Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 3

by Shameless(lit)

  Erihn landed on his chest with a whoosh, her elbow digging into his stomach.

  Wind whipped into the room from the open doorway, but Erihn paid it no mind, so intent was she upon the man beneath her. She uncurled her fist, laying it on his upper chest. Her arm was twisted between them, hampering her movements.

  "Sorry," she mumbled, trying to rise. His hands clamped around her shoulders, halting her progress. Startled, she looked into dark eyes.

  He was furious.

  "What the devil were you thinking?" he ground out.

  "N-n-nothing. I was enjoying the storm."

  "Enjoying the..." He bit off the rest of his sentence to scowl at her.

  Oh, that mouth. She quivered as her gaze dropped to his lips. Yearning rose in her chest as she looked at him sprawled beneath her, water streaming onto the carpet from their wet clothing. She wanted to taste him, just a little taste...

  Erihn leaned into him, her hair sliding off her shoulders to surround them in a sodden curtain. She brushed her lips against his.

  Once.

  Twice.

  A low growl sounded from his chest as his grip tightened on her shoulders. Startled, she pulled away. What had she done? Appalled, she fixed her gaze on his chin. She couldn't look him in the eye.

  "I-I-I'm sorry."

  He released her shoulders. Gently he stroked his palms down her arms, then up again before moving to her back. He caressed her, moving in long sensuous sweeps that curled her toes. She wanted to purr beneath his knowledgeable touch.

  She risked a glance at his face.

  His expression was heated. "I'm not sorry at all."

  Without warning, he gripped her arms and pulled her toward him until her lips were once again on level with his mouth. His breath mingled with hers, caressing her skin and teasing her senses. His eyes glowed with an inner fire as they fastened on her mouth. She licked her lips nervously.

  "I guess I'll have to show you how it's done," he purred.

  Warm and commanding, his mouth covered hers, his tongue licking at the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. A moan was born as she opened her mouth and his tongue ventured forth to tangle with hers. His taste, white wine and warm man, inflamed her senses. Licking and retreating, he teased her senses until she clung to him, wanting more of his magic.

  Restlessly she moved, trying to get closer to appease the ache centered low in her stomach. His tongue tangled with hers and she captured it between her teeth, then gently sucked. He tensed beneath her; something akin to a purr escaped him. The vibrations of his chest sent a wicked thrill of pleasure through her.

  If this ecstasy was wrong, she never wanted to be right again.

  A loud crack of thunder shook the house and broke them apart.

  Dreamy-eyed, Erihn stared at the man beneath her. His dark eyes scorched her skin as he returned her gaze, his lips parted as he panted for breath.

  "We're getting wet." His voice sounded raspy and harsh.

  "I already am," she sighed. She wanted more of his kisses, more of anything he was willing to dish out.

  He laughed.

  Erihn froze. What had she said? As the implication of her words hit her, mortification streamed over her like a pitcher of ice water. How could she be so wanton with any man, let alone a complete stranger?

  Embarrassed, Erihn scrambled off him and staggered to her feet. What must he think of her? One minute, she wanted nothing to do with him and the next she's pawing him like some sex-starved nymphomaniac.

  "I'm really sorry." She met his gaze head on and strove for a cool tone. "I shouldn't have done that."

  He rolled to his feet, his movements supple, graceful. He impaled her with his gaze and her heart gave a queer little jerk. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Erihn. I wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted me to."

  She looked away from his disturbing eyes, her gaze moving to the bulge in his jeans. He was aroused, very aroused. She dropped her gaze to stare at his knees. Knees were harmless enough, weren't they?

  "I can't hide what you do to me, Erihn. Nor would I want to hide it."

  She started to shake, and she backed away from him toward the steps. "This will never happen again."

  "Don't make reckless statements you won't be able to abide by, kitten. You'll only be embarrassed later."

  Erihn looked him straight in the eye. "I d-d-don't make idle threats," she stammered as the shivers began in earnest. Her cold, wet clothing sapped the warmth of her body. She was freezing.

  "Go upstairs and change before you catch your death of cold. We can talk after you've warmed up."

  Numb, she weighed her choices. She could take the easy way out and escape now, or she could force him to talk to her and make him understand that what just happened on the living room floor would never happen again.

  She opted for the easy, first choice. Wasting no time, she turned and escaped up the steps into the hallway. As she moved from his sight, she broke into a run.

  Hunger finally drove her from her lair.

  Cautiously, Erihn opened the bedroom door. The tick of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the oppressive silence. Where was he? Had he gone downstairs to bed? Her palms were damp with perspiration as she stepped from the sanctuary of her bedroom onto the landing. The faint scent of rose potpourri and wood smoke teased her nose.

  She paused at the top of the steps, the suffocating silence of the house ringing in her ears.

  Creeping down the steps, the banister cool beneath her fingertips, she moved warily, ready to dart back upstairs at any sign of Fayne. The faint crackle of a fire reached her ears. Was he in the living room?

  A tremendous crack of thunder startled her and shook the house beneath her. The lights flickered, once, twice, then failed.

  Erihn clutched the banister and froze as the house plunged into darkness. Panic slammed into her chest, stealing her breath as the oppressive darkness fell, surrounding her like a woolen cloak. Her heart pounded, the sound filling her ears as a cry locked in the back of her throat. Her knees gave way and she clutched the spindles of the railing as she slumped to the steps.

  She couldn't bear it. She hated the darkness. She screwed her eyes up tight as she broke out into a sweat. She tried to remember what her therapist had told her to do when she was confronted with a panic attack.

  Breathe.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she forced herself to sit up straighter and relax her grip on the spindles.

  Inhale through the nose.

  Exhale through the mouth.

  Inhale...

  Exhale...

  Inhale...

  Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway below. Her breath caught with a strangled gasp, her throat frozen. The rustle of clothing, then the clank of metal hitting the floor reached her ears. She opened her eyes. She could see nothing in front of her. Something slithered on the edge of her consciousness then lay still, waiting.

  A mild curse, the rattle of keys and the sound of footsteps making progress toward the stairs had her muscles tensing. He was coming for her. A whimper broke from her frozen throat and the steps halted.

  Silence.

  "Erihn?"

  No, not again, her mind screamed. She longed to flee up the stairs, but her muscles remained frozen in place.

  "Erihn, are you okay?"

  With the faint creak of the lowest riser, the past collided with the present.

  "You know how it angers me when you try to hide, bitch."

  Erihn crouched at the top of the wooden steps. The old, warped door against her back was nailed shut from the outside. How long had she been imprisoned here in the darkness? A few days? A week? She had no idea. All she knew was that she had only one chance to escape.

  She tightened her grip on the sturdy nail she'd managed to work from the rotting wood of the steps. Coated in blood from her abraded fingertips, the metal was slick and she didn't want to take a chance of losing it in the blinding darkness. Weakened by lack of food, taking him by sur
prise was the only possible way to regain her freedom. This might be her last chance.

  A muffled grunt sounded below as her captor searched the confines of the old cellar where he'd imprisoned her. Luck was with her when she'd barely managed to knock the flashlight from his hands, breaking it. The floor was damp and uneven in spots, making it treacherous walking in the dark. She smiled bitterly. She'd had lots of time to explore her prison on her hands and knees, and she knew every inch of it by heart.

  A crash told her he was nearing the far corner of the cellar. She shifted slightly, careful to keep her hands an exact distance apart so the links of the handcuffs didn't rattle and give her position away. She knew he'd find her, it was only a question of when.

  The thump of a foot kicking her plastic dinner bowl marked her captor's place as he worked his way toward the steps. Erihn tensed. Her thighs, scaly with dried blood, strained to remain perfectly still. Her breathing was shallow as the monster reached the bottom of the stairs.

  "I know where you are and I'm coming to get you."

  The stairs creaked as the monster advanced. He hummed a soft tuneless melody, which grated on her nerves, but she refused to flinch. It was now or never...

  Icy fingers brushed her ankles, then closed around them, yanking her off balance. Erihn dropped the blanket she'd been clutching around her nude body as her feet were pulled from underneath her. Her backside landed on the highest riser as her head hit the door with a crack. Stunned, Erihn cried out as her tormentor yanked her down several bone-jarring steps.

  She kicked a foot free and aimed for where she thought his crotch might be. Her foot hit spongy softness and a whoosh of air escaped him. His grip slackened and she rolled to the left, trying to reach the side of the steps.

  All at once, two hundreds pounds of enraged male landed on her. A cry was wrenched from her lips as strong fingers caught her chin, slamming her head into the stair. Stars exploded in her vision as the fingers shifted to her throat.

  "You bitch! Do you think you can leave me? I'll tell you when you get to leave..."

  Fingers dug into her throat as he spoke, cutting off her air supply. Within seconds, the darkness wavered as flickering white sparks appeared. He was going to strangle her. Gathering the last of her flagging energy, Erihn clutched the nail and swung her arm, connecting with his shoulder.

  Her tormentor emitted a bellow and his fingers lost their grip on her throat. Gasping for air, Erihn swung again, this time connecting with a fleshy part of his body. He reared, trying to move away from her as he squealed in pain. She relinquished the nail and struggled to free herself from where his body pinned her to the stairs. He shifted and, suddenly, she was free. She tried to slide down the stairs, but fingers tangled in her hair, halting her progress and bringing tears to her eyes as they yanked her upright.

  "Where are you going so fast, little girl?" he taunted. "We aren't done playing just yet." He rose, forcing her to her knees on the steps. "But, first, I need to give you this, and I want you to scream for me. You remember how much I like that, don't you?"

  A swift blow to the ribs caused her to collapse on the steps, her uneven panting sounding abnormally loud in the stillness of the cellar.

  "Don't...you...ever...try...that...again..." He punctuated each word with a vicious kick to her body.

  Erihn clung to the edge of the stairs, her head swirling as she longed to lose consciousness. She tasted blood on her lips as she bit them to prevent herself from crying out. As long as she had strength in her body, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream for mercy.

  He crouched down beside her. "And before I forget," he placed his hand on the small of her back. "This is for trying my patience." With a shove, he sent her tumbling off the side of the steps into the abyss.

  Fayne thought his heart would break when Erihn went limp beneath him. The tigress who'd attacked him on the stairs lay subdued, fine tremors running through her body as she whimpered softly, her face pressed into the carpeting.

  He held his breath as he tried to catch what she was saying.

  "...lightlightlightlightlightlightlightlight..."

  "Erihn, I'm going to get you a candle. Can you hold on for a minute?"

  She didn't answer. He levered himself off her body, poised in case Erihn decided to fly at him again. She didn't stir. Her strange mantra, muffled by the carpet, continued. His keen night vision swept over her still form. She didn't appear to be hurt. Maybe she was a sleepwalker?

  Growing more alarmed by the minute, he scooped her into his arms and the mantra stopped. Straightening, he carried her up the steps and into the master bedroom that she'd just exited.

  "I'm going to set you on the bed, Erihn. Then I'm going to get a candle."

  He settled her in the bed and she immediately rolled to her side, curling into a fetal position. What the devil was wrong with her?

  Glancing around the room, he spied an array of candles on the fireplace hearth. Muttering thanks under his breath, he selected the largest candle and located a book of matches. He lit it before carrying it over to the bed.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as the golden glow roused Erihn from her stupor. She rolled toward the light, her face waxy pale as she stared transfixed at the flickering flame. She reached for it, but he stopped her before she plunged her hand into the flame.

  She continued to stare transfixed at the light until, gradually, she became aware of him. She turned, her dark eyes haunted and empty. "More?" Her voice was whisper thin.

  "You want another candle?"

  She nodded in a jerky, uncoordinated fashion before returning her rapt gaze to the single flame that banished the darkness. Fayne put the candle on the nightstand before retrieving more candles. He lit them and placed them strategically around the room until every corner was lit.

  Turning, he watched her. Erihn sat on the bed, staring at her hands, holding them out as if they were sticky or dirty. She looked at him and he saw the revulsion and confusion in her gaze. He took a step forward and was surprised when she shook her head as if to stop him from approaching her.

  "I have to wash it off," she whispered. Careful to keep her hands away from the white linens, she rolled off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He heard her turn the water on. He picked up a candle and stepped into the doorway to make sure she was okay.

  Erihn stood bent over the sink, soaping her hands frantically. She raised her head as he came in and set the candle on the vanity. He was struck by the despair in her eyes.

  "It won't come off," she whispered.

  Fayne looked down at her wet hands. They looked clean enough to him. "What did you get on them, Erihn?"

  "Don't you see it?" Her expression was desperate, terrified.

  He shook his head, still trying to get a grip on what was going on.

  She dropped her gaze, spied a pumice stone from the vanity, snatched it up and began scrubbing anew. "I tried to fight him... He just kept touching me... And I couldn't... I couldn't... I wouldn't cry... I wouldn't let him... satisfaction... It won't come off..." She fairly sobbed the last words.

  Stunned, Fayne tried to comprehend the horror of what she was telling him. What in the devil had happened to her? Rage pounded in his temples as a feral snarl threatened to explode from his chest. There'd been times in his lengthy life that he'd been angry enough to kill a man, but never had he taken that final, irrevocable step. Never had he been angry enough to unleash his beast on another human. But, in this moment, more than anything else in the world, he wanted to do just that.

  Forcing himself to calm, he moved behind her. Reaching around, he stilled her frantic scrubbing and removed the stone from her fingers. He set it on the vanity.

  "Your hands are clean, Erihn." He spoke quietly, hoping his low tone would break her mania. Her hands stilled as he cupped them, turning them upward into the candlelight so they could see the skin reddened from the abuse of the pumice stone. "See, nothing there."

  A shudder ripped
through her body as a keening wail broke from her lips. Her legs buckled and Fayne was forced to tighten his hold or she'd fall to the floor. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against him and supported her. Sobs wracked her body as he swept her into his arms. Her hands fisted into his sweater as he carried her back into the bedroom.

  He laid her on the bed before stretching out beside her. He snaked his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She curled into him as she cried silent tears. Her legs twined around his as if she were trying to crawl inside him and hide from her demons. He knew very well how futile a pursuit that was.

  "I can't do this anymore," she whispered against the dampened wool. "I can't, I just can't face it anymore."

  Fayne tangled his fingers in her thick mane of hair. "Yes, you can, kitten. What other option is there? Giving up? If you give up, he wins, end of game. Do you want to give someone that much power over you?"

  She shook her head and sniffed, her tears slowing.

  "You have your answer. You'll continue as you have been, you'll keep succeeding and achieving your goals."

  She was silent for a few moments before she spoke again.

  "You're such a nice man," she mumbled.

  Fayne smiled. He'd been called many things in his life but he couldn't remember a simple declaration meaning more to him than hers did. Her gentle admission touched something fragile in him long since buried.

  He glanced down at her dark head nestled against his chest. There was something about this woman, something special, unique. She was delicate, yet strong as steel. She was shy, yet she'd kissed him without a second thought, and she responded to his touch like every man's dream. She was truly an innocent.

  He ran his hand down her back, then up again. She hid her glorious body beneath ill-fitting clothing and long hair, a beguiling mix of woman and child. According to Jennifer, she wrote steamy love novels and had millions of fans, yet she didn't know how to kiss properly. She was such a contradiction, and she intrigued him so.

  Fayne laid his cheek against the crown of her head when he realized she'd fallen asleep. In sleep, she was as trusting as a child, her limbs heavy and limp against his. As the room grew cooler, he continued to hold her, wondering if he hadn't just handed a previously untouched piece of his heart to the woman in his arms.