Page 41 of Hunger & Harmony

“No. This is worse.”

My lips downturn completely.

“Usually,” he continues, “I don’t care.”

My stomach twists at his charged answer. His words throw gasoline on the fire building in my body. It’s trying to make a home between my hips, fervent behind my ribs.

“Stunning! You are absolutely stunning, Your Majesty!” the photographer exclaims. “We have a cover, for sure!”

It’s a blur as the photoshoot wraps. At some point, I’m released from Niko’s grasp and back to Lorelai’s side. I snatch up the cup she offers, but no amount of cool water quells the fire.

The memory of his hands still burns into my body. I never thought I could want someone so badly. Someone I really, really shouldn’t.

I excuse myself to the bathroom without ever looking back at him. Out in the hallway, I can at least feel my lungs again. Before I enter the ladies' room, two voices catch my attention.

“Does King Niklaus have a new fledgling?” a woman asks.

“That girl they had in his shoot?” a man replies. “Come to think of it, I don’t recognize her. Wasn’t the last fledgling Ezren?”

Peeking around the corner, I spot two stylists standing in the adjacent hallway. Their backs are to me as they continue to gossip.

“Yeah, but . . .I don’t think she’s a new member.”

“A lover, then?”

They share a giggle, and my teeth dig into my bottom lip.

“No one but a lover could be that close to the king’s fangs and live.”

10

BLOOD HEAT

Something rich and slow breaks the silence. Something aching.

My head hasn’t stopped spinning since the shoot ended. I’m still not sure when I got to the hotel, let alone this hallway. All the stylists’ hard work is gone; my mascara smudged, my hair deflated, and only sheer, black tights shielding my feet as I wander. At least Niko's jacket remains warm on my frame.

I peer around as another note floats through the air.

Guitar.

Rougher than any polished sound on stage, these strings sing a private tune. Raw.

It draws me in, tugging me forward by a thread from my heart. Around a corner, up a short flight of steps, and out into the last gasps of the night. I hold his jacket around me tightly. A stark breeze runs through my hair, the rooftop balcony open and dim.

There, bathed in the soft glow of a hanging light, is Niko. With his head bent over an acoustic guitar, and his fingers moving by memory. No mic and no fangs. No fame, either.

I pause at the entrance. Not just to let this image burn into my mind.

The wrong notes. They sing alongside his hands, not dull or grating. They soften, now in harmony with the guitar strings. Shifting around Niko, the wrong notes settle and are made anew.

It’s not that they disappear. It’s that they fit. For the first time, the wrongness sounds right.

One step closer. It’s all I need to not interrupt, but feel it fully. Even my heart beats in time with the steady tap of his shoe.

When his eyes finally lift, they meet mine across the dark. I expect the spell to shatter, and the illusion to fade, but it doesn’t. His soft gaze lingers for only a moment before he returns his attention to the cherry wood guitar.

“How . . .” I start, my whisper lost to the music.