Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (21 page)

While carefully applying her makeup in a listless way, again her thoughts went to Kirk. As usual the thought of him caused a deep, raw pain to tear through her stomach, and tears would begin to creep down her cheeks. As her misty eyes darted around the room she knew she had to get away from this place. Everything she looked at reminded her of him. Every stick—every stone—

Just then she happened to look beyond her reflection to the neglected costume box sitting over in the corner. After what had happened she hadn't even tried to persuade Kirk to wear it. Now, while looking at it, she slowly laid the powder duster down, the pain in her stomach almost more than she could bear. She quickly lowered her head as a fresh batch of tears pushed against her lids. She indulged herself for a few minutes before she glanced down at her watch. Noticing the late hour, she made herself move faster, quickly putting the finishing touches on her makeup and hair. When everything was finally in place, she took a moment and looked at herself in the full length mirror. The blue dinner dress was low cut and draped in front, layering softly against her ample cleavage. The dress was sprinkled with tiny glitter causing it to twinkle with tiny silver sparks. The effect was positively glamorous. Her hair was up in a Gibson Girl with little ringlets at her neck and face, and her trim ankles looked very alluring in the four-inch blue satin heels, and an ankle bracelet.

When it came time to go down she stepped out of her bedroom and approached the stairs. Coming to the first step, she stopped abruptly. She saw Quinn relaxing against the banister, and looking up at her very arrogantly with his foot propped on the first step. She slowly began descending the wide staircase, aware of his eyes drinking in her every movement.

When she got to the last step, he moved in front of her, barring her way. Without saying anything she made a move to pass him, but he quickly stepped up, put his hand on her waist and buried his face in her neck. She could feel him begin to draw on her fragrant, steamy flesh, but she remained cold to his touch—unmoved, and smoothly pulled herself away.

Quinn turned and grabbed her arm, pulling her close to him. She could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered, "Tonight?"

"You snake,” she rasped, jerking her arm out of his. “You think because of what you heard that I'm going to fall in your arms? Well if I were you I wouldn't hold my breath." Just before turning away from him, she added sarcastically, "Besides, what would Venita think?"

"Venita be damned," he growled. "I want a woman, not a baby."

"Well, there are millions out there, you bastard, take your pick."

The two of them made a grand entrance into the library staring daggers at each other. When Dr. Wilder saw Chyna, he stood up, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

Quinn took Chyna's arm possessively. "Dr. Wilder, may I present Chyna Marsh?” Turning to Chyna, he said, "Chyna, Dr. Vincent Wilder."

Chyna searched his handsome, movie star face. His hair was sandy blond, but so light on top it was almost white. With his hair long, he reminded Chyna of a blond musketeer, with the same cavalier manner. All that was missing was the cape and the sword. She could see him swinging from a rafter, rescuing the maiden fair. Elaine had picked well.

Dr. Wilder extended his hand and took Chyna's, bringing it lightly to his lips. "I've been looking forward to this evening, Ms. Marsh."

Chyna smiled, noting the strange mixture of blue and green in his eyes. "The pleasure is mine."

The doctor pulled a card out of his pocket and gave it to Chyna. "Not that you need it, but if you know of someone else in need of my services, this is the address of my office, and my number."

Chyna looked down at the card and her eyes widened. Summer sparklers, firecrackers, and sky rockets exploded in her head all at the same time. Was it possible? Could she be so lucky? She couldn’t let this pass by. Just once more, she decided. One more time before giving up and leaving for good.

Quinn spoke up, bringing her back to reality. "Chyna, may I fix you a drink before we go in to dinner?"

She jerked around and looked at him. "N-No, thank you. Uh…if…if you'll excuse me I have something to take care of before dinner."

"Of course," the two men said simultaneously. They watched her run out, slightly surprised that she departed their company so quickly.

Once out of the library, Chyna ran up the stairs to her room. As she quickly opened the door, her eyes found the gray box with the words
Stage Door
superimposed over two masks, one crying, the other laughing, and grabbed it. Turning around, she took the box and quickly ran back downstairs, then down the cement steps to the basement. When she arrived at the square chamber she looked past the barred door to the darkness that was always there.

"Kirk, are you in there?"

No answer, but Chyna could hear him breathing. "Kirk, please answer me. I know you're there."

Kirk jerked forward on his bed, but he stayed silent. The sound of her voice made his insides jump. He wanted to run to her, to kneel, to ask her forgiveness.

But he couldn’t.

He wanted to take her in his arms and beg her not to leave, to cry like a baby.

But he couldn’t.

His pride, his fucking pride wouldn’t let him. Even though his insides were churning at the sound of her voice, and he felt a longing deep inside him, he couldn't. Instead he heard the words of love he should be saying coming out completely different. "Go away, Chyna," he rasped.

"Kirk, I have something for you."

"Is it the same thing you had for me the last time you were here?"

"I want to talk to you about that, Kirk."

He hesitated, wanting to pull her to him, take her in his arms, but still he found his mouth saying words he didn’t want to say. "Why in hell don't you give it up, Chyna? I don't want you down here. Do you hear that? I don't want you!"

"I can't believe that, Kirk. The way you kissed me, the way you touched me. Oh, Kirk, I don't care about your face. You're the only one that has a problem with it, not me."

He ran up to the bars so fast, Chyna jumped. "Chyna, don't you see? If I let myself, I would be on my knees to you. I've got to have some pride, dammit, I'm not stupid. With this face, no woman would look at me. It's horrible, we both know that. How could it not turn you away?”

Chyna reached through the bars, fondling each ragged scar. "Because, Kirk, I know what's behind it. Besides, it's not that bad. I think it can be fixed if you would just try."

"But what if it can't? It would just be more disappointment."

"But what if it can? You've wasted ten years of your life in this prison, do you want to waste ten more? Kirk, isn't it worth finding out? At least then you'll know for sure."

"Yeah," he said sadly, "then I can kill myself and know it's okay."

"Don't ever talk that way, Kirk."

Kirk looked down at the box. "What's that?"

Chyna looked down. "Oh, I almost forgot." Looking up she said, "It's something for you. Would you let me in?"

He unbolted the door and swung it open for her. She went in and immediately walked over to his bed. Opening the box, she took the mask out and turned to him. "Try this on."

His eyes widened. "A mask?" He looked down at the whole costume. "You want me to dress up like The Phantom of the Opera?"

"I couldn't just buy the mask, I had to buy the whole costume, or nothing."

"You should have settled for nothing, Chyna, there's no way I'm wearing that thing."

"Kirk, only the mask. You don't have to put the whole thing on."

Kirk looked down at the mask. "That thing would drive me crazy."

"You don't have to wear it when you're alone, just when you have to be around other people."

He looked at it. "Chyna, I don't know."

"Kirk, it's no different than a man wearing a patch over his eye. Besides, it'll make you look sort of mysterious." She winked. "You know, glamorous."

"Sure, until I take it off.”

“Then don’t take it off, Kirk. Wear it. Don’t you see? This is the answer to your problem.”

“Are you feeding me a bunch of bull, like Quinn says?"

"Kirk, the first thing you need to remember is not to listen to Quinn. He's the monster, not you. Now put it on and let's go upstairs."

"What? Upstairs? What's upstairs?"

"There's a dinner party going on."

"No way in hell, Chyna."

"Kirk, it'll be a test to see how well the mask works both for you and others. Besides, it's only Elaine's boss, Dr. Vincent Wilder."

"I can't, Chyna."

"Kirk, try, for God's sake. Don't stay in this musty old dungeon all your life. You'll be pronouncing doom on yourself. If it has to be, let it come from somewhere else. Don't you do it to yourself."

"I just can't." Kirk said, flinging the mask to the floor and turning his back on her.

Chyna felt the disappointment plunge like a knife deep into her heart. She felt the tears begin to flow freely and lifted her hands to brush them away. Then looking at his back, she sobbed, "The world is a much nicer place than you think, Kirk. It's too bad you can't give it a chance." She paused, hating to say the words, but forced herself to continue. "While I'm here, I'll say goodbye. I won't bother you again."

The determination on Kirk’s face vanished. He whirled around, his eyes darting between Chyna walking away from him and the mask that lay on the floor. He could hear the sound of her heels clicking on the cement, their crisp click getting softer and softer until the door clanged shut behind her. It sounded so final—as if the loud clang was sealing him forever in his tomb. He sat down on his bed putting his hands to his ears, but he could still hear the clang of the door over and over again. Clang! Clang! Clang!

* * * *

Chyna re-joined those in the parlor. As she stood at the window with tears in her eyes, she once again began making plans to leave. Kirk had made it plain that he was determined to suffer the rest of his life for his parents’ death, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Quinn had won.

The dinner party had gotten well underway, and in the midst of a burst of laughter and several voices all talking at once, suddenly the door burst open. Everyone stopped and looked around at the tall, dark, mysterious figure looming in the shadow of the doorframe. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, a tie—and a mask!

When Chyna saw Kirk, her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, and her breath stopped. She finally came out of her shock and immediately stepped away from the window and grabbed Kirk's arm. Leading him in, she said, with pride in her voice, "Dr. Wilder, I would like you to meet Quinn's brother Kirk Grayson." Smiling at Kirk, she said, "Kirk, this is Dr. Vincent Wilder." They shook hands, and the doctor, fascinated with Kirk, took him off to one side, discussing what was under his mask. It seems that Elaine had failed to mention that her new job was that of an assistant to—a plastic surgeon!

As soon as Chyna could manage, she pulled Elaine aside. “My God, Elaine, this man is your boss, and Kirk hasn’t even been in to see him? Why?”

“Because he’s a stubborn jackass. I’ve tried, Chyna, over and over, but he won’t budge. He won’t even let Dr. Wilder do a simple examination of his face.”

“What the hell is he thinking? The answer to his problem lands right in his lap, and he won’t take advantage of it.” She gave Elaine a determined look. “Leave it to me. I’ll get him there.”

“Good luck.”

Chyna caught up with Kirk again and hung on his arm for the rest of the night. She could tell that Kirk was trying hard to fit in. At first he was shy, stilted, and wouldn’t seem to let himself relax, but as the evening went on, Chyna managed to put him at ease. They laughed together, and smiled into each other's eyes, allowing their gazes to lock in anticipated passion.

Quinn couldn’t ignore the deep longing he saw there.

When Quinn finally managed to get Chyna alone, he grabbed her arm and looked down at her with burning eyes. "I won't have you flaunting Kirk in my face. I know what you're doing, you little bitch. You're playing up to the freak to make me jealous."

"That's a lie."

"Then what is it, Chyna? What in hell could you possibly see in that monster? It couldn't be his good looks."

"I see a tenderness you wouldn't understand. I see kindness, sensitivity, compassion, and caring."

He pulled her to him. "You forgot to mention
this
." He immediately crushed her against him, his lips bruising hers.

Chyna struggled, finally getting free, but too late. She glimpsed Kirk—watching her.

Quinn saw her gaze and followed it. When he saw Kirk he stepped forward, confronting him while straightening his clothes. "Kirk, you had to find out. It's me she loves. She never cared for you. She was only taking pity on a poor pitiful creature she wanted to help."

"You bastard!" Chyna cried out to Quinn. "That's a lie and you know it!" She turned to Kirk. "It's not true, Kirk. Don't listen."

"I only want to know one thing," Kirk rasped with whispered emotion. "Have you been in his bed?"