The Wolf and His Wife (Wolf 2)

She watched me with obvious concern. “You think he’ll try to—”

“No.” I brought her into my side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Let’s forget about him, alright?”

She nodded and went quiet.

Julian Levy stood up on a chair so everyone could see him across the room. He held up a glass of champagne then addressed the crowd. “Thanks for coming out, everyone. Nothing better than seeing happy faces swimming in champagne and bruschetta. I hope you all have a lovely evening.” He raised his glass. “But we also have a special guest here tonight. I’m sure you all recognize her from her performance at the opera. Where is she?” He scanned the crowd and looked at Arwen.

“How are they not sick of me yet?” Arwen asked.

It wasn’t surprising. I raised my glass in the air. “She’s right here, Julian.”

A blush entered her cheeks and nearly matched the color of her dress.

“Great,” Julian said. “Can we borrow your wife for a song?”

I took the glass of champagne from her hand. “I know I can’t hog her all the time.”

Arwen looked at me with a hint of dread in her eyes, as if she still couldn’t tolerate the idea of so many eyes on her. She won the affection of everyone in the room, like a magnet that attracted everything in its vicinity.

“Play that new song you told me about.” I kissed her cheek before I let her go.

Arwen didn’t want to walk away just yet. She still lingered beside me like that was the only place she really felt safe. After she gave herself a nudge, she finally walked away and pushed through the crowd until she reached the piano.

It was classic, black, and elegant.

I handed her glass to a waiter and waited for the music to begin. I was in the rear, but I was tall enough to see her easily. The high ceiling would still echo the music she played, so I would be able to hear it as clearly as if she were standing right beside me.

She smoothed out her dress and took a seat on the bench, her shoulders perfectly straight and her stomach tight. Her head tilted down toward the keys, a loose strand of hair falling with her movements. Her slender fingers gently landed on the keyboard, and she took a deep breath, like the magic was running through her fingertips at the touch.

This was the woman in my bed every night, the woman who made music every time she moaned for me. Her cries were ethereal, bringing a heavenly light into my previously dim home. When we met, she despised me and I despised her. But somehow, we brought out the best in each other. She made me more compassionate, and I taught her to shoot like a professional.

I took a drink as I waited for her to play, watched her struggle with her anxiety even though she knew she was a pro. Her voice could shatter crystal, and her fingers could create the most beautiful music in the world.

She finally started to play.

The sound of the piano filled the room, a tune that began slowly. Once she added her voice to the song, it instantly became a masterpiece. “Summer, bright as day. You took my hand and wiped my tears away. Leaving a past that haunts and stepping into a future so dark. I felt myself slip. I felt myself fall. But you caught me…after all.” Her fingers danced across the keyboard faster as she headed into the chorus. “With arms that never let me go, a thumb perfect for the spilled tears, you’re the man who completes me. The man who owns me. The man who loves me.”

The crowd was silent as they watched her, affected by her music like it was a spell. The chitchat disappeared because her music was so enchanting. It splashed images in everyone’s mind, added to the ambiance of the low-burning candles and flutes of champagne.

“When I lost my way, the meadow become so dark. Flowers turned to thorns and winds turned to storms. Like a lone sheep, timid and afraid, I stood alone. Alone. Little did I know, he was always there. Warm coffee on a winter morning, his eyes like drops of chocolate. He was always there…even if I never knew.” She didn’t look up from the piano and became lost in the song, playing like she didn’t know any of us were there at all. “With arms that never let me go, a thumb perfect for the spilled tears, you’re the man who completes me. The man who owns me. The man who loves me.”

Heads started to turn in the crowd, searching for my reaction. Several people had the same idea, so they all turned toward me.

She continued to play. “I can see the stars when he lifts me into the air. I can feel my fragile heartbeat when he comes near. My past is forgotten, buried in the ground. My maiden name is erased as he conquers. Cold sheets used to touch my chest, but now a deep heartbeat keeps the pace of my dreams.”