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The black bed was even bigger in person, with its ornate headboard reaching almost to the ceiling. It dominated the room with its size and overwhelming grandeur. Through the delicate gothic lacework, he spied a soft pastel rainbow. The room smelled of fresh paint, and all the furniture and knickknacks that had been in the room were now gone. All the new furnishings matched the bed—black and dripping ornate gothic details.
“Mon Dieu,” he whispered a second time.
Rafe stepped up behind Philippe and wrapped his arms around his waist while placing his chin on his shoulder. “What do you think,mon ange?”
“Mon Dieu,” he repeated because he still didn’t have words.
“Tell me. Honestly. First thoughts.”
“I think you’ve erected a cathedral to worship at the feet of a great LGBT peacock god.” Philippe froze. He had not meant to say that out loud. The censor in his head remained locked in shock.
But relief surged through him as Rafe’s bright laughter filled the room.
“Yes! And our peacock god prefers to be honored with sex!” Rafe released Philippe so he could come to stand in front of him, his beautiful eyes alight with an inner fire that melted Philippe’s brain. “Sweaty, bone-melting sex. Only then will we please our rainbow god. Shall we worship, my love?”
“Yes, but I have one concern.”
Rafe became serious in a heartbeat. “What? How can I fix this?”
Philippe bent at the waist and pointed toward the visible legs of the bed. “Those are a bit…spindly. Are you sure they will hold during our more aggressive…worship?”
Rafe bent with him and narrowed his eyes on the legs in question. “That is an excellent point.” He turned his head toward Philippe and his smile became positively wicked. “But there is only one way to discover if our new bed can keep up with our desire.”
“Yes, my love. Let’s try it out.”
Siren Song
A long, lonely note cried out from a violin. The sound stretched and twisted across the empty park. Silvery mist slithered out from the trees and crawled along the ground. The sun had set hours ago, and the city lights alone kept the deep, velvety blackness at bay.
Rafe Varik lounged on a wooden bench, one foot propped on the space next to him. The bow lightly held between his fingers glided across the strings like a lover’s caress while the violin sang a hauntingly forlorn tune about a soul searching for its other half.
A few minutes ticked by before the soft crunch of dried leaves reached his ears. It was too late for trick-or-treaters. The only thing lurking about was prey.
The instrument still tucked under his chin, Rafe slid the tip of his tongue over a fang and grinned as he watched a figure draw closer, following the winding path through the park. The man passed under the dirty light of a lamp, and his hair shone like golden sunbeams against milky-white skin.
He kept his head down, his face half-hidden in the shadow of his lifted coat collar, but Rafe could pick out the hint of a smile on peach-blossom lips.
He continued to play, drawing the man closer. The notes sped up, tripping and chasing after one another the same way his heart was skipping and bounding in his chest.
Closer. Just a bit closer. You will be all mine.
The person stopped, his hands tucked into the pockets of his long, dark woolen coat. The black material highlighted the almost pearlescent glow of his pale skin while sparkling green eyes fixed on him.
Rafe lifted the bow from the strings at the end of the tune, and the last note hung in the air, moaning and shivering for an extra heartbeat before flying off to the clouds.
“How could one so beautiful play a song so sad?” the man inquired.
“Even beauty can long for the other half of his soul.” Rafe sighed. He turned and tucked the violin and bow away in the case beside his foot.
“I find it hard to believe you haven’t found your mate. You must have had countless lovers flock to your side. How have you not located this person?”
Rafe smirked, lifting his gaze to lock on the creature standing at the edge of his reach. “I’ve found my mate, but he’s a cruel, heartless man. He’s wandered away. I thought if I played the cries of my heart, he might find his way back. But alas, I think he has forsaken me.”
Green eyes flared, and it was growing more difficult to not laugh at his own foolish words.
“Forsaken you?” the man repeated, an extra bite to his tone. “If you dared to lose your soul mate so easily, maybe you should consider that he wasn’t worth keeping.”
“Never.Mon amouris the essence of perfection. There is no one in all this world who has a kinder, more generous heart. There is no one who possesses more courage or strength than he. And there is no one who has sweeter lips that whisper words of love and devotion in my ear when we rise each night.”
