Liron's Melody (12 page)

She shook her head in wonderment as she took it all in, and
from where she sat on the edge of a fountain, she felt Liron’s hand encompass
hers. She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled.

His eyes were warm and sparkling. “What do you think?”

“This is amazing,” she murmured. “So much wonderful talent.
Do they do this every night?”

He nodded. “It’s how we express ourselves. Muses are born to
express their talent. We don’t know any other way to be.”

“Have you ever done this?” She pointed over toward the
free-for-all happening in front of her.

He smiled almost shyly. “I used to. Long ago.”

The wistfulness in his voice, the note of aching longing,
made a pain work its way through her heart. “What kind of muses are these?” she
asked. “Obviously, those are music muses, like you.” She pointed to the group
of musicians.

“Yes, and those are dance muses, and voice muses, and art
muses.” He indicated the singers, dancers, and painters.

“What about those?” She pointed to the loners who were
writing.

“Those are writing and lyric muses. They generally keep to
themselves, writing their poetry and verse, their fiction, amidst the chaos,
but not taking an active part in it.”

“What about them?” She pointed to the group of debaters.

“Most of them are science and logic muses.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You have muses for logic?”

He nodded with a smile. “And philosophy. They argue all the
time. Very annoying to have at parties.”

She giggled. “Okay, what about them?” She pointed to the fire
dancers.

His smile morphed into a mischievous grin. “Isn’t it obvious?
They are rebel muses.”

She blinked at him for a second while her mind tried to
process the information. “
Rebel
muses? Are you trying to tell me that
there is a muse devoted entirely to chaos and mayhem?”

He shrugged lazily. “Of course. Where would the excitement in
life come from if there wasn’t any of that?”

She laughed. “So, pretty much, all of the tattoo artists,
bikers, and metal heads in my world are inspired by rebel muses?”

“It is a possibility.” His smile disarmed her, and all she
wanted to do was kiss him until he was gasping for breath. Her brazen, dominant
desire was foreign to her, but not unwelcome. She had spent so much of the last
year feeling lost. Knowing what she wanted, what she ached for, was a nice
change of pace.

She turned her attention back to the performers, enjoying how
free they all seemed. It was not so different from how she had felt as a child
when she’d watched her parents rehearse with the orchestra. How many nights had
she spent in the theatre, watching in fascination as the musicians lost
themselves amidst the notes they created? She missed that feeling, that
abandon.

She glanced down at the atrocious costume she had been placed
in, then over at the other women who were dressed the same. They owned their
attire, dancing and twirling and laughing as if they had no cares whatsoever.
What did that feel like, she wondered?

“So, what’s stopping you?” she asked, flashing Liron a
teasing smile.

He arched an eyebrow. “From what?”

She pointed over at the mass of performers.

“You want me to play something?” To her surprise, his voice
only held the faintest note of confusion. Beneath that, he sounded extremely
serious, almost like he had been waiting for the invitation.

She grinned. “I would love that.”

The smile that lit his face should have brought golden light
cascading around the whole marketplace square, and warmth stole throughout her
entire body, gentle and comforting around her heart and spanning out to smolder
everywhere else.

He stood and arched an eyebrow in a playful expression. “I
almost wonder if I remember how.”

She giggled, and he winked at her before striding over to the
group of musicians. They paused in their playing as he approached, causing all
of the dancers to take a breather as well. They spoke for awhile until one of
the men handed Liron his acoustic guitar. Liron slipped the strap over his
shoulders, then took a viola that was being offered to him and turned back to
Melody. He motioned her over and indicated the instrument.

Melody’s stomach lurched and she stared at him for a minute,
then pointed to herself in question.

He nodded with a chuckle. “You told me you could play viola.
If I’m going to do this, so are you.”

Her first reaction was to kill him, but she couldn’t stay
annoyed when he was beaming at her like that. Of course, he had to pick the
viola. She hadn’t touched one in years. Piano was her instrument of choice.
Apprehension flooded her as she hesitantly made her way over to him.

“Liron, I haven’t played one of these in so long….” Even as
she said it, she took the instrument anyway. “Can’t you give me a drum to bang
on instead? I think I could manage that.” She glanced around at the other
musicians and swallowed hard. “I’m not equipped with your kind of…talents.” She
was a regular old human, nothing muselike about her at all. She’d be lucky if
she managed to produce some kind of awful screech.

Liron shook his head. “Melody, play whatever you like. You
start and we will follow you.”

She stared at him for a second, dumbfounded, then snorted.
“Yeah, sure, no pressure.” She raised the instrument to her shoulder and
blundered her way through the only piece of music she could remember, some
middle section of
Russian Sailor’s Dance
by R. Gliere. She wasn’t even
sure where that much had come from; some dusty vault in the recesses of her
memory.

She screeched the strings a few times, stumbled over notes,
and messed up the tempo so much trying to remember that it was impossible for
anyone to actually join her. She felt heat flush her face and neck, but was
surprised to find that, instead of feeling humiliation at being put on the spot
and making an idiot out of herself, she found the experience to be remarkably
freeing. These people weren’t here to criticize her, and none of them were
making rude remarks or gritting their teeth. They looked somewhat confused, but
that couldn’t really be helped.

She couldn’t remember the entire song, and kind of fizzled
off in an ending of erratic, helter-skelter notes. Then, stifling a giggle, she
plunked out the last part of
Pop Goes the Weasel,
which made all of the
musicians erupt into laughter.

She shook her head and handed the viola back to its rightful
owner. “I think you’d better take this back before I damage it permanently…or
damage your eardrums permanently. One or the other.” She shot Liron a teasing
scowl. “Now that you’ve embarrassed me for the evening….”

He chuckled. “You told me you could play viola.”

“I could…in high school. I’m a pianist!” Laughter echoed from
everyone again and the warmth in Liron’s eyes was going to be her undoing. She
shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve done my part. Now, let me
hear some real music.”

Something else came to life within his eyes, something darker
and much more dangerous to her heart. He slipped the guitar off and handed it
to its owner, then reached for the viola again. He handed it back to Melody,
who took it with bewilderment, then he went around behind her. “Try again.” He
whispered it against her ear in a sinful caress of sound that sent shivers all
the way down her spine and made her head spin. Her eyes fluttered closed while
her breath left her. “Wh-what?” she stammered. “Liron, I don’t remember
anything else.” Her protest sounded feeble even to her own ears.

“Don’t play something you remember. Just play.” He wrapped
his fingers around her hand that held the viola.

She frowned. “How am I supposed to play randomly? I’ve never
been any good at improvisation. Especially on an instrument I haven’t played
in—” She sucked her breath in sharply as he placed his hands on her shoulders,
then drew them down her back in a way that made her shudder. He trailed one
finger, just one, back up her spine and ripples of sensual fire coursed
throughout her body, creating notes in her mind no one should have been able to
hear without the aid of some kind of black magic. Dark notes from the harmonic
minor scale that somehow sounded so much more erotic than they ever had before,
like she had been granted access to a new dimension of music that was
forbidden.

Her eyes closed involuntarily and she let out a shuddering
breath. His hand continued its journey along the arm that was holding onto the
viola, and he gently guided it up to her shoulder. His other hand entangled in
her hair and traced the length.

The notes in her mind exploded like some sort of grand
symphonic composition and became so overwhelming that playing was almost a
compulsion. She had to play them. She had to get them out of her mind and share
them with anyone who would listen.

As if her body moved on its own, not unlike how she had felt
when she’d played almost half of Liron’s score without even looking at it,
Melody positioned the bow over the strings on the viola and began to play what
she heard in her mind. From somewhere deep inside the recesses of her memory,
it all came back to her like she had played the viola only yesterday.

She lost herself within the dark, wonderful notes, lost
herself in Liron’s touch, and wanted to express the way he made her feel the
only way she could at the moment—through the instrument in her hands.

If stumbling through
Russian Sailor’s Dance
had been a
freeing feeling simply because she was learning to embrace playing music again,
this experience made her feel like she was flying. She had never before felt
anything like the music that coursed through her body and mind while Liron
continued to lazily drag his fingers up her spine, along her shoulders, and
anywhere else he felt like touching.

She didn’t know how long she played. It didn’t matter. She
didn’t stop until he stopped infusing her with music, and that didn’t stop
until he took his hands off of her. Then, the notes faded and she was able to
think clearly again. She opened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath while the
other musicians applauded and cheered.

“How did you do that?” she murmured to Liron.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently,
then placed his mouth to her ear. “It’s what I do.”

The caressing whisper of his voice made her woozy, and the
strength left her body while a rush of wonderful notes coursed through her like
electricity. Her fingers fumbled and she accidentally let go of the viola.

“Whoa!” the owner of the instrument shouted, leaping forward
to catch it before it crashed to the ground. “Hey, maybe you want to seduce the
human when she’s
not
holding my viola?” His tone was good-natured, and
he threw Liron a smirk.

Melody’s cheeks burned and she leaned back against Liron,
wanting to escape, and at the same time, wanting to be as close to him as
possible. He pressed his lips tenderly to her temple and wrapped his arms
around her waist. “You play magnificently,” he said softly.

She turned in his arms so she could look up into his eyes.
“Do you affect all humans that way? Does everyone hear music like that when you
touch them?”

He reached up to touch her hair. “Only the ones who want to
listen.” He slowly dragged his fingers the length of her locks, causing lovely,
tinkling sounds to echo in her mind. His smile was wicked and beautiful. “And
only when I want someone to hear.”

Melody closed her eyes and relished the effect he had on her.
“I wish I could make you hear wonderful things when I touch you.”

“Melody, don’t you understand?” He was whispering in her ear
again, turning her legs to jelly and her heart to putty in his hands. “Everything
I share with you, all the notes and chords, are a direct result of what you
cause me to hear. You inspire me so that I may, in turn, inspire you. It’s the
perfect balance we strive for between….”

He pulled back and let the sentence remain unformed. She
frowned in curiosity at the slightly bashful expression on his face. “Between
what?” she prodded.

He met her gaze and smiled shyly. “Between mates.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what it was her heart did in that
moment, with the way his soft voice said those words while his blue eyes burned
into hers with such sincerity and warmth. If she had to liken its actions to
something, she would have to say it did something that felt kind of like
The
Macarena,
like it was dancing and gyrating in her chest. Whatever it was,
it took her breath and made her ache for him so badly that she actually had
lurid visions of ripping off his shirt right there in the middle of the square.

“Hey, Liron, are you still going to play with us?” one of the
musicians called.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her. “Do you still want me
to?” he asked her. “Or would you like to go home?”

“Home?” A pain twinged through her heart at the thought of
returning to her sterile living environment.

“I meant…my home.” He stepped closer to her, close enough
that she could feel the heat from his body.

She tossed around her options. She wanted to go anywhere with
him right now. Anywhere where they could be alone and she could kiss him for
real without someone, or something, interrupting them. But she also wanted to
watch him play, experience his world, his culture and his life.

She placed her palms on his chest and smirked up at him
playfully. “No worming your way out of it now, mister. Nice try.”

He grinned and chuckled, then took her hands in his, kissed
both of them, and winked at her while he walked around her and back over to the
others. He took the guitar he had been holding before, slipped it back over his
shoulder, and tuned it briefly before the man with the tribal drums called a
three-count. They all launched into a Celtic-sounding song that seemed like it
had been rehearsed a hundred times over.