by Nancy Glynn
“I never did anything they didn’t want, dear Lana.” He smirked, waving to the chair. “Please, come sit. Join me and let’s talk.”
He started for the head of the table, when she moved swiftly to beat him there, grabbing the seat and sitting.
“Don’t mind if I do.” She sat and folded her hands on the table, commanding it.
Raucous laughter burst out of him. “Oh, Lana. You’re fun. You have the same spitfire your mother had, but you’re very different. I’m going to enjoy you.” He took the seat next to her and laid his hand on hers.
“Don’t touch me. Ever,” she said, snatching her hand away.
“But how will we become friends?”
“No need to be friends. This is business only.”
“You might not say that after we get to know each other better. But I’ll wait for that.”
She laughed. “You can dream, Jack. Like you said…I’m different from my mother. I’ll never let you possess me. Do we have an understanding?”
“Let’s move past this talk and discuss what’s really on our minds. I want you to rule this town—”
“And I will.”
“But next to me. I want this to be our town, together.”
Now it was her turn to give a raucous laugh and then stopped abruptly. “Don’t make me sick. I plan on taking over where my father should have, but the deal is for you to leave, go onto another town and leave Golden Hills to me. That is why I’m here, not to share it with you or anyone. I’ll run it the way my father would have wanted it run, not the way you or William wanted.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. “Would you like anything to drink or eat?” the demure waitress asked.
Lana shook her head, but Jack waved her in. “Lana, be polite and order something.”
Her head snapped at him. “If you want something, then by all means.”
His smile turned into a straight line, his blue eyes burning into hers. “Collette, bring us some red wine, please.”
“It’s a little too early for that,” Lana said.
“Add finger sandwiches also.” He waved the girl off as she bowed and left the room with her orders.
Lana stared at him, seething at his arrogance, ignoring his dark good looks.
He smiled back. “Enjoying the view?”
“You disgust me.”
Sighing, he sat back, his white shirt rumpled against his slim but muscular chest. “Women always say that at first, until I get them into bed.”
“Well, then I’ll be the first to stay firm in that thought.” She tapped her fingers against the shiny wood. “Are we done here?”
“In a hurry?”
A couple of waitresses carried in their wine and sandwiches, placing them in reach, and bowing to Lana before leaving.
“Do you like the bowing? Your father never did.” He drank his wine and smiled.
“Actually, I do. My father was a fool. He could have done so much with this town, but…” she looked down.
“He didn’t want the power you have.”
“Does that make me a bad person? I don’t think so.”
“Never said you were. But there has to be a small part of you that enjoys being the one.”
“What? The chosen one? That’s so cliché. I’m here because I want to be. I chose to come.”
“Had nothing to do with those dreams?” He pushed a sandwich over to her along with her wine.
“I’m sure you’re behind the dreams. But I never came on my twenty-first birthday like you wanted. I came when I was ready.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. You’re in charge. I love a woman in charge. They’re so much more fun to seduce than the willing ones.”
“You may be handsome and charming, but you’ll never seduce me. I’d rather kill myself than have you touch one hair on my body.”
“Oh, Lana. You do amuse me. How do you know I haven’t already?”
“What?”
“Touched a hair on your body?” He stared at her, his lips cracking into a smirk.
Fear touched her widening eyes.
“Eat up, Lana. You’ll need your strength.” He pushed his chair out and stood.
She cleared her throat to regain control. “I don’t want that painting of me out there.”
“But I think it’s lovely. It’s your soul, you see. The epitome of who you are.”
“No, it’s not. That woman looked dead. I’ve never felt more alive.”
He chuckled and walked to the door, clicking his tongue.
Following him, she asked, “Why do you look so familiar? I can’t put my finger on it.”
After opening the door, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Remember the elevator ride?” He stood back and winked.
With a quickening pulse and blood rushing to her head, she almost lost her balance.
“Oh, the things I wanted to do with you in there. It took every ounce of me to hold back. Patience is not my thing.” He gazed in her eyes, his minty breath on her face, so close. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, my Lana. Probably more than I even wanted your mother. More than I wanted Suzanna. We can make a powerful couple, if you allow. And I can rock you in your bed like no other man.”
“But you’re not a man, Jackal.” She smirked, regaining her composure.
Chuckling, he moved back. “You do make me laugh. I really enjoy our talks and hope for more. I’d like to invite you to my church this Saturday, if that works for you? You can meet everyone in one place.”
“You mean everyone that’s already on your side? They won’t want me as their leader, only the good ones will.”
“You are so mistaken about that, Lana. They want you more than you know. Believe in yourself more; it’s not becoming to lack such confidence. So…Saturday?”
She thought about it and then nodded. “Yes, I’ll be there. I won’t be as put off by what I see as my mother was.”
“Because of her faith? What do you believe in?” He raised his brow.
“Me.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Now, that’s a good one. The reason you’re here, I guess.” He picked up her hand and kissed it, grazing there a little too long, forcing her to yank it away. Looking up at her, his eyes turned yellow, desire burning in them. “My, you are lovely.” He stepped away and walked out of the room.
She walked back to her seat and picked up a sandwich, tasting it, and sitting down to take in the room. Crossing her legs under her dress, she sat back and closed her eyes. Thinking of her grandfather there in this chair, she summoned his energy through her body to give her a more leadership quality if there was any lacking.
Upon opening her eyes, she felt a surge of strength and power that titillated her senses. She ran her fingers over her arms, letting the feeling explode in her, and allowing what was always meant to be hers. This feeling felt delicious, and she wanted more. Excitement at the thought of going to Jack’s church filled her, and she was ready to take over. Four more days.
It was Lana’s turn now.
Chapter 5
Eric checked on Mark for the hundredth time today, wondering where Lana was. She was supposed to be here. She had hired a nurse, but it wasn’t the same. Mark wanted Lana. Eric even tried texting her, but got nothing.
After making sure Mark ate and was sleeping, he went exploring. He remembered this house growing up and then the last day there, the party, but it seemed so normal now. Like that party never happened all those years ago. The house looked exactly the same.
He had dreamed of Charlotte last night, coming to him, begging him to help her. But then she turned into some vamp, throwing herself at him and forcing him to make love to her. It was so real he could feel her damp skin as she got on top of him. And then her face turned into Daisy’s, and he moved faster, wanting her, with her red hair spilling all around him.
Those dreams were a big part of his life when they had lived together before Black Twenty-One. Only, he could tell those were dreams and fantasie
s; these were lifelike, not hazy, but could actually feel her pale skin and see her green eyes blaze down into his. Her tongue swirling against his like it had in the early days when she was broken up with Christian.
And then her face turned into Lana’s. At first, he did the right thing and tried pushing her off, but she insisted and rode against him like her life depended on it. Her silvery blonde hair tussling his face, a look of need in her eyes. He moved with her, wanting what she wanted, giving in to this unnatural force, a need buried deep within his soul. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
A desire so strong grew in him, his mouth open in agony, his breathing ragged, almost screaming for an outlet. His hips ground against hers in a dark dance of passion and lust, pushing as deep as he could, her head tilted back, her full, pale breasts in his view. It was so wrong yet so right.
“No!” he had screamed. “No, Lana! Stop! We can’t do this. I won’t do this!”
She moaned louder, pushing harder, faster.
His body reeling at the sensations building to a climax he wanted no part of. He did everything he could to not allow his body the satisfaction it so desperately craved. His hands pushed at her hips to force her away and would pull her back, struggling against himself.
This was only a dream, only a dream. This was not happening.
And then he was awake, sweating and panting, and alone in his bed.
He looked around and only silence and darkness greeted him. Only a dream. But why with her? It had to be this house, had to be of Jack’s doing. He only prayed Lana didn’t have any similar dreams. What really scared him was the evidence of their act on his stomach and sheets. He hadn’t had a wet dream in years.
When he had told her he had some crazy dreams, she acted like she didn’t have anything like that, so he was thrilled. He’d rather die than have her be tortured of unwanted thoughts of him or anyone. He did feel strange seeing her that morning, though. After just having the most intimate dream a man could have of a woman, he almost felt shy and awkward with her. Lana was like a daughter to him, which made it all the more nuts.
He walked the halls and examined the portraits on the walls, ones that he had seen years ago, and then new ones. Daisy and Christian now graced them with their angelic presence. The love that exuded on their faces struck him in the heart, reminding him how he felt for her.
Moving in closer to her eyes, they were the same ones he dreamed of last night. He could swear she came to him and gave him the love he’d always wanted from her. Even when he had approached her several times on visits from New York, he’d cradle her close but she always fought him, struggling against him, against herself. What they had in those early days was special, and he knew it had to be etched in her heart.
Wanting to believe more than anything that that was her last night gave him peace. In his mind, he was with her. He still felt responsible for her death. In a way, he was. Maybe she’d come to him again tonight. He’d ask her to come to him and not allow anyone else.
Even if it meant it was only her spirit, he’d take it. If this house could give him the love he’d always wanted, if it could give him Daisy back, he’d stay forever. The thought put a pep in his step and a smile on his face.
Reaching out to her painted face, he caressed it. “I love you so much, Daisy. I’ve never stopped, my love. My heart aches for you. Come again to me tonight.”
The painting almost came to life, a look of love softened her face for him. But when he glanced at Christian’s, his dark eyes flashed, a light sparking across Eric’s face, forcing him back and away from the artwork. “Don’t make me Sage you, buddy,” Eric jokingly warned.
He shook his head as if to clear it. “I must be seeing things or I’ve lost my mind. This house is nuts.” He walked to the others and saw a painting of Lana in her teens, hugging a tree and smiling widely. She wore a shorter cottony dress, and her head was tilted, her long hair hanging down her front, her legs crossed at the ankles dressed in twining straps wrapped around her calves from her sandals. The same outfit she had on yesterday, but that would be impossible.
He still couldn’t believe this was Daisy’s daughter. It did something to him, tugging deep within that he struggled to understand. His body responded against his wishes, remembering that dream of her. Forcing himself to look away, he went to other paintings, dragging his eyes away from her legs.
These paintings were ordinary, just of the house and gatherings, but his pulse had picked up, racing to the beat of his longings. Forbidden longings. Unwanted longings. He loved Daisy, not her daughter. Daisy and Christian had raised Lana to call him Uncle Eric since she was little, but he hardly saw her, only at Thanksgiving and Christmas, not really seeing her on a daily or even monthly basis.
She would Face Time him and be the flirt that she was, always charming just like Marissa. She had gypsy blood in her, so maybe that’s what made her wild like that. He remembered her kissing his cheek when she was thirteen and sniffing his skin, saying how she loved the way he smelled. She was very mature for her age with a sensuality that oozed from her essence, always suggestive in her gestures and seductive in her expressions. Again, his body tightened at the memory and he clawed the wall, squeezing his eyes shut.
Maybe he reinforced the Uncle title to remind both of them their roles in each other’s lives. He would put himself in the place of a father figure to satisfy enough distance between anything paternal and sexual. It made things nice and safe.
Since coming to this house, though, he’d never crossed the line of allowing thoughts to seep into dreams, so he was convinced it was the house. Christian used to talk about it and the strange things that happened to him as a child. He’d say how women would come to him in his dreams, but they were real. There would be evidence of bodily fluids in the sheets when he awoke in the morning, like he had last night.
Eric had teased him and said maybe they were wet dreams, but Christian shook his head. He would show strands of long hair and women’s underwear that he knew he didn’t own. Eric would say how he’d like a visit like that, but Christian would tell him he wouldn’t, that these women were succubus, not real women. These were monsters that pretended to be sexy women, assaulting men in their sleep.
He still wouldn’t have minded that in his teenaged mind, that was until he met Daisy. He never looked at another woman the same. He wanted her more than his own breath. She was his breath. Lord knew he tried to get over her with other women and even came close once, but then he would see Daisy and fall in love with her all over again. He went to bed every night with an aching heart.
When he had first heard she was pregnant with Lana, he died. He knew there was no chance for them ever. And the thought of her creating a baby with Christian pounded in the last nail. But then little Lana came into their world, and he loved her because she was Daisy’s child. Lana filled his heart like no other woman was able to after Daisy.
Now, he lived with her, slept in a room next to hers, with deep-seated needs. At first, he refused Mark’s request, worried about certain issues coming up. Like would he be able to ascertain the lines of uncle/niece, even if not related, or would they get blurred into Lana being Daisy’s daughter? Would his old mind remember this was Daisy’s daughter and not her?
So he gave in and accepted Mark’s proposition of staying with her. Eric guarded his thoughts around the fatherly friend, knowing he could read it if he wanted. If Mark even thought for a second that his granddaughter was possibly in the hands of someone not understanding his own thoughts or afraid of them, he’d never ask Eric.
He trotted down the stairs to get away from the taunting pictures and go to dinner. He’d try to call Lana again, hoping she was okay.
***
Later at Jack’s Den, after Lana had talked to the kitchen staff and got to know them more, she decided to take a ride out to the Lost Forest, the name her mother had given it for the lost souls that ran around there. She asked for directions and put them in her phone map.
As she started to walk, she thought she saw a black cloak flying behind a tree. Halting for a brief moment, she glanced around with hesitation. These woods were haunted, according to her parents. And this was where Jack had created that storm to swoop her mother up and bring to his dungeon, when she only wanted to help that poor ghost get to the Light. Lana didn’t believe in any magical light. She believed that when you died, you died and that was it. No continuing to live and do things in another world like her mother had tried to convince her. She’d scoff at her parents and reminded them she didn’t believe that silly stuff.
She remembered the hurt in her mother’s eyes, but she had to do what was right for her, not her parents. Her father should have known better. His dad wanted him to act like him as well, even though it had nothing to do with God. Her dad was good, and his name was perfect for him.
Pushing through the branches, she found a narrow dirt path and followed it. Birds squawked and swooshed above, flying out of the trees. As she delved deeper, a calmness crept over her like it was home. She found a bench and sat, wondering if her mother had sat there. She also wondered where Bessie ran through the first time her mom saw her. Every time she thought of that girl, a strange vibration ran through her as if they were connected somehow. It was probably due to the stories she’d heard over the years.
A crack of a twig alerted her of another presence, causing her to twist around. When she saw a gray wolf standing near a stream of water, watching her, her pulse quickened and her breathing picked up. His yellow eyes stared into hers and began to approach.
The swiftness of his gait gave her no chance to run. He circled around the bench and sat right in front of her, inches away. Her heart beat so hard she’d thought he could hear it. Only the sounds of her breathing in sync with his panting echoed in the wooded wonderland. When he nuzzled his nose against her hand, she flinched back. Just then, he lifted his head and let out a howl, a sweet song for her, serenading her, it seemed.