In the Rain (21 page)

I
shivered. The collar might not have been around my neck, but I couldn't help
dropping my gaze. "It's perfect, Thayre."

He
kissed my forehead, then lifted my chin. "Don't bow your head. Tonight is
your night. Go on and get ready. I'll lock this up and join you onstage. It's
about time the world got to see the amazing Songbird you are."

And
then he was gone, possibly to get the crowd ready for the orchestra. I touched
my neck and imagined the weight I might find there once the show was over.
You
need to survive this first.

After
testing my violin, I lined up my chair with the center of the stage and faced
the closed curtain. Thayre would be back soon to plug in a few of the
instruments, but for now, the vibrations of the instruments as we warmed up was
enough for me.

Even
using the entire stage, it was going to be tight. I pushed my chair off to one
side. I'd played on my feet before, and standing was probably a lot better than
sitting down. The strings sat to either side of me. The middle back was a
jumble of horns and percussion. And then there were the few added toys Thayre
had brought along with him—a large keyboard and sound system much like the
one in his studio.

We'd
already passed our sound check and rehearsal an hour before, but doing so only made
this evening more real. The audience beyond the curtain clapped, and a low
tenor of a voice spoke into the mic.
Our opening act.
. And as it
started, Transcendence quieted.
This is it.

No
more bathroom breaks. No chickening out. I stepped over to my duffle and pulled
out a water bottle, tucking it under my arm to transport it to the front of the
stage as soon as the curtain was drawn

The
stage opened up, and after blinking at the blue spotlights, I set my bottle
down and got into place in front of Thayre. The other players kept to their
seats, and as we waited for Thayre to finish introducing us, I did my best not
to faint in the middle of the stage. The lights were warm. Tolerable, but just barely.

Thayre
faced us, nodding to someone at the back to turn on the trance beats.  He
directed us into the first song with the gentle flick of his baton. One melody
after another, we played. After the third song, I bent over to take a sip from
my water bottle before returning to our music. Against my doubts and fears, my
violin played like a
dream. The notes were as smooth as when I'd practiced at home. I rolled my shoulders
back, lifted my gaze and smiled right at the audience. My fear of screwing up
was gone. There were no more doubts. All that mattered
was the here and now—standing on stage, playing
my
violin.

The
music took over, and I fell into beat with everyone else. Strobe lights that left
me half-blind flickered on and off as the strong thrumming of bass rumbled
under our feet. It was so different than practicing at home. We had a great
open space in front of us, and even though
half the orchestra was made up of stringed instruments, our music carried.

My
hearing would be long gone by morning, but I didn't care. Our audience quieted
during the softer notes, then cheered on the higher ones. Groups clustered in
the balconies high above, and soon, the flashing of cell phones joined the
artificial strobe lighting.

Dizzy
from the added lights, I focused on Thayre's floating baton as he kept every
one of us in line and the music under control. A chill made its way up my spine
when an image of Thayre holding a flogger crossed my mind.
Not now.

The
baton solidified again, and I fell back into the music. The chords and bridges
got us from one song to the other. Thayre had worked mercilessly to get our
songs to meld together. The overall beat had changed since I first started
playing with him, but it made our performance better. No one in the audience
would notice.

That
is, until everything stopped. Thayre dropped his arms to his sides, shoved his
baton into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and made his way toward the
orchestra. We had one last song to play, so why was he stopping now?

He
approached the stage, glanced at me, then directed his attention to the
audience. "Before we leave this evening, there's a very special song we want
to play. It was written by our very own Songbird, Moyra, and is simply titled
Flight.
We hope you enjoy it, and we'll talk more after the show."

Oh
God.
Thayre had said something about showing everyone who
our Songbird was, but I didn't think—

"You
ready?" Thayre asked, stepping beside me with Angie in his arms.

I
frowned, puzzled as to why he was up on stage with me and not—

"Moyra?"

I
swallowed. And after drawing a breath, I played. Lights danced across the
Ballroom floor. Screens on cell phones lit up, and I didn't doubt most of them
were recording us the same way the passersby had done in town.

Give
them something they'll remember,
Thayre's eyes said as
he played along with me.

I
inclined my head, and with more nerves than before, I stepped up to the mic,
leaving Thayre and everyone else to take a backseat as I sung the lyrics to
Flight
for the very first time since Thayre first heard them.

Right
before me

I
was too blind to see

All
the damage you've done to us

The
damage done to me.

Blinded
by your lust

Fueled
by your control

You
took my trust

You
let me fall.

Standing
here now

Under
a cloud of rain

There's
nothing left

Nothing
to justify my staying here.

Climb
over the rubble

Cover
all my scars

Be
the person you're meant to be

Not
the one he thinks you are.

Get
past the damage

Cut
through all the pain

Justify
what's left

To
be who you truly are.

The
crowd went wild, demanding we play more as the song died, and after checking
with the other players, I could tell we were in agreement. I didn't stop. Thayre
didn't stop. As Transcendence kept playing, I sang words that were
never written, but now came freely in front of hundreds of people.

Fly
away

Fly
away

From
all the pain

To
be free.

Catch
the wind

Ride
the currents

Return
to life

Come
back to me.

I
was lost

But
am now found

You
show me how

To
break free.

Fly

Fly
away

Fly

With
me.

Fly

Fly
away...

With
me,
I barely whispered into the mic, taking a step back and bowing my head as the
audience and everyone behind me roared.

The
lights shown on Transcendence. On Thayre. On me. But I was only partially
there. Looking at Thayre with tears in my eyes, I was surprised when he had the
same. Without bothering to drop his violin, he took me in his arms and kissed
me. Demanding. Passionate. Soft.

"I
love you, Moyra."

"I
love you too, Thayre."

The
rest of the night was a blur. After a final encore and answering more questions
than I could count, we retreated to the club that was
a part of Webster Hall. Thayre fit the bill for everyone to stay in New York
and to see the sights over the next few days, but the only thing
I was interested in, and all I wanted to see, was Thayre.

"How
long have you loved me?" Thayre asked, pulling me off to the side as Tabby
spoke to a few of the local reporters.

Always.
"Forever."

"And
you will always be my beautiful Songbird."

E
rin
loves writing out her deepest fantasies, from sexy wereshifters, to strong
characters and all things BDSM. But she wasn't always this way. In fact, up
until 2011, writing erotica was the furthest thing from her mind. Happily
living in a world of fantasy and science fiction, the dirtiest scenes she ever
wrote were a kiss between a druid and a dryad along with a skydance between two
gryphons.

As
uncomfortable as it was, Erin accepted a challenge from her husband to write
something new. It started with one word. Two words. Three thousand words later
and she was hooked.

She
currently lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and their small collection of
pets.

You
can learn more about Erin and her work at: www.erinlark.com