I have my ways. I'll hand her into your care if-and only if-you do something for me.
Ivan frowned, then nodded cautiously. "Go on."
She has in her possession a book, a diary. I want it back.
Ivan looked relieved. "Just a book?"
Not just any book, I want the diary.
"How do I get it away from her?"
I don't care how you get it, just bring me the book. He kicked a small leather satchel in Ivan's direction. Your reward once you've delivered it.
Ivan bent and unzipped the satchel. His eyes went wide at the amount of money neatly stacked inside. "Oh my...."
There's something else.
"I don't have to hurt her, do I?" Ivan whispered.
She is staying with a man who kidnapped my son. I want to know where my son is.
Ivan's eyes grew wide. "Do you think Erihn had anything to do with this?"
Possibly. I have no doubt she knows where my child is hidden.
Ivan nodded. "I can believe Ms. Spencer is involved in something as unsavory as a kidnapping. She's a poor moral influence on her readers."
Edward smiled inwardly as the man launched into a long-winded recitation of Erihn's supposed crimes. Mortals. What malleable fools they were. Soon he'd have both the diary and Max in his possession. Mikhail would be quite pleased with his work and, surely, he'd deserve a boon from his old friend.
A very special boon.
Once he took care of Fayne, everything would be back on track and his world would be as it should. Even now, he could feel Max coming closer to Colorado and Edward could almost taste victory.
* * *
Chapter 9
Fayne caught himself humming as he walked into the basement guestroom, intent on finding clean clothes. He looked into the closet and saw only a few empty hangers dangling there. He glanced at his overflowing clothesbasket. It looked like he'd have to do laundry, not to mention wash the sheets he'd dirtied yesterday.
He retrieved clean linens from the closet and efficiently stripped and remade the bed. He caught sight of Erihn's book on the nightstand as he tossed the pillows at the head of the bed. A wicked grin curved his lips as he abandoned his domestic duties. Walking to the nightstand, he picked up the paperback and flopped onto the unmade bed. Maybe it was time to see what Erihn did with her time. After all, if they were going to continue this relationship after he dealt with Edward, then maybe he needed to know exactly how she made her living. He grinned. Maybe he could help her with research.
His cock stirred to life at the thought of Erihn, warm and soft in the bed two floors above him.
"Down, boy," he muttered. He looked at the cover of the book. Black with gold embossed print. He grinned when he read the title. "Velvet Lover. I like it all ready."
He flipped the book over and read the back cover copy.
Sharon Walls has received an unexpected gift.
When her best friend conducts a bachelor auction for a local charity, it never occurred to her to buy a man for the evening. It was barbaric! When Bettina presents her with a man of her very own for her thirty-fifth birthday, Sharon finds that, instead of being an average everyday kind of guy, she discovers a man with mysterious power over animals and a strange magnetic pull of her senses.
Brand Slayton is no ordinary man.
He is a breed of being known among the preternatural underground as a were-cat. A mysterious...
Fayne stopped, his jaw dropped. Were-cat? He scanned the text again. She had written a romance novel about his line?
He flipped the book over and stared hard at the cover. What were the ramifications of this? It was possible she'd dreamed up the entire were-cat concept. It wouldn't be completely unheard of, as werewolves were common in preternatural myth. It was also entirely possible that other breeds of animals such as himself could exist, not that he'd ever heard of any other than werewolves. His lip curled. What an unruly bunch they were.
He stared at the paperback in his hands and resisted the urge to hurl it against the wall. How could she have done this? Where did she get the information? Forcing himself to remain calm, he opened to the first page and began to read.
Fayne's stomach rolled as he exited the basement several hours later, her book clenched in one hand. Erihn had been gone for over an hour. He was alone, and he was on a mission.
Her briefcase sat by the coffee table where she'd left it. Ignoring the voices in his head that were telling him he was being unreasonable, he dumped the contents on the floor. Dropping to his knees, he began to sift through the items. He glanced at the book titles before tossing them aside, opting to concentrate on the notebook and the handwritten notes.
Opening the notebook, he scanned the contents, most of which were vague story ideas. He skipped through the pages until he came to the character notes.
...were-cat around 30...very animal, almost wild...amazing sexual powers, the ability to sustain multiple orgasms...turns into a cat at night to build upon his powers...ability to see well at night...rides a motorcycle and wears a leather jacket...has a son whom he has "adopted"...
Fayne snarled.
No one would use his son as fodder for a book.
No one.
He glanced around, looking for the wooden box and the mysterious book she'd kept inside. It wasn't here. He frowned. Maybe she'd taken it with her? Why would she take the book with her unless she feared he'd find it? Right now, she had no reason to think he'd caught on to her game.
She was in for a rude awakening.
He shoved the books back into the case and picked up the notebook. He was a fool. Rage erupted from his chest in the form of a wild snarl as he rose to his feet and stalked out onto the deck. The brilliant sunshine poured down on his head and he tasted his own anguish, bitter on his tongue.
He threw back his head, betrayal hot and thick in his mouth. His hands fisted, papers crunching as he screamed, "ERIHN...."
Erihn stared in the mirror, mesmerized by the woman she saw.
Gone was the dowdy, oversized clothing and thick heavy hair she'd hid behind for so many years. This woman was stylish in an above-the-knee brown suede skirt, cream silk blouse and a gold blazer. She'd cut her hair to three inches below her shoulders. The front was layered to give it a fuller look and to hide some of her scar.
She didn't even look like the same woman.
Erihn glanced down at the pile of her old clothing, then back at the woman in the mirror. She'd abandoned her protective armor and emerged a completely different person. She didn't feel the same at all, inside or out.
"Here it is!" Carole, the owner of the boutique, walked into the spacious dressing room with a long gold chain in one hand and a box under her arm. "This belt will be perfect, and here are the shoes I was telling you about."
Erihn grinned self-consciously. As a model, she'd had to wear some very scanty clothing. But that was years ago when her thighs were in better shape. She hadn't worn a skirt this short in a very long time.
"I don't know about this..." she began.
Carole handed over the belt. "It's perfect. You have great legs. Flaunt them, honey." She gave a conspiratorial wink. "I know I would if I were you."
Erihn slipped the chain link belt around her waist and clipped it on. The end dangled several inches above the hem. Carole pulled the heels from the box and handed them to her. She stepped into the shoes, placing her hand on the wall for balance.
"It's been a while." She looked at her legs in the mirror. The heels did make them look impossibly long and shapely. If men only knew what women went through to look good. She grinned and admired her sleek limbs. While heels weren't exactly comfortable, they certainly were sexy.
"Perfect," Carole announced.
Erihn smiled. "Box everything except what I'm wearing."
"Great." Carole stooped to pick up the discarded clothing. "What should I do with these?"
Erihn glanced at the drab bundle in her hands. "Burn them."
Carole lau
ghed and hustled off to do her bidding.
Wouldn't Fayne be surprised when he saw her? Maybe she could entice him back to bed for the rest of the afternoon. Erihn unbuttoned another button on the shirt, showing a hint of generous curves and a shadow of the delicate lace on her new ivory bra. That might do it. Knowing Fayne's voracious appetite, it wouldn't take much.
In short order, her purchases were packed and the stock boy hauled them out to her car parked in back of the store. Erihn stepped into the sunshine, relieved of several hundred dollars in traveler's checks and much lighter of heart. She slipped her sunglasses on and walked toward the corner, her step brisk. Behind her, she heard a loud whistle and Erihn glanced over her shoulder to see two young men dressed in hiking clothes, eyeing her wolfishly.
An impish urge made her raise her hand and wiggle her fingers at them. Still looking over her shoulder, she reached turned the corner and slammed into someone, rocking back on her heels.
"I'm so sorry," Erihn gave a squeak as icy hands grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the building.
She froze when she saw the towering albino who held her captive. He resembled a skeleton; thin to the point of emaciation and his skin was icy cold. She felt the chill through the lightweight woolen blazer.
A yelp escaped her as he raised his hand and drew a glacial finger down her scarred face, a smile of satisfaction curving his mouth. A whimper escaped her as his finger caressed her throat and headed toward her exposed cleavage. A cry locked in her throat as a shout drew the man's attention.
The two men who'd whistled at her earlier were walking across the street toward them, frowns on their faces. She held her breath as the albino released her, stepping back ever so slightly. His expression regretful, he gave her a meager bow as if to say he was sorry they were about to be interrupted.
Erihn avoided the mocking eyes as she whirled away. Sobs broke from her lips as she lunged for freedom. The parking lot seemed so far away. Her heels skidded on the gravel and, with a shriek, she went down on her hands and knees. Pain shot from her injured hand up her arm as she hit the ground. Ignoring it, she stumbled to her feet and ran for the car. She heard a shout and turned, fearfully.
The two men stood on the corner looking confused and the albino was nowhere to be seen. She glanced around the crowded gravel lot to ensure he hadn't followed her. It was empty except for her. She ran to the car, opened the door and slid behind the wheel.
After a few tries with trembling hands, she rammed the key home and started the car. Her hand ached; she glanced at her palm. Blood was seeping through the bandages. She'd torn her hand open again.
Erihn put the car in gear and moved out of her parking space. Her heart raced, her breath coming in gasps as she pulled onto the street. The streetlight was red and she stopped to allow a crowd of tourists to pass. Bowing her head, she bit her lip and shuddered. Who was that horrible man and what did he want?
She looked up as the crowd dispersed, then shock made the blood run from her face. The albino stood in the crosswalk directly in front of her car. A whimper broke from her throat as her hands fisted on the wheel. The albino smiled as if he were enjoying her fear.
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 as 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 burning rubber.
Fayne walked to the door as he heard the crunch of gravel in the drive. Erihn was back. His stomach knotted as 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."
He'd 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," Fayne's 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 as 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 everyday and several houses had been destroyed, swept right off the soggy mountainsides.
She turned away from the forbidding clouds, escaping into the bathroom. She eased her jacket off and, with a regretful sigh
, stuffed it into the trashcan. 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 that 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 trashcan. 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.
Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 3 Page 14
