Page 83 of Till Death

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t gawking. Just wondering why you haven’t had that missing button replaced on your shirt.”

He shifted close, pinning me against the wall. “Do you always blush when you lie, Nightmare?”

“Wouldn’t that be so convenient for you?”

He smiled and snatched my hand, spinning away. As he led me up the flights of stairs in the patchwork house, I fought the lingering sadness in my heart. It must have been sadness, because why else would I want to break down and cry? But I understood none of it. They’d been so kind. So genuine.

And in that moment, I wished I could have spoken to Ro. I wish I’d had the courage to step into a mirror and hug her and apologize for being so angry with her for only giving part of herself to me. I understood it now. Because as much as I cared for the people in this house, they would never have all of me either. I was still a warrior. Still a harbinger, and I wanted to always shield them from the darkest parts of me. And maybe that’s what Ro had been doing, as well.

When Orin pushed open the door to the rooftop, I nearly fell over. The rare, evening sun bathed the rooftop in a warm hue, and the elegant silhouette of a cello stood proudly against the chimney, its polished wood and graceful curves adding an air of sophistication to the picnic set directly in the middle of the space.

“Will you take your evening meal with me, Wife?”

I pushed beyond the emotions, relying on sarcasm to see me through these foreign, tender moments. “So formal, Husband.”

His broad smile as he bowed at the waist made my heart skip a beat. “I aim to please.”

“I think you aim to flatter. We’ve discussed this.”

He moved to stand before me, resting his hands on my arms. “How am I doing on that front?”

“Marginal.”

His laugh was contagious, though the demon within me still told me he was not to be trusted. Trust no one. Rely on no one. I was the only person I could ever truly count on. And his nefarious boss was still very much a problem. All of this could be a ruse. A game to trap me, as Drexel had tried to do my entire life.

“Are you ready for your gift, Nightmare?”

Forcing the smile to smother the negative thoughts, I nodded. “You really didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

Again, he laughed, pressing his forehead to mine. “Paesha threatened to chop my balls off if I didn’t play nicely today. And with her, those are never empty threats. So, I wrote this song for you.”

He spun me around. I glanced over the rooftop as he counted the balusters before pulling me sideways, into his perfect position. “Stand here.”

Sitting behind his gleaming cello, he rolled his sleeves with careful precision, baring the twin bands on his arm before he began. He drew the bow across the strings, and the air was suddenly filled with a haunting melody that seemed to caress every corner of my soul. The first notes resonated through the open space, carrying an ache and longing that reached deep, punctuating the feelings the day had already wrought. It was as if the cello was an extension of Orin’s very being, an instrument he used, a tool to pour out his heart.

Thick lashes fell to his cheeks as he closed those beautifully darkening eyes and let himself fall into a cocoon of sound that transcended the physical realm. Each note was like a brushstroke on an invisible canvas, painting a vivid picture of emotions that I had buried within. Memories, dreams, and unspoken desires surged to life, given form by the gentle touch of his fingers on the strings.

As the melody unfolded, I felt myself swaying to its rhythm, my heart dancing in time with its cadence. Tears welled in my eyes, a bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow spilling over. The cello’s lament spoke to every hidden thought, every buried feeling I had ever harbored. To the nightmare. He had unlocked the door to my heart, allowing the floodgates of emotion to burst open, and that was Orin Faber’s true power. The ability to pour so much into something he loved, there could be no question of his raw talent.

Unable to bear the weight of the moment, I sank to my knees. The rooftop seemed to vanish, and I was suspended in a world where only the music, the man, and I existed. The notes cascaded over me like a waterfall of sound, washing away my inhibitions and leaving me raw, vulnerable, and utterly alive, but walking the very fine line of heartache.

I knew the danger here. What it meant to allow anyone close to me. But I equally wanted that so much, my very soul cried out for it. I wept, tears streaming down my cheeks unchecked, as the cello’s melody continued to unravel the tapestry of my existence. It was a catharsis, a release of all that I had held tightly within me for so long. The beautiful man on the rooftop, his fingers moving with a grace that seemed to defy gravity, was a conduit for the symphony of my heart.

I was in so, so much trouble.

When the song ended on a long, mournful note, I kept my face buried in my hands. But Orin sat beside me, taking a long, deep breath before pulling me to his chest, wrapping me in his arms until the rest of the world was merely a memory and remained silent. Until the tears dried, my mind quieted, and only he and I remained.

“Why did you cry, Deyanira?”

“Should you ever play that song, and it falls on hardened ears, just know that your audience has no soul, Husband.”

He rubbed my back. “That could never happen. The song belongs to you now.”

Chapter 34

“What was it like? As a child?”

I sat across from Orin on the picnic blanket, watching the setting sun with a full belly, tender heart, and so many questions about the reality of my life.