Chapter 24
Sebastian
She left the door open.
She’d never done that before.
I was at my wits end trying to resist the urge to figure out what was behind that door, and this might have done it, fully ripping away my control and decorum.
That might have been a distracted mistake, especially since she’d seemed dazed and out of it since we’d left the museum. My own heart still hadn’t calmed down.
I felt like a child who was caught sneaking toys they weren’t supposed to have in that gallery. Any longer in Persy’s maddening presence and I would have admitted to her that she was the woman in Sunlight Incarnate.
Of course it was her.
She was the only woman in the world who had hair that bright, who could have possibly commanded a twenty-foot tall painting with just her silhouette.
I would tell her eventually. She could pry it out of me just by smiling at me.
Right now I had bigger issues to confront, because without even realizing it, I started following her to the studio.
That open door had just shattered my self control. Even if this was wrong, even if she would yell at me for this, I had to know. I had to have this piece of her, especially when there were so many I would never get access to.
I looked behind me as I walked the short distance to the studio, as if someone was watching me. The second my foot hit the threshold, I froze in my tracks.
Music was flowing from the back room.
Not just any music. The most beautiful, captivating, intense piano I had ever heard.
I was pulled forward by an invisible force, needing to know who was the source of that sound, whether Persy was simply playing a recording of the song or was pulling the notes from the keys herself.
I moved quietly, if only to preserve the precious moments where Persy didn’t know I’d intruded. She’d walked through my paint studio, which was filled with intentionally covered paintings.
She’d also left the door separating our sides open, which made my sick mind convince itself this was okay even more.
The second I saw her sat on a piano bench in front of a massive, stunning piano, playing music that made my skin feel like it was on fire, I knew that I had severely fucked up.
Because there was no avoiding this anymore.
I was obsessed with her.
I didn’t do things lightly, I never had. It was always all or nothing.
There was no mild interest or passing hobby.
It was pure, distracting obsession or bland, sterile indifference.
And this, this was certainly an obsession. There was no other excuse for the way that she completely commanded my thoughts.
I was in agony.
I was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but watch her as her fingers flew over the keys. She was focused, either failing to realize I was standing there or not paying me any mind, so I stared. I took in as much of her as I could.
The slope of her back, held straight and proud. The curve of her shoulders, the soft skin curving over her bones and muscles, practically begging me to smooth my lips over every inch of it.
And fuck—her hair. If the Fates had any influence on my life, they had chosen her hair specifically to torture me. They took the very core of my power, sunlight itself, and spun it into long, soft strands that hung around her shoulders and down her back just begging to be tangled through my fingers.
I couldn’t see her face, not while her delicate chin was dipped and her eyes were narrowed in focus on the piano, but I had it committed to memory. I didn’t even have to close my eyes to conjure up the perfect bow of her lips or the shape of her cheekbones or the structure of her brow.
And those fucking beautiful gray eyes. Gray should have been my least favorite color—arguably dull and uninteresting. But on her, framed in those dark lashes, it was the most complex, gorgeous color I’d ever seen.
Maybe I’d show her one day, but it took me hours to get that color right, mixing paint over and over again until I felt like it resembled her. I still hadn’t perfected it.
How did one replicate a storm cloud breaking with the relief of bright light?
But for now, I was content to watch her hands move. The song she was playing was chaotic, moving between slow, soft chords and dramatic, heavy moments that I felt right in my chest.
It was extremely difficult, and yet Persy didn’t look strained at all. Her breathing was even, the muscles in her back calm. By the time she reached the crescendo of the piece, and the image of her fingers deftly working the keys were making my stomach tight with desire, I was practically panting.
The second she was done, breathing heavy, I could tell she noticed my presence. She stilled, breathing in deep, while her fingers rested over the piano.
And when Persy folded her hands in her lap and looked over her shoulder at me, I moved before I could think twice. I was lunging for her, but my brain snapped into focus at the last second. The only thing I could do to hide the fact that I was seconds away from tackling her to the ground was head for the piano bench.
“Move over,” I said, my voice coming out gruff. Persy’s eyebrows snapped together in confusion, her chin tilting up towards me. She looked like she was begging me for a kiss, something I was sure she didn’t recognize.
Forcing the urge to grab her face and kiss the living daylights out of her away, I sat down next to her, my thigh pressing heavy into hers.
Fucking fuck, if anyone knew how strong my self-control was, my sins would be repented for ten times over.
“What are you doing?” Persy said, looking up at me with wide eyes.
I couldn’t answer her and admit that I’d intruded, or for her to ask me to leave. I needed to steal these moments for as long as I possibly could. “You were perfect, love.” It was all I could say, lest she figure out how thoroughly she’d wrecked me.
Persy sucked in a breath, her shoulders shaking with the force of it. “What are you doing?” she repeated.
Trying not to lose my fucking mind. “Do you know Odysseus’ Return?”
Persy nodded slowly, her eyes bouncing over every inch of my face.
Odysseus’Return was a duet—a piece meant to represent Odysseus’ long journey back from the War. His part was dark and heavy, capturing the trials and pain that came with crawling your way back to your home over twenty grueling years of sea travel. Penelope, his wife’s, part was more mellow—sadder. It represented her longing and her sorrow as she watched the horizon day and night, waiting for her husband to return to her.
It was beautiful and haunting and painful and normally made me want to fucking destroy something. I couldn’t think of it without thinking of the little sister I’d lost, since she shared a name with Odysseus’ wife.
But now … now all I wanted was to see Persy’s fingers moving over the white and black keys, communicating Penelope’s heartache. A sick, twisted part of me hoped she related to it, that she knew what it was like to long for someone.
It would only be half of what was weighing on my heart.
“You’re supposed to start,” I pressed softly. The first bit was Penelope’s anguished cry for her husband to return to her.
Persy looked dazed for a second, but I knew she heard me. I just waited for her to come to and begin. After a blissful moment where I had an excuse to stare at her, her lashes blinked rapidly and she turned back towards the piano.
Her hands settled over the keys, resting on notes in a higher octave. And at the first press of her finger on the white ivory, I almost passed out.
That was the only reaction when all the blood rushed right out of my head, pumping into my hands and low in my stomach. Or maybe it was trying to crawl out of my skin to get closer to her, my very life source reaching out for her.
Persy moved carefully through the first few seconds of the song, the notes communicating heartbreak and sorrow. I was so focused on the movement of her fingers that I almost missed the cue for my part.
My hands found the right notes at the last minute, instinct and muscle memory powering the movement. The lower notes gave the song body and weight, creating a promise that Odysseus would weather any trial, so long as it brought him closer to home, to his wife.
As we played, moving quickly through the song, our forearms brushed occasionally, kicking the heat up in the room by a degree each time. We barreled through the middle before I could blink, climbing the hill of the climax of the song—the moment Odysseus’ ship breaks through the morning fog and comes into view of his homeland.
My heart was slamming against my ribs, damn near about to beat out of my chest.
The only other sound in the room was our breathing. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Persy’s chest moving quicker, her posture falling from the perfect hold it had in the first song she played, like her breaths were stealing her strength.
Persy’s movements sped up, her part of the music growing chaotic and rushed to capture the relief Penelope felt when she saw the mast of her husband’s ship, to embody the way she ran through the town to the shoreline to wait for Odysseus.
The two parts synced up at the end, just two octaves apart, the melody melding together, capturing the moment Odysseus finally lifts Penelope into his arms—home at last.
And with two more soft notes from Persy’s end of the piano, the song was done.
My ears were ringing, my head dizzy, but I could still hear Persy’s ragged breaths. Her shoulders were sagged forward, her chest heaving with the force of it. Her hands were curled over the ivory, attempting to grab hold of it for support.
Unable to stop myself, I reached over and lifted one of her hands. A violent shiver wracked her body, but she didn’t pull away. I silently thanked every god in existence for this one piece of her they let me have.
I placed her hand between both of my own, framing her fingers and palm. Her skin was as soft as I could have guessed. On instinct, I started tracing each bone in her hand with my thumb, silently cataloging each and every one. I knew the name of every tendon and muscle underneath her skin, but that wasn’t even an ounce of everything I wanted to discover about her.
“Sebastian…” she said, my name more of a breath than anything.
Fuck.
“Please,” I croaked, not above begging her for a moment more to touch her, or a moment for her to pretend like I hadn’t just crossed a line. “Just one more second. This is my favor.” The favor I’d won in Delphi. I’d give it up for a second more of this.
I could see Persy nod her head out of my peripheral vision, nothing more than a nervous little shake. I let my thumbs trace her fingers, finding every little dip and curve until her hand was practically vibrating in mine.
It was only then, when she let out a particularly pained breath, that I turned my head to her.
She was looking at me with wide, wild eyes, her breaths fighting their way past quivering lips. My gaze snagged on the plump, soft skin of them, unable to tear my eyes away.
I forced my eyes back to hers, finding them bouncing around my face … almost in confusion. Like she didn’t fully understand what was happening.
Well, shit, that made two of us.
After a moment, though, her eyes fluttered closed, her eyebrows pulling together in pain. It was that look, just the little pinch of her skin between her brows that made me remember who I was to her.
What this was.
And I had no right to touch her. No right to even think about kissing her or doing anything with the painful urge to run my hands over every inch of her skin.
So, I did the right thing—for once. I pulled away.
I let go of her hand and stood, leaving her heaving and alone on that piano bench, fleeing from her light.
“I left the door open on purpose.” Her voice stopped me in my tracks, my feet cementing themselves to the floor.
Everything in me was screaming at me to go back to her, to finally abandon my promise not to cross this line. The memory of what happened today stopped me.
I was the one with the fucked up family, who’d been seconds away from killing her brother, and had been haunted by her for years. She might be attracted to me, and I was pretty sure she was, but that didn’t change the fact that this could never happen.
Even though my body hated me, I turned to her, finding her cheeks still flushed. “Thank you for showing me this,” I said, my voice painful as it scraped its way out of my throat. “Hearing you play is a greater honor than you know.”
I made myself ignore Persy’s shocked gasp and left, knowing what I had to do next.