Page 30 of The Guardian's Curse

God yes, she thought. The little voice that told her to be careful was fading into the lovely white static of his attention.

“Your fingers are collapsed,” he said. His fingers curved over hers, forcing her left hand to cup as if she was grasping a ball. “That’s better.” He repeated it on her other hand, and a shiver rolled up her arm. Then he gripped her upper arms lightly and shook her, just enough to jolt her. “Relax. You play with tension. Are you anxious?”

“Am I anxious with a two hundred year old vampire watching me play? Yes.”

“You asked me to watch,” he said sharply.

Her cheeks heated. “No, I was just being...sorry. Sarcasm is a bad habit of mine.”

“I know it well. Paris is a connoisseur.” He gently pressed on her shoulders. “Release the tension here.” Her body ignited with a thrill of excitement at his touch. His hand drifted to her throat, then lightly touched her jaw. “Even here. When your body is tense, you lose your strength and fluidity. Play the first line again, but take a deep breath and exhale as you play. Let your tension and anxiety flow out on your breath.”

The anxiety was going to linger as long as this vampire was nearby, but she didn’t hate the feeling. It was a bubbling sort of energy that walked a razor’s edge between fear and delight. With a deep breath, she began to play again. His voice rumbled at her back. “Fingers.” She obliged by curving her fingers more, and he was quiet as she played the first page again.

When she went to turn the page, he placed a hand over hers. “That was lovely, but you’re tense again.”

“I spend most of my life tense. Especially these days,” she said with a nervous laugh. She slid the page aside and hesitantly set out the Liszt Fantasie on the stand. “Alistair? I found some of these pieces for four hands in your music. Would you play with me?”

He took a step back, and the distance felt like miles. “I’m afraid not. I have things to attend to.”

“Oh,” she said, cheeks heating. “Okay. Maybe another time.”

His noncommittal hmm left no doubt what he thought of her pending offer. “Good night, Miss York.”

“Goodnight, Alistair.”

Her shoulders slumped as she watched him go, his shadow fading into the halls. She wanted to slink away in defeat. Why did she want him to like her so much? Dominic clearly didn’t like her, and she didn’t give a damn. Paris did like her, or at least did a good job of acting as if he did. And neither of them crossed her mind more than once a day. But Alistair was living in her head just like she was living in his guest room.

She stuck her chin out and returned to the piano, playing through the top part of the Fantasie, as if to say, “See what you’re missing?”

But her attempts to bait him with music were fruitless. It was probably for the best. Left to entertain herself, she spent time working through some of the difficult passages slowly, remembering Miss Jean’s admonition not to practice fast before she was ready.

Playing the piano reminded her of a time when life was simpler. Some of her earliest memories were sitting next to her father, who patiently taught her to plink out familiar tunes with her impossibly tiny hands. As she grew, her reward for a good lesson was to play from old hymnals while he sang in his rich baritone. Eventually, she’d moved on to lessons with a local music professor, who’d tried to convince her to audition for a conservatory for college. But by then, her heart was set on pursuing her magical craft.

Still, there was something incomparably soothing about music. It didn’t depend on unseen forces or the unpredictable moods of brooding vampires. Placing her fingers in the right place at the right time would produce something beautiful. If only everything was so easy.

After another half hour of practice, she covered the keys, but left the music on the stand as a message. She returned to her bedroom and let out a heavy sigh. What was she doing? “Just stop,” she muttered to herself. Desperation wasn’t a good look.

It was just so hard to shake the dream. It was just a stupid sex dream, the sort that came after a year of being single and celibate. It didn’t mean a damn thing except that her hormones were on overdrive. Vampire pheromones made everyone horny. Her desire was no more trustworthy than a late-night ice cream craving.

After a shower, she went through her nightly routine and put on her pajamas. When she climbed into bed, Magneto emerged from under the bed to snuggle against her. Right on cue, he curled into her side like a furry little spoon. She scratched under his chin while he wrapped his paws around her wrist and purred like a little motor. “At least you like me.”

9

“At least you like me.”

Her whispered words stunned him as sure as a slap to the face. He wished he could tell her how he’d fought to hold back his yes when she asked for his company. But the thought of seeing his hideous visage reflected in those huge, warm eyes...it was too much.

And despite the risks, he’d played a dangerous game just to have a taste of her. She was open and effusive, with the warmth of sunlight and the sweet scent of summer blooms. She did not take and consume, as so many of his kind did. Touching her gently to guide her hands, he’d been drowning in the natural perfume of her skin, the sheer warmth of her being.

He growled in frustration and paced the living room. The music on the stand was tempting, but he feared waking Shoshanna. Except that he did wish to wake her and demand her attention. Before he could make a regrettable decision, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and headed to the alcove to read to Lucia.

The book of French poetry remained closed in his lap as he stared up at her cold gray eyes. “What am I doing, Lucia? I should stay away from her. I have been alone this long, and there is no reason I cannot stay in my chambers for the next few weeks.”

He sighed.

“But I cannot remember the last time I spoke to someone like this, without the weight of the past,” he said. “The dance, the uncertainty, the friction of conversation...I missed it. But I know it will not end well. So why bother?”

Staring at the cold stone statue, he had all the reason he needed not to bother. Even if Shoshanna could somehow tolerate what she saw, he could not risk Armina’s fury. Kova had made that mistake, flaunting his beloved at every chance. And then the witch took the most precious thing of all from him.

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