Her eyes studied mine as if she searched for the truth in what I’d verbalized aloud, revealing the emotion behind something I didn’t want to feel but couldn’t hide.
“I appreciate your sentiment. As shocking as it is coming from you. But I really can’t do this. I can’t sing the way you think I can. I know for a fact that I have zero talent in this area.” The dig on me didn’t slip by unnoticed, and I probably deserved it, but I had to let it go without some haughty comeback, or I knew I’d lose her before we’d even started.
“You’re wrong. This time,” I added quickly when she rolled her eyes, expecting something derogative from me. “You’re wrong this time, V,” I repeated in a whispered voice, hoping to convey the honesty of my conviction.
She sighed. “You don’t understand, Lane.”
“Then make me understand. Because, woman, you have a voice angels probably envy.”
She laughed. “You believe in angels?”
“Sure, why not?”
“I don’t know. You’re a vampire.”
“All the more reason. Tell me, Vanessa. Make me understand why you think you can’t sing.”
She walked over to the credenza where the alcohol was, picked up the bottle of scotch, and poured some into a tumbler. “Want one?”
If she needed a drink to tell me this, I feared that it was going to be something horrible, but couldn’t for the dead life of me figure out what would make someone with such a beautiful voice believe they had zero talent. “Okay.”
She poured me a drink and brought it to me before she headed to one of the four chairs set up for Maggie and whoever else liked to sit in during our practices.
She took a large sip of her drink and winced as it hit the back of her throat before she swallowed. My eyes followed the motion, visualizing the liquid flowing through every beautiful centimeter of her esophagus down to her stomach. My eyes landed on her thighs, and I wanted to reach out and skim my fingers over their smoothness. But I clenched them around my glass and took a sip instead, eyeing her over the rim. I watched her struggle to get the words out; whatever this horrific story was that seemed to ruin her composure making her hesitate. The confident woman who could rip me apart with a single sentence was suddenly gone, leaving a torn and helpless creature in its place.
“It was the year we moved into our house in Walnut Creek, and I was new to the school,” she began. “I was in eleventh grade, and hadn’t come into my witchcraft yet, so I was a normal girl. Unfortunately, an introverted, awkward, too-tall and homely girl, much taller than most of the boys even. But I’d always sung songs around the house, in the shower, my car, but only when I was alone. I was very shy, I guess. There was a boy I had a crush on. He didn’t even know I existed. Or so I thought.”
I had a difficult time picturing her as ‘homely,’ but I let it go. I didn’t like where I thought this might be heading. My palm itched and fisted on my thigh.
“When I saw his name listed as the lead male in the school musical, I was excited for him. I told my mother about him. I remember sitting at the kitchen table, confessing that I liked him, and went on and on about how cute he was. She suggested I try out for the female lead since they hadn’t picked anyone yet. It was West Side Story, and I already knew most of the songs by heart. But I’d never sung in front of anyone before. Not even my mom, to my knowledge, but I supposed maybe she’d heard me in the shower or something. Anyway, I decided to take her advice and audition that afternoon.
“I was sitting in my history class, doodling on a piece of paper as the teacher droned on about something. I was excited about my decision to audition, and I’d written Kyle’s first and last name down on the paper in fancy letters and drew little hearts around it. When I felt a presence over my right shoulder, I turned to see Elizabeth Crestler peering at the drawing I’d done. She was one of the more popular girls at the school, and I’d seen her hanging around Kyle and the group he usually hung out with. I quickly covered up the page with my book, but it was too late, she’d seen it. She whispered close to my ear so the teacher wouldn’t hear, “You like Kyle Aston?”
Vanessa paused and took another sip of her drink. The liquor appeared to go down a bit easier this time.
“‘I think he’s cute,’” was all I said and tried to focus on what the teacher was saying.
“Elizabeth made some ‘hmmm’ sound and sat back in her seat, and that was the end of it. Or so I thought.
“When I got to the sign-up table for auditions after school that day, I waited in the long line, thinking I didn’t have much of a chance, considering there were so many girls trying out. I reached the table, and Elizabeth sat on the other side. She smiled at me and passed me the sign-up sheet, then handed me the music to practice and told me to come back the next day at three.
“I practiced the song all night. Even skipped dinner because I wanted to be perfect and I really wanted that part.”
She gulped down the rest of her drink, no doubt pulling courage from the alcohol.
“The next day, I felt confident and stood on the stage, ready. I sang I Feel Pretty as if it had been written just for me, and when I was finished, I knew I’d done a decent job, except everyone in the auditorium was laughing and pointing their fingers at me.”
I frowned, not understanding, and waited for more of an explanation.
“Kyle and Elizabeth sat next to each other, judging the auditions. Kyle stopped laughing long enough to look up at me and say, ‘Thanks, pretty,’ saying pretty with a little girl voice and smirking. He shook his head and laughed again. I quickly left the auditorium, embarrassed to stay any longer.”
“But you didn’t ask why they were laughing?”
“No, I was too devastated to find out. The next day, I looked at the names of the cast members, not seeing my name anywhere on the list, and Elizabeth’s name in the lead spot. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong or what had been so funny. I just figured I didn’t sound as good as I had thought. When my mom asked me how it went, I told her I decided not to try out after all, and that I didn’t like Kyle anymore, and he’d been the only reason I was going to audition in the first place, so she didn’t press me on it.
“Later, due to a slip of the tongue by another girl, I found out that Elizabeth—Lizzy as everyone called her—and Kyle were boyfriend and girlfriend. And that they’d set me up. That I’d been the brunt of their stupid prank that everyone in the school had known about except me. Lizzy had handed me the wrong song to try out with, and that was why everyone had been laughing; because I’d stood up there on that stage singing, I Feel Pretty like a silly eight-year-old.
“What she had done crushed me, Lane. It tore me to pieces to find out it was a prank. To find out that everyone hated me that much that they’d thought it would be funny to humiliate me. And I vowed never to sing in public again. That includes here, in front of you.”
Her story didn’t seem to jibe with the witch I’d come to know, flippant and snide most of the time; a know-it-all to boot. The woman sitting here today was not shy and most definitely not lacking in self-confidence, except now for this one thing, she was.
Chapter Eighteen
Vanessa
I couldn’t go on with the rest of the story and what happened a few weeks after that night, but I figured I’d given Lane enough to understand why I couldn’t sing in front of him.
“You’re nothing like that girl back then,” Lane said, running his fingers through his dark hair, tugging it back up off his neck, and wrapping an elastic band around it. Seeing him with his hair up made me want to splay my hand over the newly naked skin at the nape of his neck and finger the tiny stray hairs left by his ears that were too short to make it into the binding. With his hair back and the black ribbed tank top he wore, it allowed me to see his shoulders, the firm indent of muscles down his arms. His forearms. Not too big, not too small. My eyes drifted to the rest of him. He wore a pair of light blue basketball shorts. I’d never seen his legs before, and I smiled
at the pale shade under the light dusting of dark hairs.
“And I can’t imagine you were as homely as you made yourself out to be,” he added, bringing the subject in my mind back to me.
I made some uncontrolled chortling sound and shrugged. “I’m not the same girl. The day after I graduated high school, I received my powers. It was a ritual that every witch in our family went through. That ceremony changed me almost instantly. I wasn’t the same person I’d been the day before it. I had a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. By the time I got to college a couple of months later and met Maggie, I was very different. But regardless of that, I still don’t feel comfortable singing in front of anyone, especially solo.”
“You said it was just a prank,” Lane said as he poured me another drink. “And that’s why everyone was laughing. Not at your voice, but at the silly song you sang. Don’t you see that it was all because she was jealous that you had a crush on her boyfriend? I get that at the time, you were hurt by what they did, and equally hurt that you didn’t get the part, but you have to realize that they were bullying you because you were not only crushing on her boyfriend, but you no doubt sang a whole hell of a lot better than she did, and I’m sure she realized that. You can’t let a stupid teenage prank ruin something as special as what you have.”
I glanced at him. His eyes were smiling back at me. The Lane sitting here today beside me was so much different than the Lane I’d known for the past several months. The Lane that had kissed me in the dark hallway of the nightclub and then again in the wine cellar last night.
And I had to admit, this Lane wasn’t so bad. In fact, I kind of liked him.
I drank some more of the whiskey he’d poured me. I didn’t want to get drunk, but I had to admit I felt a bit more relaxed. Maybe with a little more booze in me, I’d get up the nerve to sing.
Lane took the glass from my hand and set it down on the chair, then grabbed my hand and tugged me up from my seat. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Let’s try something.” He led me over to the piano and sat down, scooting over to the far side of the bench. He patted his hand on the seat beside him. “Sit down.” He slid the sheet music over so I could see it. “You said solo. You can’t sing in front of anyone, especially not solo. Let’s try this together without the intimidating microphone and see what happens.” He grinned.
“You’re going to sing with me?”
“Yep. When I get to this spot”—he pointed to the notes where the lyrics began—“I’ll point at the music, and we’ll start singing. Okay?”
I nodded, and he played the intro then stuck his finger at the sheet, and we both sang. His voice smooth, confident, urging me on. I watched his beautiful hands as he fingered the ivory keys with grace and agility. Such precision, I almost lost our spot as we sang. I knew the song well, but it was helpful to have the words in front of me. When we got to the part of the song about sharing love, our eyes met, locking on each other’s for a few minutes as the words we sang felt as if they were meant for us. It couldn’t have been more perfect. But I was suddenly very conscious of the sexual tension between us.
“That was awesome, V,” he said after playing the last note. “Let’s do it again, and when you get to this part where it dips down right here”—he pointed to the notes on the music sheet again—“try going up and holding it for a few beats to draw it out.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to try it with the microphone?”
“No,” I said emphatically. “I’m good here.” Sitting beside you, I wanted to add, but I didn’t want him to break his promise of no touching, and I thought that if I said something like that he might. Because, holy hell, after singing that song with him… I wanted him even more. The way his eyes met mine had taken me to a magical spot that I’d never been to before. But I didn’t want another repeat of him first wanting me, then not. I didn’t think I could handle that rejection a third time.
We went through the song two more times, and then he set up a piano stand microphone, setting it so it was between us. I looked at him and shook my head. But he nodded his. “Just forget about it, it’s not really there,” he said, adjusting it so it pointed down a bit. “You can do this.”
We sang together again. I tried to pretend the microphone wasn’t there, and I started laughing in the middle of the second verse.
“What’s so funny?”
“Me. I sound funny.”
“You sound like an angel,” he said.
We went through the song four more times, and after the last one, he turned to look at me. “That was perfect. Want to listen?”
“What? You recorded it?”
“I’ve been recording each time. You just didn’t know it. You need to listen.”
He played the song back for me, and I must have had a very surprised look on my face as his grin widened. “That’s you, honey.” My eyes shot to his, and he quickly looked back to the music sheet. He’d called me honey. What did that mean? I was positive it was just a term he no doubt used a lot when he was with a woman.
We sat and listened, and when the song stopped playing, he turned to me. “Will you sing this with me tomorrow night?”
“What?”
He rolled his eyes at me. “I know you heard me.”
“On stage?”
“That would be the place where the piano will be.”
“No! I can’t!”
“Just like this. At the piano. You can even sit on the inside so you don’t have to see the people.” I shook my head. He had to be joking. I never thought this little singing lesson would amount to anything more than the two of us just getting to know each other better. There was no way I could get up on that stage and sing that song. I had to make him understand.
“Lane, I will not go up on that stage and sing with you tomorrow night. Or anywhere in public. Ever! If you plan on calling me out tomorrow night, then I won’t even go to the club. I mean it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Lane
She didn’t sing with me. I didn’t call her up to perform. I wasn’t a total jerk. I understood she was too nervous. For the next week, Vanessa and I met in the studio. She was so good, it was fucking heartbreaking that she wouldn’t let anyone else hear her. I’d been so tempted last Saturday night to introduce her right then and there and make her come up to the stage. Only, I had a feeling if I did, she’d never speak to me again. She’d been so adamant about not doing it.
I’d kept my promise, though, and I hadn’t said a word to anyone about our little meetings. It wasn’t hard to keep it secret since they took place during the day while everyone else slept, except for Josh and Ari. But they were both gone most of the day, either working or running errands, as in Ari’s case. Though I’d told her we should start at three instead of four, just to be safe.
She’d had no problem with that since she worked from home anyway. All she needed to do was clock out on her computer by three every day.
Actually, the truth of that was, I just wanted to see her sooner rather than later. Every hour away from her was agony. Every day she walked into the studio was like the sun shining brightly, giving life and energy to everything it graced. A sensation I hadn’t felt for two hundred years. I struggled every day with not touching her. Yesterday, I’d accidentally brushed her shoulder with my forearm. Bare skin against bare skin. We’d locked eyes quickly and then averted, but I could feel the pull of desire in her, and I’d almost given in to the need and taken her into my arms, crushing my lips to hers. I wanted to make her come on my hand again, then I remembered the pain I’d felt the last time.
I hadn’t mentioned anything about her singing with me on stage since that first day. I didn’t want to press my luck and ruin the time she allotted to me every day. Time to watch her, listen to her, dream about her. Vanessa Creamer wasn’t the witch I’d first come to know.
It was two forty-five Friday afternoon when Vanessa graced the room with her light. My head snapp
ed to the door as she quietly closed and locked it. She was early. She glanced at me, and her lips curved up when she entered. I’d been longing to see her smile. Those lips made my heart leap a bit and my cock twitch with desire.
We’d gone over a few songs throughout the week, but I wanted to re-record that first song again now that she had it down and didn’t need to look at the music or the lyrics anymore. When I had first picked this song, it had been because I’d always been a fan of Heart, but the more I listened to the lyrics, I knew it was the right song for her to sing. Especially with me. It spoke volumes about what we were both feeling and trying so hard to avoid.
She came straight over to the piano and sat down next to me. I had to give her credit. Since I’d known this woman, she’d never given any indication that she was afraid of my brothers or me. We were vampires. Though I knew she had skills to combat worse monsters.
“Hi,” she said, making herself comfortable by wiggling her bottom on the stool beside me.
“You’re early.”
Rocked by a Vampire: Billionaire, Rock Stars, Vampires (Immortal Hearts of San Francisco Book 3) Page 9
