Chapter 12 Dorian
DORIAN
"Encore! Encore!" The crowd's rhythmic clapping filled the square as Ivy finished her second song, her face flushed with genuine pleasure and something that looked like relief.
"Come on, Dorian!" Twyla's voice cut through the applause from somewhere near the café. "Don't leave the poor girl up there alone. Give us a duet!"
Dorian felt every eye in the square turn toward him, including Ivy's amber-green gaze. She looked surprised but not unwelcoming, one eyebrow raised in question.
"What do you say?" he called to her, already moving toward the stage. "Think you can handle some backup vocals?"
"Depends on whether you can keep up," she replied, and the challenge in her voice made his panther purr with interest.
He climbed the stage steps and picked up the spare guitar that had been left for emergencies, testing the tuning quickly. "Any requests from the audience?"
"Something we can sing along to!" someone shouted.
"Mountain music!" called another voice.
Ivy's fingers found the opening chords of an old folk standard, something everyone would know but complex enough to showcase their voices. Dorian recognized it immediately and fell into the complementary guitar part, their instruments blending like they'd been practicing together for years.
When Ivy's voice rose in the first verse, clear and strong in the lantern light, Dorian felt something shift deep in his chest. Her magic wove through the melody, but this time it felt different. More personal. More intimate.
He joined her for the chorus, his voice finding harmonies that seemed to emerge naturally, without conscious thought. The sound they created together was richer than either voice alone, their tones blending together like silver and copper wire.
The crowd began clapping along, some joining in on the familiar chorus, but Dorian barely heard them. His focus had narrowed to the woman beside him, the way her copper hair caught the lantern light, the subtle scent that rose from her skin.
Rain and wild magic and something uniquely her that made his panther go perfectly still with recognition.
Mate.
The word echoed in his mind with the certainty of instinct, but he pushed it away. This was music, attraction, proximity. Nothing more complicated than that.
Even as his body responded to her nearness with an intensity he had never had before..
They finished the song to thunderous applause, and Ivy turned to him with a smile that was pure joy, unguarded.
"Not bad for improvisation," she said.
"We make a good team."
Something flickered in her expression at the word team, but before he could analyze it, Twyla was climbing onto the stage.
"Thank you both for a wonderful evening," she announced to the crowd. "We have more music coming up, but let's give our dueling duo a chance to catch their breath."
As they stepped down from the stage, Twyla appeared at Dorian's elbow with her characteristic knowing smile.
"I've got the rest of the evening's entertainment well in hand," she said, gesturing toward a group of local musicians already setting up for the next set. "You two should enjoy the festival."
The hint was about as subtle as a brick to the head, but Dorian found himself grateful for it. "What do you say? Want to see what else the festival has to offer?"
Ivy glanced toward the inn, then back at the bustling square. "I suppose I could stay for a while."
They wandered through the festival stalls, sampling cider and honey cakes while a fiddle quartet took the stage. Ivy seemed more relaxed than he'd seen her, the success of her performance having loosened something tight in her shoulders.
"You looked surprised when I joined you up there," Dorian said as they paused near a booth selling handmade jewelry.
"I was. Most musicians don't like sharing the spotlight."
"Most musicians aren't worth sharing it with."
She gave him a sideways look. "Smooth talker."
"It's a gift."
"Or a curse, depending on your perspective."
They found a spot near the fountain where they could watch the ongoing performances while maintaining easy conversation. Dorian noticed how Ivy's attention kept drifting to the stage, her fingers moving subtly as if playing along with the music only she could hear.
"Do you always do that?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Play air guitar while listening to other people perform."
She looked down at her hands with mild embarrassment. "Habit. I hear music and automatically start working out harmonies or chord progressions."
"Show me."
"What?"
"The song they're playing now. What harmony are you hearing?"
For a moment he thought she might refuse, but then she began humming softly, her voice weaving a countermelody that transformed the simple folk tune into something more complex and beautiful.
"That's incredible," he said when she finished. "You hear music in layers."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Definitely not. Most people hear melody and maybe rhythm. You hear architecture."
The compliment made her duck her head, but he caught the pleased smile she tried to hide. They listened to two more sets, Ivy occasionally humming along or tapping out rhythms on her knee, completely absorbed in the music around her.
Watching her come alive like this, seeing the joy and passion she'd kept carefully contained, made something twist in Dorian's chest. This was what she'd been hiding behind all that wariness, this deep love of music that went beyond performance into pure appreciation.
When the final act finished and the crowd disbursed, Dorian reluctantly stood from their spot by the fountain.
"I should probably walk you back to the inn," he said. "It's getting late."
"You don't have to. I know the way."
"I know you do. But humor me. The gentleman in me insists."
"The gentleman in you?"
"He makes occasional appearances."
They walked through streets littered with fallen leaves, the festival lanterns creating pools of warm light along their path. Dorian kept to the illuminated areas, making sure Ivy could see him clearly, could track his movements without having to guess his intentions.
"Thank you," she said as they reached the inn's front gate. "For tonight. For the duet. For making it easy to say yes to the twilight slot."
"Thank you for trusting me enough to share the stage."
"It felt..." She paused, seeming to search for the right words. "It felt like making music again instead of just performing it."
The distinction hit him hard for the simple fact that she had to even say that. Someone had taught her to see those as different things, had turned something she loved into something she endured.
"Music should always feel like making," he said. "Anything else is just noise."
She looked at him for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. "Goodnight, Dorian."
"Goodnight, Ivy."
He waited until she'd disappeared inside the inn before allowing himself to acknowledge what his panther had been insisting all evening.
The scent of mate that clung to her skin, the way their voices had blended like they were meant to harmonize, the protective instinct that flared every time she looked uncertain or afraid.
This was dangerous territory. The kind of wanting that changed everything.
But as he walked back through the leaf-strewn streets, Dorian found he didn't care about the danger anymore. Some things were worth the risk.