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Laughter caught her attention. Darting into the living room, Rukia put her hands on her hips as she located the conniving man. He’d grabbed the case and flung it on the couch, his hands delicately tightening the strings on his instrument.
“How long have you played?” Swallowing her mischievousness, she gracefully sat down on the couch that’d been his resting place over the last twenty-four hours.
“Since it was invented in the sixteenth century.”
Isaiah’s hand grasped the bow delicately, the hold second nature as his eyes traced over the strings and his chin rested respectfully on the instrument. Within seconds, the bow made contact with the strings, emitting a wave of lively notes the echoed throughout the cavernous interior of his living room.
Rukia sat pensive, utterly enthralled. Dark and sonorous vibrations mixed with the keenness of higher notes, the sound making her close her eyes and let it wash over her. Each tone whistling through the air captivated her, Isaiah’s skill with the instrument unparalleled.
Lifting her lids, she gazed at the man whose sole attention was on the instrument in his grasp. His fingers deftly connected with the strings in a flurry of precise movement, his bow hand grasping the wood with the air of a master.
Awe bloomed deep in her chest. The sonata, a mesmerizing tune that floated through the space to kiss her ears in a divine flow of sound, was dynamic. It shifted seamlessly from dark and melancholic to halting and frenetic.
The melody came to an end in a crescendo of scales. She found herself speechless when he lowered the bow.
Isaiah, however, was too lost in the instrument to notice her momentary silence. Gently, he set the instrument back into the case with the upmost care before glancing up at her.
There was no pride in his eyes, but they were full of hope. A hope that she’d enjoyed it, a hope that she’d been as riveted with the sound as he had been.
“It was beautiful,” she said with unashamed wonder in her voice. “Thank you.”
Isaiah smiled, the expression so genuine and innocent that she felt her heart stutter in her chest. In that moment, despite his many years on the earth, he looked like a younger man. One full of innocence and optimism.
Still entranced, Rukia was still beaming with appreciation. “Tell me you just made that up on the spot.”
“Would you be impressed if I said I did?” His telltale smirk returned.
“No, I’d think you were a liar.”
A chuckle. “Well, I can’t take the credit. It’s Paganini, Caprice 24.”
“Should I know who that is?”
Scoffing, Isaiah had the audacity to look offended. “Uncultured swine.”
Fisting a hand, she got up and popped him on the shoulder before twisting her lips into a comical line. “At least I’m not a deformed duck. I suppose I’ll have to learn, sparky.”
Chapter Twenty-One
AstheElementalpressedinto his core once more, Isaiah’s gut clenched with unspoken desire. He hadn’t performed for an audience in decades, perhaps longer. And though his lieutenants knew of his hobby, he couldn’t remember a single time when he’d played for them.
Perhaps he’d have to right that wrong.
“How’s your headache?” Rukia asked.
“Throbbing, but manageable,” Isaiah admitted. “Would you like to get out of the house? I need to walk through my territory and assure my people I’m still alive.”
“You’ll have to explain to them why I’m still here.”
“Perhaps I’ll tell them the truth.”
“What truth?” Hesitancy flashed over her features.
“That I find you fascinating.”
Her usual sarcastic façade immediately masked the fleeting glimpse of delighted surprise. “Watch it, Raeth, or I’ll think you’re falling in love with me.”
Isaiah frowned, unsure why the comment made him both giddy and horrified at the same time. He shook off the unfamiliar feeling and offered her his arm. “Let’s go, Elemental, I must attend to my people.”
