending him striding across the room to glare into her eyes. "Because, dammit, I refuse to be a Chyna Marsh groupie. A stupid looking jerk standing around waiting for you to notice me. Someone fawning over you, acting like the nerd of the century, accepting your crumbs, whatever they may be. A smile here, a look there. A wave.” He reached out and grabbed her shoulders brutally. "Well, it may be enough for them, but it won't satisfy me, Chyna Marsh. I've got bigger things in mind. I want my kisses sloppy with saliva, tongue, and heat!" Then all at once, his volcanic temper seemed to melt away, his grip relaxed, and his voice softened.

"I remember the first time I ever saw you. There was a crowd around you that day, just like there always is.” He turned and began pacing. “I just happened to be passing by, and looked in to see what the excitement was. There you were, all pink and blonde, the loveliest thing I had ever seen. It was a book signing, and you were autographing your latest book,
Rogue of Love
. I bought a copy and even got your autograph, but did you notice me?" He stepped in front of her, the answer written on his face. "To you I was just another stupid fool in love with the great Chyna Marsh. You made me feel like a friggin' stick of furniture fading into the wallpaper."

He crossed to the desk, walked behind it, and pulled out a drawer. He picked up a well-worn book, slammed it down on the desk, then brutally threw open the cover.

Chyna saw her flowing signature all the way from where she was standing.

Leaning over the book, he cut his eyes up at her. "God, how many hours I’ve sat locked up in this study looking at your picture and stroking that signature wondering what it would be like to hold you, to make love to you."

"But why…?"

"I didn't buy the book to read, I wanted your picture, your autograph…something." He looked up at her. "I had to somehow bring you closer to me, so I read the book." Then his face flushed with embarrassment. "Hell, I could hardly put it down." Moving slowly from the desk, he gave her a reproving, sidelong look and whispered seductively, "Yeeeesss!"

"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?”