Chapter 15
Elowen
Hunter parks in front of the house. I know it’s not where the car is supposed to be parked, but given his impatience, it’s the right place for tonight.
He gets out. I don’t wait for him and open my door on my own. He still comes around and offers me his hand as I step out.
With my hand wrapped in his big one, he leads me to the front door and enters the code on the lockbox. The door opens, and automatic lights illuminate the space. My heart is beating at the speed of someone running for their life.
The warm ambient light, the silence, the door closing behind us and leaving us alone—everything ignites the nerves on my skin.
I’m suddenly sensitive even to the air touching me.
His scent of spicy citrus has grown stronger, or maybe I’m just breathing him in too deeply.
I can feel the sweat on my palm, still held in his.
You’re here to play piano, Wen, for God’s sake.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” He slowly lets go of my hand. It twitches, wanting to reach back for him.
The question throws me into a rush of memories, the time Salvario took me to his apartment, the first time we kissed, the first time we had sex.
“Water,” I answer. I need it to moisten my dry throat.
He walks toward the kitchen; I follow him there. He fills a glass with water and hands it to me. I drain it and place the glass on the counter along with my coat and bag.
“Where’s the piano?” I ask, looking around. Thankfully, my voice doesn’t reveal how rattled I am.
“In there,” he points to a closed door.
I walk toward it and open it. A dim, warm light fills the room as soon as I enter. It’s a small library with a black piano set to one side, its bench facing the door. All the furniture in the room is light brown except the piano. It’s a cozy, beautiful space.
I walk to the piano and settle on the bench. I look up at Hunter, who’s standing at the door, leaning against the frame with crossed arms. His jacket is gone; the black T-shirt highlights his defined shoulder muscles and biceps.
“Why don’t you come and play with me?” I get the words out through a throat that’s already dry again. I think my body is using all the water inside it to make me sweat.
He comes closer slowly. “I can only play after getting drunk.”
“Then let’s get drunk,” I quip. But the idea isn’t bad. I would very much like to get drunk.
A small smile softens the hard lines of his expression. He stops at the side of the piano, still at a distance from me. I slide aside, making space for him.
“That would be a bad idea.” His voice comes out huskier, or maybe I’m just hearing it that way, with my pulse pounding in my ears.
I don’t know if he means sitting near me is a bad idea or drinking would be a bad idea, because apparently, they both are.
He slowly comes closer and sits beside me. As his right side meets my left, the memory of the rose garden crashes into the present, stealing a few beats from my heart and several breaths from my lungs, leaving me breathless in seconds.
The breathlessness could also be because of the thick air, it’s as if he’s sucked all the oxygen out of the room, leaving only a thin share for me, and even that is saturated with a spicy citrus scent.
My fingers tremble as I press a few random keys. I want to tell him I’m going to start playing the song we played back in Greenland, but my tongue has become too thick to move. Small currents skitter through me, sparked by him sitting this close.
I start playing the music. Once the music begins flowing smoothly, I turn my head to look at him. He’s already watching me.
“Play with me,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage, and I’m thankful for even that.
He places his fingers on the keys, and I yield the primo position to him. He plays a few notes awkwardly at first, but soon finds his rhythm.
We play exactly the same. It’s like we’ve teleported back to that moment two years ago.
As we reach the final chorus, I sing along with the music. It’s hard to sing tonight; my throat is tight and tears burn my eyes, but I still do.
“I don’t need the sky to bend for me,
Or fate rewriting destiny.
I just need your arms around my fears,
Your whisper drying all my tears.
If I have your love to hold,
I need nothing else at all.”
The song ends. The music stops. My ragged breaths fill the silence. I don’t turn to look at him until I hear him murmur, “I need nothing else at all.”
The tears my eyes have been holding since the beginning spill down my cheeks. I don’t see what expression he wears or what his eyes are saying, I just close my eyes and press my lips to his.
Hunter
I don’t remember ever learning to play this piece, nor do I remember playing it with her, but now, as my hands move with hers, it all feels like it has happened before.
It feels like it’s not the first time I’ve sat this close to her, breathing her in, feeling so drawn to her that my soul wants to leave my body and fuse with hers.
I don’t know how I’m playing, and I don’t know why the words leave my throat when the music stops. “I need nothing else at all.”
It’s true, though. I don’t need anything but her.
Her glassy eyes meet mine, and the tears they were holding slide down her cheeks. I don’t get to admire her beautiful face any longer because she leans in and presses her lips to mine.
An image flashes behind my eyes for a split second. This exact scene, but in another place. A place with roses. I don’t pay it any attention because all of it is drawn to one thing: she’s kissing me.
It’s not really a kiss; she’s just pressing her lips to mine, but it hits my bloodstream like a ruinous relapse of a drug I’ve been craving for what feels like eternity.
It sets my blood on fire. I’m so drowned in the high that I don’t even respond until she pulls away, but I’d burn in this fire she’s started if I let her go.
I grip the back of her head when her mouth is barely an inch away and crash my mouth to hers, this time in a real kiss.
My other hand moves around her waist to pull her closer.
Even with her flush against me, it’s not enough.
I need more. So I pull her onto my lap, crushing her against my chest while my mouth devours her sweet lips and tongue.
A low groan vibrates in my chest as she reciprocates, kissing me back just as fiercely, biting my lips, sucking my tongue, and I do the same.
The taste of blood fills my mouth. I don’t know if she drew it from me or I drew it from her.
It’s still not enough to make me stop. I only let her go when she pushes at my chest, but I don’t pull back completely.
Her rapid breaths fan across my mouth, our foreheads pressed together.
I’ve known her for less than a month, but it feels like I’ve been waiting for this moment—for her—for ages. The longing she’s filling now feels old enough to have become part of my existence in all the time she wasn’t in my arms. Now it feels perfect. Now I know why I’m alive.
“Salvario,” she breathes, then buries her face in my neck, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Her tears soak my T-shirt. “You’re Salvario,” she says between sobs.
I’m not. I push back the sting her words create and hug her tightly. It’s just a matter of time, soon she’ll forget about him. I just have to bear it until then.
She pulls back and holds my face in her shaking, cold hands. Her tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes lock with mine. Even through tears, she’s smiling, the happiest I’ve ever seen her.
“Never leave me again.” More tears spill from her eyes.
I wipe the tears from her face. “I’ll never leave you.” I can promise her that. “Stop crying.”
She nods, smiling, but the tears still don’t stop. She lets out a wet chuckle. “I’m just too happy.”
Once the tears subside, she grabs my hand and asks, “Do you know about it?”
“That I’m Salvario?”
She nods.
“No. But it makes sense.”
She nods again, watching me with eyes so full of love and pain.
Guilt flares in the center of my chest—the same place that’s no longer empty.
I know this love isn’t for me, but my heart and soul don’t understand that.
My darkness doesn’t understand it either.
It’s feeding on her light, relishing the fact that even though it’s because of a lie, she’s now mine.
She cups my jaw in her small hand, her thumb brushing over my stubble as she smiles. “Salvario.” She whispers the name like a prayer. My jaw tightens, though I try to stay unaffected.
“Don’t call me that,” I keep my voice steady.
“Why?”
“I don’t remember being Salvario. When you call me that, it feels like you’re talking to someone else.”
She thinks for a moment, then nods. “I’ll call you Hunter until you get your memories back.”
I thread my fingers into the silky waves framing her face and push them back, pulling her closer with my fingertips pressed into her scalp.
This time I kiss her slowly, savoring the sweetness of her mouth, memorizing how her lips move against mine and how her tongue trembles when it meets my own. I pull her closer, and her ass presses more firmly against my hard cock. My hand moves from her waist to her ass, squeezing the soft flesh.
Her phone rings from the kitchen, breaking us apart. She rises from my lap, my aching dick twitches visibly, even through my jeans, the moment her weight lifts.
“Oh, shit, I forgot about my flight.”
I get up and follow her out of the room.
“Flight to where?”
She takes her coat and bag from the kitchen, then turns to me. “I’m going to San Diego for a week.”
I frown. “Why?”
“My cousin Avira is giving birth.”
The frown doesn't leave. “So?” It doesn’t sound like a good enough reason for me to be away from her.
She chuckles, coming closer to me. “I need to be there when she gives birth to support her. Also, I can’t wait to see my nephew.”
She takes my hand. “Will you take care of Bruno and Rosie?”
I nod.
She wraps her arms around my torso, resting her head on my chest. I fold my arms around her, pulling her tight.
“Take care of yourself as well.”
I hum, drawing in her rosy scent like smoke, holding it in my lungs until it stains me from within.