by J. C. Wilder
Tears raced down her cheeks as she fought the urge to run him over. There was nothing she hated more than feeling like a victim, which was exactly what this man was doing to her. She was allowing him to do this to her, to reduce her to a sniveling wreck. Her eyes narrowed and she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze dead-on.
The light turned green and the albino smiled once more before moving on, oblivious to the honking horns of aggravated drivers behind her.
Erihn hit the gas pedal as soon as he was out of the way, peeling out in a screech of tires and the smell of burned rubber.
* * * * *
Fayne headed for the door when he heard the crunch of gravel in the drive. Erihn was back. His stomach knotted and he opened the door, expecting to see her rental car. Instead, an unfamiliar black Acura pulled into a parking space beside the drive. As it came to a stop, the passenger’s side door flew open and a small, dark-haired boy got out. He spied Fayne and began running toward him.
“Daddy!” the child shrieked and threw himself into Fayne’s arms.
Bewildered, Fayne captured the child, hugging him tightly to his chest. Max had called him daddy for the first time. Tears stung his eyes as the scent of his son surrounded him. The unique mixture of little boy sweat, a touch of dirt and the sweet smell of candy.
His Max.
He opened his eyes in time to see Bliss exit the car. Dressed in pink pants and a white T-shirt, she looked as fresh as a daisy. He’d never guessed she’d just spent the last twenty hours traveling. She walked toward him, her expression tight.
“Bliss?”
“Max had a nightmare and demanded he be brought back to you.” Bliss’ gaze told him she’d elaborate later.
Fayne leaned down and kissed her on the cheek then straightened. Max still clung to him. He tightened his arms around the little person who’d stolen his heart. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything happened to this child.
He cleared his throat and ruffled the child’s hair. “Did you have a good time, Max-a-million?”
Max released his grip on Fayne’s neck and pulled away to look at his father. His heart clenched as he saw his son’s dark brown eyes were shadowed with fear. “He’s coming for me.”
Fayne had never quite grown used to Max’s ability to know things. His talent was uncanny, not to mention frightening. He hugged Max fiercely, anger igniting in his gut. “Don’t you worry, Maxi, no one will ever hurt you again. I swear.”
* * * * *
Erihn’s heart pounded as she scrambled in the front door. “Fayne?”
“Outside.” His voice sounded from the deck.
She ran on wobbly legs through the living room then out onto the deck, skidding to a stop when she saw he wasn’t alone. A tiny woman stood with him, wrapped in his arms in a hug. She was smiling up at Fayne, her lashes sparkling with tears. She was possibly the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen.
Erihn cringed. She felt unkempt in her tattered clothing. Her hand had bled all over her new jacket and her stockings were shredded. She had gravel embedded in one knee and blood trailed down her leg. She’d abandoned her shoes in the car when they’d impeded her driving. In short, she was a mess. She felt like something the cat had dragged in.
“Are you okay?” the tiny blonde spoke as she stepped out of Fayne’s embrace, her expression concerned.
Erihn glanced at him. His expression was remote, forbidding, before it quickly turned to a frown when he took in her tattered appearance. Stunned by his lack of response she turned away, forcing herself to nod at the blonde. “I’m fine. I hurt my hand yesterday, and I accidentally tore it open again.”
Feeling very uncomfortable, she forced a weak smile and indicated her hand. “I guess I should get this taken care of.” She turned and walked into the living room, not allowing herself to run. She could feel Fayne’s gaze bore into her back as she retreated.
Tears stung her eyes as her abraded knees protested the number of steps before her. The main staircase looked like a mountain, and she bit her lip. Starting up, she winced with every step. The doorway to the master bedroom beckoned her.
Stepping into the room, she was painfully aware of the sheets rumpled from their lovemaking. The scent of sex lingered in the air. She resisted the urge to collapse on the chaise and sob her eyes out. While she didn’t agree with a lot of things her parents had done to her as a child, one thing was for sure—her mother hadn’t raised a weakling and she’d do well to remember that. First things first. She walked to the sliding glass door and threw it open, allowing fresh air to sweep the memories away.
Dark clouds were forming on the horizon.
Her heart sank. The last thing the mountains needed was more rain. New landslides were occurring almost every day and several houses had been destroyed, swept right off the soggy mountainsides.
She turned away from the forbidding clouds and headed into the bathroom. She eased off her jacket and, with a regretful sigh, stuffed it into the trash can. It was ruined. She picked up a pair of scissors and began to cut the bandages off her hand.
Who was the blonde woman and what did she mean to Fayne? Was she a lover he’d neglected to mention? Inwardly, she rebelled at that theory. He was a trustworthy fellow and he…
You’ve only known him for a few days…
Erihn sniffed and dropped the bloody bandages into the trash can. That was true. He was a virtual stranger to her.
Who kissed like a bandit…
“What good is that when you can’t trust him?” she muttered, turning on the water.
He saved you on the steps…
“I came home and found another woman in his arms.” Tears began flowing in earnest as she washed the blood off her hand, her stomach rolling. She winced when she saw the wound. She’d done a number on herself all right. The wound was torn open and looked as bad as it had last night.
Maybe they’re just friends…
“And maybe I’m a fool,” she sniffed again.
“Erihn?” Fayne’s voice sounded from the bedroom.
“In here.” She snatched a washcloth off the vanity and struggled to dry her tears left-handed. It wasn’t easy. She dropped the cloth as he came through the doorway. She refused to look at him, concentrating on carefully drying her injured hand.
“I brought the antiseptic.” His voice was flat, emotionless.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, holding out her left hand.
“I’ll do it.”
“No, thank you. I can take care of myself.”
“Suit yourself.” He set the bottle on the vanity then leaned against the doorway as if to watch the show.
“Was there something you needed?” She picked up the bottle and struggled to open the flip-top cap.
“We need to talk.”
Erihn managed to pop the top open, her hand trembling under his scrutiny. “About what?” She was pleased her tone sounded unconcerned. She awkwardly tried to squirt the solution on the wound and missed, dousing the marble counter instead.
“Let me.” Fayne took the bottle and held her hand over the sink. He didn’t speak as he worked. He efficiently cleaned and re-bandaged the wound, his touch impersonal. As he finished, he let go of her immediately and stepped away as if he couldn’t stand to be near her any longer.
Her heart cracked.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
His brow knitted as he looked at her damaged knees. “What did you manage to do to yourself?”
“I fell down,” she said shortly.
“I can see that.”
“Fayne, I appreciate your help, but I can take care of myself.”
He waved a hand at her knees. “I see how well you manage. What happened, Erihn?”
“I told you, I fell down.” Tears burned her eyes and suddenly she couldn’t take it anymore. She’d been terrorized, her hands and knees hurt and she’d come home to find her lover with a beautiful woman in his arms. The writing was on the wall and she had to get far away from him
before she fell apart completely. “I’ll be leaving. Today, in fact.”
“Of course you are,” Fayne’s gaze bore into hers. She stepped back as the anger ignited in his eyes. “You have everything you wanted from me.”
Erihn frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I found your notes.”
“What notes?” She was perplexed.
“The notes you made about me,” he growled and turned. “About my kind.”
She caught the flash of pain in his eyes before he looked away. “Fayne, what are you talking about?”
Quick as a cat, his arm snaked out and his hand wrapped around her wrist. She gave a yelp as his fingers tightened and he pulled her into the bedroom. His grip gentled as he led her to the bed. Her briefcase sat on the rumpled covers where he must’ve set it when he brought it upstairs.
“Explain that.” He released her wrist abruptly.
Erihn looked at the briefcase. Crumpled papers stuck out of the open top, making it obvious he’d gone through it. “I still don’t understand. What do you want me to explain? Why did you go through my briefcase?”
A snarl curled his lip. He reached for the bag, dumping its contents on the bed. He scooped up the notebook and flipped through the pages. Finding the page he wanted, he dropped it onto the bed then pointed at it.
“Explain why you used me as research.”
Erihn blinked. He thought the were-cat was him? She scanned the notes he was pointing to. …were-cat around 30… amazing sexual powers, the ability to sustain multiple orgasms…turns into a cat at night to build upon his powers… motorcycle and wears a leather jacket…has a son whom he has “adopted”…
She shook her head. “Fayne, this isn’t about you,” she said. “I’ll admit you gave me a few ideas such as the motorcycle, but that’s about it.”
“What about the part about a child? What about my son?”
She shook her head again. “Fayne, I didn’t know about Max when I wrote this. Besides, this has nothing to do with you.”
“What about a were-cat’s abilities? Where did you do your research?”
She was confused. “I don’t understand. You think I modeled the were-cat after you? That’s impossible. I wrote Velvet Lover long before I even met you. It was in that book I introduced my were-cats.”
“I think you used me as research because you know I’m a were-cat. That’s what I think.”
Erihn froze. Fayne thought he was a were-cat? Was he mad? Yes, he’d told her he was a were-cat while they were making love yesterday, but she’d thought he was kidding. Were-cats didn’t exist, they were a figment of someone’s imagination. A trill of alarm went through her. Was he the letter writer who’d been threatening her?
“Fayne,” Erihn strove for a calm voice. “Were-cats don’t exist. I found a book in Val’s library and I took the information from that.”
“Where’s the book?”
“In my purse in the car. Fayne, how can you believe you’re a were-cat? I mean…” Erihn faltered as a horrific thought occurred to her. What if he was doing this to drive her away? She swallowed audibly. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go. Just don’t sit there and use excuses to get rid of me.”
“Don’t even try and turn this on me, Erihn. You know you did me wrong. You know you lied to me and used me for research,” he fairly spat the word. His eyes were as cold as ice and inwardly she cringed. “I want you to leave here and never return while my son and I are in residence.”
Her heart cracked a little more with each word. She didn’t know how to extricate herself, to explain she’d done nothing other than fall in love with the wrong man. Her tortured knees ached when she braced them, forcing herself to remain upright. She wouldn’t show weakness in front of this man again, ever.
“You’re wrong, Fayne. I’ve done nothing for you to accuse me.” Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but, someday, you’ll regret it.”
“I already do.” Fayne walked to the door and turned, his eyes empty. “I thought you were an angel sent just for me.” He left.
I was and you threw me away.
Her knees gave out and she stumbled to the chair. As emotions clogged her throat, she bit her uninjured hand to stifle the sobs that threatened. A low moan built in her chest as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She pressed her face into the back of the chair as the sound broke forth.
How long she sat there and cried, she didn’t know. Finally, the tears slowed, the hysteria passed and a blessed numbness settled over her. Erihn staggered to her feet and haphazardly tossed her clothing into the suitcase.
After stripping off her ruined clothes, she stuffed them into the trash can. She never wanted to see them again. Turning her attention to her knees she bathed them in antiseptic and slapped a slipshod dressing in place over the worst one. Automatically, she dressed in a pair of comfy black leggings and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. The somber color fit her mood.
The howl of the wind steadily increased as she finished packing. Standing in the doorway to the tiny terrace, her tears gone and her shoulders squared, Erihn gazed on the view that had been a balm to her soul on so many occasions.
Storm clouds danced along the ridge, hovering before making the plunge into the valley. If she wanted to make her escape and not be forced to spend another night in the house, she’d have to hurry.
Her suitcase sat in the doorway and she eyed the mess on the bed. Scooping up the scattered papers and notebooks, she stared at the crumpled pages in her hands. There was no way she could write this book without remembering every moment she’d spent with him. His touch, his laugh. The thought of writing Velvet Rhapsody made her nauseous.
Erihn gave a bark of laughter. She was truly a fool. She dropped the pages into the trash can on top of her suede skirt and ruined stockings. Hopefully, her publisher would understand when she announced no more were-cat books would be written.
She stripped the bed, her movements sharp and angry. Damn him for doing this to her. Why couldn’t he be honest and just dump her? Instead, he had to lie and use some half-baked story to yank her chain and throw her out of his life when his little girlfriend arrived.
Stomping into the hallway, she stuffed the sheets into the laundry chute. Grabbing her bag, she took one last look around, making sure everything was in order. Her gaze lingered on the bed for a moment before she turned away.
The house was eerily quiet as if it were waiting for the next drama to unfold. She dropped her bag by the front door and walked into the living room to make sure the windows were properly closed as the first drops of rain splattered on the deck. No one was around. Were they together downstairs even now? Were they making love?
Anguish clawed her chest as she walked slowly through the familiar rooms, remembering her and Fayne’s scant hours together. She stopped by the front door and saw his leather jacket was gone. He’d left. She picked up her bag and squared her shoulders. Her hand closed around the doorknob.
“Damn him,” she muttered, wrenching open the door.
A scream caught in the back of her throat when a shadow loomed in the doorway. A man in a red and black plaid jacket stood on the stoop, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. Rain was coming down harder now, obscuring the cars in the drive a scant twenty-five feet away.
“Erihn Spencer?” He yelled to be heard over the rising wind.
“Yes, I’m Erihn Spencer.”
“I need you to come with me. There’s been an accident.”
Alarm raced down her spine and she lost her grip on the bag. “Fayne?” she whispered.
The man nodded. “I need you to come with me. He’s calling for you.”
Erihn nodded as fear gripped her chest. She grabbed Jennifer’s jacket then started out the door, stopping when the man stooped to get her bag.
“Where is he?” She stepped out into the rain.
“There was a landslide below.” The man wrapped a hand around h
er elbow. A trill of trepidation ran down her spine. Could she get into a car with a strange man again? She shoved the thought away. Fayne was injured and he needed her. She didn’t have a choice.
“Is he…?” Erihn couldn’t say it.
“No, but he’s hurt really bad.”
She allowed him to lead her to an SUV parked in the drive behind her car. The garage door was open and Fayne’s bike was absent. She nodded her thanks as the man opened the door for her.
“What’s your name?” she blurted.
The man smiled. It was a cold little smile. “Ivan, Ivan Daniels. It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.”
Max stood in the window and watched the big truck lumber up the sloping drive with the scarred woman and a funny little man in it. The man was bad. He smelled bad like he’d been near the dead recently. He knew that smell all too well.
In a soft, sad little voice he spoke to himself. “He got her…”
Chapter Ten
The rain started in earnest when Fayne reached the foot of the mountain.
He stopped beneath the I-70 overpass to adjust his jacket collar. Not that it mattered now—he was already soaked to the skin. That’s what he got for leaving the house when he knew a storm was coming. He just couldn’t remain there a second longer. He glanced up the mountain to the peak where Jennifer’s house sat, obscured by heavy clouds. His chest tightened.
Even the weather conspired against him. He gritted his teeth. Guess it just wasn’t his day. The wind shifted and he caught a whiff of a scent that didn’t belong. He stilled. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and sniffed the rain-scented air. The scent of mud, rain and car exhaust was underlain with something dark, evil.
The scent of death.
Fayne opened his eyes to narrow slits. Something was terribly wrong. His lips tightened and he settled on the seat of his bike. Putting it in gear, he began the treacherous ride up the mountain. He could only hope, when he arrived at the house, Erihn hadn’t left. It would be foolhardy to leave in such a downpour.
Erihn.
He gritted his teeth again. She’d looked so stricken even as she’d protested her innocence.