“Toven, I need you,” a seductive feminine voice dragged me from slumber.
My eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to the low, gray light coming through the windows, indicating sunrise was still a ways off. I glanced around the room, seeking the source of the voice. My ears reached across the hall to catch the deep breaths coming from Celesta’s sleeping form. I shook my head to clear the confusion.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed while I slumbered. Sleep had been unusually slow to come. And when it did finally claim me, it was a fitful rest. The sheets were twisted around me, and my skin was clammy. I untangled myself and walked to my bathroom. A glance in the mirror revealed how little sleep I’d actually gotten. Dark circles marked the skin beneath my eyes. I desperately needed a shot of warm blood to perk me up.
I quietly strode out of my room, pausing by Celesta’s door, listening to make sure everything was OK in there. She mumbled something in her sleep, but I didn’t focus to hear what it was. I left her slumbering and went downstairs where I raided the warmer for a bottle of blood. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it would have to do.
Then I went into the music room, leaving the door cracked. With quick strides, I walked around my piano and sat down on the cushioned bench. Many nights when sleep eluded me, I came down here and lost myself in the music that floated in my mind. Some of my best pieces were written when the world slept, save for the monsters.
Before my fingers began seeking the song, I used the remote to turn on the video recorder. I took a deep gulp from the bottle in my hand before setting it on the shelf of the piano. My hands settled on the ivory keys and began coaxing a melody from the depths of the ancient instrument.
Instantly, I recognized the song as the one that started writing itself the day before. I didn’t understand it, but I decided not to fight it. I let the song go where it wanted.
With each note drawn from the taut piano wires, my heart lifted. I played and played—sometimes soft with wistfulness and other times pounding with passion. The song seemed to stretch over the full keyboard, deep bass and lilting treble. The tempo varied of its own accord. I played until sweat glistened on my skin and my muscles ached from the workout. When the notes finally ceased, I bowed over the keys, and let my fingers linger like a caress.
Movement in the doorway caught my attention. Leaning against the doorframe was Celesta, clad in a fluffy, white robe. It hung down over her wrists, allowing only the tips of her fingers to peek out. The soft white fabric draped her body from her shoulders to nearly her ankles. The only flesh visible from the neck down besides her fingers and feet, was a thin wedge of her upper torso created by the overlapping of the lapels. The fingers of one hand toyed with her collar. Somehow seeing her with her body fully covered and little hint of what was hidden beneath the terry cloth was even sexier than imagining her in that thin shred of transparent black that was on the end of the bed earlier. It was nearly more erotic than seeing her bared from the waist up.
“What are you doing up? You only slept for a couple of hours,” I grumbled.
“Nightmare,” her voice was small.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No. Why are you up?”
I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, either.”
She strolled into the room and came around the piano. She gasped, and her eyes went wide as she took me in. I forgot I hadn’t bothered to don any clothes when I left my room. Living by myself meant I didn’t usually have to bother with pesky things like clothes in the middle of the night. I wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed by my nudity, but it was causing her heart to pound a staccato beat.
“Sorry, let me go grab some pants. I’ll be back in less than sixty seconds.”
I dashed to the laundry room and grabbed a pair of cotton sleep pants from the counter. They hung low on my hips but should cover enough to ease her embarrassment. Then I went back to the music room.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you’d be back in sixty seconds.” Her eyes were wide with astonishment.
“Less than. Anyway, sorry about the whole naked thing. I’m not used to having to get dressed in the middle of the night. No one is usually here at this time besides me.” I ran my hand across the back of my neck.
She shrugged. “It’s your house. No need to apologize.”
I sat back at the piano. My fingers moved absentmindedly over the keys, randomly picking notes here and there.
“What were you playing earlier?”
“I don’t know yet. It’s new. I started working on it yesterday.”
“It was beautiful. So full of feeling. It sounded like a seasoned piece, not a new song.” She brushed her fingers over the smooth wood of the piano top. Her mind was working, but she said nothing to reveal what her thoughts were. I wanted her opinion on my new piece, but at the same time, I was afraid to hear it. So, I didn’t ask.
Having her so near was awakening the beast. He’d been soothed earlier in the shower, but her heat and scent were rousing him from slumber. I needed to put him back to bed. I was already going to be less than stellar today with the lack of rest. If I didn’t insert some peace at the start of my day with music, then people would pay throughout the day. My mood would be atrocious. I needed to get back to my solitude and seek solace before the sun demanded I officially start my day.
“You should go back to bed.”
She swallowed hard and trembled. “I’m afraid,” she whispered.
My hands stilled on the keys. Was she afraid of me?
God, please don’t let her be afraid of me. Why was she fearful?
“What frightens you?”
“My dream.”
I pulled her down next to me on the bench. “What was your dream?” I asked softly.
“It was about my dad. I can’t remember everything, but it was so real. I was home from college. He didn’t know I was in my room. There was shouting, a crash, then a voice I didn’t know shouted threats. When I came out of my room, my dad was alone. His lip was bloody, and his knuckles were cracked. I asked him what was going on. He told me not to worry, it was just a work disagreement. A week later he k-killed himself-f,” she sobbed.
I cradled her against my chest and crooned soft words in her ear. I was totally out of my element. In all my years, I’d had no practice consoling a crying woman. Instead, I just followed my instincts. My fingers ran through her silky strands. I tried not to think of her warm breath feathering across my bare chest. After a few long moments, her cries subsided.
“Sorry.” She sniffled.
“Consider shoulder-to-cry-on as part of our arrangement.”
She smiled up at me, and my heart hitched.
“Now, you need to rest.” I stood and pulled her to her feet. I led her over to the plush couch along the wall.
“Lie down.” Gently, I pressed her to the light-colored cushions and tucked a blanket around her. “Now rest.”
“Will you play me something, please?” The look of pure vulnerability in her eyes was doing something to me.
“Only if you close your eyes.”
She dutifully shut her eyes. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking back to the most used seat in my house. When I looked over at her, I started to play. I let the music wash over me as I played something meant to soothe and comfort a hurting heart, making it up as I went along. Funny, I’d never cared about such sentiments before.
Before being turned, I was a normal man, having not yet felt the pull of love, only seeking to find satisfaction wherever I could. Once I was turned, there was no need for such fruitless feelings. The trappings of love and emotion had no meaning to my kind. Part of the change entailed becoming more animal-like, more instinctual, more primitive. Feelings served no purpose in survival, so we weren’t distracted by them. We were very selfish creatures. But something about Celesta suppressed my selfishness and made me want something different—something more.
I closed my eyes and allowed the music to carry me hom
e, wherever that may be. It felt as if home was moving now. I played until the sky began to take on a pink glow. When I glanced over at her, I found her sleeping deeply. My fingers stilled, and I stood. With quiet steps, I moved to the couch. If I wanted her to get more rest, I needed to return her to her bed before the staff started arriving to work around the house. Carefully, I untucked the blanket and scooped her up in my arms. She let out a moan then burrowed against my chest. I carried her up the stairs and into her room. Her arms snaked around my neck in her sleep.
♪ Home by Phillip Phillips
Keeping one arm under her, I pulled back her covers and placed her warm body in the center of the bed. She mumbled as I shifted her out of my arms. “Shh. It’s OK, my shining star. Sleep now.”
I tried to untangle myself from her arms, but as I tried, she tightened her grip and whimpered. That sound was my undoing. I climbed into her bed next to her, pulling the blankets over us. She sighed contentedly and snuggled into my embrace. I sighed at how good it felt having her next to me like this. I looked over at the open door and using my mind, clicked it softly closed.
She pressed her face to my chest, nestling one of her hands next to her cheek and over my heart. She draped one leg over mine and drifted into a deeper sleep. As impossible as it seemed, I was able to push aside my raging libido, ignore the massive hard-on and find a restful sleep myself.
10
Celesta
Mmm. I was so comfy. I was in a warm, soft bed pressed up against a hard, muscular body. When I inhaled, my nostrils filled with a pleasant, spicy musk. A breath fluttered against my cheek.
Wow, this had to be the most vivid dream I ever had. It was a vast improvement over the dream that had sent me seeking refuge downstairs with Toven.
Toven . . ..
Oh, my goodness. Maybe I wasn’t dreaming.
Crap. Was I dreaming or was this reality?
I commanded my toes to wiggle. They responded.
Did that mean I was awake, or could I control my body in my dreams? I needed to pinch myself. My fingers moved stealthily across miles of fluffy terry cloth seeking bare skin.
What the heck was I sleeping in that had my skin all covered up?
Wait . . ..
This was definitely not a dream. If I was dreaming, I’d dream myself into something sexy to wear in bed next to a muscular body.
So, if this wasn’t a dream, then how did I end up in bed next to hard muscles?
After my nightmare, I followed the music like a path winding through the woods. The notes mesmerized me—loud and soft, happy and sad, fast and slow. The song’s journey was filled with beautiful contradictions. The path ended at a beautiful destination. Him.
I remembered going to him and finding him totally naked behind the piano. The first time I’d ever seen a naked man, and I didn’t even take notes. I should’ve taken the time to memorize every inch of detail.
I recalled drifting off on the couch under the soothing sounds of Toven’s song. So, how did we end up in bed together? Had he hypnotized me so we could have sex? Not that I minded, except for the fact that apparently, hypnosis left me with no memory of what was certain to have been something worth remembering . . . and reliving.
“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled against the skin of my neck.
“Morning. How’d you know I was awake?” I murmured.
“Your heart rate changed when you woke up.”
“Oh . . .. Did we . . . um . . . well, you know?” I cleared my throat.
“Do you really think if we’d spent the wee hours of the morning in the throes of passion that you’d be wrapped in a robe and I’d be wearing pants?”
I giggled. “I guess not.”
“Besides, I assure you if we had . . . you know, then you wouldn’t have to ask. You’d certainly remember and be begging for more,” he mumbled against my skin.
A band of muscle tightened around my fluttering midsection. I looked down to find Toven’s arm securing me to him. He rubbed his nose against the skin of my neck and inhaled deeply. His nuzzling of my sensitive neck made my insides quiver with need. I snuggled my body back into him, eliciting a low growl from him. A new hardness pressed against me. My eyes widened as I processed what it was and how delicious it would’ve felt without any intervening fabric layers.
“There goes your heart rate again. Should I ask what your thoughts are this morning? I bet they’d be worth quite a lot,” he said seductively.
“Please don’t. Saying them out loud would be so embarrassing. Then I’d have to get up and awkwardly start my day. And I don’t want to be awkward around you. I already am naturally awkward. I don’t want to make it worse.” Damn rambling.
“Celesta, shh, I won’t make you tell me your thoughts . . . for now. I don’t want either of us to move right this minute. So if voicing your thoughts means you have to get out of this bed, then for goodness sakes, be quiet,” he said gruffly.
I giggled and sank blissfully into his warmth. Why wasn’t his body cold? His temperature felt just right, and that was unexpected.
“I can’t believe how comfortable this is.” The words fell from my lips accidently.
“Why do you sound surprised?”
What the hell? “Full disclosure?”
“Of course.”
“Well, for several reasons. One, you and I barely know each other, yet I’m comfortable enough with you to lie like this in your arms. Two, I expected you to feel cold pressed up against me, but you feel warm. And three, I’ve never done this before, so I expected to be awkward at it.” Why did this man continue to reduce me to a rambling idiot?
“I see. It is odd to be so at ease with each other so quickly, especially given the nature of who I am. It should be incredibly difficult for me to lie like this with you. Now, don’t misunderstand, I’m incredibly tempted to have a little taste of you. Your blood sings out from beneath your skin, begging to be tasted. Your body is so warm beneath my hands, begging to be touched. But somehow, I’m able to tamp down those desires so I might bask in your presence longer. The reason I’m not cold against you is though my heart pumps at a much slower rate than a human heart, it still pumps blood at a rate that makes my body temperature only a few degrees lower than yours. My blood is a little thicker, so it insulates better and is better adapted to the slow flow. And for the record, you could never be awkward at anything. But what do you mean you’ve never done this before?” he addressed each of my thoughts in quick succession.
My cheeks and neck flushed in embarrassment, earning me another growl from Toven. Why did he have to ask about that one statement that slipped out?
“Um . . . I’ve never cuddled with anyone before.”
“You mean never in a bed, never in this state of undress, or never—”
“I mean never as in never have I cuddled with anyone in my life. I’ve never laid in anyone’s arms. Never snuggled, nothing.”
“How is that possible? When I was a human teen, I may have been a little brutish, but I always cuddled for a bit after sex so whoever I was with felt cherished. Have young men changed so much that they don’t want to cherish who they’re with?” he asked in disbelief.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Come again?”
I cleared my throat. “I said, I wouldn’t know. I don’t know what’s normal after sex because I haven’t had it before,” I mumbled as quietly as I could.
He drew in a sharp breath at my soft declaration. He shifted his body away from my back and rolled me so I faced him.
“You mean that . . .. You mean to tell me that you’ve never . . ..”
“I’m a virgin. I’ve never had sex before. I know my biography said my experience was minimal. And I know I should’ve been more forthcoming and explained that minimal meant none. And I understand if you want to back out of the contract. I know experience matters a lot to most people,” I rambled.
“Celesta, hush.” He pressed his index finger to my lips. “It doesn’t matter
to me. The lack of experience doesn’t make you worth less to me. But it does add a new level of temptation, and it means that we must get out of this bed now and get our day started.”
Without any further words, he was off the bed quicker than I could blink. By the time I did blink in astonishment, my bedroom door was clicking closed.
My virgin status sent him running for the hills like his butt was on fire. He said my lack of experience didn’t matter, but his hasty retreat said otherwise. He obviously preferred a more seasoned meal and entertainment. I lay there, licking my wounds a little longer and relishing the lingering scent of him on my sheets and robe. I’d never noticed the scent of a man before. Something about Toven captured my attention and heated my insides.
I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to tend to my wounded pride. Hanging the fluffy robe on the hook, I prepared to wash the spicy aroma of him out of my hair and off my skin. I didn’t need the reminder of his proximity earlier and his distance now.
I’d show him. His rejection of my virgin status wouldn’t cause me to cower. I’d be confident and sexy. After donning an outfit that would make Jacque proud, I sauntered down to the kitchen with my head held high.
There I found Mrs. Burkett, fussing over some pans on the stove.
“Good morning, dear,” she called over her shoulder to me.
“Morning. How are you this morning?”
“I’m doing quite well this morning, thanks for asking. I trust that you slept well?” She gave one pan a stir with the spatula.
“Not really. New place and all. I’m sure tonight will be better.”
“Sit at the table and have some breakfast. Then I’ll show you where you can work. There are some things for you to look through so you can get acquainted with Toven the songwriter.” She set a plate down in front of me piled with eggs, bacon and toast.
Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1) Page 14
