Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (3 page)

Finally, not being able to find anything else to consume her time, she reluctantly got in her car and pulled out. As she drove she couldn’t put it out of her mind. Before when she felt it coming on, she’d always tried to ignore it, push it down, crush it—hell even starve it, but nothing helped. Why did she even try? She knew better. It had come back to haunt her, and there was nothing she could do about it. There were pills for everything these days. Everything from simple headaches to that time of the month. If there was only a pill she could take when she felt herself coming down with a big case of writer's curiosity. She bit her lip, knowing where it would eventually lead her.

Down that dark, rutted old road.

Later that night Chyna lay on her bed dividing her time between reading and watching an old classic movie on TV, neither one getting her full attention. Her gaze lifted when she heard a deep guttural sound, and saw the Frankenstein monster walking stiffly toward the camera, his hands outstretched. A tiny thread of fear chilled her spine at the sight of the tall, foreboding castle silhouetted against a luminous collection of clouds in varying shades of gray. The monster seemed to be walking through a field of tombstones, his enormous feet causing a sinister sound of crunching, scraping, and crushing.

She leaned her head down and rubbed her forehead. The headache had finally gone away, but now she was feeling a little peculiar, and wondered if she was coming down with something. When she felt an unusual heaviness in her head, she finally clicked the TV off and lay back on her bed, a lighter-than-air sensation closing about her.

She drifted on a witch's spell
.

Higher and higher she floated until she entered into a cool darkness. The night wind swirled around her, wrapping her in a lonely cocoon, its amorous hand lifting her thin nightgown and mussing her hair sensuously. As she drifted, she passed through several shades of darkness that draped mysteriously over the earth, then passed out of this world and into another. When her eyes finally opened she saw herself surrounded by a cool, blue beauty that was breathtaking. Within only seconds she felt a solid surface beneath her feet that was smooth and cool. She glanced around, wondering where she was. The further she walked, the darker it became, until she saw dancing flames in the distance.

Suddenly she was part of a scene that filled her with fear.

As she shifted her gaze and looked around, she saw an extremely cavernous room with a wide, flowing staircase. The flames she'd seen came from a grotesque stone fireplace that filled one whole wall. She felt small and insignificant as she looked up at the beamed ceiling, and a sudden dizziness came upon her making her reel as if drunk. The towering walls had giant panels of glass looking out into a black night.

"My God," she muttered as she heard the sound of gnarled tree limbs scratching at the glass. "I've stepped into the Frankenstein movie."

Her gaze darted around, almost expecting to see a big, hulking monster coming toward her with outstretched arms and bolts on his neck. She didn't know where she was, or how she had gotten there, but didn’t intend to stay. Turning, she ran toward the front door, and had just reached for the large antiquated door knob when something moved. The sound made her jump, and she turned quickly, slamming her back against the door.

Her eyes darted to a pool of shadows where she saw a pair of glowing blue eyes watching her. Seconds passed with her breath caught in her throat. As she watched, slowly the shadow heaved with life, and one darkness slowly separated from the other. What emerged was an incredible face. The stranger’s eyes glittered like broken pieces of glass, and a dimple pierced his chin. His lips, although not excessively full, were appealingly curled. His black hair fell in thick waves, reaching his shoulders. His sideburns extended to the tips of his lobes, and he had just the slightest shadow of a mustache. He was tall, dressed in dark clothes—even a cape.

“Oh, God,” she mumbled. She finds herself trapped in a Frankenstein movie, then enters—Dracula!

He slowly moved toward her.

In desperation she whirled around and pulled on the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge.

"It's locked," he said, his deep voice resonating through the spacious room.

She turned back slowly, fear making her heart pound and thrash. Her gaze darted wildly, looking for a way of escape, but could find none, so she inched along the wall, watching as he followed her.

She was trapped in a corner.

She began to feel uncomfortable when she saw his eyes move slowly along her body, lingering on her breasts. She followed his gaze to see what was so fascination, and saw her cleavage revealed seductively. Her hands flew up to the lacy top of her nightgown, trying to somehow close it. From the hungry way he looked at her she wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to kiss her or bite her.

His heavy-lidded eyes watched her discomfort with amusement.

"W-Where am I," she asked when she found her voice, "and, who are you?"

"My name is Quinn Grayson, and this mansion is my home, Moon Amber."

"Moon Amber?" she whispered, her eyes darting about. "Strange name," she muttered, "but why should that surprise me?"

"It’s foolish to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you."

"Why am I here?"

"You were summoned."

"Summoned? By who? How?"

"You're in the middle of a dream, a fantasy. And I—" He gave her a sexy, lopsided smile. "— am here for you. Your dream man, perhaps. As for how, well, it doesn't matter."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Did you say, dream man?"

"Yeees," he whispered, seductively. “Does the idea appeal to you?”

Ignoring his question, her frightened gaze raked over his face, then glanced quickly down his body. "Then you're not real."

"No?” he returned. Gently taking her hand in his, he brought it up to his lips and closed his mouth over one finger as if to suck it intimately, and then suddenly bit her.

"Ouch!" she cried out, jerking her hand back.

His mouth twitched with amusement. "Still think I'm not real?”

“I d-don’t know what the hell you are, and I’m not about to hang around and f-find out,” she managed, stiff with fear. “Either you unlock this door, or direct me to the nearest exit.”

He looked at her intensely, his eyes glittering like a pool of glass shards. “The only exit to this dream is satisfaction, delight and pleasure for both of us.” His voice became a seductive whisper. “Now just relax, and let me show you what I can do.”

She recoiled as he reached out to her. "Don’t touch me.”

“Please,” he whispered with distress, “you must trust me.”

“Look, Dracula, unless you want me to show you what
I
can do, you’d better stay back.”

Her words wiped the smile from his face, and he gave her a stern look. “We have no time for games.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,
this
,” he growled, the dark danger in his eyes warning her not to fight him. “It’s why you’re here.”

“Don’t,” she cried, struggling against him until she smelled something spicy and wild emanating from him. While luxuriating in his smell, her eyes closed in rapture.
It’s okay,
she told
herself,
he’s not real, only part of my imagination. I’ll wake up any minute and he’ll be gone.
She opened her heavy lids slightly and saw his handsome face coming closer, and closer. She became weak under the power of his glittering eyes, his hot breath on her face, the heat of his lips as they touched hers. In response, she parted her lips under his, being sure she was submitting to a stranger, a specter, an exotic part of her imagination.

“Ohhhh, God,” Chyna moaned, feeling his lips burn a path from her lips down to her very core. She moaned beneath the soft urgency of his mouth on hers.

* * * *

Chyna jumped at the jarring sound of her alarm clock. She fitfully pushed her arm from beneath a thick, handmade English quilt, and flailed it around looking for the collection of metal parts enclosed in white plastic. When she found it, she picked it up and angrily threw it against the wall. The tangled bedclothes finally parted and she sat up, burying her face in her hands.

"My God, what a time to wake up."

Lifting her head slowly she recalled in detail the dark, handsome man of her dreams as if his image had been indelibly stamped upon her memory. His eyes flashed blue and reckless, and the little stray curl that fell waywardly along his forehead gave him…

Suddenly the phone rang, and Chyna jumped.

With an unsteady hand she grabbed the phone. "Yeah? What do you want?"

"What in hell is wrong with you?"

"Oh, hi, Joni. What's up?"

"Nothing much. You know what day this is?”

“Just a minute,” Chyna said, looking closely at her calendar. “It’s Thursday. The garbage goes out today.”

“Very funny. Your latest novel is scheduled to hit the stands today.”

“As I said, the garbage—”

“Chyna, be serious. Nobody makes the kind of money you do writing garbage.”

“Easy, Joni, I was just kidding. So what’s on your mind?”

“I thought we could have dinner tonight. You know, to celebrate. But if you're in a bad mood I guess I'll have to find other company."

"I'm sorry, it's just that, well, you wouldn't understand."

"Sure I would,” Joni said, munching on something. “Come on, give me a try."

"What the hell is that noise?"

"My breakfast," she said, her speech muffled with food. "Some of us do eat, you know. Not all of us are a size four."

“Ten.”

“Whatever,” Joni retorted, then waited. Finally she mumbled with her mouth full, “So talk already, I can hear you.”

"It’s really not that important,” Chyna began, feeling like a silly teenager talking about her fantasies. “It’s just, well—” She hesitated. “—oh, all right here goes. I had another dream last night.”

“Another dream? You mean about the eyes?”

“No, not this time,” Chyna said, getting excited. “This one was different. There was this great lookin' guy, Joni. You should have seen him. He was tall, dark, and we were—" She paused for a moment, then deflated. "Well we didn't quite get that far. Just as the fun was about to begin, the damned alarm clock woke me up." Her eyes shifted to the fractured clock lying in a corner,

The voice on the other end snickered.

Chyna sighed. "There, see? I told you."

"Well, Chyna, for God's sake, what do you expect? There are starving people out there. There are diseases that can't be cured, dope addicts jumping off balconies, babies being born deformed, and you're worried about waking up before you get to jump in bed with your dream man? Besides, I'm disappointed you’d wind up in the sack with someone you only just met. Very naughty, Chyna."

"Get a grip, Joni, this was just a dream, the rules don't apply here."

“So you’re sayin’ you can just lay down for some guy because you think—” She hesitated. “Hey,” Joni said eagerly, “maybe you weren’t even asleep. Maybe some beefcake broke—”

“Joni! Joni!” Chyna yelled into the phone. “For God’s sake listen to yourself. I was asleep I tell you. I saw myself in some kind of, I don’t know, castle or—”

“A castle?”

“Yeah, well, he’s—” Chyna felt stupid saying it. “Dracula, or somebody like Dracula.”

“Huh?”

“He’s a Dracula character in a Franken—“ She sighed. “Oh, never mind, it’s way too complicated.”

“Have you been getting enough rest?”

Chyna snickered. “I’m okay, don’t worry.”

"I am worried, Chyna. You're talkin' like this hunk is real."

"He seemed real. My God, I could feel his breath on my face." She lifted her finger, and her eyes widened when she saw teeth marks.

"For God’s sake, listen to yourself. You've created so many perfect men I think it's affecting your mind."

Suddenly forgetting about the marks, she became angry. "Do you mean to tell me you think I'm crazy?"

"Hey, I may not be a writer, but I can certainly understand how someone like you can fall in love with her heroes once in a while. Good grief, Chyna, if you’d start concentrating on a flesh and blood guy, you’d forget about these, what, paper people?” She softened her voice. “Maybe you should think about getting some therapy."

Chyna took the phone away from her ear, looked down at the mouthpiece and yelled, "I just became busy tonight!" Slamming down the phone, she muttered, "Smart ass."

After a hot shower and a big pang of regret, she went to the chalk board on her wall and wrote,
Call Joni and apologize
. Then with a steaming cup of coffee she wandered out onto the porch of her little cottage. Sipping the delicious hot brew, she sat down on the squeaking porch swing and absentmindedly pushed herself back and forth as she warmed her hands on the cup.

She loved the mornings. She loved sitting out in the swing, breathing in the crisp air. Even though her house wasn’t right on the beach, a path from her back gate led down to it, putting her so close she could hear the lapping of the ocean. Sometimes it was a cold, lonely sound, but she still preferred it to the hustle and bustle of New York City. She was glad to get away from the honking traffic and pushing crowd, but she had learned that sometimes the quiet could be just as distracting.