I regretted it instantly. Even on his cruelest days, I couldn’t believe Dorien capable of such an act. But that was before my violin. I dared a glance into those limitless eyes, and what I saw there grabbed my heart and squeezed. His grey eyes swirled with pain and regret – not the look of a cold-blooded killer, but something much more human and un-Dorien-like.
Dorien sighed. “Of course he does. The police had their suspicions, too. I was an asshole to Clare, no argument. She liked me, and I strung her along. But I couldn’t have pushed her. I was already on the staircase ahead of her. I’d just reached the bottom when she fell. Clare was running after me. She wanted to tell me something about Madame Usher.”
“I don’t care. Go away.”
“You should care. Because I think you’re in danger. Madame Usher…” Dorien looked away. “She doesn’t want you here.”
“Youdon’t want me here. And so far you and Titus and Ivan are the only ones tormenting me, destroying my—” I choked on the word. I couldn’t even talk about my violin around him; it still cut too deep.
This time, Dorien didn’t look away. A storm made of torment swelled in his eyes. “I did those things on her orders. I didn’t have a choice. And I swear on my brother’s life that I never smashed your violin and none of us was the face at your window. You have to believe me—”
I didn’t know Dorien had a brother.
“Why should I believe you? You’ve done everything in your power to make me miserable, and what did I ever do to you except be your friend? Now you want me to talk about my mom – the most horrific experience that’s ever happened to me? Why do you think I owe you?”
“You owe me nothing.” Dorien stepped toward me, his eyes hardening to stone. “I owe you, Sprite. I oweeverythingto you.”
I opened my mouth to ask what the fuck he meant by that, but then Dorien mashed his lips on mine.
The kiss drove all rational thought from my head. Dorien’s hot, demanding lips dragged me under, sweeping me up in the storm of his need. All those nights I’d huddled over my computer watching videos of Dorien on stage – those cruel lips pouting as he caressed the piano keys like a lover – touching myself as I imagined what it would be like to have the attention of a guy like that. Now I knew, now I fucking knew – it waseverything.
Music danced over my skin as Dorien wrapped his fingers around my neck, tugging me closer, his lips devouring mine. The song of our lives played out in a tangle of tongue and lips and sinful touches. A moan escaped my throat that made Dorien’s body shudder. He swallowed my gasp as his fingers tightened on my neck, and a deep growl rumbled in his throat – raw and primal andso fucking hot.
The fingers of Dorien’s other hand curled in mine, pressing my palm back against the shelves. Books toppled around us as he ground against me, playing my body the way he played piano – hard and relentless and wickedly delicious. I felt like my skin would melt away from the heat searing through my body.
The image of my violin in pieces flickered in my mind, and all the heat drained from my skin. I tore myself away from him.
“Sprite?” The eyebrow cocking, that cruel mouth turning up in a question. He still had no fuckingclue.
I can’t believe I kissed him. Sound the fucktrumpets, because this is messed up.
I needed space. I needed tothink.
“Get off me.” I shoved Dorien. Harder than I thought. He crashed into the opposite stack, sending an avalanche of books falling. “You break off our friendship without explanation, you act like I’ve deliberately come here to ruin your fun, youdestroy my violin, and then you use that name you made for me like nothing has changed, and then youkissme? I don’t care if you’re the Bad Boy of Baroque and every girl wants you. I’m not your plaything.”
“I never…” The storm in Dorien’s eyes raged against my fire. He raked fingers through his hair, and his chin quivered. I wanted to look away, but the magic he conjured in his eyes held me trapped. “Faye, I wasn’t trying to… fuck, I don’t even know what I was doing. But you have to believe I didn’t—”
I refused to let him finish. I tore myself away and fled the library.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dorien
I watched her flee, black hair weaving around her, hot ass sashaying through the stacks. I wanted to go after her, but I knew it was pointless.
Faye had every right to hate my guts. I’d been horrible.
But now that I’d tasted her, no fucking way was I letting her go.
Faye was right about one thing – she wasn’t like other girls. Classical musicians didn’t have groupies like rockstars, but when the tabloids named you ‘The Bad Boy of Baroque,’ it carried with it a certain mystique. I had enough girls falling at my feet in every city that my bed never went cold. I learned tricks from the whores of Amsterdam that were whispered in reverent tones between Maestra in green rooms across the Continent. But no matter who I conquered – how rich or beautiful or talented they were – they all blended together in the end. Willing vessels into which I poured my sorrows, vices in which to numb myself, a parade of nameless pleasures to distract myself from the gaping hole of misery that was my life.
Only one face stood out to me. Only one. Faye – the only person who cared about me enough for me to scar.
Faye wanted me. The desperate way she sucked my lip, that gorgeous growl she made when I brushed my hand over her nipple, the way her body bent toward me, every curve yielding. She wanted me, and she hated herself for it. I knew that fucked-up dance well.
Yet she could bite down on that want and ignore the sparks between us through sheer force of will. If I wanted her, I had to earn her.
Luckily, I knew her well enough to understand exactly how to touch her heart. There were two things Faye loved more than anything in the world – her mother, and music.
