Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (34 page)

Chyna jumped up and looked everywhere, but she didn't see anything.

Quinn began running around the room with a pillow trying to put out the imaginary blaze. Chyna watched him as his demented eyes darted around as if he were seeing leaping flames everywhere. She saw him duck and fight the fire with anything he could get his hands on. Suddenly he grabbed his throat and began coughing as if the smoke was choking him. Reeling around, he ducked, then grabbed at his face as if he were in pain.

Chyna’s wild, frightened eyes followed him, then saw him end his mad spree by falling on the floor, unconscious. She promptly went over and felt his neck, it’s gentle pulse against her finger assuring her he was still alive. Scrambling around, she quickly picked up her coat and purse and ran out to the car. Slamming into it, she started the engine and burned rubber, dashing like a madwoman to the hospital. She didn't notice until she got there how she was dressed. She hastily put on her coat and ran in. As soon as she found the doctor and Elaine, she told them about Quinn, and they rushed some paramedics out to him.

The doctor took her arm and propelled her toward the cafeteria, and Chyna finally began to calm down while gazing into a cup of coffee. "I’m sorry to get everyone so excited, but I don’t know what happened. Suddenly Quinn was going crazy."

The doctor’s voice was soothing, "Take it easy Chyna, and tell us what happened."

"Quinn found out about the book I wrote, and threatened to come to the hospital and tell Kirk about it."

"What book?" Elaine asked.

"It's Kirk's story. You know, about his accident, living in the basement for all those years, and then about his…"

Elaine's eyes flooded with horror.

Chyna looked at her. "No, Elaine, it's not what you think."

"Quinn was right, all you wanted was a plot for a new book."

"No, Elaine. I want to help Kirk."

"How? By ripping open that same wound that put him in that black hell in the first place?"

"Elaine, it wasn’t only his face he was hiding. He passed sentence on himself because of the death of his parents. That’s what put him there, and that’s what kept him there."

"Don't you see, Chyna? It goes hand in hand. He can’t look at one without remembering the other."

"I know, and maybe I've done the wrong thing, but it was done with love. I wasn't trying to hurt him. If it does what I think it will, it will free Kirk."

"But what if it doesn't? What if he has to walk around the rest of his life with people pointing at him as if he's the freak he always thought he was? I told you when we first met that Kirk was a private person. He's been locked up in that basement for so long, he'll be like a babe in the woods out there. He won't know how to deal with this."

Chyna put her hands over Elaine's. "I'm hoping to be there with him, to help him."

Elaine’s face suddenly turned to torment. “But don’t you see? By helping Kirk, you’ll be killing Quinn. I can see it, Chyna. It’ll happen. Your coming here has changed everything, and when you leave, one will be dead! The only question is…
which one?
”

Chyna watched as she whirled around and walked away. "Oh God,” she mumbled, “I hope I haven't ruined everything."

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said, “Elaine is very protective of her brothers. Because of it she tends to get overly dramatic, spouting doom like she did just now. I can guarantee you she’ll be over it by tomorrow.”

Chyna was only half-listening to the doctor. She was remembering the morning only two weeks ago when she went to the widow, and the old woman’s reaction when Chyna had innocently mentioned Venita and Quinn’s affair.

She could hear the woman’s scratchy old voice.
Quinn Grayson is doomed…he’ll pay…I warned him…he wasn’t to touch her!

The remembered words gave Chyna a chill, like someone was running the tip of an icicle down her back. Then she recalled the night in front of the fireplace when Quinn told her that the spell was supposed to kick in on the night of the next full moon. that was tonight—now.

She knew now that Quinn’s mad ravings about a fire must have been the spell taking hold.

Chyna buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God, what have I done?” She turned to the doctor. “Elaine is right. that old widow…she…she’s going to…and it’s my fault…mine!”

“Chyna, nothing is your fault. If Quinn gets anything it’s only what he deserves.”

“But don’t you see—”

“Chyna, you’re getting all shook up over nothing. Now I’m the doctor here, and I insist you calm down. You’ve got a hell of a job ahead of you—”

“No!” Chyna said quickly. “I don’t…I just don’t…know if I can go through with it…I—”

“Not even for Kirk? Hell, Chyna, don’t throw all your hard work away now. You…” Chyna’s coat fell open, and Dr. Wilder’s word’s faded while his eyes grew wide and raked boldly down her body. “I know I told you to dress for the occasion, but this…well…"

Chyna looked down and saw her coat parted, giving Dr. Wilder a front row seat to bouncing breasts and a smooth, curvaceous body. She looked up at him, watching sweat break out above his top lip as his heated eyes moved along every curve. She closed her coat with an embarrassed smile.

Flustered, the doctor tried to change the subject. "What was this you were saying about some book?" he mumbled while taking out his handkerchief and guiltily wiping at his moist face.

"Well, when Quinn found out about the book, he threatened to tell Kirk about it if I didn't sleep with him. That's why I'm dressed like this. He picked out this outfit for me to wear."

"That certainly sounds like Quinn. Thank God he didn’t get to Kirk with that bit of information, it would have been the end of him." He looked up at her. "How did you get away?"

"Quinn went crazy. We were on the bed, and suddenly he began yelling fire, jumped up, and ran around the room trying to put out imaginary flames."

"There was no fire, you say?"

"No,” she said guiltily, remembering the blaze and flash of the sparks that came out of the old widow’s fireplace.

Control is now in your hands, and there it will remain…I make that promise to you!

"Tell me, was the act completed?"

Chyna didn’t answer right away, but when she realized the doctor was asking her a question, she said, "No, thank God."

"Chyna, a man like Quinn…well chances are he plans to tell Kirk about the book anyway whether you sleep with him or not. He's bastard enough to hold it over your head and get what he can out of you, then when he's through, he'll tell Kirk everything. Even if the book incident doesn't kill him, the fact that you two were together will. It's just a guess, of course, but I don't think you have any choice but to tell Kirk the first chance you get, and beat Quinn at his own game."

Tears began to gather in her eyes. "My God, what a mess."

The doctor covered her hand with his. "Don't worry." He indicated to her outfit. "With you dressed like that, a man could forgive anything."

"How does he look? I mean, with the—" She indicated her face. “—with everything gone."

The doctor shrugged. “Just what you’d expect. Bruises mostly. Suture lines here and there. But the structure of his face is perfect. The doctor laughed. "Actually, for the most part, he looks like he just got beat up in a fight. And just like a fight, all the discoloration and lines will fade in time."

Chyna looked sad.

The doctor put his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, he’ll be okay. You can look beneath all that and see what a handsome devil he is. The operation was a success, Chyna. Kirk is a new man. A face like his doesn't belong in a basement."

"No, it's not that. I'm just thinking of the job I have ahead of me."

"What, making love to Kirk?" he said teasingly.

"No, telling him about the book."

"I wouldn't tell him about it tonight. You have other things to take care of tonight. The morning should be soon enough, then we'll work on him together."

“But it all seems so useless. Even if he comes around tonight, there’s tomorrow to deal with."

"After a night with you he’ll be in a better mood.” His eyes moved carefully down the front of her coat as if hoping for another look. “He has to be. If he isn’t, he’s not human."

Chyna laughed softly. "Well I know I've got you in the palm of my hand, doctor, but I doubt it will work on Kirk."

“Don’t be so negative,” he said, as they left the cafeteria and walked quietly to Kirk's room. The halls were draped in shadows, the only light coming from the nurse's station. There was a white-clad orderly pacing in front of Kirk's door, waiting for his instructions.

The doctor turned to Chyna. "Let me go in first to check him over and see if he's all right." He looked down at the outfit hidden by her coat, and said teasingly, "I wouldn't want you to give him a heart attack or anything."

The doctor went in, leaving Chyna to pace impatiently back and forth in front of the door. The orderly cut his eyes over to Chyna, looking at the fishnet hose and furry four-inch heels. Chyna frowned at him, careful to keep her coat closed. Finally, the doctor opened the door and motioned for Chyna to come in. She stepped into the room that was shrouded in darkness. Only one small light was on, and Kirk seemed to be sleeping.

"He's not completely asleep," the doctor whispered. "I gave instructions that he wasn't to receive any sleep medication tonight, so he's been tossing and turning. Any little thing will wake him." He looked at her suggestively. "Any
little
thing," he said, then indicated toward her risqué outfit.

Chyna nodded. “I understand.”

"Chyna, I hope you appreciate what I'm doing for you and Kirk. This is so much against hospital rules that if anything happens, it's my neck."

"I do appreciate it, doctor, but what about the orderly outside? How do you keep him quiet?"

"Frank? Don't worry about Frank. I've made it worth his while, he won't talk."

"I don't know how to thank you, doctor. What can I do?"

"Well," the handsome doctor began as he scratched his head, “I don’t know. I guess if you'll just name one of your children after me, that'll be enough."

Chyna smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. "My pleasure. I thank you, Kirk thanks you, and little Vincent thanks you."

"Little Vincent," he repeated, sniffing, then turned and walked out.

* * * *

Chyna stood in the dark room next to Kirk's bed, looking at him while she slowly pulled off her coat. His face was so perfect, she couldn't believe it. She looked down at a magazine next to his bed and saw where he had taken a pencil and scratched a large "X" across her face, tearing the picture with it. She reached over and clicked off the lamp, allowing the room to fill up with shimmering moonlight then leaned down over him, kissing his soft lips. He moved a little, but didn't wake up. She pulled the cover back and laid down beside him. "Kirk, I love you," she whispered softly in his ear.

Kirk turned toward her, his eyes closed. She was right up against him, welcoming his arm as it fell across her waist. She pressed her body against his, pulling his head down to hers, and kissing his lips as he slept.

Kirk responded slowly.

His hands caressed her, and his lips explored, played, and nipped at hers until she thought she was going to cry out with delight. He moved closer, pressing her back against the mattress as he leaned his head down and kissed her neck, then moved it along her cleavage to her hardened nipples.

"Oh, Kirk, Oh God, Kirk," she whispered, becoming deeply aroused.

"I'm so glad you're here," he whispered against her ear. "I've missed you so much…Thelma."

Chyna's eyes few open, she jumped up from the bed, and turned the light on. "Who the friggin' hell is Thelma?"

Kirk sat up, and with a mischievous smile, pointed at her and said, "Gotcha!"

"You bastard!" she yelled.

"Yeah? What about you? Sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night. What in hell do you do woman, go through life seducing men? You get a charge out of hopping from one bed to another?" He indicated her outfit. "And what’s that you’re wearing? Another one of those tiny little material-that-isn't-there outfits that doesn't cover anything?"

"You're criticizing an outfit that hypnotizes every man that sees me in it, and yet from you, nothing?"

"Oh yeah? How would you know that, Chyna? How many men have you worn it for, huh? How many men have you done your little number on, Chyna? How many friggin' performances do you give a night, anyway?"

"Kirk, I didn't mea—"

"Get out of here Chyna, and don't come back." He angrily turned his back to her.

Chyna hesitated, then with a steely resolve decided it wasn’t going to end there. She looked down at the torn picture on the bedside table. "So is this what you think of me?"

Kirk turned back around, looked at the picture, then at her. "You got it."

Instead of caving in, Chyna worked hard to remember the pain he was in. Being injured, he fought it the only way he knew how, by trying not to care—by lashing out at her. Well, she thought as she looked at him through a thin sheen of tears, if I've got the name, I may as well play the game. Preparing to go into her performance, she reached down inside her purse and pulled out the small tape recorder that she took notes with, removed the tape that was in it, and replaced it with another. When the music started, she slowly began parading around the room, feeling the music.