Liron's Melody

by Brieanna Robertson

  Her eyes filled with something warm and sensual at his words, and she moved to place her arm around his waist and snuggle against his side. “Okay, but only you can hear that kind of music when you look at me. If anyone else does, I’m gonna kick them in the head.”

  He laughed softly and pulled her close against him. “I fully support that plan.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then continued to lead them out of the room. The fact that he heard music at all when he looked at her was amazing. He had not heard anything in so long. She inspired him the way he was supposed to inspire humans, the way a muse mate was supposed to inspire another muse. The things he heard rivaled what he had heard when he’d loved Elizabeth.

  He knew it was possible for a muse and a human to be mated, but he had not imagined that the inspiration would be the same. Now that he knew it could be, or could possibly be more powerful than a muse/muse mating, he didn’t want to think about what it would be like when Melody decided to go back to her own world. A horrendous, torturous pain filled his heart when he let his mind travel to that inevitability.

  Had Elizabeth felt that for her human? What she had felt had to have been strong enough for her to transcend the boundary between the two realms and exist within the human world. If she had felt even remotely for her human what Liron was beginning to feel for Melody, he could almost understand why she had done what she had.

  Almost.

  Stealing his music was still an underhanded thing he couldn’t quite get over. But loving someone…. He was starting to realize he had loved the idea of Elizabeth more than he had loved the person. What was blossoming inside of him for Melody was so much stronger and so much more powerful.

  He didn’t want to consider the possibility of her leaving, even though he knew she had to eventually. When she did, he wondered if he would desire to remain in his realm at all. He really had nothing there. If he decided he wanted to come back to her world with her, would she welcome him?

  His emotions were surging so fast, it was impossible to decipher them all. Accompanied with the influx of music he heard and felt within him when he had heard nothing for so long, his insides felt like a raging typhoon. It would be a miracle if he survived all of this.

  But as he glanced down at Melody, at her hand placed trustingly in his as he guided her down the staircase and into the main hall of the tavern, he wondered if he wanted to survive. A huge part of him wanted to be lost to her for all time.

  That was the part that frightened him.

  Chapter Ten

  Melody watched in rapt fascination as the marketplace came alive with the set of the sun. While she and Liron had eaten dinner inside of the tavern, the merchants had closed up shop and performers of all sorts had made the marketplace their stage.

  The steak chili they had eaten had been wonderful. Not quite worth getting hog slop dumped on her and being forced into a belly dancing costume, but wonderful nonetheless. She and Liron had shared amazing conversation about music, and as soon as they had finished, he had brought her back out here to witness the festivities.

  Melody had never seen anything like it in her life. It was as if she had fallen into A Midsummer Night’s Dream or something else just as whimsical. Musicians played a variety of instruments ranging from violins and cellos to flutes, bagpipes, guitars, and drums, while dancers of all kinds, both men and women, lost themselves within the music in the middle of the marketplace square. Most of them were dressed as she was, in scarves and bells, like some kind of throwback to the Celtic and gypsy world, but others were dressed in things closer to leotards while their dancing resembled the modern, lyrical dance of her era. Others, loners, sat around on the outskirts scribbling on paper with quill pens, and a group of scholarly men and women off in the distance argued and debated about something they were apparently very vehement about. Some joined the musicians with their lovely soprano and baritone voices, and others sat scattered around drawing or painting on easels. Fire jugglers also took up space amidst the dancers, garbed in menacing black and silver, like Gothic art. Some of them had face piercings and intricate tattoos.

  She shook her head in wonderment as she took it all in, and from where she sat on the edge of a fountain, she felt Liron’s hand encompass hers. She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled.

  His eyes were warm and sparkling. “What do you think?”

  “This is amazing,” she murmured. “So much wonderful talent. Do they do this every night?”

  He nodded. “It’s how we express ourselves. Muses are born to express their talent. We don’t know any other way to be.”

  “Have you ever done this?” She pointed over toward the free-for-all happening in front of her.

  He smiled almost shyly. “I used to. Long ago.”

  The wistfulness in his voice, the note of aching longing, made a pain work its way through her heart. “What kind of muses are these?” she asked. “Obviously, those are music muses, like you.” She pointed to the group of musicians.

  “Yes, and those are dance muses, and voice muses, and art muses.” He indicated the singers, dancers, and painters.

  “What about those?” She pointed to the loners who were writing.

  “Those are writing and lyric muses. They generally keep to themselves, writing their poetry and verse, their fiction, amidst the chaos, but not taking an active part in it.”

  “What about them?” She pointed to the group of debaters.

  “Most of them are science and logic muses.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You have muses for logic?”

  He nodded with a smile. “And philosophy. They argue all the time. Very annoying to have at parties.”

  She giggled. “Okay, what about them?” She pointed to the fire dancers.

  His smile morphed into a mischievous grin. “Isn’t it obvious? They are rebel muses.”

  She blinked at him for a second while her mind tried to process the information. “Rebel muses? Are you trying to tell me that there is a muse devoted entirely to chaos and mayhem?”

  He shrugged lazily. “Of course. Where would the excitement in life come from if there wasn’t any of that?”

  She laughed. “So, pretty much, all of the tattoo artists, bikers, and metal heads in my world are inspired by rebel muses?”

  “It is a possibility.” His smile disarmed her, and all she wanted to do was kiss him until he was gasping for breath. Her brazen, dominant desire was foreign to her, but not unwelcome. She had spent so much of the last year feeling lost. Knowing what she wanted, what she ached for, was a nice change of pace.

  She turned her attention back to the performers, enjoying how free they all seemed. It was not so different from how she had felt as a child when she’d watched her parents rehearse with the orchestra. How many nights had she spent in the theatre, watching in fascination as the musicians lost themselves amidst the notes they created? She missed that feeling, that abandon.

  She glanced down at the atrocious costume she had been placed in, then over at the other women who were dressed the same. They owned their attire, dancing and twirling and laughing as if they had no cares whatsoever. What did that feel like, she wondered?

  “So, what’s stopping you?” she asked, flashing Liron a teasing smile.

  He arched an eyebrow. “From what?”

  She pointed over at the mass of performers.

  “You want me to play something?” To her surprise, his voice only held the faintest note of confusion. Beneath that, he sounded extremely serious, almost like he had been waiting for the invitation.

  She grinned. “I would love that.”

  The smile that lit his face should have brought golden light cascading around the whole marketplace square, and warmth stole throughout her entire body, gentle and comforting around her heart and spanning out to smolder everywhere else.

  He stood and arched an eyebrow in a playful expression. “I almost wonder if I remember how.”

  She giggled, and he winked at her bef
ore striding over to the group of musicians. They paused in their playing as he approached, causing all of the dancers to take a breather as well. They spoke for awhile until one of the men handed Liron his acoustic guitar. Liron slipped the strap over his shoulders, then took a viola that was being offered to him and turned back to Melody. He motioned her over and indicated the instrument.

  Melody’s stomach lurched and she stared at him for a minute, then pointed to herself in question.

  He nodded with a chuckle. “You told me you could play viola. If I’m going to do this, so are you.”

  Her first reaction was to kill him, but she couldn’t stay annoyed when he was beaming at her like that. Of course, he had to pick the viola. She hadn’t touched one in years. Piano was her instrument of choice. Apprehension flooded her as she hesitantly made her way over to him.

  “Liron, I haven’t played one of these in so long….” Even as she said it, she took the instrument anyway. “Can’t you give me a drum to bang on instead? I think I could manage that.” She glanced around at the other musicians and swallowed hard. “I’m not equipped with your kind of…talents.” She was a regular old human, nothing muselike about her at all. She’d be lucky if she managed to produce some kind of awful screech.

  Liron shook his head. “Melody, play whatever you like. You start and we will follow you.”

  She stared at him for a second, dumbfounded, then snorted. “Yeah, sure, no pressure.” She raised the instrument to her shoulder and blundered her way through the only piece of music she could remember, some middle section of Russian Sailor’s Dance by R. Gliere. She wasn’t even sure where that much had come from; some dusty vault in the recesses of her memory.

  She screeched the strings a few times, stumbled over notes, and messed up the tempo so much trying to remember that it was impossible for anyone to actually join her. She felt heat flush her face and neck, but was surprised to find that, instead of feeling humiliation at being put on the spot and making an idiot out of herself, she found the experience to be remarkably freeing. These people weren’t here to criticize her, and none of them were making rude remarks or gritting their teeth. They looked somewhat confused, but that couldn’t really be helped.

  She couldn’t remember the entire song, and kind of fizzled off in an ending of erratic, helter-skelter notes. Then, stifling a giggle, she plunked out the last part of Pop Goes the Weasel, which made all of the musicians erupt into laughter.

  She shook her head and handed the viola back to its rightful owner. “I think you’d better take this back before I damage it permanently…or damage your eardrums permanently. One or the other.” She shot Liron a teasing scowl. “Now that you’ve embarrassed me for the evening….”

  He chuckled. “You told me you could play viola.”

  “I could…in high school. I’m a pianist!” Laughter echoed from everyone again and the warmth in Liron’s eyes was going to be her undoing. She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve done my part. Now, let me hear some real music.”

  Something else came to life within his eyes, something darker and much more dangerous to her heart. He slipped the guitar off and handed it to its owner, then reached for the viola again. He handed it back to Melody, who took it with bewilderment, then he went around behind her. “Try again.” He whispered it against her ear in a sinful caress of sound that sent shivers all the way down her spine and made her head spin. Her eyes fluttered closed while her breath left her. “Wh-what?” she stammered. “Liron, I don’t remember anything else.” Her protest sounded feeble even to her own ears.

  “Don’t play something you remember. Just play.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand that held the viola.

  She frowned. “How am I supposed to play randomly? I’ve never been any good at improvisation. Especially on an instrument I haven’t played in—” She sucked her breath in sharply as he placed his hands on her shoulders, then drew them down her back in a way that made her shudder. He trailed one finger, just one, back up her spine and ripples of sensual fire coursed throughout her body, creating notes in her mind no one should have been able to hear without the aid of some kind of black magic. Dark notes from the harmonic minor scale that somehow sounded so much more erotic than they ever had before, like she had been granted access to a new dimension of music that was forbidden.

  Her eyes closed involuntarily and she let out a shuddering breath. His hand continued its journey along the arm that was holding onto the viola, and he gently guided it up to her shoulder. His other hand entangled in her hair and traced the length.

  The notes in her mind exploded like some sort of grand symphonic composition and became so overwhelming that playing was almost a compulsion. She had to play them. She had to get them out of her mind and share them with anyone who would listen.

  As if her body moved on its own, not unlike how she had felt when she’d played almost half of Liron’s score without even looking at it, Melody positioned the bow over the strings on the viola and began to play what she heard in her mind. From somewhere deep inside the recesses of her memory, it all came back to her like she had played the viola only yesterday.

  She lost herself within the dark, wonderful notes, lost herself in Liron’s touch, and wanted to express the way he made her feel the only way she could at the moment—through the instrument in her hands.

  If stumbling through Russian Sailor’s Dance had been a freeing feeling simply because she was learning to embrace playing music again, this experience made her feel like she was flying. She had never before felt anything like the music that coursed through her body and mind while Liron continued to lazily drag his fingers up her spine, along her shoulders, and anywhere else he felt like touching.

  She didn’t know how long she played. It didn’t matter. She didn’t stop until he stopped infusing her with music, and that didn’t stop until he took his hands off of her. Then, the notes faded and she was able to think clearly again. She opened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath while the other musicians applauded and cheered.

  “How did you do that?” she murmured to Liron.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently, then placed his mouth to her ear. “It’s what I do.”

  The caressing whisper of his voice made her woozy, and the strength left her body while a rush of wonderful notes coursed through her like electricity. Her fingers fumbled and she accidentally let go of the viola.

  “Whoa!” the owner of the instrument shouted, leaping forward to catch it before it crashed to the ground. “Hey, maybe you want to seduce the human when she’s not holding my viola?” His tone was good-natured, and he threw Liron a smirk.

  Melody’s cheeks burned and she leaned back against Liron, wanting to escape, and at the same time, wanting to be as close to him as possible. He pressed his lips tenderly to her temple and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You play magnificently,” he said softly.

  She turned in his arms so she could look up into his eyes. “Do you affect all humans that way? Does everyone hear music like that when you touch them?”

  He reached up to touch her hair. “Only the ones who want to listen.” He slowly dragged his fingers the length of her locks, causing lovely, tinkling sounds to echo in her mind. His smile was wicked and beautiful. “And only when I want someone to hear.”

  Melody closed her eyes and relished the effect he had on her. “I wish I could make you hear wonderful things when I touch you.”

  “Melody, don’t you understand?” He was whispering in her ear again, turning her legs to jelly and her heart to putty in his hands. “Everything I share with you, all the notes and chords, are a direct result of what you cause me to hear. You inspire me so that I may, in turn, inspire you. It’s the perfect balance we strive for between….”

  He pulled back and let the sentence remain unformed. She frowned in curiosity at the slightly bashful expression on his face. “Between what?” she prodded.

  He met her gaze and smiled sh
yly. “Between mates.”

  She wasn’t entirely sure what it was her heart did in that moment, with the way his soft voice said those words while his blue eyes burned into hers with such sincerity and warmth. If she had to liken its actions to something, she would have to say it did something that felt kind of like The Macarena, like it was dancing and gyrating in her chest. Whatever it was, it took her breath and made her ache for him so badly that she actually had lurid visions of ripping off his shirt right there in the middle of the square.

  “Hey, Liron, are you still going to play with us?” one of the musicians called.

  He didn’t take his eyes off of her. “Do you still want me to?” he asked her. “Or would you like to go home?”

  “Home?” A pain twinged through her heart at the thought of returning to her sterile living environment.

  “I meant…my home.” He stepped closer to her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.

  She tossed around her options. She wanted to go anywhere with him right now. Anywhere where they could be alone and she could kiss him for real without someone, or something, interrupting them. But she also wanted to watch him play, experience his world, his culture and his life.

  She placed her palms on his chest and smirked up at him playfully. “No worming your way out of it now, mister. Nice try.”

  He grinned and chuckled, then took her hands in his, kissed both of them, and winked at her while he walked around her and back over to the others. He took the guitar he had been holding before, slipped it back over his shoulder, and tuned it briefly before the man with the tribal drums called a three-count. They all launched into a Celtic-sounding song that seemed like it had been rehearsed a hundred times over.

  Melody watched in rapt wonderment as every one of them seemed to be perfectly in sync with each other, even though she knew they were jamming and did not play together on a regular basis. She knew for a fact that Liron had not played with them before. He hadn’t played anything in ages. The fact that they were all so fluid with one another amazed her, but then, maybe that was the way it was with muses.