Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 3

by Shameless(lit)

  He straightened. "There now, all done." He frowned as he looked at her. "Are you okay? You look flushed."

  She nodded jerkily and couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Yes, I'm fine thanks."

  "This is going to sting." Fayne picked up a bottle of antiseptic and liberally soaked the wounded area.

  The burning sensation brought more tears to her eyes, and he bent over to blow gently on her stinging skin. After a few seconds, the pain faded. Efficiently, he soaked a gauze pad in the liquid and secured it over the wound. Taking more pads and gauze bandages, he covered, then wrapped, her hand, securing it with tape.

  "There you go."

  Erihn was impressed with Fayne's efficiency in the first aid process. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

  "When you have kids, you learn fast," he chuckled, then looked at her, his expression appalled. "I'm sorry, I didn't think."

  She forced a smile. "I've had seventeen years to get used to the idea, Fayne. You don't have to apologize."

  He reached for her, cupping her cheek with his hand. His palm felt hot against her skin. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

  Erihn slid off the seat and moved away, her chest tight. "I was the lucky one. I lived."

  "There were others?" His tone was incredulous.

  "Yes, six others. He killed them all." She turned away. She didn't know why she was talking about her nightmare. She didn't like to think about it, let alone speak of it. There were times when it seemed so long ago, as if it had happened to someone else. It was almost like a dream she had once that lingered in the back of her mind. But there were times it was real, very real-like in the middle of the night when she woke to the sound of her own strangled screams.

  "What happened?"

  Erihn turned and walked into the dining room, fixing her gaze out the dining room window. The darkness reflected her image. She wrapped her arms about her waist and embraced her nightmare.

  "There are times I fear I'll never be warm again." She shook her head. "I don't know where to begin."

  In the window, she watched as Fayne entered the dining room. He carried a bottle of scotch and two small glasses. "Start wherever you need to."

  She gingerly flexed her fingers, noting her hand was beginning to throb. She didn't want to tell this story. It was one she'd lived through in her mind a thousand times and she avoided the darkness that lingered there still.

  "I grew up in a small town in Nebraska and all I ever wanted was to leave. I guess that isn't so unusual. Many kids think their hometowns are the most boring places in the universe. In reality, mine wasn't so bad."

  The tinkle of liquid had her turning her head in time to see him pouring Scotch into the glasses. She smiled when she saw the plastic cup with cartoon figures on the outside.

  He handed her the cup, his eyes twinkling. "It's Max's, but I don't think he'd mind. I didn't feel up to doctoring you again."

  She accepted the glass and tipped it in his direction as if to toast him. "Don't worry, I think all is under control now." She took a small sip of the liquid and winced as it burned down her throat.

  "Go on."

  Erihn turned to the window. It was easier to speak if she wasn't looking at him.

  "Like I said, I don't know that there's much to tell. I left home when I was barely sixteen, and I never looked back. My parents were very strict and, the moment I could, I rebelled against them. I stayed out all night and I ran with the wild kids." She laughed and shook her head at her own misspent follies. "And do you want to know what the worst part is? I never did anything bad. I was too afraid." She took another drink.

  "I left home the summer of my sixteenth birthday. I went to New York and lucked out big time. I could have ended up like so many runaways at the time, jobless and on the streets selling myself for food. Instead, I landed a job at Saks, selling perfume and, within weeks, I was doing runway modeling for another large chain of stores. They did fashion shows four times a year, and I'd traipse up and down the runway, wearing clothing no average mortal would wear in a lifetime. I picked up some other gigs and made my way okay. Then came my moment of glory."

  Erihn swirled the liquor in her glass. "Serena Del Toro was looking for a model to represent her line of clothing. Serena was a scrapper and she couldn't afford a name, so she set out to find a striking unknown she could mold into her image of the Del Toro woman. She found me.

  "In the months following my...accident, I'd wondered what would have happened to me if we'd never met. Where would I be and what would I be doing? Not that it really matters, I guess. What's done is done. Jennifer says it isn't what happens that can kill you, it's the 'what ifs'."

  She shrugged, then downed the contents of the glass. A little Dutch courage never hurt anyone. "I'd taken a assignment to do the fall clothing catalog and the shoot was set up in Central Park. It was a normal shoot, took about three days, I guess. I was walking back to the clothing trailer when a man came up to me. He told me Miguel, Serena's husband, had sent a car for me and they wanted to talk with me right away. I thought they wanted to speak to me about a spring shoot in the South of France. So I ran into the trailer, changed as fast as I could. I was so excited. This would've been my first trip abroad. I came out and the man was there, waiting for me, and we left."

  She turned, her hand trembled as she reached for the bottle. "I knew something wasn't right. The Del Toro's lived in Tribeca in a loft apartment. When I questioned him, he said they were going to meet me at a friend's house just north of the city. A few minutes later, I questioned him again and that's when I knew something was up. He told me if I did him a little favor, he wouldn't hurt me, and, afterward, he'd let me go."

  Erihn's voice broke and she fought for control. She wouldn't allow herself to break. Crying wasn't an option. "I was so frightened and I began to fight. I tried to grab the steering wheel and yank it out of his hands, and he hit me in the face." She raised her hand and brushed her fingertips over her jaw.

  "I don't remember much of what happened after that. My shrink thinks I have stress-induced amnesia and I don't want to remember." She shrugged. "I don't know of anyone who would want to remember any of it. All I remember are fragments, odd bits and pieces that don't make sense. I have... flashbacks, for lack of a better term." She took another sip.

  "That's what happened to you on the steps?"

  His voice startled her. She hadn't forgotten he was there, but he'd been silent for so long, she'd been lulled into a false sense of security.

  She nodded, her throat tightening. "It doesn't happen often, and I try to mitigate the risk of it reoccurring. I can't sleep in the dark. I won't go into any cellars and I can't stand being underground." She shuddered. "As long as I'm really dead when they bury me, they shouldn't have any trouble." Her attempt at humor fell flat.

  "He kept you in a cellar?"

  "Yes. A cellar dug under an old barn. It was dank, wet and very secluded. It was the perfect place for murder, as no one would ever find me. The police told me I'd been missing for three days, but I couldn't remember. I had no way of marking the passage of time." She fell silent, remembering the long hours of darkness, alternating between fear and anger. Praying Chapman would never return to hurt her and hoping he wouldn't leave her to die in the darkness alone.

  "What did he do?"

  "You name it, he did it." Her voice was flat and she congratulated herself on keeping her emotions under wraps. She took another drink of the numbing liquid. "Over and over and over again." Her voice trailed off.

  "How did the police find you?"

  Erihn sighed. "An anonymous tip. They showed up on the third day and questioned him. Everything checked out, but the detective in charge had a sneaking suspicion all wasn't well. He watched the house for several hours and saw Chapman packing his car to leave. The shovels and garbage bags are what gave him away." She shuddered, not wanting to think about what he might've had in mind for her.

  "He came back to the cellar with the police hot o
n his tail. They didn't realize I wasn't in the barn, but under it. They surrounded the place and called to Chapman, but, by then, he was in the cellar with me." Erihn closed her eyes as the images inundated her. The yellow light and the scent of the kerosene lantern, Chapman yanking her to her feet, his blade slashing her vulnerable skin. The sound of her screams bouncing off the walls, the ear-splitting roar of the gun and the splatter on the wall.

  They were images she'd take to her grave.

  Erihn jumped as warm hands touched her shoulders, the cup tumbling from her numb fingers. The scent of Fayne surrounded her as he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her into the warmth of his body. She shivered.

  "He left me for dead."

  "But you're alive," he whispered into her ear.

  "I'll never understand." Tears came, thick and furious, and she tried to blink them away, but it was too late. Silently, they raced down her cheeks. "How can someone do that to someone? He'd never met me, he didn't know any of those women, and he destroyed their lives and their families." Her knees buckled as she began sobbing in earnest.

  He wrapped his arms around her and turned her toward his abandoned chair. He sat down, pulled her into his lap and cuddled her to his chest. Erihn shivered, clinging to him as if she could climb under his skin.

  "You may never understand why it happened." His voice was deep as it rumbled against her ear.

  She went limp against him and closed her eyes. She was so tired and felt so old and she couldn't bear the thought of having to move. She shivered. "I'm cold," she blurted.

  "Do you want me to get you a blanket?"

  Erihn shook her head. She knew one thing that could warm her again. She opened her eyes and raised her head to look into those unforgettable violet eyes. As long as she lived, she would never forget the only man to hold her in his arms. "Make love with me."

  Astonishment crossed Fayne's face and her heart stopped.

  Stupid, stupid girl! What were you thinking? You sit there and tell him what some monster did to you, thinking could he want you after that?

  She stiffened and averted her eyes. She gave into the urge to retreat and started to pull away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm a mess and I've just cried all over you and you're shirt's damp and..." She was babbling. Mortification heated her cheeks.

  His arms tightened around her, cutting off her words. He raised his hand, one strong finger stroked the line of her jaw, and she quivered beneath his touch. Cautiously, she met his gaze, finding only acceptance there.

  With reverence, he traced her lower lip, then moved to follow the line of her nose and stroke her brow. He migrated slowly over each inch of her face, tracing the scar from beginning to end, as if he were memorizing her every feature, every blemish. There was an almost worshipful expression on his face.

  "My lady warrior," his voice was rough with emotion. "It would be an honor to make love with you."

  Her heart gave a leap as he brushed his lips over hers. She held her breath as he repeated the gesture, this time lingering a split second longer. He touched her as if she were a fragile china doll, something to be treasured. She closed her eyes as tears gathered, threatening to spill over.

  He enticed her to open for him, his tongue teasing the seam of her mouth. She parted her lips, her tongue brushed the tip of his and a shiver ran down her spine as the taste of aged scotch and Fayne dazzled her palate. Erihn moaned as his taste triggered an answering ache between her thighs.

  She leaned into him, running her hands over the wide expanse of his chest. The plain white T-shirt clung to his muscular frame and showcased his amazing pectorals. She wanted it off now. Her tongue dueled with his as her hands went south. She pressed her breasts against his warmth as his big hands cupped her buttocks and gently squeezed.

  Her fingers located the buttons on his fly and she managed to get one undone before his hand reached up and cupped her breast. His thumb brushed the pearled tip before returning for a slow sensual caress.

  Erihn nipped at his lower lip as she abandoned his buttons to cup his expanding erection. Beneath her questing fingers, he grew. Erihn broke the kiss and pulled back to watch the process with great fascination. Under her ministrations, his jeans grew tighter as he lengthened and thickened.

  "Fascinating," she whispered.

  "Glad you're impressed." He sounded amused. "How long do you intend to keep that up?"

  "How long can you keep it up?" Erihn laughed.

  "As long as it takes," he purred.

  Erihn blushed and averted her gaze. "I want to take your shirt off." She closed her eyes as she felt him pulse beneath her. She could feel his heartbeat through her palm.

  "That isn't my shirt."

  She opened her eyes and met his heated gaze. "I got distracted." She drew her hand away. "Take off your shirt."

  His eyes twinkled. "Take off your panties."

  She licked her lips and his gaze flicked to her tongue. A shiver went through her as she got to her feet, giving a little shimmy in his lap, eliciting a stifled moan from him. She smiled, "You first."

  Erihn stepped away as Fayne rose to his feet. He towered over her as he undid his jeans, his gaze never leaving her face. She held her breath as he gripped the bottom of the shirt and drew it up, revealing taut golden skin and rippling muscles and his wicked thorn tattoo. With a flick, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly onto the table.

  She reached for him, her fingertips brushing his stomach before he captured her wrist. Startled, she met his gaze.

  He smiled. "Not until you keep your end of the bargain." He pressed a kiss to her palm, then released her.

  Erihn cocked a brow at him. He wanted her panties off, did he? She drew her black cardigan off, revealing a slim spaghetti strap dress in dark amber. She fisted the soft material on each thigh and slowly raised the hem, revealing her legs.

  His gaze was rapt as he watched her reveal each inch. His breathing deepened and she could scarcely contain herself as he licked his lips. She halted mid-thigh and snaked a hand beneath her skirt and tugged her panties down without revealing herself to him. She laughed as they dropped to the floor, and she released the material of her skirt.

  "You're a cheater," he accused.

  "You never said how I had to take them off," she pointed out.

  "Humph, we'll see about that."

  Before Erihn could move to safety, Fayne dropped to his knees before her and captured the backs of her thighs. She shrieked as his mouth covered her through the thin cotton. She put her hands on his head to retain her balance as heat flowed through her limbs. She shuddered as her moisture dampened the cotton along with his mouth.

  "Fayne," she hissed, her knees wobbling.

  He stopped. Releasing her thighs, he grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up as he arose. She reached for his fly, her hand curling around him as his lips came down on hers. She opened beneath him, taking him deep inside her mouth. She suckled his tongue as she stroked him, heat racing through her blood as he clasped her hips and he thrust gently against her palm.

  His arms slid around her waist and he led her back to the dining room chair. She released him reluctantly and he sat down and pulled her spread-eagled into his lap. Erihn sighed as he stretched and filled her. Her eyes closed as sensation pooled between her thighs. He rocked against her as she cried out his name.

  "Oh my..." she breathed. She licked her lips. "If I had this..." She braced her feet on the floor and lifted herself, making him moan. "I'd never leave the house."

  Fayne's hand skimmed her shoulders and brushed the straps of her dress down to bare her breasts. "And, if I had these, I'd never leave the couch."

  Her breath left her in a rush as his lips brushed her nipple before opening and taking her inside. She twined her fingers in his hair as she began moving against him in earnest. Need spiraled higher and higher until reality was only a pinpoint of light on the horizon of her mind. Strong hands stroked her, guiding her hips as she tr
embled against him, her release so near and yet so far.

  "Fayne," she panted. "Please."

  "Shhh." He kissed her throat. "I'll take care of you."

  She clung to his shoulders as he slipped a hand low between their bodies. Unerringly, he found her little nub of pleasure and, within seconds, she took her release. Sparks flashed behind her eyelids as rapture sang through her veins. Against her, Fayne stiffened as she stroked him into his own orgasm.

  Afterward, she sagged against his chest, luxuriating in the feeling of his arms around her. Nothing had ever felt so right.

  Edward smiled as his servant, Miles, ushered Ivan Daniels into the room.

  His secluded condominium at the Christiania resort assured him maximum privacy and ultimate comfort as he carried out his conference with Mr. Daniels. His gaze flicked over the diminutive man, assessing his neat blue suit and freshly scrubbed appearance. He was of little value to Edward personally, but he had the power to deliver what Edward needed with a minimum of fuss. He had every intention of using him to the fullest.

  "Mr. Edwards, my name is Ivan Daniels, and I understand you have a proposition for me?" Ivan held his hand out as if to shake with him.

  Edward ignored the overture. He preferred not to touch mortals unless they provided his dinner. He glanced at Miles and nodded to indicate it was okay to leave them alone.

  Edward didn't miss Ivan's worried glance at the door as it closed. When Ivan looked back, Edward indicated he should sit in one of the two armchairs arranged before the fireplace.

  After Ivan seated himself, Edward took the remaining chair for himself. He picked up a large white tablet of paper and a fountain pen, then wrote in large block letters, I know why you're here.

  Ivan frowned as Edward held up the tablet for him to read. He shook his head. "You must be mistaken."

  Edward noted the sweat on Ivan's pasty skin. He wrote, The Spencer woman. I can lead you right to her.

  Ivan's eyes widened as he read the words, and he licked his lips nervously. "How did you find out?" he whispered.