Violinist (CENTURIES series: Book #4)

28

I wasn't even sure I was going to.

When he turned to leave, my voice jerked alive again, pushing the words out. "Tony, wait."

His back froze and he cast a glance over his shoulder. His fists closed at what met him.

"Take it."

I held the suitcase out for him, sturdily. I couldn't keep it any longer. Couldn't... couldn't wait for him anymore.

Tony slowly turned around, and what his face showed made my eyes well up with tears as fresh as rain. Our gaze finally locked and I had a feeling neither of us were breathing anymore.

His eyes were red, his skin was pale and he seemed more carved than ever. He seemed almost hollow as he looked at the violin, staring at the way my fingers were gripping it, shaking. His hand lifted, uncurled from a fist and... pushed the suitcase away.

"Tony," I pleaded him. I couldn't take it any longer.

"It doesn't talk to me anymore."

Because he had found a new trigger. A better toy with much higher screams.

My eyes fell to his calloused fingers. The slim, diligent fingers he had used on me, used on the violin. They twitched as I painstakingly lowered the violin, letting it drop to my side. They were mocking me, speaking to me.

'What would you like me to play; the violin or your pussy?'

"Do you want me?" I whispered, looking up to meet his eyes. Tony's ocean blue orbs were a vast sea, but his waters were still. I already knew his answer.

"Melody..."

I moved only because I had to prove my point. Only because I wanted to see it happen.

I stepped forward slowly and wrapped my hand around his cheek, bringing his lips down. He didn't close his eyes. Neither did I.

Our lips met, gently, and I saw the way his gaze shattered and the flickering emotions built up inside him. As our mouthes gently dueled, we kept our eyes locked, mine weeping tears, his washed over with Blue.

He was swimming through it, seeing only that.

Tony pushed me away and turned, shutting his eyes. A sound reverberated from his chest, something desperate and frustrated. I wiped my cheeks down while watching him clutch his head.

"Do you want me?" I repeated, needing to hear him say it so we could end this. Needed to hear him shout it loud enough to hear it across the seas. "Tony."

"Christ!" He crouched on the floor and gripped his head. In the middle of the hallway, he looked huge, his trench coat pooling around his feet. He breathed angered through his lips, pushing each breath out with fervor. "Stop."

"Answer me," I said, breaking down as well. "Or play."

I dumped the suitcase onto the floor and walked back into my apartment, leaving the door open. I didn't stop until I was in my armchair, clutching my legs and laying my head against my knees.

I cried silently when I heard him stand up. Heard footsteps against the floor. Heard a click, then a stringent sound and a pained exhaled.

And then, he played.

It was the most heartbreaking tune I had heard thus far. Maybe it was because my own sobs mingled with the sobs of the violin's broken screams. It bled like my eyes, cried like my mouth.