Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 6

by Temptation(lit)

  Maeve had said that the house had been empty for almost seventy years and the locals believed it haunted. She'd shown Vivian clippings of old newspaper reports of bodies being found in house during the last forty years. Almost all were victims of drugs or gang brutality. The house and spacious grounds were scarred by the violence that had inhabited it for so long.

  But Sinjin was working to change that. He'd concentrated on restoring the inside of the house. Preferring to do the bulk of the work himself, he'd completed most of the south wing, which included the front entrance. Luckily for them it also included the kitchen.

  It was good to have a task in life. What was hers? Before Mel's death, she would have said her task was to raise funds for various charities and play with her friends. Looking back, it wasn't a terribly fulfilling existence.

  Since Mel's death, all she'd done was travel and avoid life. Now, sitting in a courtyard in New Orleans, she was forced face to face with it. It was time to make hard decisions and one of them was to reconcile her past and that included her relationship with Marc.

  Marcus Hendricks III, a blue-blooded name for a second-year medical student with eyes like hot chocolate and a smile that curled her toes. She'd been only nineteen years old and studying social work with a minor in history. They'd been blissfully happy, living together in their tiny rented space as they'd made their way through school, determined to make a difference in the world in their own way.

  Then had come the summons for her to return home and her dream had abruptly ended. Vivian never did find out exactly what had happened to spark her father's command. Had her father found out about his daughter's love affair? Bradford Carrington had been a controlling man who'd wanted to rule his daughter's life as he did his company. With a firm hand and strict discipline. His then-current wife and her children, Vivian's stepbrothers and sisters, had danced to his tune. Only Vivian had stood up to him.

  She hadn't wanted to leave sunny California, her friends, her classes and her lover to return to Boston. In fact, the same day she'd received his tersely worded summons, dictated through his assistant Scott no doubt, she'd called him and refused to return home. He'd immediately threatened to cut her off without a cent.

  And that incident had sparked a defining moment in her life. She'd never been without money. She didn't know who she'd be without her millions and prestigious family name behind her. Even though she'd taken a job and was, for the most part, supporting herself, in the back of her mind she'd always known that she could fall back on her trust fund should she fail. As much as she'd hated the shackles it had imposed on her life, the money was also as much a part of her as were her arms and her legs. But how could she bear to leave the man she loved with every breath in her body?

  Within hours, the decision had been plucked from her fingertips. The evening had been rain-soaked and Marc had been late leaving the hospital. A sharp bend in the road had hidden a three-car accident and he'd died instantly, his car plunging into the sea, his body was never recovered.

  Even now she wondered if she'd have made the right decision should the fates have allowed her that choice. Would she have chosen Marc or would she have stayed with the security of her families money? Now, even twenty-five years later, she wasn't sure which she would've chosen. She'd loved Marc, of that there was no doubt in her mind, but would she have walked away from her legacy and lived on love alone?

  That was the question that haunted her in the dark of night.

  Numb with loss, she'd left college and California to return home to Boston. For a short while, her father had seemed to recognize her need for mourning. He'd kept a respectful distance and made few demands. But after a year he'd begun shoving potential husbands down her throat. All of them well-bred young stallions with names like Richard, Emerson or Gregory and pedigrees that any well-reared Boston socialite would be thrilled to hook.

  At first she'd been angry with her father, rejecting every stud he'd paraded past as if she were a brood mare. Until James Longford, an enterprising young lawyer with kind green eyes. A kind and gentle man who'd seemed to understand her pain and was content to take it slow, never pressing for more than she'd been ready to give.

  Encouraged by his gentleness, she'd begun spending time with him and found she enjoyed his solicitous behavior and wry sense of humor. After a few months, they'd spent most of their waking time together, taking long walks, going to galleries and sailing in calm weather. He'd come from a boisterous New England family, which Vivian took to like a duck to water. Her own family was both physically and emotionally distant, very different from the animated Longfords. Just when she'd thought that maybe she could love James and they could have a future together, that dream had also fractured.

  One afternoon she'd returned early from a friend's baby shower. The house had been quiet and, as she'd made her way to her suite of rooms, she'd overheard her father and James speaking in the library. Wanting to surprise them, she'd tiptoed to the door in time to overhear them discussing the amount of money and a Vice Presidency in the Carrington Empire that James would receive once an engagement ring sat upon Vivian's finger.

  Aghast, Vivian had peered through the door and held her breath as she'd waited for James to toss the insulting bribe back in her father's face. Instead she'd witnessed the exchange of a fat envelope as Bradford had paid James to ask for her hand in marriage. Rage had blurred her vision and she'd scarcely been able to control her anger.

  She'd slipped from the doorway and called her father's service requesting that he be paged to the office, knowing James would remain behind to await her arrival as they'd planned. After her father had left, she'd plastered a smile on her face and joined her treacherous boyfriend in the library. Within minutes she'd had him naked and willing on her father's antique desk, she'd screwed his brains out for the first and only time.

  Afterward she'd climbed off him, cleaned herself with his silk Hermes tie then withdrew the envelope from his jacket and threw the cash at him, telling him that was the last he'd ever get from her and she hoped the fuck was worth what he'd been paid.

  She knew now that, in that moment, the last vestiges of the Vivian Marc had known and loved had died on a desk in Bradford's library. She'd walked out of her father's house and never returned. Upon reaching her majority, she'd inherited various trusts from her grandparents- more money than God, Marc used to say-and she hadn't needed her father's support any longer.

  That was also the moment she'd turned away from the woman she should have become.

  Suddenly weary, Vivian let her head drop to the lounger, her eyes drifted closed. After that it became nothing more than a string of men, one after another, and two failed marriages. For years she'd drifted on a cloud of meaningless relationships, cocooned by her money and emotionally unavailable to everyone around her.

  Until Mel.

  Vivian grinned. They'd met at a New York television station where she'd worked as a cue-card girl. Polar opposites, even now Viv couldn't say what it was that had drawn them together. Mel had grown up in a very blue-collar existence with a big family and dreams of becoming a star in Hollywood and she'd succeeded with a vengeance only to lose everything in an accident.

  What had Vivian succeeded in accomplishing? In college, she and Marc had believed they could save the world. In the end she hadn't been able to save herself let alone him.

  Death was one of the few absolutes in life. So what did she want to accomplish before her death?

  Saving the world might be out of the question, but what about a smaller, more obtainable goal? Something strictly for herself.

  She wanted a relationship with a man who didn't know or care about her money. Someone who would love her and not look down on her for being human and making mistakes now and then, someone like-

  Sinjin.

  She opened her eyes, taking in the dazzling blue of the sky above. Contentment spread through her limbs as the rightness of the situation sank into her bones and every cell of her being.

>   Exactly. That was what she wanted.

  But the problem with being human was that they could die at any minute. She didn't want to end up on her deathbed with her last thoughts being filled only with regrets. It was time to quit wasting the time she had and, rather than running from her life, it was time to embrace it.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  Sinjin exited the confines of his basement lair just seconds after the sun faded from the western sky. As he left the untouched wing of the house, he heard laughter coming from the open windows of the kitchen. Heading in that direction, he cut through the courtyard, his eyes widening as he saw the transformation that had taken place.

  The herb bed nearest the kitchen door showed signs of recent work. The dead plants had been removed and in its place were green plants that appeared to be healthy. Stunted from being covered with brittle, dead vegetation, the small shoots appeared to be strong and sturdy.

  Who would have thought that something would have grown under all that mess? He knew Maeve had a hand in this and she'd probably given them a helping touch with her magic.

  Even though he didn't need to cook, the kitchen was probably his favorite room in the house. It was spacious with a generous food preparation area complete with bar and island. On the other side of the room was a large fireplace with a cozy conversation nook filled with a loveseat and overstuffed chair.

  Through the window, he spied Maeve as she stood at the stove, wiping it down with a dishcloth. Across the room sat Vivian, curled near the fireplace in the loveseat. For the first time since he'd met her, her hair was unbound. Soft dark curls surrounded her face and brushed the shoulders of her dark blue dress. A small bruise marred her chin with several more on her throat. Other than those marks she appeared to be in good health. Legs under her, she laughed at something Maeve was saying, a glass of red wine in her hand.

  "You really will have to meet Quinn. He's such a stitch." Maeve was saying as Sinjin stepped into the room.

  "Someone has to be because ye werena much fun at all," he said.

  Maeve shot him a sour look. "As if you would know."

  "Not for lack of trying." Sinjin pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Maeve had been his houseguest for an extended stay last year and he'd grown to appreciate her wry sense of humor. She'd also succeeded in saving his life. "It's good to see ye, my friend."

  "Good to see you, too." She returned his hug. "I've had a lovely day with your new friend."

  He gave Vivian's wineglass a pointed look. "Should she be drinking?" he asked.

  "She's fine-"

  "I am of age," Vivian drawled. She raised the glass to her lips and took a drink, her gaze daring him to object.

  "That ye are. I was more concerned about your physical health than yer breaking the law."

  "Thanks to Maeve here, I feel fine. I've been pampered like a rich woman's poodle all day long."

  Maeve laughed. "I didn't allow her to lift a finger."

  "So you're the one who dug up my yard?"

  "Guilty." She tossed the dishrag over the faucet. "It was a glorious day, so we wandered outside and Vivian rested while I worked in the mud."

  He gave her a mock-lecherous look. "Sounds arousing."

  Maeve rolled her eyes and grinned at the other woman. "Men are so predictable."

  "But amusing in their own, tedious way," Vivian drawled.

  "You are so right." Maeve picked up her purse. "I'm out of here. I have some errands to run." She crossed the room to give Vivian a hug. "You take care and call me if you need anything. And you," she turned to Sinjin. "You take care of her. I don't want to hear that she's been hit in the head again."

  "I promise."

  He felt a flutter of panic as Maeve left. They were alone and sparks seemed to fly whenever they were alone together. After the events of yesterday, it would be easier for him to keep his hands to himself. He'd come very close to losing her and he never wanted to go through that again, but for her own good, he had to maintain his distance. But how could a woman worm her way into his psyche in such a short period of time?

  He cleared his throat. "So, ye're feeling better?"

  "I am." She gave him a huge smile. "I really like your friend. She was great to spend the whole day with me."

  "Aye, Maeve's one of a kind."

  "Yes, she is." Vivian unfolded her legs and rose from the couch, setting her wineglass on the hearth. "Sinjin, I've always been a straight-forward woman. I've lied to myself in the past but that's over now. I won't shy away from the truth and what I want in life."

  A flutter of unease hit his belly as he caught the determined glint in her eye. What was she up to? "Viv-"

  "No, let me finish." The scent of his shampoo rose from her hair as she stopped in front of him. "You and I don't know each other very well." She shrugged. "That's okay. To some people, my life looked easy. I came and went as I pleased. I loved those I chose and would cast them aside when I tired of them. I lived a superficial existence then, but that's over now.

  "This afternoon I realized, really realized how fragile life was. How I've wasted so much time trying to insulate myself from getting hurt and being rejected, but that isn't what life is about."

  He was caught by the brutal honestly reflected in her eyes. All artifice had been stripped away and in its place was the essence of the woman she really was. The scent of her skin, warm and female, was killing him. Since he'd failed to feed upon rising, his body was sounding an alarm that was part hunger, part lust as she placed her palm on his chest. She licked her lips and a rush of heat filled his groin, bringing him into full alert.

  Sinjin wanted this woman more than he'd ever wanted anything, but to take her would be putting her life in danger. That he couldn't do.

  "Viv-"

  "Shh." She laid her finger over his lips, stemming the tide of words. "You haven't let me finish."

  Against his will, his tongue snaked out to taste her fingertip. The warmth of her skin melted over his tongue like Swiss chocolate, invading his senses, making his head reel. He watched as surprise moved across her features, changing quickly to desire.

  "We never know when our lives will end or irrevocably change in a moment. I only know one thing right now and that's that I want you." She rubbed her palm across his stomach and a shockwave of heat hit him so hard that this knees wobbled. "I think... no, I know that you want me."

  "Aye, woman." The word slithered through clenched teeth as her hand slid upward, curling around the back of his neck.

  "What would happen if we never consummated this feeling? What if I walked out that door and got killed, never knowing what it would be like to be held in your arms?" She leaned against him, pressing her full breasts into his chest.

  He clenched his hands into fists, fighting the need to touch her. "Sounds like a rationalization for flagrant disregard for decorum." He breathed against her hair. The scent of his own shampoo had never aroused him to this extent before.

  She cupped the hard crotch of his jeans. "This doesn't feel like a rationalization to me."

  "Vivian-"

  Her lips were firm and moist against his as her taste exploded in his system. Her tongue teased the seam of his lips and, with a moan, he opened and let her in. Their tongues tangled and, when she gave his a gentle nip then soothed it with a slow suck, he realized he was being kissed by a woman who knew exactly how it should be done.

  With a moan, he slid his arms down her body until he cupped her backside, lifting her to grind against the soft cushion between her thighs. He groaned as if he were wounded when she lifted her leg and rubbed it against his thigh. He could smell her arousal, her heat, and it sent his pulse racing.

  He slid his hands from her buttocks down her thighs. Lifting, he turned and placed her on one of the island stools. He pushed her skirt up as he nudged her thighs apart with his hips. With a quick movement, he pulled her forward and pressed her panty-clad crotch against the straining fly of his jeans.

  Th
eir mouths ate at each other as he rubbed rhythmically against her dampness. His hands locked on her hips and he pulled her upward to meet each thrust as her slim legs wound around his waist, canting her body for a better angle. Her nails dug into his skin as she tore at the buttons of his shirt.

  Vaguely he was aware of the sound of tearing cotton before her nails skimmed his bare chest. She plucked at his nipple, breaking his rhythmic movements. If she kept this up, their encounter was bound to be short-lived.

  Hoping to slow her down, he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back. He trailed hot, opened-mouth kisses down her throat, pausing near the base. Beneath his lips he could feel her pulse, wild and unrestrained just beneath her skin. He just barely managed to resist the urge to taste her by forcing himself to move farther down her body until he nuzzled the creamy valley between her breasts. Her hands brushed his chin as she undid the buttons of her dress, allowing him better access.

  As he nibbled at her flesh, he curled both hands under her dark blue skirt and pulled it up to her waist. By touch alone, he tore at her panties, the soft material gave under his grip, and he tossed it away, feverish to touch her.

  He shuddered as he breached her damp flesh with a finger. He raised his head. "Ye're wet for me."

  Their gazes clashed and she didn't blush or look away. "Yes, I am. Very wet."

  "I want ye to scream for me." He zeroed in on her clitoris, watching her skin flush with pleasure as her hips followed him, making it last. Her gaze grew hazy with each movement.

  A teasing smile curved her lips. "I'll scream for you if you'll return the favor." She cupped her hand over his erection.

  "Later."

  Sinjin dropped to his knees and wedged his body between her thighs. Her inner flesh was dusky and glistening with desire. He slid his hands up the inside of her thighs until they reached her soft nest of dark curls. He was aware of her heated gaze as her restless fingers stroked his hair. He parted her soft flesh, then slid a finger against the most sensitive part of her body. Once. Twice. A breathy half-moan slipped from her mouth as her body mimicked his movements, rocking to and fro with each stroke.