Page 85 of The Musician and the Monster

“Sing for me, Ceridwen.”Mother’s phantom voice slipped through her mind.

“Your music helps me,”the memory of Drystan echoed.

Could she sing? If she loved him, truly loved him, she had to try.

Red eyes stared into hers as she swallowed her fear, sucked in a breath, and began to sing.

“Each night…the moon rises…from his bed.”

The monster continued to stare, red eyes blinking where it loomed like a ghastly statue above her.

“Searching for his one love that hath fled.”

It tilted its head to the side like a dog assessing its master.

Ceridwen stroked his cheek, the hot, hard skin, the bits of matted hair. “With brightest light, she tempts him onward. The object of his nightly quest for love.” Her voice grew steadier, more confident, coming alive with song as it hadn’t in years.

The monster retreated and crouched at her feet.

Ceridwen pulled herself up, ignoring the pain in her body, her racing heart, everything but the monster of a man before her.

“Each morning, the sun raises her head. Longing for her love, she dreams to wed.”

It sniffed in her direction, dipping its head as she raised her hand toward its muzzle.

“His soft white glow beckons her to him.”

“Ceridwen!” Malik yelled, but she ignored him.

“The answer to her longing for love.”

Coarse fur tickled her fingertips. Another wayward tear rolled down the crease of her nose and over her lips.

“Drystan,” she whispered between lines. She stroked his face over the hard ridges of bone and ears like a bat’s wing, as she continued to sing.

The monster did not rip out her neck. Not as she caressed his face, nor when she wrapped her arms around him as if he were a gentle creature that would lick her face or purr like a cat. He was none of those things, not now, but he allowed the touch.

His fangs did not bite. Claws did not scratch. His whole form seemed to relax under her touch at the sound of her voice as she held him and sang through the tears that continued to fall.

Tears for Drystan. For Mother. For her.

For all that she’d lost and all she’d found. And all that would still endure should they live through this night.

Her heart pounded as the monster wiggled in her grip. She shut her eyes against her death and sang through the fear threatening to cut off her song once more.

She no longer heard Malik. Perhaps he fled. A small screech slipped out among words as the monster thrashed and jerked under her arms.

Something changed. The hair she grasped with one hand vanished. Soft skin replaced the cracked leather surface under the other. A groan more human than monstrous echoed in her ears and trickled over her skin like water.

Through it all, she kept singing, willing sounds out of her throat no matter how they tried to stay inside.

Ceridwen’s eyes flew wide as a human hand gripped her side, pulling her close. The sight that greeted her choked off the song. His dark hair was matted and sticking out in odd directions. The grimace on his features spoke of pain. But his eyes were clear of their red haze.

“Drystan.” His name cracked from her lips.

He winced, flexing his hand on her side as he tried to move. She scooted back to give him space. A soft gasp fell from her lips as her gaze traveled down his chest. His naked chest. His arms, too, laid bare, covered in a dusting of hair and marred by scars. And below that—

She looked away before she could give into temptation, heat rushing to her cheeks.

---