Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

Don’t wake up, Eden.

If she did, then we would have to deal with her in a different way. There weren’t many people one could convince to calm down, after one has broken into their home. Screams always came. Then a chase. Many times the police were called.

There won’t be any need for that. This will be simple.

The whole apartment was less than two thousand square feet.

Her bedroom door was open. I peeked in a little. She lay on her bed with her back facing me. The television was on low. The Belladonna symphony performance played across the screen.

A bit obsessive, are we?

I smiled.

She must’ve gotten a quick copy from the director. I remembered those days. Those were moments when the only thing that set me on fire was touching the violin—so much that I studied and studied long past exhaustion.

Her bed was on the other side of the room. Moonlight spilled in from the window. The violin case sat on the computer desk right next to her laptop.

Belladonna.

I walked over to the case and touched the black pebbled exterior.

Finally.

The surface cooled against my fingertips.

Nothing else came. I’d been expecting something. Exhilaration. Purpose fulfilled. A bit of joy. A tiny inkling of happiness. But it never showed. The object remained solid and cold on the desk. It had only been alive when Eden touched it on the stage.

And when I did long ago.

How crazy that I’d spent nights in jail thinking about having my hands on this case, and nothing came from our connection tonight? No elation. Not even the smallest feeling that I’d returned some of my old life back to me.

I stared down at my hands and turned up my scarred palms.

Rafael had asked on the plane. “What’s the use of having Belladonna, if you can’t play it?”

“I can’t stop dreaming about the damn instrument.”

“Maybe the dreams mean something more.”

Movement sounded behind me.

Don’t wake, Eden.

I glanced over my shoulder. She’d rolled to the other side. Now, moonlight bathed her face in a lovely glow.

Beautiful siren.

I left the case and stepped closer to the bed’s edge. Not trusting myself, I placed my hands in my pockets. My fingertips no longer yearned to touch the case. Now they craved to caress her. They wanted to trail down her soft, delicate skin.

There would be something, if I touched her. And it would be much more than exhilaration.

When she was on the stage, she’d been far away. I’d been safe. Now closer, she lured me even more.

She’s more than a siren.

I directed my view somewhere else, nervous that I would go too far. Already, I’d invaded her space. Already, I’d forgotten about the violin. Already, I was walking on a path that I knew would be my end.

Sheets of music littered the floor near the window.

She must play over here.

A large poster hung on the wall behind her desk. She’d written Vision Board at the top. Tons of pictures covered the space. I spotted the Eifel Tower, the Paris Symphony, and even the Louvre. There were other countries on the board, but I knew that I should be the one to show her France.

This is what Rafael meant. I should go.

Yet, I walked back to her.

She still lay on her side, providing a perfect silhouette of curves and supple flesh in the moonlight. Her hair wasn’t up like when she was on stage. Now it hung in black, silky waves along her face and the pillow. So long, I could fist it in my hand as I fucked her.

Not that I would, but observations are always valuable.

A thin blanket covered her, giving me a good idea of her frame—full breasts and thick hips. I licked my lips.

Siren.

That sensuous energy radiated from her.

“What’s the use of having Belladonna, if you can’t play it?”

Rafael was known for many things. Death and torture ranked the highest. However, he’d made a valid point. If I took Belladonna from Eden—a woman who was so obsessed she fell asleep studying her own performance—then it would be a cruel lesson to Eden, Belladonna, and even the world.

Because Eden can definitely play Belladonna. They sound amazing together. Could anyone else do her justice?

Many had died by my hands for this violin that I only stood three feet from. I’d flown all over the world to find Belladonna. I’d lost sleep.

And now, I’m going to give it to the siren?

I left the room.

Without Belladonna.

Louis wore a blank expression, when he noticed my empty hands. However, he was smart enough to not comment about it.

I locked the back door and turned to Louis as we headed out the alley. “Have two men stay here. One guards the front. The other gets the back. Make sure they’re not obvious. When the roommate and her are both gone, probably for practice or something, get some cameras in here.”