FascinatingRhythm (7 page)

But he didn’t stop. After sheathing himself one-handed, he
came back for another kiss. Sabina couldn’t wait another minute but lifted her
legs and wound them around his waist, bringing her pussy into close proximity
to his cock. Enough for him to grasp her waist and push her down, impaling her
in one long stroke.

He took her without mercy, but she didn’t need mercy. Only
this, his cock driving deep inside her with fast, insistent thrusts, the
primitive simplicity of their joining a turn-on like no other man had ever
done. Or ever would.

Crying out, she clutched a handful of his hair. He said
something but she couldn’t make out what. She was too busy kissing his
forehead, his jaw, anywhere she could fucking reach, nipping at him until he
cried out, his breath hot against her skin.

The door gave, probably rattling with every stroke. She
didn’t give a fuck, as long as he didn’t stop. Heat rose inside her with the
inevitability of nature, tingles sent every hair on her body insane, even the
incipient ones on her naked pussy. He sent shocks along her neural pathways
until her body became one twisted flash of need and then—fulfillment.

He gripped her tight as she felt the pulses when he gave up
the fight, sending his essence out of his body.

“Fuck,” she said, lifting her hand to run it through her
hair, making sure the top of her head was still attached.

“Yeah.” He panted heavily, fresh sweat bedewing his body.
“Shower, but we’ve got to be fast.”

He got them in the shower, tight against each other in the
small space in double-quick time.

“I want the operation,” she said suddenly.

Hunter stared at her in silence for a full minute. Only when
the shower abruptly turned cold did he move. On Sabina’s shocked squeal, he
scooped her up and exited the cubicle, grabbing the nearest towel to tuck
around her. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. I want it. I couldn’t hear you properly tonight and it
drove me mad.”

He stroked her wet hair back off her face. The shower here
was a basic model, the head fixed in one position, so what with that and the
vigorous fucking, they were soaked from head to foot. He reached for the only
other towel and wrapped it around her hair. Immediately she took the one from
her body away and gave it to him. “Share,” she said with a smile.

When she turned away to dry her hair, he scrubbed the towel
over her back, then swiped it over her body before attending to his own needs.
He usually brought a bag to gigs that contained a towel, toiletries and
something to read, but with his agitation over her presence, he’d forgotten it.
And his spare clothing. At least Chick had provided a spare pair of pants, and
he could leave off the T-shirt. They dressed in silence, without signing or
speaking.

Someone knocked on the door. Chick entered without waiting
for a response. “Press conference? Or had you forgotten?”

Hunter nodded to Sabina. “She had something important to
tell me.”

Chick glanced at Sabina, his expression coldly stern. Before
Hunter could say anything, Sabina faced him. Fortunately, she’d dressed faster
than he had. Leather pants could be a bitch to get on over damp skin.

“My mother is planning to hijack the conference. She’s
started a new political party for deaf separatists and she is announcing the
launch tonight.”

Chick groaned. “Shit, I should have guessed when I looked
her up. She’s a quick worker, your mother.”

Sabina gave a grim nod. She tied back her hair while Chick
frowned at her abstractedly. Hunter suspected nervousness, but he instinctively
knew she wanted to deal with this situation herself. “I’ll handle it,” Chick
said.

“I wanted to tell Hunter that I’ve decided to have the
operation to restore my hearing. It’s experimental, it might not work, but I
want to do it. They’ve given me a date and a firm offer, and I’m going to say
yes.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Hunter suppressed his groan. If he’d never spent much time
around the deaf, he wouldn’t understand either. He let Sabina enlighten Chick.

“I’ll lose my job. Emmelie is an important activist in the
deaf separatist movement. They want the deaf to have a world of their own,
rather than being forced to integrate with the hearing. She can’t employ a
hearing assistant. And something else made me think harder too. I have some
residual sound that helps me talk. I could lose that.”

Chick listened, took it all in. His eyes, seemingly so
vacant, were in reality watching, registering and analyzing. “Not so clear-cut,
then. Sorry.” He stared at a spot just over her head for a few seconds. “What
do you want me to make public? Do you mind if I mention the operation?”

She frowned. “No. Uppsala University is doing good work. It
deserves the publicity and I’m not ashamed.”

Hunter knew how brave she was, doing that. Making a public
announcement that she wanted to join the world of the hearing. Even if the
operation failed it would make her persona non grata in some circles. The ones
she currently moved in, for instance. She could lose her clients, and Emmelie
would have nothing more to do with her.

Hunter took her hand and she turned her head to smile back
at him. “I’ll be okay.”

He saw perception and something else in her eyes—a
settled
look he hadn’t noticed before. He hadn’t realized how badly the decision
would affect her, how profoundly her life would change. Nothing would remain
for her except her family in Iceland. Nothing. Castigating himself as a
complete fucking idiot for not realizing the full implications before, he swore
to support her all he could. Everything she wanted he’d give to her, if he
could possibly do it. The problem was getting past her fiercely independent
nature. But that was what friends did, wasn’t it?

Another landmark in his life loomed. A press conference in
his own country, facing the press that had ignored him in favor of his mother.
Until now. And if she had anything to do with it, they’d continue to ignore
him. He was looking forward to the battle between Emmelie and Chick, who ran
press conferences with an iron fist.

They followed Chick to the press room. Hunter could have
closed his eyes and gone on sound because the hubbub told him how full it was.
The rest of the band were sitting at a long table set on a pedestal. Not too
high, so the assembled multitude could get good pictures. His mother was
already there, standing at the side of the room, and he made a point of
crossing to her and kissing her cheek before he went to take his seat. He could
do that much for her. Sabina took her place next to Emmelie, and a burly
security man came to stand close by.

Hunter sat on the platform at the end next to Riku, who
muttered, “Some people get all the luck.” So at least one person here realized
what had delayed him.

Riku had found time to change too. Instead of the pink shirt
that had almost blinded Hunter onstage, he wore his ankle-length coat with the
complex silver fastenings, the top ones left undone to show an expanse of
tanned chest. Hunter grinned. “You could have, if you weren’t so obsessed about
your clothes.”

Riku snapped his fingers. “Image man, image.”

Hunter grinned. “Like fuck. You’d do it anyway.”

Riku stretched his lanky six-foot-three frame in his wooden
chair and examined his pink-and-black manicure. “Possibly, but I wouldn’t have
as much money to do it with.” Like he cared. Under all the flash and dash Riku
was as much a musician as the rest of them.

As usual, Chick announced the start of the questions. Hunter
exchanged a glance with the others and the interrogation began.

Yes, they were enjoying the tour. No, the music still came
first. Yes, they were working on the new album. So far, so predictable.
Occasionally Hunter exchanged a glance with Sabina, who was standing to one
side, his mother by her side. Ready to bolt, he thought. Not that he could do
anything about it right now.

She must find this situation unnerving. People shouted for
the band’s attention, cameras constantly flashing, worse than strobe lighting,
with no focus apart from Chick indicating who should ask the next question. The
members of the press wore ID badges, but Chick also had a clipboard with a list
attached to it, and occasionally called a name. No democracy here.

“I want to ask Hunter a question.” A woman gave him a
charming smile. Hunter went on alert. Riku nudged him, grinning, and then
leaned back, hands behind his head. Hunter rarely fielded many questions and
when he did, he tended to reinforce the stereotypes about drummers. It made it
easier for them to underestimate him.

“Go ahead. Sorry, you are…?”

She gave the name of a big rock magazine. A welcome change
from the usual nerdy types that particular magazine sent. It meant the
woman—Janice—had to be tough and she knew her subject. “I have deaf relatives,
so I recognize sign language, even though you used ASL and not SSL. Who was the
message for?”

Hunter stared at her, then deliberately at Sabina. And
smiled. Emmelie lifted her chin and smiled back. Sure enough, people aimed
cameras in their direction and a plethora of flashes followed. Sabina must be
seeing nothing but flashes in front of her eyes. He knew that sensation only
too well and he’d learned not to look directly into a lens so he wouldn’t go
temporarily blind or spend the next half hour with green spots dancing in front
of his eyes. He hated that. The experience reached a part deep inside that he
spent too much time pushing away. Losing his senses, any of them, scared him
beyond reason.

Sabina blinked but Emmelie didn’t. He expected nothing else
of his superbly self-controlled mother. So self-controlled that he’d rarely
seen her without her hair dressed back in its smooth chignon and her face in
its daily coating of discreet makeup.

He dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter now and he
trusted Chick to handle the situation. A movement on the other side of the room
caught his eye, separate from the media, who were seated or standing and moving
plenty, but not walking calmly forward. One of his mother’s staff, no doubt. He
wasn’t familiar with her publicity people these days, but this one had the look
of one of hers. Neatly but not ostentatiously dressed in a suit and tie, which
did seem unusual in this place, hair cut short and smoothed back from his face,
clean, shiny features and the perceptive gaze of the profoundly deaf. He kept
his hands by his side, a faint smile on his features, and he was clean-shaven.

Before the next questioner could get in, Chick said
something. “Hunter has reconnected with a friend from a long time ago.” He
glanced at Sabina, who gave a barely there nod. Good.

Hunter got to his feet and held out his hand, smiling.
They’d gone in this evening hands linked, so better to end the speculation than
to face the constant “Who is she?” comments, and then the inevitable intrusion.
His mother would use all that for her own cause. Not that he objected to it,
just that— Aw, shit, he was going around in circles now.
Give it up, Hunter.

Slowly, Sabina moved. She glanced at Emmelie, who made a
move too, but somehow, one of Chick’s heavies was standing in front of her,
ostensibly ready to escort Sabina to the platform. Hunter suppressed his smile.
He might have known Chick would manage this. Emmelie would get her chance, but
not yet.

With the muscle clearing the way, a gesture not really
needed in this room but demonstrating a show of power, Sabina made her way to
Hunter’s side. When she got there, he secured her hand in his and kissed her.
He meant to kiss her cheek, affectionate rather than sexy, but he missed and
the kiss landed on her mouth. Automatically, she opened to him. He touched his
tongue to her lips, got a hint of the taste of her, and then forced himself to
stop.

Breaking away, he gave her a smile before he turned back to
the press. Chick caught his attention by the breadth of his grin. Headlines
were set for the next morning. The conniving bastard. “This is Sabina Laugasdottir.
We’ve known each other for some time, but on this visit, we connected.” Cue
raucous laughter from the crowd and a gorgeous flush rising to mantle Sabina’s
cheeks. A strong desire to protect her, hide her from the crowd that was making
her so uncomfortable possessed him. As it was, he tugged her closer so she
stood in the shelter of his body.

Reporters shouted questions and Sabina stared at them. Time
to take a hand. “Sabina is deaf, so you’ll have to let me interpret for you.
She lip-reads, but you’re all too much and too far away. One at a time,
please.” He wouldn’t let her speak. He adored her voice, but he wouldn’t let
them make fun of or confuse her. The signing would give her time to think,
although he was now aware that some people in the audience could read ASL. So
no secrets.

“Do you intend to travel with Hunter on his world tour?”

Hunter’s fingers flew. Sabina replied and he answered for
her. “I can’t. I have to go into the hospital soon. Uppsala University Hospital
has offered me a new procedure to restore my hearing.”

Explosions. The tenor of the interview changed, and the
reporters asked about the operation. The band had more or less answered the
questions they wanted to, and if not for this intervention, Chick would have
drawn the conference to a halt. But he’d manipulated matters so that the
operation had the focus, not Emmelie’s new party. And this was Chick’s
conference all the way. Sabina briefly explained, and Chick let her answer a
question or two before calling a halt to that line of questioning. “Any more
questions for the band, people?”

A few. Someone gave Sabina a chair so she could sit next to
Hunter, and they answered a few more questions. To Riku about his clothes, and
to Zazz about his father, who’d been a renowned jazz musician but now lived in
retirement. After someone asked Jace about his chord structure, Chick stopped
the conference. “Thanks for coming, guys. Now I believe some of you know
Hunter’s mother, Ms. Emmelie Ostrander. She has an interesting announcement to
make, so if you’ll give the band a minute to leave, we’ll hand over the stage
to her.”

Even Hunter left the platform, but remained in the room,
still holding Sabina’s hand. He wanted her to stay right there by his side, but
he knew she couldn’t. She had a life, so did he, and they weren’t together.
Didn’t converge except for now, so they’d better make the most of it. And fuck,
he would.

Half the journalists left too, and the ones that remained
probably did so out of curiosity. Emmelie, accompanied by two of her people,
took her place right at center and made her announcement through her
interpreter, the man Hunter had noticed earlier. The man spoke to the press, a
small concession on Emmelie’s part, but sometimes she had to speak to the
unwashed masses, the hearing majority. A few of the Swedish journalists were
very interested, which helped the flow of the questions.

“You prefer deaf people to work with you, even
interpreters?” one asked.

“Yes,” Emmelie signed and the man spoke. “Our party is
campaigning for the rights of deaf people. It makes sense to use only deaf
people.”

Much more staid than the last one. Until someone said, “How
do you feel about your son having a hearing-impaired girlfriend?”

Hunter waited for the explosion. The silent explosion, but
nonetheless impactful for all that. She slapped her hands against each other as
she signed, hard and unforgiving, and her interpreter spoke to the press. “I’m
deaf. I am not impaired in any way.”