FascinatingRhythm

by Lynne Connolly

  His words froze her where she sat. She couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. He’d sent her a message so personal? The band never did that. Their significant others didn’t figure in the act, Hunter had mentioned it to her. Yet he’d said that, in words that would probably scuttle around the internet before the concert had finished.

  Speculation and confusion would be rife. The press had seen her so they knew who she was. She only hoped that nobody revealed her whereabouts. Sabina didn’t fool herself. Murder City Ravens was the hottest band around right now, and people wanted more of them. They’d hunt her down if they thought they had a story.

  If they found her.

  But she couldn’t make herself care. Because he’d spoken to her in front of millions of people, sent a message meant solely for her. He’d used her name and spoken in a language she readily understood.

  In Tiananmen Square.

  *

  After Red Square, the band was in the mood to celebrate, and several intriguing characters appeared backstage offering to help them. Chick went ballistic. An interesting show to see someone who looked like a Russian bear confronting an actual Russian—suave, sophisticated and sinister. Chick faced the first man down, and then Zazz touched his arm. “What the fuck do you want?”

  Zazz shrugged. “Just to remind you these Russians can be a bit touchy. Might like to hold back a bit, mate.”

  Chick glowered at him. “I know just what these fuckers are. The guy I just sent away? Straight businessman, wants to be better than he is. This guy? Nightclub owner. Not a nightclub you want to go to, by the way. You might not come back. And no, not in a good way.”

  Zazz laughed. “You got them all clocked?”

  “Every one. If I don’t I take a bit more care. But I’m sick of them just appearing. You guys need some peace.”

  Riku took a part in the conversation. “Speak for yourself, man. It’s four days until Berlin and I want to party. We did good. The ratings for Beijing were fucking awesome, so maybe we have something to celebrate.”

  Hunter had already packed his holdall. “I’m off to the airport. My plane leaves in two hours. Enjoy yourselves, guys, see you in Berlin.”

  “You,” Zazz said, “are no fun.” He slapped Hunter’s back. “But give her my best. I like her.” He sounded wistful, but then he often did. Zazz was just built that way.

  Elated, Hunter caught yet another plane and called ahead before takeoff, making sure a car was ready for him. Chick had offered to do it all for him, or ask Beverley to do it, but since Beverley had disappeared with Jace into his dressing room, Hunter guessed they’d be some time, and Chick had all his work cut out for him dealing with the Russian gate-crashers. Backstage was a misnomer, because they’d set a secure area up in one corner of the Square, although “secure” was pushing the description a bit.

  Besides, Chick had worked wonders. He and Beverley had helped him more than he dreamed, and he could offer Sabina something special now. He was longing to tell her.

  He didn’t stop to call on his mother at Stockholm, but headed straight for the hospital. He’d traveled for three and a half hours and arrived an hour after he left, or so the clock at the airport told him. Not enough for jet lag, enough to disorient him somewhat but he’d get over it. Another hour and he’d see her again.

  This time he had to concentrate on the road. He’d traveled it often enough now to know it reasonably well, but this time his brain was humming in feverish excitement. He couldn’t wait.

  Except he had to. The nurse—Birgit it said on her lapel badge—stopped him as he was about to enter the room, too impatient to bother with the niceties of checking in.

  “Mr. Ostrander—”

  “Yes?”

  “She’s sleeping. She’s had a busy day.”

  Suppressing his frustrated groan, Hunter stepped back. “Did they take off the dressings?”

  The nurse smiled. “Yes, and the wounds have healed well. In a few weeks you’ll hardly see them.”

  Not that he cared, but he was glad for Sabina’s sake that they were neat, small wounds. He knew she didn’t like people staring at her, and badass scars would do that for sure. “Did they test her?”

  Birgit paused, studying him. “We can’t tell you the results. That would be a violation of patient confidentiality.”

  “May I see her? I promise I won’t wake her.”

  The nurse sighed, her fob watch glittering in the bright lights of the hallway. “I shouldn’t.”

  “You know me, right, and she told you I’m her—friend?”

  “Lover, she said.”

  Warmth filled him when he heard himself described that way. “That’s right. I’m her lover. Is her mother around?”

  “She went back to her hotel to get some sleep. Sabina sent her. She’s been by Sabina’s bed every night up until now.”

  What could he ask? When he’d called, all they’d tell him was that Sabina was fine, nothing to worry about, post-op progress normal. But today they’d planned to do the first of the tests that would assess her hearing—or lack of it. However much he told himself it didn’t matter to him, he knew how much this meant to her, and that made him frantic with worry. He wanted only what she wanted. And he wanted her to be well. “How is she?”

  “Tired. I don’t want her woken. If I let you in, you must promise to sit quietly and wait for her to wake in her own time.”

  As if he’d do anything else. “Of course.”

  “We’ve taken away all the monitors so you will be completely alone. Please keep the curtain over the door so the light doesn’t disturb her.”

  It was early yet, barely eight thirty, but he’d let her sleep. He just wanted to see her.

  Slipping in, he saw the chair by the bed that her mother must have vacated because it was set closer, away from the carefully regimented arrangement of furniture in the room. He sat in it, noting that the TV had arrived. A big panel TV on a wheeled stand, currently pushed against the wall next to the door. The red light glowed, as did the digital clock on the table by the bed.

  The white honeycomb blanket that covered Sabina lifted and fell with her steady breathing. She was facing him, lying on her side, her eyes closed, her hand curled on the pillow as if waiting for him to take it. She looked so delicate, belying the toughness of character he knew lay under the exquisite form. Her hair was, for once, in disarray, a wave disturbing her usual smooth style. It fell over her ear. She looked perfectly lovely, ordinary. His Sabina.

  So peaceful here after the concerts and the fuss and the fucking press asking him stupid fucking questions about his private life. They’d never concerned themselves before. His mother would make hay once they came sniffing.

  The ear defenders helped him. Sometimes Murder City Ravens made so much noise that he thought his ears were bleeding, but he’d never seen the point. If he was going deaf, then he’d do it sooner rather than later.

  She’d told him via Skype that she approved. He smiled, remembering the rest of the call, how he’d watched her, instructed her like he had before. While he’d got off, it wasn’t the same and he doubted he could survive on Skype alone.

  He didn’t ask V if that was how she coped when Matt was away but he knew it wouldn’t work for him. Some people got on better when they spent time apart. He knew one person who spent around three months in every year with his wife in total, and they had an open marriage, fucked who they wanted when they wanted to. And yet they had one of the stablest marriages he knew of, in terms of devotion and total loyalty. And still being crazy about each other after eleven years together.

  Not for him though. He wouldn’t survive if he had to spend too long away from her. The Skyping and sexting was fun but no substitute. He wanted to touch her all the time, know she was within reach. And he wanted to take care of her, see to everything she needed himself.

  Finally in her presence, his turbulent mood quieted and fatigue washed over him in a wave of contentment. He leaned back, the chair giving easily u
nder his not inconsiderable weight. If he put his feet up, he might grab some z’s.

  He watched her breathe, imagined pressing his lips to that soft, cherry-colored mouth, watching the lovely brown eyes darken as her pupils expanded with desire. His cock stirred but he willed it down and closed his eyes, only to open them again and concentrate on her face.

  She drew him as she always had. Six years apart and he’d never forgotten her or the way she could make him feel. When he’d seen her standing in his mother’s hall with her back to him, he’d known it was her because being in her presence made him feel as if he’d come home. Something he couldn’t remember experiencing before in the whole of his adult life, and much of his childhood too.

  Watching her sleep, he murmured her name, and then the simple truth. “I love you.”

  To his total shock, her eyes flicked open and he met her gaze, unwarned and unprotected. He never did that, never showed anyone just what he was feeling, always using his built-in self-censor. Not this time.

  He didn’t look away. Too late to do that.

  She smiled and reached out so he automatically took her hand, twining their fingers together. “I love you too,” she said.

  Completely lost for words, he stared at her, his insides stilling and holding the moment. No turbulence as he’d imagined he’d feel if he ever told anyone what he’d just told her. Nothing but relief and delight.

  “Truly?”

  “Always.” She sounded so low he had to lean forward to hear her. Giving up on the chair, he sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand. “I never stopped. Why do you think I welcomed you back after you treated me so badly?”

  “I thought you were just a kind, thoughtful person.” He laughed, then stopped, the sound still echoing around the room in the sudden silence. “Are you reading my lips? Did you hear what I said before you opened your eyes?”

  She nodded. “I heard.”

  “Fuck.” The moment he said it, he wished he hadn’t. It seemed wrong somehow, that one of the first words she heard him say was a curse word. But it slipped out and now he couldn’t unsay it. “When?”

  “Slowly over the last two days. They gave me different headphones yesterday. The ones I wore at first…” She paused and smiled, her soft, hesitant voice quiet even in the hush of this room. “Sorry. They blocked all sound. Yesterday they gave me a pair that I have to use if I tire or if the sound is too loud. They look like ordinary headphones but they are not.”

  He loved her breathy tones, her hesitation, but he guessed that wasn’t from choice because it didn’t sound as fluid, as confident, as her voice when she’d been deaf. “Is it hard for you to speak?”

  “After nearly twenty years? Yes it is. I can hear my voice in my head, and sometimes it takes me by surprise.” She tugged him and he moved closer. “Will you hold me, Hunter?”

  Holding her sounded like paradise to him, but he hesitated. “What if someone comes in?”

  “What time is it?”

  “After eight.”

  She pulled his hand harder. “Then they won’t. They want me to rest but I’ve been thinking about you. Missing you. I made my mother promise not to come back until the morning. Nobody will come. Hold me, Hunter, please. I’ve missed you.”

  When she threw back the sheet, he saw she was wearing something blue and silky. “Pretty,” he murmured appreciatively.

  “Me or the nightgown?”

  He laughed, remembering to keep it low. “Both. Do you prefer me to whisper?”

  “No.” She tugged again and he gave in. How could he resist? After kicking off his shoes he joined her in the bed, a tight fit even though it seemed bigger than the average hospital bed. But he was a big man.

  When she came to him, she laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled close, curling a leg around his. It seemed natural to push his leg between hers and let her pussy rest against his thigh. Almost domestic, considering he was fully dressed and she wore a nightgown.

  But not quite. The arousal thrumming through his veins negated that thought. “Don’t raise your voice though,” she said. “They’ll hear and come in. How did you persuade them to let you in?”

  “Being well-known has its advantages,” he admitted. “I didn’t have to show them any ID.” Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips to her forehead and experienced the heady rush of being with her again. Almost worth spending time apart for that but not quite.

  She lifted her chin. “How about a proper kiss?”

  “Flirtatious?” Surely not, but he wouldn’t deny either of them the pleasure.

  He should have known better. Once his lips came into contact with hers, he was completely lost. Holding her tightly against him, running his hands over the smooth curves of her silk-covered back, he plundered.

  He forced himself to go as gently as he could manage but she responded eagerly, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, running it over the tender flesh before caressing his tongue with hers, as soft as a breeze, as devastating as a summer storm.

  Groaning into her mouth, he tightened his hold, pressing her lower body against his erection, rubbing in a rhythm as instinctive as breathing. She rode his leg, moving against him as if she wanted him, her fingers digging into his muscles.

  He rolled on to his back, taking her with him and she squirmed, opening her legs to encompass his body. Just as well her nightgown had a full skirt. He discovered his mistake when he stroked over her back, over the delectable shape of her buttocks and down to her thighs. Not a full skirt. A slit right up one side of the wonderful garment.

  Kiss followed kiss, each more passionate than the last. He was lost, couldn’t get enough of her. As always.

  Clenching his hand in her hair, he used it to ease her away. “Hey. We shouldn’t be doing this. A kiss is fine, but—” He glanced at the door.

  She gurgled with laughter, a new sound for her and one he’d never cease loving. “Coward.”

  “Hey, who are you calling coward?” To punish her, he brought her close for another kiss, but then reluctantly rolled back to deposit her on the sheets, intending to ease away.

  She grabbed him, pulled him back. He might as well weigh nothing for all the strength he had to leave her alone. “Stay. I want to celebrate. I’ve been waiting for days to celebrate properly.” He loved the way she pronounced each syllable of the word separately, with a minute hesitation between each. “Make love with me, Hunter.”

  He loved that she said “with” instead of “to”. He loved her new laugh, loved the desire in her eyes. Just plain loved her. “You want love or fucking?”

  “What’s on offer?”

  “You heard me earlier. I can do both.”

  She walked her fingers up his chest until he caught her hand and brought it to his lips, not caring if anyone came in anymore. Whatever Sabina wanted, she should have, and if she wanted him, he’d give it to her. “Let’s see what happens, shall we?”

  Only one more consideration remained. “Are you well enough? I mean truly? Will you promise to tell me if it gets too much for you?”

  She nodded, smiling. “I like hearing, at least so far it’s turned out well. I want to keep it. So yes, I’ll tell you. I promise.”

  He dipped down for a kiss, but halfway through groaned and pulled away, flopping down next to her, hand over his eyes. “No condom.” They’d have to cope without.

  Mischief lit her eyes. “I have. I went to the bathroom outside the ward today when they wanted me to walk for a while. There’s a condom machine in the toilet outside. I had some change in the pocket of my robe. Enough to buy one.”

  “They don’t make them in threes?”

  She laughed and touched a finger to his nose. “What era are you living in, Hunter Ostrander?”

  “Yours. Whichever one you want.” So relieved and happy to see her, he’d do whatever she wanted. Yeah, he was her bitch right now.

  “Then put on the condom. It’s in the bedside table drawer.”

  “Happy to oblige.”
More than happy. He found the condom and got out of bed to strip. He kicked the clothes under the bed.

  She stripped her nightgown off over her head and tucked it under the pillow, reaching for him just as he came back down to her. As if it was meant to be, his cock slipped between her thighs, bathing in her juices and he groaned. “No, not yet.”

  “Yes yet.” Putting her arms around him, she held him tight around his waist, not allowing him to move away. “Can’t you feel how much I want you? Please, Hunter.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “What?” A smile curved her lips, teasing and happy.

  “I’m ready to burst.” He stole another kiss, groaning into her mouth. “What you do to me, älskling.I should be taking care of you. You’ve had an operation.”

  “I know that. But that was four days ago, nearly five. They’re only keeping me here for observation and study. If I’d had a routine procedure I’d be home by now.”

  He rubbed his cock against her, watching as she arched her back and strained up to him. With a shaky laugh, he gave in and slid down to penetrate her. “Now this is coming home.” He kissed her again, sweetly, tasting her lips, feeling the sharp edges of her teeth graze his tongue as he plunged deeply. She could make him come just like that.

  Taking care to rest his upper body on his elbows, he drove into her and then withdrew, only to thrust again. But despite her assurances, he kept his lovemaking steady and slow, trying to find her G-spot every time, making it count.

  “So is this making love or fucking?” she murmured. He loved that she could do that. Sometimes she’d pitch her speech too loud but she didn’t now. She spoke too quietly, if anything, taking care not to shout. Hearing what she said in her head must be strange, but he found it hard to imagine because that was the way he’d always experienced speech. He watched her as he worked, reveling in the sensation of her body clasping his so intimately and surely.

  “It’s both,” he said. “I love you, Sabina.”

  “Yes.” She closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. “I love you too.” Her breath caught and her mouth opened just a little, inviting, but he watched her, studied her face in the dim light. He kept his drives steady, heartbeat level, watching her all the while, gauging her responses.