Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Cavera lan Aiyah was a lovely little music shop nestled between two small parks close to the Rachay and the river market.
It was built in the old style with ornate metalwork bordering the windows and large glass door, the metal gilded as it would have been centuries ago.
I came to Cavera almost every week on my day off as a little treat to myself.
“Serang lan nauth, Mademoiselle Valois,” Monsieur Belovuk greeted me as soon as I stepped through the door and the small bell above chimed.
I opened my mouth to greet him, but my words faltered as music filtered through the store. The male gave me a knowing smile, ruffling his thick mustache. “Do not worry, my dear, I am sure he will not stay long. He only wished to test out the new model my alpha installed last week.”
My nod was small but I returned his smile.
Monsieur Belovuk was a Lycan within one of the wealthiest packs in Oylen.
He appeared to be in his late forties, but he’d admitted on a slow night that he was nearing two hundred.
His alpha, Monsieur Richard Belovuk, rarely hovered on the shop floor, but I knew he and other members of the pack, including their daughter, visited throughout the day and evening to ensure he was safe.
I slipped through the bustling shop toward the back where the instruments sat.
At first, Monsieur Belovuk had been a bit cross with my patronage, as I’d lingered for longer than necessary and never purchased a thing.
But the third time I’d visited, I’d given in to my desire to play the gorgeous pianoforte for sale.
It’d drawn a bit of a crowd and he’d seen an increase in sales that evening.
After, we’d struck up an acquaintanceship.
The original pianoforte had been sold to a vampire gentleman only a fortnight prior and I’d been devastated to find out it was gone.
Monsieur Belovuk had gone so far as to send me a note a few days ago saying a new one had come in and my fingers itched to play.
But when I made it into the quiet room where the pianofortes sat, I stumbled to a stop.
Lord Azad sat on the dark wood bench, his velvet half cloak draped artfully across his back, head tilted toward the keys.
He rocked in time with the hauntingly lovely music pouring from the instrument.
I could not help but watch, a tendril of heat unfurling through my chest and snaking through my bones at his expert playing, even as embarrassment burned my cheeks.
There was no way I could play now, not on the heels of this immortal. And what if he was to hear?
“I will not bite, little bird,” he murmured, voice just audible above the melody.
My shoulders stiffened while I tangled my fingers together. Yet I could not look away as his hands skated across the keys. Wide, capable hands that could create such heartbreaking beauty. At his words, however, a small part of me wanted to laugh.
Lord Azad slid a little farther down the bench, an obvious invitation if I wanted it, though he did not look up from the keys.
I could bid him a good evening and slip into the crowd—another week was not so long to wait to play.
But my feet moved of their own volition and I found myself tucking my skirts around me as I sat.
His long thigh pressed against mine, the faded silk of my gray dress a contrast to his black trousers.
“I did not know you played,” I said.
He tilted his head in my direction. “Why would you?”
A smile twisted my lips. “Lord Montag has been singing your praises for weeks.”
“Ah,” he answered, the melody darkening. “Well, I am not surprised Lord Montag does not know. It is not befitting of a vampire of my station, and thus most tend to say I have an appreciation of the arts, rather than admit I play.”
A vampire of his station. Lord Azad was one of the oldest of his kind and it was no secret immortals of a certain age prided themselves on their lack of humanity.
Playing an instrument would be to shine a light on just how different he was.
But the fact he would be forced to hide this part of himself made my throat ache.
“It is their loss,” I breathed. His shoulder brushed mine, the sleeve of his fine jacket slipping across my folded hands as he reached across me. I shivered despite myself. His scent was heady, a mix of earth and spice I could not place. “You play beautifully.”
“Thank you, Mademoiselle.”
“Better than I ever could,” I continued thoughtlessly.
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest and the warmth in my belly grew hotter. “I have had thousands of years to practice.”
“The pianoforte is only a century or so old.”
Lord Azad’s eyes slid to mine and he winked playfully before he returned to the keys, the song fading out into a melancholy ending. “I suppose you’re right.”
His hair was tied back as males usually wore it and I found I missed his wild waves. The sharp planes of his cheekbones were flushed and I wondered if he had fed himself from synthetic stores or if he’d patronized a giver tonight. The heat in my belly turned cold and I fought the lump in my throat.
“Will you play me something?” he asked as his hands slipped from the keys and he twisted his shoulders in my direction.
Beneath the full weight of his stare, I found it easier to trace the dark wood edge of the instrument. “I am sure you are busy, Lord Azad. I would not want to keep you.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught his brows furrowing. “There is nowhere else I would rather be.”
The honesty of the statement baffled me and the tightness in my throat increased tenfold.
My throat clicked with a swallow while I nodded, stiffly placing my sweating palms on the keys.
I chose a simple piece, one I’d learned as a young girl of twelve, though my music tutor had said those in their thirties struggled to play this particular arrangement.
Now, twenty years later, the music came to me as easy as breathing. It was a story of longing, one written for the composer’s late wife. Once it had been a piece I played when I wished for freedom from my family, now I was afraid it was a longing for something else entirely.
But with Lord Azad’s attention on me, my finger slipped to the wrong note and a blush seared across my face. “I’m sorry.”
His shoulder touched mine again. “Whatever for?”
“You make me nervous,” I admitted.
A lock of hair slipped from his ribbon as he nodded. “Then should it not be me who apologizes?”
I rolled my lips together, the melody smoother now. “Perhaps it would be better for us to do away with them altogether, my lord. I seem to recall our last conversation was riddled with them.”
He laughed and the sound reminded me of slipping into a warm bath. I never wanted this moment to end, especially when his knee nudged mine. “Perhaps that would be best.”
We sat in companionable silence for a time. Though I’d studied his hands as he had played, his citrine gaze bounced from my fingers to my wrists, to my face and everywhere in between. A buzz slid across my skin, the kind of tingle I felt when I drank a little too much wine.
His words were no more than a breath and I wondered if he’d meant for me to hear them. “You are extraordinary.”
I wanted to scoff and demur, but I could not find it in me.
Instead, I allowed the music to find its end and drew my fingers from the keys and onto my lap, peeking at him from beneath my lashes.
His attention fixed on my face and there was so much emotion I struggled to understand.
Blood tears stood in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over, before he wiped a hand across them and laughed. “You have a gift, Mademoiselle.”
“Hardly,” I managed, ducking my head and slipping from the bench.
He followed, flicking back his half cloak to free his arms. I curtsied, the goodbye on my lips, but he gently grabbed my hand and tugged me upright.
“Will you come to my estate at the full moon?” Pleading roughened his smooth tone.
I blinked. “I believe Lord Montag has already arranged I attend with him, according to Madame Searah.”
The gold in his eyes flashed. “Is that what you want?”
My hand warmed his cool skin, engulfed within his palm, and I tried again to quantify his expression. There was a tightness in his mouth that had not been there a moment ago. “It does not matter what I want.”
“It does,” he said, voice a harsh whisper. “It matters greatly what you want, Mademoiselle Valois.”
A stone lodged itself in my throat. Never in all my life had what I wanted mattered. Truly I did not know the meaning of the words. “In another life perhaps.”
Lord Azad crouched until we were eye level, his free hand rising between us before fisting and falling away. “And in that life, what is it you would want?”
To accept your offer of a private session, I thought. To join you at your estate as your guest and dance in your arms. To know you as I know no other.
I did not say the words, but his eyes danced across my face and his hand tentatively lifted again.
Cool fingertips caressed my jaw and, against my better judgment, I leaned into the touch, just as I had that night on his terrace.
His thumb brushed my bottom lip, drawing it down ever so slightly.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, pulse quickening in my belly, and my core throbbed in time with it.
“Tomorrow and the next,” he breathed in Kysoi, drew away and pulled my knuckles to his mouth. The kiss lingered against my skin, eyes burning as he gazed into mine.
“Tomorrow and the next,” I answered, finishing the intimate goodbye that felt righter than any other.
We lingered for a moment longer in our silent bubble before the bell on the door chimed. Lord Azad released my hand, bowing low, and vanished into the night.
I ignored the spark in my eyes and the trembling of my hands as, savoring his scent on my clothes, I slid onto the bench and began the song all over again.