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“I think Alice can decide where she wants to stay. She’s an adult.”
“These are matters to discuss later,” Milo’s father interrupted. He nodded at the newly christened violin, still clutched in my fingers. “Let’s hear it played. Let’s hear this Heartsong violin, and see if it lives up to its name.”
The others around the table agreed, cheering and clapping. I stood beside Milo, composing myself, bringing the violin to rest beneath my chin, where it had already come to feel natural and right. Milo handed over the bow from my case. I played a few long, slow notes to show off the instrument’s resonance, then launched into Vivaldi’sViolin Concerto in G major.
Luciana clapped her hands, delighted. Heads nodded as my fingers flew through the rollicking notes and my bow tipped back and forth across the strings. This had been one of my first recital pieces—in a simpler version, of course—and still a song that brought instant joy to my heart. My heartsong, played on my Heartsong, which had been given to me by my heart’s own dream. The notes I loved sounded brighter and clearer than they’d ever sounded before.
Later that night, I crept down the hall to Milo’s room and let myself in, turning to close the door without making a sound. Before I could finish, I was grabbed, a hand pressed over my mouth to muffle the instinctive scream.
Milo. I love you.When he felt me relax, he closed the door himself.
“Did anyone see you?” he whispered.
I shook my head, and his hand moved from my mouth to circle my neck. I let out a slow breath, pressing my back along his front.
“I need you,” he said, pulling me with him toward the bed. “I’ve had Vivaldi in my head all day. I need to be inside you.”
“I’m here. I’m yours.”
As I lay back and welcomed him on top of me, I knew things would get scary, that he’d take me a little further into his world before he let me return to my safe guest room bed. I knew I’d end up bound, bitten, choked, and probably sore, since the only way he could hurt me would be with things that were quiet. When he produced rope from his bag, and a small, very silent whip, I held out my wrists in surrender.
Play me, Milo. Let me be your Heartsong, and play me with joy.
