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It doesn’t help.
My eyes pop open, and I stare at the slightly open bathroom door in the dusky light coming in from the window.
I just can’t lie still, and the restless energy isn’t going to go away, clearly.
“Goddammit,” I swear under my breath, getting up and stretching. It already doesn’t hurt as bad to walk on my ankle, so I open the door to my room and head downstairs.
It’s late enough in the evening now that I don’t see any of the guys. Gage is probably at the club, and Ash is probably off somewhere getting his dick sucked.
I think about checking to see if Knox is downstairs with anyone, but when I walk in that direction, I catch the sound of music floating down the hall. It’s piano music, haunting and beautiful, and I follow the sound to the room I found the other day with the baby grand in it.
The door is open just a crack, and I ease it open even more so I can peer inside. At least that’ll be one question answered tonight—which of the guys is the one who can play piano.
I can’t tell if I’m surprised or not to see Priest sitting on the low bench, fingers moving over the keys with practiced ease.
He seems the least likely of the men to be able to have such beautiful music inside him, but he’s also the one I know the least about. The one who’s been the best at shutting me out and keeping me at arm’s length, no matter how much I try to rile him up.
There’s a look on his face that’s not quite peace, but it’s not the empty blankness I’m used to, or the open hostility. It’s neutral, but naturally so because he’s so caught up in the music, I guess.
I step the rest of the way into the room, and even though his fingers don’t stop moving over the keys, I know he knows I’m there. Neither of us speak, though, and he keeps on playing.
I watch and listen in silence, letting the music and its soothing tone ease the twisting and turning of my brain.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a musician,” I say after a bit, wondering if he’ll tell me to get out or lash out at me.
He doesn’t do either.
His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t look away from the piano, doesn’t still his fingers as they dance across the keys. Priest plays on like I’m not even there, ignoring me entirely.
“But then, I guess I don’t know anything about you at all,” I continue, cocking my head. “You’re not as easy to read as the others, but you already know that, don’t you?”
This one-sided discussion is like every ‘conversation’ we have together, if you could even call them that. He’s ignoring me, not letting me get to him, and I’m pushing for answers.
“Why did you follow me, Priest?” I ask after another moment of nothing but haunting music, getting right to the heart of the matter. “Why did you step in to save me?”
He just keeps playing, acting like he can’t hear me.
The music isn’t that loud, and I know he’s not in some zone where he’s deaf to the world around him. He’s just deliberately being a dick.
So, nothing new.
I take another step closer, closing the distance between me and the piano. “It doesn’t make any sense, you know. You’re the one who’s been throwing threats around that if I messed with you and your brothers you were going to kill me. You’re the one who wanted me gone. You would have gotten your wish today. Those fuckers were going to kill me, and I would have been gone for good.”
The music stumbles for a split second when his fingers hesitate on the keys, and in that fraction of time, I think he’s finally going to answer me.
But he doesn’t. Of course he fucking doesn’t.
He keeps on playing, picking up the melody again as if he never stopped, continuing to act like I’m not even here.
My eyes narrow in frustration, and I move even closer, waiting for him to snap at me or something, the way he usually does when I get too close.
Still nothing.
It pisses me off, anger and irritation rising like a hot tide in my chest. I hate that he’s so good at brushing me off and pretending like I’m not in the room. I want to crack his fucking ice king façade and see what’s under it. See what makes him do the things he does. Like leaping in to save me today when he’s spent all this time claiming to want me dead.
I move until I’m right next to the piano, hands braced on the shiny black veneer of it.
Priest just plays on.
