Black 21: (Golden Hills Legacy of Black 21 Book 1)

by Nancy Glynn

  He turned to Dane. “You’re one lucky man, Dane. You should be kissing your cousin’s feet. She saved you from yourself." Uncle Joe turned and left the room to call William Stone.

  Dane turned to her and said in a dry voice. “He’s right, Daisy. You saved my life. But will you be here to save his?” Dane asked.

  “What does that mean, Dane?" Worry etched her face.

  “Nothing." He walked to the door and turned back to her. “Maybe you’ll see what really goes on in Stone Manor and the real Christian in all his glory. You better wear your cross at all times, Daisy. At least with me you know what you’re getting." He closed the door and left her to her own thoughts.

  ***

  Daisy drove through the black elaborate gates that led through to a fountain of what looked like gargoyles surrounding a circular marble pond, giving it a dark gothic appearance. She didn’t really notice this yesterday when she was here, but now the sun sparkled on every aspect of this magnificent home.

  It was almost as if dark angels guarded it in statuesque form, perched atop the house, on the porch, on the gate, glowering from their stoned masks. Luminescent columns held their position underneath the balcony overlooking the piazza, a gargoyle standing guard on each end of the dazzling, expansive porch.

  The double doors opened and James bounced down to carry her baggage. Christian sauntered behind him with a huge grin, swinging his arms wide to welcome her. His sensual, dark looks against the stark white structure stunned her as if seeing him for the first time. She paused, drinking in his beauty, before returning to her belongings. Popping the trunk open, she went to help him. “No, ma’am. I’ll get it,” James insisted, putting his hand up.

  “Thank you, James,” she replied.

  Christian walked down the steps and pulled her into his arms. “You smell good, like Lilacs and oranges,” he said, holding his face to her hair.

  “Thanks, I guess?”

  He gave a raucous laugh and grabbed her hand, guiding her up the steps. “So how did you do it? How did you get him to let you come here to stay?”

  She couldn’t tell him what happened with Dane. “I just thought it might be easier for everyone, and Uncle Joe agreed,” she half lied, giving a crooked smile.

  He cupped her chin to meet his gaze. “Damn, you’re cute." He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled, staring into her eyes. “Let me show you around and then...your room.”

  “Your house, Christian...oh, my God,” she said in awe, taking it all in.

  “It’s been in the family for a couple of centuries." His voice dropped. “One day to be all mine.”

  Then she remembered how they got it. It wasn’t any ordinary house. It came with blood, tears, and sacrifice.

  A grand ornamental chandelier hung from the center in the foyer with a few other smaller ones hanging in different spots, illuminating the main floor. The glamorous double staircases with the elegant banisters led to the upper floor. Interesting murals covered the walls of more gargoyles and goats with horns and wings.

  One oil painting caught her eye. “Who are those people? They look so in love,” she asked, pointing at a picture on the second floor landing.

  “Those are my parents, William and Lana, in the nineteenth century,” he added, looking for her reaction.

  They appeared to be standing in a dungeon with sconces on the walls holding fire. Their apparel was definitely of that time period. “She married your father after his first wife died?" She was mesmerized by their obvious love for each other.

  “You’re getting it now. He made himself be the age of twenty-one again and had the first ball, at least here in Golden Hills. She was the love of his life and lived for two centuries with him until...” his voice drifted off.

  “…she killed herself five years ago?”

  “Yes." He stared at the painting with narrowed eyes.

  “But how could she if she was also immortal?”

  “I lied about her hanging herself.”

  “What’d she do?”

  “She had missed her son Leon and wanted to join him, but my father always begged her to not leave him. After my girlfriend, Tara, had died, she couldn’t take it anymore so she went to the altar of God she had made for herself when she would sneak me off to pray there, and asked for forgiveness for all the evil in her life,” he paused to remember the details, looking down at the floor, sighing heavily.

  “It’s okay, Christian. You don’t have to explain,” she whispered. She reached out and touched his hardened jaw.

  He looked up at her, continuing his story in a softer tone. “She blessed the blade of a Bowie knife in holy water and walked to the altar, praying one last time. She begged God to take her soul and to take her away from this darkness. So, she plunged the knife into her heart, and she was found clutching her cross pendent across her bloody chest with a peaceful look on her face.”

  Daisy gasped and pulled him into her arms. She rained kisses on his face, feeling his pain through his words. “I just know she’s your angel, Christian. She protects you from...”

  “Myself,” he finished for her. He smiled and kissed her, his hands pulling her closer to him, growing more insistent as he tasted her mouth. “Daisy,” he murmured. “I need you so much.”

  She tore herself away and smiled. “Finish the tour, please,” she dictated.

  “Ugh, fine,” he said, giving in, showing her more paintings, more family history, stopping when she let out a small scream. “What’s wrong?”

  “What is that?”

  “Why…does it seem familiar?” he teased.

  “Christian, is that what happened to me at the hayride? Was that what was behind me?" A scaly, green monster with wings sprouted to his sides, and a coiling rattlesnake wrapped around the ankles of a beautiful naked woman with long, red hair hanging down her pale back, clutched in his embrace.

  “Yes. The girl is Suzanna, my sister.”

  She felt dizzy. “Can you take me to my room now? I don’t feel so well.”

  “Too much for you." He swooped her up and carried her down the hall and to her suite. A worried look carved his face. “I’ll let you rest, Daisy. If you need anything, text me and I’ll be right there,” he ordered, kissing her forehead.

  She nodded and closed her eyes, and he was gone.

  ***

  Uncle Joe stood at Dane’s bedroom door. “…so Jack wants to speak with you. He won’t tell me why, but he doesn’t seem happy. What happened, son?”

  Dane shrugged and shuffled his bare feet, wearing ripped jeans, having a disheveled appearance.

  “You and Christian have an argument?”

  “No, Dad.”

  “Then why the meeting with his father?”

  Confusion and then revelation crossed Dane’s face, continuing his silence.

  His father gave a heavy sigh. “Very well – just be prepared." He closed the door.

  Dane walked to his dresser drawer and pulled out a handgun. Sitting in the chair, he put the muzzle of the revolver in his mouth, and then dropped it to the desk. He sobbed into his hands.

  ***

  Christian knocked on her door before entering, carrying a tray of food in. “Sleep well?”

  She sat up, stretching as if she’d slept for hours. “What time is it?”

  “Nine-thirty." He sat on the bed, rubbing her leg through the blankets.

  “I haven’t slept like that in a long time. I must’ve been nervous at my aunt’s and uncle’s,” she admitted.

  “Of what, Dane coming in your room,” he teased.

  Her eyes popped open. Did he know something? That reminded her of what Dane had said about Christian.

  “What’s wrong, honey? You look like you want to say something.”

  She chewed her lip and got it out. “Dane warned me about something...about you." She sipped the hot tea he handed to her.

  “What, that I’m evil, to watch out for me,” he answered, teasing her again but then got more serious when she did
n’t laugh. “Daisy, do you believe him?" His voice was traced with hurt.

  “He told me to wear my cross at all times, Christian.”

  He clenched his teeth and looked away. “Take it off,” he ordered, still looking away.

  She shook her head. “What? No, I don’t need to prove anything and you don’t either.”

  “You’re afraid of me." He looked her in the eyes now.

  “Don’t be silly!”

  “Then take it off...for me,” he begged.

  After what seemed like forever, she slid her hands behind her neck and unclasped the chain, letting the cross slide down into her cleavage, his gaze wandering there evanescently before returning to her eyes.

  “See, I didn’t turn into a monster. You’re safe here with me, Daisy. I control that part because I don’t allow it like he does.”

  She placed the chain on the nightstand next to her and smiled. “I know I can trust you. You’re the only one I do trust, Christian. You must know that by now." She touched his face, and he briefly closed his eyes.

  He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm, bringing a small moan from her lips. “Daisy,” he whispered, then a low rumble came from his throat.

  Her eyes widened and her heart quickened...in fear? She allowed him to love her hand and wrist, trailing his tongue in an agonizing fashion up and down her arm, her head falling against the pillow, her chest heaving in short breaths.

  She opened her eyes to look into his, and she thought she saw a flicker of...what? His lips touched hers, pressing harder, sliding his tongue inside, lapping at hers in such a way that she felt a crescendo in her loins, a tightening.

  “Yes, Daisy. Feel it,” he murmured against her mouth. “Feel what’s in my heart for you." His hand slipped under the covers, caressing her body.

  A moan escaped and she pushed him away, afraid of what was happening to her. “Stop!”

  When he pulled away, he slowed his breathing down and spoke when he felt calmer. He raked his hand through his dark hair. “I’m so sorry, Daisy. I know you’re not ready for…”

  “Christian...your eyes. Something changed in them.”

  “Yeah, it’s called desire.”

  She shook her head, still out of breath.

  He cradled her hand in his, looking into her eyes. “Maybe you should be scared of me. Get some sleep. I’ll be right down the hall if you – well, goodnight." He kissed her cheek and left the room.

  She stared at the chandelier, biting her quivering lip. Those eyes, the way he looked at her, imbibed her. Something dark lingered there, daring her to join him, but then it would dissolve just as fast.

  Glancing over at the nightstand to where her cross lay, she leaned over and grabbed her chain, clasping it around her neck. It hung to her chest bone, reminding her of Christian’s eyes there.

  He may be fighting something dark inside him, but what if it won?

  Chapter Eight

  Rays of the morning sun peeped through the significant glass windowpanes, beckoning her to start the day. She sat up, panicking for a moment. She glanced around her, realizing she was safe.

  Nightmares besieged her all night of demons seducing young girls. She even dreamed of Jack Red. He walked into her room with his tantalizing blue stare, sat on her bed, smiling down at her. He spoke of love and babies, the birth of a new world.

  He even bent and kissed her, sliding his tongue inside to caress hers, chasing hers while stroking her cheek, letting his hand fall down to her breast, his lips trailing down her neck.

  But then when he pulled back it wasn’t Jack’s handsome face, but that of one with green scales, pointed ears, and curling horns.

  She had screamed and pushed herself up on the pillows to get away, but then he turned into Christian, her sweet Christian...Christian, whose name meant everything good, everything God. His words still echoed in her ears. “Daisy, I’m no good. You’re not safe here with me. I’m everything Dane warned you. You must leave!”

  Tears streamed down her face and she shook her head. Her hand reached out to touch him, but then he turned into Dane, laughing in a raucous roar. He stuck his hand out and ripped her chain off, throwing it in the fireplace across from the bed, melting the cross to nothing.

  She went to feel for her cross and panicked. She found it on the nightstand, which she thought strange, usually never taking it off at bedtime. She replaced it around her neck and looked at the fireplace. At least it looked like it hadn’t been used in years. She kissed her cross like she always did and sighed.

  After throwing the blankets off, she walked into the bathroom to wash. She dropped her toothbrush in the sink when she caught sight of her face. There was a long, red scratch mark where Jack had touched it in her dream. Maybe she did that herself? It was possible. Yes, she decided that’s what happened.

  She brushed her teeth and carefully washed her face as the scratch burned to the touch. The thought of that man touching her...no. She banished it.

  The memory of Christian’s kiss last night still ignited a fire in her, wanting more. Feeling flushed, she took a drink of water and fanned her face. Before she left the bathroom, something told her to lift her cross off her chest, and when she did, her mouth fell open. The silhouette of it was marked deep into her skin.

  What was going on? She wanted to run out and buy more crosses, spread them around her room to protect her from...what?

  Satan?

  She laughed out loud. She heard the story from Christian, but still couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea. But he wouldn’t have lied about his mother. She had meant everything to him.

  After throwing on shorts and a top, pulling her hair into a ponytail, and putting makeup on the scratch to try to cover it a little, she walked back out into her room. Christian had told her not to worry about cleaning up or making her bed, that Lucinda, the housekeeper, would do that. She opened the door to the long corridor and heard giggling.

  “Well, good morning, Daisy. How was your first night sleeping in Stone Manor?" William Stone asked, standing at his bedroom door in a silk, red robe next to a beautiful girl…a girl she knew well.

  “Very well, Mr. Stone. Is Christian around?" She tried to ignore Charlotte’s scowl.

  “Please, it’s Bill, and I think he’s downstairs waiting for you. You remember Charlotte?” he asked, turning to a sulky woman.

  “Yes, of course. Hello, Charlotte." She walked past them, feeling funny knowing they must have slept together. Did they always share lovers?

  “Charlotte was just stopping by to give me a message from my secretary. Nothing’s going on here, Daisy,” he claimed, smiling with narrowed eyes.

  “Oh, it’s none of my business. Sorry." She walked faster down the stairs, hearing Charlotte’s laughter fall behind her with sensual smooching sounds.

  One of the paintings caught her eye. It appeared to come alive, the eyes of some four-legged creature mocking her, tongues wiggling like snakes.

  All the paintings seemed to come to life, following her down the stairs. She got a little lost because they didn’t finish the tour last night. As she followed the sounds to the kitchen, she found Christian in the adjoining dining room.

  The room smelled of roses in the rain. Bending over to smell the rainbow centerpiece closer, she smiled, sniffing in the garden scent. Turning toward him, she gave him a wide grin. “Good morning." He looked so handsome in his khakis and a bright yellow polo shirt, his tanned skin standing out.

  “Good morning to you, beautiful. Sleep well?" He poured her coffee and set it on the table before her. “Extra sugar,” he added, winking. He plucked one of the roses, choosing a pink one to give her.

  “Thank you,” she said, smelling it and laying it next to her mug. “Your father just asked me the same thing, but I guess I did,” she said, shrugging. She sat and picked up the mug.

  He squinted his eyes to peer closer to her. “What’s on your face?”

  Her hand flew to her wound, almost forgetting about it. “I m
ust’ve in my sleep. I woke up with it there, but I also had the strangest dream." She allowed him to inspect it, then he said something in another language to the maid.

  “Lucinda will get some antibiotic ointment. You don’t want that getting infected,” he said, barely touching it.

  Lucinda, an older Portuguese woman, dabbed a cloth with ointment to her scratch. “There you go, Miss Daisy. All better?” she asked with a heavy accent, smiling warmly, looking into Daisy’s eyes.

  “Yes. Thank you, Lucinda.”

  When Lucinda left, Christian turned to her. “So Jack came to visit you last night?" He sat next to her at the end, cupping his hand over hers on the long polished table.

  She went to touch her scratch to see how it felt, and it was gone, just smooth skin. She swallowed hard before answering. “In my dream he did, yes.”

  “No, that was real.”

  “What? How do you even know about it?” she stammered.

  “You know who he is, who I am...you know.”

  She whispered so Lucinda or anyone else wouldn’t hear. “I thought we were going to figure something out, Christian. I don’t get that from you right now." She pulled her hand away and cupped her mug with shaking hands.

  His low voice matched hers. “Let’s walk outside to the back garden. We can talk more there,” he instructed, standing, and leading her to the patio door.

  She followed, placing her mug in the sink, and smiling at Lucinda as she passed her. Could she trust her? She wondered who she could trust in this town.

  Christian pushed the French doors open and let her go before him. They sat at the black, wrought-iron bench that matched the railings in the home, near that precious fountain encasing his beloved mother. She sat next to him, shaded by the Oak trees from the bright sun peeking through.

  He turned to her and held her hands as he spoke. “I know what I’ve said before, Daisy, about trying to leave. But I have another proposition for you.”

  Her heart began its slow dance against her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was in fear or anticipation. “Go on,” she insisted.