The Cuckoo Bird: Say The War Had Never Happened...

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hans couldn't help but slam the door behind him as he stepped into the black still of his apartment. He didn't turn the lamps on for a moment. Instead, he just stood rigidly, trying not to choke as he breathed in deeply.

He could still smell Anna on his jacket.

It was bad enough that the memory of her in that dress was burned into his mind forever more, and that the feel of him beside her still weighed heavy against him, or that her little teary gasp at Solveig's Song still rang through his subconscious... but the smell. He couldn't ignore that perfectly balanced citrusy scent embedded into the fabric of his jacket.

Shrugging it off, he quickly threw it onto the sofa and stalked away to switch on the lamp by his bar. He fixed himself his usual cognac, downing the first glass in a few easy gulps. Pushing frustrated air out of his nose, he glared over at the discarded item on his sofa, as though the fault somehow lay with it.

He had never felt need quite like this in his life.

It was as though Anna had carved open his chest and sewn herself into his heart so that every beat was solely for her. How utterly ridiculous. Tonight marked the third time he'd seen her, and this was his reaction? To pine for her to a point of wanting to get back in his car and drive to find her.

Quelling the temptation, Hans poured himself another cognac. That's certainly one way that alcohol had always helped when he needed it to; it dulled senses and feelings of every variety. He wished his senses weren't quite so acute in this moment. They'd always been such an asset to him yet right now they were sheer torture. Even without his jacket on, he could smell the feint notes of Anna on his clothes, feel the heat of her hand in his.

Holding his hand up, he inspected it, as though she might somehow have branded him with her fingers. Nothing. Just his hand. And yet it felt forever changed. He had no right to feel this way about her. Especially as when he first met her, she was in such trouble.

That was half the problem. Even though she'd been scared, she'd had such fury burning in her eyes when she'd stared at that disgusting letch. He'd never seen a look quite so scathing in all his life. And then to see her persevere through her panic and come out the other side... he had such respect for her almost instantly.

It would also be a complete lie to say he didn't like her need to hold his hand; how she'd not wanted to let go of it and when she finally did so, did it entirely reluctantly. To know someone so ostensibly strong found comfort in him felt undeniably good. She could have pushed him away immediately. But she didn't. She could have pushed him away afterwards when she was calm. But she didn't. She could have spurned him from her office last week. But she didn't. Instead, she'd welcomed him into her world; he'd met her parents, shared his favourite song with her, seen what a relaxed, happy Anna really looked like.

And then everything they talked about... the way she had brightened at the little knowledge he did have about ancient Egypt. By all the Gods, she looked so divine when she smiled. Especially when he had told her about playing the cello-

This was insanity personified.

No matter how much of a tug he felt towards her, she was with someone else. And so was he. Technically. Even if his wife was in another country getting fucked by another man right at this very moment. He hadn't even lived in the house with her for near to ten years for God's sake.

But Anna had Mathias.

Seething, Hans poured another cognac, his tightened jaw making it harder to swallow. At least thinking about that young Keller stopped his thoughts of Anna. It definitely made him want to punch something though.

That day in her office had taken every ounce of Hans' self-restraint. Keller had been nothing but a spoiled, controlling child that was throwing his toys out of his pram. That tight hold he'd try to take on her at all times made Hans' blood boil. And that look in his eyes. Possessive was an understatement. That was at least something he could understand in some part. He knew damn sure he'd rip a man's throat out without hesitation if he thought it would keep someone he loved safe. Particularly if that someone was Anna. Perhaps Hans would have thought less of Keller's behavior if Anna hadn't looked so utterly infuriated with him.