Melody sucked in a breath and closed her eyes as she heard
the crash of the ocean, night birds’ mournful calls, all the sounds of the
night, mystical and enchanting. Delicious shivers worked along her spine, and
when he released her arm and she opened her eyes, something inside of her knew.
As horrifying as the realization was, she just knew.
She stared up at him, into his azure eyes, and found the
reality of her situation there. He gazed at her with kindness, with sympathy,
with understanding that unsettled her. She shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold,
and tears pooled in her eyes but refused to fall. “This…isn’t a hallucination,
is it?” she whispered.
He shook his head slowly, tender compassion turning his eyes
a darker shade.
“You’re…really real, aren’t you?”
He nodded, and she bit her bottom lip, feeling lost and
terrified, like a little child who had been separated from her parents. And the
truth was, that was exactly what had happened, and exactly how she had felt
ever since that police officer had come knocking at her door a year ago.
“Wh-What are you?” she asked again, sounding about as small
and helpless as she felt. “How did I get here? I want to go home.”
He sighed and reached out to run his hands lightly down her
bare arms. “Yes, I imagine that you do. Maybe we can figure this out if we sit
down and talk. But before that, can you tell me what your name is?”
Her bottom lip quivered as she looked up at him. “M-Melody,”
she said, but it came out sounding more like a wheezing accordion.
His sinful lips turned up at the corners. “Melody…of course
it is.” His smile broadened, grew warmer, and she felt herself instinctively
trusting him, which was not like her. But kindness radiated from every move of
his elegant body. “All right, Melody. Could I interest you in a change of
clothing? Something a little less…red?” He gave a soft laugh.
Melody glanced down at her wine-stained shirt and snorted.
“Oh geez…I put on a white shirt. What was I thinking putting on a white shirt?”
She looked like she had been stabbed repeatedly.
His chuckle was rich and lovely. “Well, I don’t imagine you
thought you were going to be traversing the continuum when you chose it.”
That got her attention. “Continuum?” she cried, her voice
going up in pitch. “Like, where Q lives?”
He frowned.
“
Star Trek?
”
The reference was apparently lost on him, if his perplexed
look was any indication, so she shook her head. “You mean like the space-time
continuum? Did I time travel?”
“Not exactly….”
“Not exactly? What do you mean not exactly?” She was vaguely
aware of her voice getting louder again.
“There are dimensions that exist alongside, but are different
from your reality,” he tried to explain. To his credit, his voice remained
amazingly calm, despite being thrown a strange woman who was on the verge of a
psychotic breakdown.
“You mean like a parallel universe?” She was almost shouting,
and it was becoming increasingly difficult to take a decent breath. She felt
like her airway was squeezing shut and that someone was standing on her chest.
“What is this? I was never any good at physics!
I’m a musician!”
She
wheezed in a much too shallow breath and held her arm out to him. “Could you? The
wrist?” She shook it at him. “Because I think I’m going to have the biggest
panic attack ever if you don’t.”
He immediately took her hand gently in his and began to trail
his fingers back and forth across her wrist. A small amount of calm returned to
her, but it didn’t chase all of the fear away. Her mind spun like a cracked-out
roller coaster that had lost its brakes.
She ran her free hand through her hair and noticed how badly
it was shaking. “Am I even on Earth anymore? Am I in outer space?”
He laughed softly. “You’re not on another planet. You just
managed to cross over into my world somehow, which I did not realize was a
possibility until tonight. The music must have opened up a gateway of some
kind, a bridge between the two of us.” He shook his head. “I have known of
muses who were able to travel into your reality, but I have never known of a
human to come here.”
“So what does that mean?” she all but yelled. “And what
exactly is a muse anyway?” She sounded on the verge of hysteria. Actually, she
was
on the verge of hysteria. “This is so not what I had planned for tonight,”
she rambled. “I was going to drink, play some music that intrigued me, and let
myself fantasize a little bit about some random guy I happened to see when I
played it. I did
not
expect to end up in some sub-genre of reality
with—”
“Fantasize? About a man you saw when you played? If I’m
following your story correctly, that man was me.” He cocked an eyebrow in a
playful, all too sexy gesture. “You were going to fantasize about me?”
Melody felt her cheeks flame, and that horrendous lost and
isolated feeling came back with a vengeance. “That really wasn’t what I meant.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she wanted to crawl into the nearest dark space and
go to sleep, hoping that when she woke up, she would be out of this rabbit
hole. “The wrist thing really isn’t working this time,” she said, hating how
pitiful her voice sounded.
He let out a soft sigh and took her by the shoulders.
“Melody, allow me to do something? It may help calm your nerves. But you need
to stop thinking so much and listen to me.”
She looked up into his eyes and studied the fantastic
features of his face. Strong, chiseled, masculine features, yet with a subtle
elegance that made him look ethereal and mythical…which she supposed made
sense. What she loved the most was the benevolence radiating from his blue
eyes. She detected no malice, no ill intent whatsoever. He was being infinitely
patient and so careful not to frighten her more than she already was.
She forced a long, shaky exhale past her lips and nodded.
“Please.”
He stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, making no sudden
movements that might startle her. He kept his eyes on hers, gauging her
reaction while, with gentle certainty, he guided her into the circle of his arms.
Melody was startled at first, having not expected that, but
as he pulled her to him and his arms closed around her, warmth unlike anything
she had ever experienced enveloped her. This time, she did not hear the
soothing sounds of nature. Instead, she heard beautiful, enchanting music.
Soft, sonorous notes of such perfection that everyone in the orchestra she had
once been in would have been envious. She heard instruments of all
kinds—strings, wind, brass—all weaving a wondrous rhapsody that eased the frayed
edges of her frazzled, overwrought nerves.
Her eyes slipped closed as she let the music fill her mind,
and the strength of his body lent her the support she so desperately needed in
that moment. She leaned into him without thinking, her cold, lonely heart
starving for the warmth he offered.
“Shhh,” he whispered as he smoothed his hand down the length
of her hair. “I know you are frightened, and bewildered, but you are safe here.
Nothing will harm you. I promise.”
His voice made shivers dance throughout her, and his constant
touch and the contact of his body made the music in her mind continue, melting
away all of her apprehension and terror. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms
around his waist, surrendering to his embrace, and rested her cheek against his
heart. The beat of it reminded her of a thunderous drum.
“I’m going to get your shirt all gross with wine,” she said,
because for some reason, that was very important to her at the moment.
His laughter was wonderful, and his arms tightened around her
ever so slightly. “I don’t care one bit about my shirt,” he stated.
“I probably smell like a winery exploded.” He, on the other
hand, smelled like cedar and violin rosin. To anyone else, it might not have
mattered at all, but to her, it was the world’s most amazing smell. “Please,
tell me what you are.” At that moment, standing within his embrace as she was,
with his caring reassurance and the music in her mind, she did not fear the
answers quite as much.
“I told you. I am a muse.” His words were hushed, his voice
barely above a mumbled whisper, and he continued to drag his fingers through
her hair in a calming gesture.
“But I don’t know what that means.”
“Muses inspire humans to create. There are many different
kinds of muses. Muses who create stories, muses who inspire poetry, or lyrics,
or art.”
“And what kind are you?”
“I am a musical muse.”
She smiled. “Well, that makes sense. Is that why I hear music
when you touch me?”
“Yes. I control all elements of music. It exists within me.
Even the music of nature itself. I can draw upon it and share it with you. That
is how we help humans create.”
“Did you know the woman who wrote that music I played?” She
moved away enough to be able to look up at his face. “Did you inspire her to
write that? Is that how it’s all connected?”
A shadow passed over his features and his eyes grew sad. “She
did not write that,” he said.
Melody frowned. “She didn’t?”
He shook his head. “No…I did.”
She sucked in a surprised breath, but had a small moment of
elation within herself. She had known when the girl from the sale had told her
who the composer was that it hadn’t felt right. And looking at the woman on the
computer hadn’t convinced her. When she’d played, when she’d heard Liron
playing, the baleful notes had sounded like they were coming straight from his
soul and were calling to hers. “But you know who she was?”
The light that had been in his eyes up to that point vanished
and he looked away. “Yes. I did. She was my wife.”
Melody’s eyes widened. “Your wife?”
He nodded and met her gaze again. He gave her a smidgen of a
smile, but she could tell even that much was forced. “If you think you are calm
enough now, I will take you to where you can change into something dry. After
that, we will have a conversation. All right?”
She agreed, feeling much more stabilized, if not any less
confused. Her curiosity was beginning to take over where her panic had been,
and now that she knew she was in this strange place, freaking out about it
wasn’t going to do her any good. It was disconcerting, sure, to suddenly find
out that the world was not what she thought it was, but while she was stuck there,
she may as well learn what she could about muses, and alternate realities,
space travel…whatever it all was.
And especially about the handsome, sad man who filled her
whole being with music.
Chapter Five
“You really do live in a castle?” Melody queried as he
motioned for her to go first down the stone staircase that led to his bedroom.
He couldn’t help but smile at her wide-eyed expression. The
poor woman still looked utterly terrified. He couldn’t blame her, really. This
whole situation was completely strange, even for him, and he was very aware of
alternate dimensions. “It’s a little small to be a castle, but fashioned the
same.” He held his hand out, indicating that they were supposed to go down. “My
bedroom is at the end of the staircase. I will give you a change of clothes.”
She didn’t seem the least bit interested in going down into
the dimly lit passage, but she did so anyway. He allowed himself the pleasure
of appraising her while they descended the staircase. She was very lovely, if
slightly haphazard at the moment. Her hair was a beautiful honey-golden shade
and it fell in wild waves around her shoulders, tangled from running her
fingers through it so many times. She was wearing a snug, white sleeveless
shirt and some gray pants that hugged the gentle curves of her slender body.
The way his body had instantly blazed to life with attraction
for her the second he had seen her surprised him. He had been a cold, dormant
chasm of nothingness for so long he’d figured Elizabeth had robbed him of any
passion he’d once possessed. But something about Melody, complete stranger that
she was, called out so strongly to him. Maybe it was the vulnerability he’d seen
reflected in her pale blue eyes, the lost, terrified look that made him want to
fold her up in his arms until she felt safe. Or maybe it was the fact that,
despite being scared out of her mind, she had trusted him, leaned upon him,
needed his protection and his care, regardless of the fact that he was
something foreign to her, something odd and frightening. He didn’t know if
there had been a time in the past when someone had needed or wanted his
protection. Elizabeth certainly never had.
He couldn’t shake the memory of how Melody had felt in his
arms, pressed against him with so much faith that he had not earned and did not
rightly deserve. He’d been alone for so long; not creating, not inspiring,
barely even existing. A human woman had somehow gotten a hold of his music, and
for reasons he didn’t quite understand, had managed to open a gateway into his
world. And for other reasons he didn’t understand, she had reached out to him.
Whether she had believed she was dreaming or not, she had reached out to him
all the same.
Melody swore suddenly as she stumbled on one of the stairs
and caused a bit of a racket as she tried to catch herself. At the bottom of the
staircase, there was some rustling before a large, winged thing flew up the
corridor. It narrowly missed Melody and she screamed, throwing her arms over
her head and crashing into Liron’s body as if he was her escape route.
His arms went around her, and he grunted as she knocked him
back into the wall. He winced with the force of her bansheelike shriek, but
warmth exploded along the surface of his skin where she was pressed.
She gasped and peeked out from under her arms. “Oh my gosh,
was that a bat?” she murmured. “Like a real, live
bat
?”