Carter slanted an annoyed glance at me. “It changes. It’s a sonata.”
He said it like it was obvious, but I hadn’t gotten the musical gene like he had. He’d always been able to pick up instruments with an ease that made me jealous. I had tried my best to keep up with him in that department growing up, but I’d stopped trying after he got better at me with the flute after only a couple of weeks when I’d been playing for years.
No, I much preferred putting my nose in a book—it was one of the reasons why I’d pursued a minor in history. I was much better with that sort of stuff.
“Explain it to me like I’m five, please,” I urged, pushing him over so I could sit on the bench next to him.
Carter’s sigh was full of exasperation. “I know what you’re doing, Lennie.”
I smiled at him innocently before nudging him with my elbow. “Being a fantastic little sister who is interested in her only older brother’s hobbies?”
Carter rolled his gray eyes but still spread the music sheets he was working on out in front of us.
“Sonatas go through different phases—or movements. The first of this one goes like this,” Carter explained as he disconnected his headphones and began to play, his fingers dancing across the keys.
It sounded almost idyllic, like the start of a period drama where a young heroine is racing over the hills and dales around her family’s home without a care in the world.
Carter then sank into the melody, his shoulders relaxing and his normally sardonic expression melting away into bliss.
I listened in awe, just like always, as he continued to paint a picture with his music.
“Then it moves into the second movement,” he said, his fingers pounding on the keys and shifting the sound completely. This one was darker—almost dangerous—and my mind conjured up images of that same girl from earlier being chased through dark woods with a bright red hood pulled up over her head, concealing her face.
He stopped playing abruptly, a sheepish expression on his face. “... and that’s where I’m stuck.”
“It’s really good, Car,” I told him honestly, wishing I could create something half as good from my own mind. “You should keep working on it. Is it weird to say it almost reminds me of the story ofRed Riding Hood?”
Carter’s dark brows rose suddenly as he turned to look back at the sheet music.
“What? Was that insulting?” I asked, unsure of if I’d just offended him or not. Carter could be a bit touchy when it came to his music.
“No,” he said, shaking his head as he reached up with his pencil and began to place more dots and lines. “Actually, I think you’ve just given me some inspiration.”
I waited for him to say something else, but Carter was completely absorbed in what he was doing now as he reconnected his headphones and lifted them over his head.
“You’re welcome,” I said to him dryly as I got up from the bench. “I guess your genius, incredibly helpful sister will go and finish packing her suitcases then.”
Carter just waved me off without a look, his fingers hitting the keys silently now as he played the next part of his sonata before adding more to his music sheet.
I opened the door and grimaced as I was immediately greeted by one of the men in my new security detail.
This was the one with glasses and he barely looked at me as he pushed away from the wall and followed me down the hall back to my bedroom, reminding me of just why I’d been so irritated going to Carter’s room in the first place.
Once I made it to my door I turned to look at him, narrowing my eyes at his blank expression.
“I’m going to turn in for the night. That means you and the rest of your pack can sign off and go wherever it is you go...” I said, making a walking motion with my fingers.
“Team,” the man corrected, speaking for the first time since I’d met him.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“We’re a team, not a pack,” he repeated, looking bored with the conversation.
I should have just shaken my head and shut the door to my bedroom, but curiosity got the better of me. “Is there a difference?”
The man’s brows lifted in mock surprise and I could almost hear him calling me stupid in his head. “Packs have omegas. We don’t do omegas.”
His words came out in a low growl that sent a shiver of awareness down my spine.
