Part 25 (1/2)

”She's on tour.”

”On tour... ” he mused.

”She's not my lover,” I finally confessed. ”It's a six-month sublet.”

Relieved, he took in the tiny apartment. ”You should have a decent flat. I'll set up an account for your upkeep.”

”I don't want Brovik's money.”

Male ego took over. ”It's my my money.” money.”

”No one puts a leash on me.” puts a leash on me.”

”Ethan left you penniless.”

”My suitors pay well.”

He winced. ”There's no need to- prost.i.tute yourself.” Frowning, he tilted his head slightly to the side. ”It's wrong, that they use you so. You're not a bird of prey, Mee-ya, Mee-ya, but a woman in a very strange set of circ.u.mstances.” but a woman in a very strange set of circ.u.mstances.”

He lightly brushed my cheek with his fingers. Tenderness was a lash and he laid it on hard, not out of cruelty, but it had the same effect. I pulled away.

”Don't.”

His expression fell with his hand, distraught and sincere. ”Forgive me. I want only to help.”

”No barter between friends, Kurt.”

His eyes, if possible, became wider. I treated myself to a good long look. Zing! Zing!

A shadow of a smile escaped him. ”Friends then?”

”Sure could use one.”

I tentatively stepped toward him. He turned away, examining the piano in the corner. Opening it, he ran his left hand over the keys. His face relaxed subtly, as he struck a chord. ”You play?”

”No, it came with the apartment.”

He tried another chord. ”I could teach you. You are musical. Philip says you have a lovely singing voice.”

”I'd be far too intimidated. You played great concert halls.”

”A world ago... ” he muttered, turning his attention back to the keys, tinkling, fooling. He longed to play but was too modest to show off.

”I'd love to hear you play.”

His face curved into a bittersweet smile. ”Sometime perhaps... ”

”It would mean so much to me.”

He looked up, a kaleidoscope of emotion playing in his eyes. ”Truly?”

”Truly.”

”In that case it will be my pleasure.” He sat down, touching the keys lightly, getting a better feel for the instrument. I s.h.i.+vered, imagining those beautiful hands on me. Suddenly, Kurt was transported into another realm, where the pain and bloodshed of our world was left far behind, a place of infinite peace and beauty. Caught as I was in this nightmare, I marveled at how simply this act of sitting down at an instrument could take him so far out of himself. Or did it lead him back to his true self? Wherever it was, I longed to go with him.

”What would you like? Perhaps... ” He c.o.c.ked his head slightly to the side. ”Chopin?” ”Chopin?” He blissfully launched into a nocturne. ”Yes, Chopin, I think.” He blissfully launched into a nocturne. ”Yes, Chopin, I think.”

I closed my eyes. The nocturne washed over me, beyond gorgeous, liquid notes dancing in my veins like blood. I collapsed onto the futon and lay back with my eyes closed. It went on and on through every part of me. I sucked it inside, but it was too powerful and lovely. Only an angel could distill the essence of heaven and I was too far from a state of grace to receive it. I tried to hold on and wrestle it, but it eluded my grasp leaving me breathless. Was the victim's blood that tainted with drugs? I opened my eyes again to see if I were hallucinating, but there he was as lovely as the dawn. ”Amazing.”

He shrugged. ”The instrument is only fair, for you I would do better.”

I rose to my feet, shaking. Surprisingly, I was able to place one foot in front of the other and cross the room to the piano. If I couldn't hold the music, I could could hold the musician. Despite the ethereal appearance, hold the musician. Despite the ethereal appearance, he he was flesh and blood. I laid my hand on his arm. It was warm. I leaned my head against his and reached out to his face. His eyes closed as I caressed his eyelids and cheekbones, tracing the graceful line of his nose and lips down his throat, drinking him through my fingers. was flesh and blood. I laid my hand on his arm. It was warm. I leaned my head against his and reached out to his face. His eyes closed as I caressed his eyelids and cheekbones, tracing the graceful line of his nose and lips down his throat, drinking him through my fingers.

”You're beautiful, Kurt,” I whispered, like a prayer.

”So they tell me,” he muttered.

My lips touched the artery on his throat, pulsing warm against my mouth as the engine of his heart pumped the blood through his body. His breath came harder as my mouth explored.

He stopped playing. ”You want this?”

”I've wanted you from the first night I saw you.”

He took my face in his hands. ”I'm not like Ethan, or the others. I swear. I'll never hurt you, Mia.”

”Don't make promises you can't keep.”

Our mouths found each other, long, deep, his slight frame blending perfectly into mine. Ethan once accused me of falling for a memory of my first love, and yes he did feel like the boy I loved as a girl. I slipped off his s.h.i.+rt and caressed him, sweet, smooth and slender, skin creamy rose petals touched with pink.”

Joe coughed, uncomfortably. ”Mia. I really don't need to hear this.”

”Jesus, what a prude. I will tell you this, I've been with hundreds of men and he's by far the best lover. It was amazing to be made love to by someone who also depended on this skill for his survival. For once I wasn't taken. I was gifted gifted.

Afterward, he fell into a peaceful slumber, bittersweet smile on his lips. I just sat there looking at him for hours, Psyche gazing on her Eros. I'd never seen anything so lovely.

Notes on the piano, not in rhythm, no particular order. My eyes opened on Kurt, s.h.i.+rt thrown over his arm as if had been in the act of dressing, but had been distracted by the piano, idly tapping at the keys, slender muscles fluttering under smooth skin, eyes darting over the keys, lush lower lip bitten in concentration. Oh my Oh my.

I sat up, the sheet falling in loose folds around my body. ”h.e.l.lo.”

”h.e.l.lo,” he answered, not looking up as his fingers picked out an unfamiliar bit of music.

”What's that?”

”My own composition.”

”Beautiful.”