Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (32 page)

After several minutes of navigating Chyna down concrete steps and through halls with a heavy antiseptic smell, the two were seated at the cafeteria table with a steaming mug of coffee in front of them. While taking short sips and wiping at the moisture beneath her eyes, Chyna haltingly told Dr. Wilder the whole story. She watched as the doctor sat there breaking plastic spoons in anger.

"That bastard. I can’t believe he would do something like that."

"I just don't understand why Kirk listens to him. Quinn has lied so much, you'd think Kirk would be wise to him by now."

"It's easy to plant doubt in someone's mind, and naturally Quinn mixed the truth with lies which is a hellish combination. When Kirk questioned you, he was looking for just one little thing that didn't line up with what Quinn had said." The doctor shrugged. "When he didn't find it, he had no choice but to believe him."

"Do you think I should have tried harder to explain?"

"I don't think so. After all you had the right answers, he just asked the wrong questions. No, you can't just sit down and tell him and expect him to even listen to you, much less believe you. We have to think of another way." For several minutes Chyna and the doctor sat there thinking, and saying nothing. Then he turned to her, an idea floating around in his mind. "Chyna, if I asked you to go back to the mansion and not come back until I call you, would you?"

"I hate to go back there, but if it’ll help I suppose I can."

"I have an idea, and if Kirk loves you, it's the only way I can think of to break down his defenses."

Their heads hovered together, the doctor explaining what he had in mind.

Chyna brought her hands up to her face. "But what about his…"

"That's why you have to wait until I call you. It’ll be a while, but if I can give the healing process a little boost, maybe it’ll be sooner than we think. It’ll also give Kirk time to miss you real bad." The doctor winked. "And I'll make sure he does. After all, Quinn Grayson isn't the only one who can plant ideas in someone's mind."

When Chyna left, Dr. Wilder went looking for Elaine. When he found her, he told her in detail what he was planning, and gave her instructions. She nodded her head, making a beeline for the elevator that would take her to the newsstand, then Kirk's room.

* * * *

When Chyna got back to the mansion she looked around for Quinn, but luckily, he wasn't there. She noticed her luggage wasn’t where she left it. Quinn must have taken it upstairs for her, and that made her suspicious. As she ascended the wide staircase her eyes darted around, thinking he might be hiding in some shadow. When she finally entered her room she saw her luggage, and laid out on the bed was a tantalizing black babydoll nightie made of totally sheer lace netting with a floral motif. It was edged in narrow off-the-shoulder ruffles. Alongside it were fishnet hose, a garter belt and a brief thong. She looked down, and on the floor were black satin mules with four-inch heels and fur fringes. She stiffened, and snatched up the note laying on the nightie.

Wear this tonight.

She angrily crumpled it in her hand, and threw the little ball of paper across the room. She grabbed up the scanty little outfit he had spread out, and put it away. Then she picked up her suitcase and started out of the room. She didn’t care what Dr. Wilder said, she wasn’t staying here another minute. When she thought of the number of times she had started to leave and hadn’t, she cursed herself.

Suddenly Quinn stepped from behind the door. "Where are you going?"

"You creep! Hiding behind a door spying?"

"Not really, you just came in before I had a chance to get out."

"For your information, I'm going to a hotel. I don't intend to spend another minute here with you being tricked, lied to and harassed."

"All right,” he said, raising his arms in surrender. You win. I won’t bother you. Remember the cup of tea? By the next full moon, you'll be looking for me."

"In your dreams, Quinn. Now, let me through."

Instead of getting out of her way he walked toward her, threateningly. “I told you,” he said, his voice raspy. “I won’t bother you, now put your suitcases down like a good girl.” When she didn’t move, he looked at her questioningly. “Would a promise do?"

"A promise?” she snickered. “From you? Your promises are made of smoke, Quinn. There one minute, gone the next."

His eyes became hard. "If you leave, Kirk may not get out of the hospital…alive.”

She looked up into his mad eyes as they flashed down at her. She was trapped. She couldn't leave, but she couldn't stay.

"Now, get into your little nightie and let's see how you look."

"You said you wouldn't bother me."

"Did I say that? I don't remember saying anything like that. You didn't happen to get it in writing, did you?"

“I can’t believe you,” she whispered, the sound of unbridled hate in her voice. “You’re low, corrupt, and totally mad.”

“Stop, your turning my head,” he said, flashing his famous lopsided smile while his eyes smoldered with a dark look of desire. Slowly he reached out and gently pulled her to him. As he pressed her close to his body he covered her lips, parting them in an exploratory kiss. She didn't move, or struggle in any way, but stood in his arms stiff and cold. He stepped back, looking down at her and frowning. "What in hell do you think you're doing?"

"I’m a victim, not a lover," she said through clenched teeth. "You leave me cold, Quinn. I love Kirk, and he's the one I want to feel deep inside me. I want his hands on me, caressing me. I want to marry him, and I want to have his children."

"Well, get over it, bitch. It'll never happen."

"No, maybe not. Especially since you went to the hospital and poisoned his mind against me." Tears began falling down her face. "You took a savage act of intended rape, and twisted it to make it look like a perverted act of seduction. Quinn Grayson, you're a black-hearted demon straight from the pits of hell."

"So, I'm a bad boy, right? If it gets me what I want, who cares?"

He pulled her to him again, and began nibbling her neck.

She was stiff.

"Well, move, do something."

She looked at him with mocking eyes, enjoying his struggle. She stood unemotional as he began unbuttoning her blouse, and leaned down and kissed the fullness of her cleavage. As he reached around and unfastened her bra, Chyna had to bite her tongue to stay still and keep quiet.

Her breasts bloomed before him, and he began kissing and drawing on her nipples, breathing heavily. Then his mouth covered her lips and kissed her deeply. Suddenly he lifted his head and looked at her. “Are you just going to just stand there?"

With no emotion in her voice, she said mockingly, "Oh Quinn, I want you so. Hurry, oh hurry and make mad, passionate love to me."

He looked down at her smirking face, realizing what she was doing. "You cheap little piece of trash, you won't get away with this. I'll make you sorry you turned Quinn Grayson away."

He released her roughly, looked down at her half naked body and yelled, "I can't believe you want to give all that to a friggin' beast. A freak that doesn't appreciate it. Or maybe it turns you on to make love with a monster."

"If it did, I wouldn't look any further than you," she said sarcastically.

"Oh, very funny. Tell me, what are you going to do when the novelty wears off for God's sake, when the thrill has ended, huh? Go out and find yourself another monster? Or do you go on to something a little more sensational to satisfy your perverted lusts and fill another book with you filth."

"If I can somehow mend my relationship with Kirk after what you've done to it, I'm going to marry him and show him more love than any man has ever had."

Quinn turned, and was silent as he walked casually to the door. When he opened it to leave, he hesitated, then turned back, his hand on the knob. "I wouldn't rehearse those wedding vows just yet, my dear.” Chyna's eyes widened in fear when he continued, venom dripping from every word. “The groom that comes down that aisle may not be breathing.”

Since Reyna's death, Chyna had been communicating directly with the publisher of her books without the aid of the Lovelines Literary Group, and found it a tedious task.

"You understand that the deadline isn't for some time yet,” said Harper Wilcox of Luster Publishing. “Are you sure you want to submit it this soon? You certainly got this book done in record time. Can we expect this kind of speed in the future? Perhaps we should think about revising your contract.”

You mean like five books a year instead of three?
Chyna thought, but didn’t say anything. “I don’t think that’s necessary Mr. Wilcox.” She looked down at the stiff cardboard package that held her computer disk. "I know it’s much sooner than expected, but it’s done, and I want to get it out of my hands."

"What do you mean?"

"Because if I don't, I may change my mind.” She began pacing and raking her hands through her hair. “What I'm trying to say is, it's different, not like the others. I don't even know if you'll like it."

"Is it good?"

"It's very good, but if you can't handle it, let me know as soon as possible so I can submit it to another publisher."

"Doesn't it follow the usual guidelines?"

"No, it doesn't." She looked over at the package. "It's the story…" Chyna sobbed, her eyes filling with tears. "of a very special man." She lowered her head in her hand and began crying.

"Can you tell me something about it?"

Instead of giving the publisher a story line, in between sobs Chyna began angrily accusing herself. "You want to know what it's about?" she sobbed loudly into the phone. "I'll tell you what it's about. It's about a man whose most intimate thoughts I've casually written down on paper for the world to see."

"Ms. Marsh, is something wrong?"

"It's his friggin' life, and I've ripped it apart like a common tabloid. I've uncovered him and taken away his privacy."

"Ms. Marsh—"

"I was only thinking of myself, dammit, when I callously yanked him out of the safety of his darkness and made him into a bigger-than-life personality that he never asked to be."

"Ms. Marsh, please, get ahold of yourself."

"Do you know what I've done?" she yelled into the phone. "I've thrown the man I love to the wolves to be eaten alive." Dabbing at her eyes, Chyna sat down crying, hating herself.

"Is this an expose'? Someone you're trying to ruin?"

"No," Chyna whispered into the phone. "I'm not trying to ruin him, I'm trying to give him back his life even if I have to ram it down his stubborn throat."

After she slammed the phone down, she slowly managed to get control of herself and dry her eyes. She slowly picked up the package, full of doubts, and held it to her breast wondering if she was doing the right thing, and knowing she might lose Kirk over it if she hadn't already. She thought of all the days and nights she had spent in this old mansion watching Kirk endure his darkness. Trying to imagine the deep, agonizing pain he must have gone through that would make him want to slit his wrists. It wasn't because of her. He wanted to bring an end to the years he had spent in torment, rejection, and loneliness.

In her mind’s eye she saw his face lurking in dark shadows watching her. She saw the tears he had shed falling down a scarred cheek. She saw a lone figure walking on a vacant beach, and she heard agonizing cries coming from the basement when he couldn't stand being in the darkness another minute. She saw the shimmering moonlight shining down on his scarred face as he looked up out of his window, wondering if there was a God. She heard Quinn's cruel voice cry out the words that must have cut through him like a knife.

Frankenstein! Monster! Beast! You’re a fucking insect that lives under the stairs! A piece of dirt that hides in the basement!

She cried when she thought of how Kirk had suffered, but knew his story needed to be told, even if it meant losing him. Again Quinn's bitter words rang out from her memory.
Kirk, she's only interested in you to get a plot for a new book.
She remembered the look Kirk gave her when he thought Quinn might be telling the truth, then begging her with that same look to deny it. She always did, knowing that one day he would have to know.

Hugging the package to her, she walked to the car and laid it down on the seat next to her. As she drove to the Post Office, her voice broke as she sobbed, "Kirk, darling, please forgive me,”

* * * *

Serena Rush, Senior Editor of Luster Publishing House sat for hours reading every word of Chyna Marsh’s latest manuscript. She learned about a man with a scarred face that lived in a cellar and was fascinated. She turned one page, then another, and many cups of coffee later she finally put it down. The book was excellent, and the public would go wild over it. It was completely different from anything Chyna Marsh had written in the past, but it was clearly her best work. Picking up the phone, she dialed Chyna’s number.

Quinn was working in the study when the phone rang. Reluctantly pulling himself away from the figures on a page, he picked it up and said, "Grayson residence."