Read The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes Online
Authors: Shelley Madden
The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes
The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes
By
Shelley Madden
Copyright 2012 by Shelley Madden
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any manner
without express written consent from the author.
Any characters in this book are strictly a figment of the
author’s imagination, and any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely
coincidental.
Cover art and photography courtesy of Gene Domingo
Copyright 2012
Cover Model Andrea Roberts of Dallas Models
Ebook Formatting by
www.ebooklaunch.com
To my fashionable mother, whom inspired me to write
during my darkest days, and to my father whom without, I’d be lost.
It is said Neptune, The King of the Sea, gave Aquamarine as
his gift to the mermaids, and from then on, it has brought love to all who have
owned it. Aquamarine was believed to keep sailors safe and guard them against
storms. Aquamarine is also a healing stone…
The warmth of the sun traced its feathered rays across her face.
Her thoughts gradually came into focus as she woke. She
opened her eyes and blinked, gazing at the unfamiliar surroundings within the
room. She followed the sunlight toward the curtained window and watched the
rays gently filter through.
She carefully studied the room. Strange objects lined the
walls in front of her bed. They seemed vaguely familiar, yet her memory could
not recall their names. A large black box hung in the corner by seemingly
invisible brackets, its blank glossy screen stared at her in silence. She
studied it a moment hoping to remember, but finally gave up in frustration.
She swept her gaze to the opposite side of the bed. A man
sat in an armchair nearby, he appeared to be in a deep slumber. Rays of sun
played across him, turning his hair a fiery chestnut. Odd designs wove around
his upper arm. Colors and patterns whirled into one, perhaps telling stories of
his past. On his opposite arm, a red car bursting through flames was carefully
imprinted.
A memory stirred within her as she gazed at him. A memory of
the sun, and the seas and the sands. She could smell the salty sea wind again.
Her eyes momentarily fluttered closed. She could see the island. White beaches
and blue lagoons sheltered by billowing palms. The ebb and flow of the tides.
The tendrils of sea grass and tiny crabs it left behind.
She was running from him, this man beside her, on the island
she lived on and loved for years. She didn’t know how many years, for she had
no way to track time. But it was him, she had no doubt. He’d come to take her
away, along with the only other person who lived on the island. Her friend,
Dreams.
She frowned, as she struggled to beckon forth the fuzzy
images in her mind. She could see a shadowy grey building, she could hear the
laughter of children drifting down the gloomy halls. She squeezed her eyes shut
and remembered the orphanage. How much she had hated it there. The daily
feeling of despair, loneliness and isolation.
She’d made a plan one day. She and her friend snuck away on
a foggy night, and made their way to the shoreline. When the time was right,
they quietly crept into a waiting luxury liner and stowed away.
Laughing and giggling in the days that followed, the pair
went virtually unnoticed. They bravely made their way amongst the passengers,
helping themselves to whatever amnesties befell them.
But the days of bliss on the high seas quickly came to an
end. A rouge wave appeared without warning, and nearly capsized the ship. Salty
water had poured across the sun-bleached deck, sending the wealthy passengers
scurrying away.
Rescue tugs were called. The whitened captain, with his glittering
gold buttons and silvery stripes, ordered the passengers into their waiting
cabins. He’d explained to the frightened vacationers the liner would be towed
back to shore. The girls gazed in horror at each other.
They would never go back to the orphanage. Out of
desperation, they tossed several pieces of luggage into the churning waves and
leapt from the crippled ship. They clung to the bobbing suitcases with
relentless determination throughout the night. Where they were headed, they
didn’t know. Nor, did they care.
A day later, exhausted, dehydrated and badly sunburned, the
current finally carried them to a tiny island. The tiny island became their
home. Two unwanted and unloved teenagers had found bliss.
Until the man with hair the color of the island baboons
arrived. The same day the great storm struck.
She opened her eyes, finally able to remember the last day
on the island. The winds had blown a palm tree over. It toppled upon her, and
had crushed her legs. She remembered screaming. She remembered the terrible
pain. It held her tightly pinned against the whitened sands, as the rains beat
down upon her.
He’d done this, the man with the strange pictures on his
arms. He was the reason she’d hidden behind the tree. She gazed down the length
of the bed and hesitatingly lifted the sheet which covered her legs.
She stared at them in horror, and screamed.
“What the hell?” Harmon Steele leapt from the chair, but he’d
awaken too quickly, his body was moving before his feet could catch up. He
stumbled forward, landed against the side of the bed and hit his head squarely
on the metal frame. He moaned in pain.
The girl screamed again.
He pulled himself up, but the moment his face met hers she
bellowed once more and rolled toward the far side of the bed.
His emerald eyes blazed in horror at the brazen girl. Her
arms dangled from the side, reaching for the floor as she tried to pull her
injured legs behind her. He leapt to the far side of the bed, grabbed her arms
and lifted her back onto the bed.
She scowled at him and screamed even louder. The sound
reverberated throughout the room, which sent him stumbling backward in
surprise. She watched with unhidden glee as his leg caught the small table
behind him. His arms propelled madly in the air, reminding her of the small
planes which had often flown above the island.
But his situation was hopeless. He toppled over and crashed
onto the table. Its legs slowly splayed out and quivered, until at last they
exploded across the floor. Splinters of wood flew from beneath as he hit bottom
with a resounding bang.
She glared at him for a moment. Unable to help herself, she
burst into laughter.
“What in Sam hill is going on in here?” Bice demanded, as he
burst into the room.
She gazed at the man in the doorway. This man she’d not seen
before. He was tall and lean, his arms rippled with bronzed muscles. His dark
wavy hair barely skirted his shoulders. Golden brown eyes stared in disbelief
at the mess in the room.
She didn’t care. She opened her mouth wide and howled, until
both men could only stare at her aghast and simultaneously clutch their ears.
Bice rushed to her bedside. In a moment of desperation and
at a lack for realizing the consequences, he clasped his hand across her mouth.
She twisted from under his grasp, and with the swiftness of
a snake bit him.
He squealed and yanked his hand away, staring in shock at
the blistering red teeth marks across his palm. He shook his hand madly, waving
it about wildly through the air until all but the most excruciating of the pain
finally ebbed. “Do that again, I’ll bite you back.”
Harmon sat on the floor amongst the broken pieces of table
and laughed. He shook his head, carefully picking splinters from his pants. “I
warned you Bice, she’s a tiger.” He stood up and brushed the remnants of wood
from his backside.
“Can you talk?” Bice gazed at her, struggling to smile
despite the wrenching pain in his digits.
She was the picture of beauty. Porcelain perfect skin with
the face of a doll. A face models would kill to have or to buy. Flowing locks of
golden hair hung to her shoulders. Her arms were strong and tanned from the
island sun. Plus, she had a damned nice set of teeth. But her aquamarine eyes
burned fire at him.
She glared at him, screwed her face into impossible
contortions until she resembled a side-show carnival mirror, and screamed
again. She didn’t know why she was here, how she got here, nor why the baboon
with strange pictures on his arms dare bring her to this place.
Whatever their reasons she could care less. She’d been
forgotten too many years, which she learned to prefer. She was better off
alone. For the most part that is, except for her friend Dreams.
“I don’ know.” Harmon carefully approached the opposite side
of her bed once again. “She was on the island five years. Do you think she
forgot how to talk?”
“Let’s try this.” Bice leaned over the scowling girl.
“I’m Bice Wayne, and this is Harmon Steele. I’m his
assistant, and friend. He’s a musician, and I manage his band and line up his
shows. You are in his mansion near Los Angeles, overlooking the sea.”
The men watched as a wave of recognition swept across her
face. She blinked and gazed out the window.
She could see the ocean glittering in the distance. She’d
been surrounded by the sea for many years. The rolling blue waters had brought
her to the island. In this place, she could smell faint traces of the salty sea
in the air around her. The azure waters had kept her safe, and brought her
peace.
But long ago, before the orphanage, the same ocean brought
her unforgiving despair. It’d taken her family. Now, those same blue waters had
brought the evil fire-haired man, who’d taken her away from the only peace she’d
ever known.
She gazed at Harmon, standing so casually at her bedside
seemingly swollen with pride for bringing her to this miserable place. He
almost looked happy. It came to her with sudden clarity. The monster was going
to take her back to the orphanage she’d snuck away from.
In an instant, she lurched at him. Her upper body flew from
the bed as she struck with sinewy precision, having mastered the fine art of
climbing the island trees many a dark moon.
Harmon staggered backward in surprise, but she clung to him
with one hand and pounded his head with the other. Her broken legs were once
again dangling from the bed, as he attempted to back away. She didn’t care.
Bice leapt across the room and pulled the maddened teenager
away from his wealthy employer. He pulled her back onto the bed, and pressed
her shoulders to the mattress.
Gasping for breath, he fought the sinewy girl until she
finally tired and lay still.
“She’s angry, Harmon.” Bice muttered. “She’s obviously
blaming you for her injury. Not to mention, taking her from the island.”
“She’ll have to get over it.” Harmon replied. “I won’t have
her attacking me again. Get her calmed down.”
“Have you lost your mind? I’m your manager for God’s sake,
not a damned babysitter.”
Harmon gazed at the girl. Sweat was beginning to march its
silvery beads across her chest as more droplets materialized across her brow.
Her cheeks were flushed pink with anger. He could almost hear the
tick-tick
of her internal time bomb waiting to explode once again.
He couldn’t have her hitting his face. His face was loved by
thousands of his fans overseas, even though he hadn’t sold many records
stateside in years. “You live here, you can at least help me teach her to act
like a respectable human.”
Bice eyed the teenager. “How old is she now, twelve?”
“Bite your tongue.” Harmon glared at him, his eyes thinning
to slits. “She was ten when I found her on my beachfront, which was seven years
ago.”
Harmon moved toward the window and drew the curtain back. He
gazed beyond the stained glass pane to the sea below. Waves churned in the
distance. A wave of despair washed across him, prickling him to his very bones.