Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Audrey Godwin

  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.

  “Turn that damned thing off, I’m trying to sleep,” Kirk growled.

  “Well, I want to dance,” she said.

  He turned over and lunged toward the little recorder, but she grabbed it and placed it out of his reach.

  "Did I ever tell you that back in my college days I used to be a dancer? Yeah, I worked my way through college bumping and grinding."

  His eyes followed the recorder, wishing it would suddenly run low on batteries. “You told me your parents had money. Why the hell would you have to work?”

  “You know how parents are,” she said, wiggling her hips as she danced toward him. “They went on a crusade to teach their rebellious daughter the value of a dollar and took away all my credit cards. So, I became a dancer. Funny—” She leaned down close to him. “—I was the most popular girl on campus.”

  Kirk whirled around, trying to get away from her hot breath and husky voice, but she followed him. “This is a hospital, for God’s sake, Chyna, not a strip joint.” He kept turning, trying to keep his back to her, but she was all over the room.

  Chyna watched Kirk's face. He tried to keep his eyes off her, but couldn't resist cutting them over occasionally to watch her seductive movements. At every bump, his head would jump, and at every grind, he broke out in a cold sweat.

  He edged toward the bedside table and angrily grabbed at the phone. "Hey, what the hell kinda hospital are you running here?" He looked down at the phone, puzzled at the dead line, then jumped up and ran for the door, but it was locked.

  Chyna danced up to him, swaying her hips in and out, and from side to side. She danced around him, rubbing herself against him, then began backing up toward the bed, motioning for Kirk to follow her.

  Feeling himself on the brink of losing it, Kirk tried to turn his eyes away. "Where in hell is that damn doctor?" he said weakly. And then when Chyna began to slowly undress, Kirk lost it, his eyes suddenly full of fire. He roughly grabbed Chyna and threw her down on the bed.

  As Kirk fell on top of her, Chyna looked up at the shadowy ceiling of Kirk's dark hospital room and submitted to his wild, untamed brand of love—her lips tugging upward in a mixture of ecstasy and triumph.

  Chapter 23

  The next morning Dr. Wilder walked up to Kirk's door and put his ear against it. Not hearing anything he unlocked it quietly, looked inside and saw Chyna and Kirk lying in each other's arms. He smiled, closed the door and locked it. Turning to the guard, he said. "I’ll give them another half an hour, then we'll have to get them up." He indicated to the watch. "How's it working?"

  "Good." The husky young orderly looked at him with an innocent, lamb-like smile on his face. "Didn't lose a minute all night."

  The doctor walked away smiling and shaking his head. With everything that went on in that room last night, the only thing Frank was interested in was his new Rolex. If Frank was any indication, the future population of the world was in trouble.

  Just then the doctor looked up and saw Elaine rushing out of the elevator carrying some clothes for Chyna. She quickly ran up to the nurse's station. "I need Dr. Wilder, get Dr. Wilder!" Just then she looked around and saw him. "Vincent, I couldn't find Quinn anywhere. He's disappeared."

  “Elaine,” the doctor said, looking at Elaine with reproof. “We’re at the hospital.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, looking around to see who might have heard her. “I forgot.”

  "Now, what is this? Who's disappeared?"

  "Quinn,” Elaine said with a worried look on her face. “When I got to the mansion I looked everywhere but he's not there."

  "So what? He's probably just out, that's all."

  "His bedroom was in chaos." She looked impatient when he didn't say anything. "There's something wrong, I just know it."

  "Elaine, settle down for God's sake." He turned her toward Kirk's room. "Hurry and get Chyna's clothes to her, and I'll check it out."

  Elaine rushed off one way and Dr. Wilder another. He found the paramedics that were just going off duty and began to question them. They assured him they had searched the whole mansion and didn’t find anybody at home. They also confirmed that the bedroom was in chaos, and had no choice but to
leave.

  With a worried look on his face, the doctor went back to Kirk's room and went in.

  Chyna looked up at him. "What's wrong, Doctor?"

  "I've just come from Emergency. They tell me they didn't find Quinn at the mansion last night, and they assured me they searched everywhere." He indicated toward Elaine. "Elaine searched again this morning, and he's still not there."

  Kirk looked at both of them. "So what's the problem? He's just out, that's all. He’s into investments and has business to conduct occasionally, he'll be back."

  Chyna put her arms around Elaine. "Sure, that must be it. After all Quinn isn't exactly helpless, I'm sure he'll show up later today."

  Elaine nodded. “I guess so,” she said thinly, still looking worried.

  "All right," The doctor said, rubbing his hands together as if anticipating some fun. "Get yourselves up and get moving. Elaine and I are taking you both out to breakfast."

  Kirk looked at the doctor with a smirk on his face. "Why doctor, I thought you were supposed to be on call today."

  "Did I say that? He scratched his head, and his laugh sounded guilty. "I just don't know what's wrong with my head lately. I just can't seem to keep my schedule straight."

  "But doctor," Chyna said, with a message in her eyes. "I had something I wanted to talk with Kirk about." She lowered her voice, and cut her eyes over toward Kirk. "You know…privately?"

  Looking over at Kirk's preoccupation with his shoes and socks, the doctor took Chyna's arm and led her out in the hall. "Chyna, I don't know if you realize it or not, but you're going to need someone with you when you tell him. This is an extremely volatile situation and has to be handled very carefully. If his temper flares again, there's no telling what he'll do."

  Chyna frowned at the doctor. "Doctor, you talk as if Kirk is dangerous."

  "Chyna, I assure you, he's not dangerous to anyone but himself. He's the type that flies off the handle easily, and I don't think he's going to take the news about your book too well. If there is an explosion, you're going to need someone there to pick up the pieces."