Riven (Riven 1)

Attractive? No. The man standing in front of me was beautiful. He had one of those faces that was put together flawlessly, and instead of appearing simple or fake, he was a different kind of gorgeous from every angle. He wasn’t wearing the black eyeliner he was often pictured in, but his thick black lashes framed some of the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. They were caught between blue and gray, like frost over water, a startling, silvery color that looked striking against his dark brows and shoulder-length fall of black hair.

High cheekbones, hollow cheeks, and a sharp nose, too perfectly formed for his messy look, like diamonds strewn in dirt. And his mouth was sinful. Lush and expressive, and currently curving in a shy smile that was—shit, really doing it for me. He was a lanky fucker, the jut of shoulders, elbows, knees almost aggressive.

No clue what the hell he was doing in Huey’s run-down bar at almost one in the morning. But something about what he’d said about my song had really gotten to me. He’d zeroed in on the exact moment that I thought made the song, and it was something I’d only figured out this week, after months of tinkering with the melody, without admitting to myself that I was writing at all.

Theo had started talking again as I took my time admiring him. It had started as a compliment about my song and turned into him describing some brilliant transition in a song he’d heard that haunted him.

As he spoke, I remembered how dangerous it was to get involved with singers. Because, in their mouths, everything sounded like music. His voice was pitched low but it had a velvet texture to it that made me lean in closer to him. That made me want to take his mouth in a bruising kiss, and touch him in ways that would let me know if he still sounded like velvet when he screamed.

“Listen, gents,” Huey said, coming out from behind the bar, “I’m closing up early, so you gotta go.” He was holding his phone.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He gave me the look and I knew what kind of call he’d just received.

“It will be,” he said. “Or it won’t be. You crashing on the couch tonight? Just hit the lock when you come up.”

I nestled my guitar in its case, grabbed my small duffel from the floor, and gestured Theo in front of me so I could watch him walk out the door. He was slinky-hipped and graceful, his black jeans clinging behind his knees and at his clutchable little ass. He had a broken-brimmed black cap stuffed in his back pocket and as we got outside he shoved it on, pulling it low so the brim hid his eyes.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, scuffing the worn toes of black Chuck Taylors against the pavement, and pulling his jean jacket around his thin frame like he was chilled.

“I, uh…I only have tonight in the city before I have to take off for a little while.” Theo was looking dreamily up at the sky, as if the pollution might part and show him the stars. “Any chance you wanna take a long walk with me back to my apartment?”

He bit his lip and frowned, his nose wrinkling a little bit. It wasn’t explicitly a come-on, but I was pretty sure that’s how this would end. He was ridiculously fuckable, and I wanted to watch him writhe while I touched him, hear him moan into my mouth. I wanted to see his careless hair tangled from being fucked into the bed.

The fact that he wanted to talk about music had kind of sneak-attacked me. After all, I’d been telling myself for the last fifteen months or so that I could live without it. That I could cobble together an existence from the scraps I had left. Making an actual life? I hadn’t even gotten far enough to imagine what that might look like yet. But here, all of a sudden, was a siren, tempting me with just that. And I’d never been very good at resisting temptation.

“Yeah, I could do that,” I said.

We walked in silence for a few blocks. The wind had picked up a bit and Theo kept grabbing at his hat to keep it from blowing off.

“That so people don’t recognize you?” I asked.

His head whipped toward me.

“I recognized you,” I said, shrugging.

“It just makes things easier,” he mumbled. And something in his voice sounded hopeless.

“Yeah, I get it. But I think you’re probably safe at this time of night. Well,” I amended, “safe from being recognized. I hope you’re not counting on my ass to save us if we get jumped, though. I’m too old for that shit.”

He snorted.

“Never fear, I’ll protect you,” he said in a cartoon superhero voice, and I laughed.