Savor (17 page)

“You ready to have fun, Dray?”

The drumming stopped and I looked up. My breath hitched. At the center of the pebble

circle was the drum kit but behind it wasn’t the black-haired, crazy drummer I was expecting.

“Hey,” Luka said, one of his arms poised to bring the drumstick he held down on the right

cymbal.

“Hey,” I breathed out, unsure what else to say.

“Dray asked me to help him set up the kit while he picked up his paint. What paint?”

“We’re splatter drumming.” I shook my head. “You’re talking to me again?”

He brought his arm down as if he just remembered it was poised to hit the cymbal. “I was

never not talking to you.”

“Right.” My eyebrow cocked. “Is that why I’m sitting beside Calixta at dinner instead of

beside you?”

The bolt on Luka’s brow went up as he mirrored my eyebrow arch. “You saying you don’t

like your new sitting arrangement? If I recall, you told me to keep my hands away from you.

If you sit by my side at the table I cannot guarantee that request.”

With each sentence he finished my cheeks grew hotter. My heart did a double layout with

one twist, probably one of the hardest skills in gymnastics—the only sport I watched during

the summer Olympics besides men’s swimming.

“And,” his voice brought my attention back to him, “Yana said to leave you alone for a

couple days.”

“Yeah.” I ducked my head in a failed attempt to hide my blush. “She called it ‘adjusting’ to

my surroundings.”

“Are you fully adjusted yet?”

Why did his questions have a layer of sexual undertone? Or could it be that my mind was

perpetually in the gutter where Luka was concerned? I couldn’t help it. I didn’t think he could get any sexier until he sat behind a drum set. To hide my desire, I focused on my boiling

annoyance.

“Is there an instrument you can’t play?” I planted my tripod and adjusted the legs to the

right height. With what I had planned, I needed a steady camera angle to capture the right

shot.

Luka shrugged in that maddening way of his. “Every musician worth his salt should know

how to play every instrument in his band.”

His words didn’t surprise me. I felt the same way about being a photographer. Why do

something if you weren’t going to be your best at it? Luka wasn’t messing around with

Vicious. He really put his heart and soul into it. I had Poison on repeat all night last night.

The lyrics were so pure, like they came from a painful place inside him.

I opened my veins willingly for you.

That line stuck with me. It was so raw, and the way Luka sang it, like he was begging

someone to either save him or kill him, got me every time. Poison was a song I’d be happy to

get LLS on—last song syndrome. I could hum it by heart now.

“Do you like it?”

The question threw me off as I attached my camera to the tripod. “Like what?”

“The song.” He tilted his head, his gaze open and curious.

I hadn’t known I’d been humming it until his clarification. I played my embarrassment

down by pursing my lips. “It’s catchy.”

Luka threw his head back and laughed. My finger automatically went to the shutter

release. I didn’t have to look through the viewfinder to know what I was capturing. Damn

him for being so photogenic. Thank God everything was digital now because I got a feeling I

would be going through tons of film just on Luka alone. No shot wasted. When the time came

that I had to think about his shoot, it was gonna be hard to choose which photos I would use

for the project. Sweat dampened my palms. Wasn’t going there for now. I still had twenty-six

days to figure stuff out. For now, I focus on Dray.

“What’s splatter drumming?” Luka asked when he finally settled down.

“The art of drumming with glow in the dark paint,” Dray said from behind us. “There is a

cool video on YouTube you should see.” In his arms were jars of his already glowing paint. I

hadn’t noticed the creeping darkness until he’d arrived. The gloom hovered above us.

“You did your research.” I grinned. “Good.”

“Where do you want the paint?” Dray asked.

“Over there by the corner.” I pointed where I wanted him to place the jars and six more

servants followed him, each carrying baskets filled with multi-colored paint. And just to show Dray’s OCD tendencies, each basket was color coordinated. All the blues were together. The

same with the reds, yellows, greens, even the various shades of pink and purple. “I think you

have every color of the rainbow there.”

“And then some. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I decided to bring everything.” He

smiled at me like a little boy who knew he did a good job and wasn’t afraid to show it.

I patted him on the shoulder. Dray must have been a couple years younger than me. At

least, it seemed that way. I saw him as a baby bro at this point, he was so adorkable.

The servants with their eerily similar built and hair color deposited the last of the baskets

at the corner I’d specified and left without a word.

“I’m so glad you survived Calixta,” I told Dray. He scratched his cheek.

“When you give her what she wants, she usually calms down.”

We shared a smile before I said, “So, shall we get this show on the road?”

“Do you want me to leave?” Luka asked as he came to my side.

I considered it for a second. I wasn’t the type who needed to be alone with my subject to

work, but with the way Luka affected me, like right now everything below my navel quivered

just at the scent of him, I almost wanted to kick him out. Almost. In the end, my need to get

the perfect shot won out.

“You can be my trusty assistant.” Hands on my hips, I surveyed the space then faced Dray.

He was in a black sweater and jeans. “You really did do your research.”

He nodded. “It was indicated in an article I read that wearing black would make the paint

stand out.”

“What do you want me to do?” Luka bent over the baskets of paint. Early evening was

upon us, making the paint glow brighter. Just the right time I was waiting for. “Dray, these

are awesome.”

If Dray had a tail, he’d be wagging it right about now.

“Why don’t you sit behind the drums?” I motioned him toward the kit and he padded

toward it. “Oh, Dray, Gregory wants to know how the paint will come off.”

“It’s water soluble and non-toxic.”

“Just the words I wanted to hear.” I smiled so hard, my cheeks hurt. If only all my shoots

with the rest of the band would be this easy. “You’re a genius.”

“Don’t compliment him too much,” Luka teased. “It’ll go to his head.”

Dray didn’t seem to hear him because he was already twirling the drumsticks in his hands,

studying each drum in the kit.

“He really goes into his own world when he gets behind a drum set, doesn’t he?” I

whispered to Luka.

He leaned toward me when he responded. “Drumming is like an escape for him. Dray told

me once that when he’s playing, it’s the only time he silences the thoughts in his head.”

I got that. I really did. “Alright, pick up a couple colors and pour them on each drum. Make

sure you get a good pool on the tom-toms and snare.”

“Do you want me to get some on the cymbals and bass?”

“Yes, but not as much. Let’s work it by ear. We’re aiming for maximum splatter and not

really trying to create music.”

One half of Luka’s mouth pulled up in the most delectable grin. “I’ve got just the drum

solo he should play.”

I swallowed, I couldn’t help myself. “I’ll leave it up to you then.” I fidgeted with my

camera’s settings because if I didn’t focus on what I had to get done, I would jump Luka and

do all manner of evil things to his body, Dray’s photo shoot be damned.

Chapter Seventeen

Midnight

Dray, Luka, and I were all smiles and covered in glow in the dark paint when we stumbled

into the manor. The servants couldn’t hide their distaste at our messy state, but were way too polite to actually say anything. We laughed and parted ways, only having just enough time to

shower and change before dinner.

For what seemed like hours at the dining table, Dray and Luka talked about nothing but

the splatter drumming and the shoot. Yana pursed her lips the whole time, muttering about

not being invited. When I teased her about getting her precious Gothic Lolita outfit dirty, she blanched and we all laughed. Demitri wanted an invite too, but he quickly forgave me when I

told him he might be next on my shoot list.

The compliments Dray and Luka lobed my way almost felt undeserved. I couldn’t

remember the last time I’d blushed so much. And because of their praise, everyone wanted to

see the pictures. Even sourpuss Calixta. Keeping an I-mean-business look on my face, I shook

my head. No one would get to see them but me until the Spring Showcase. The pictures for

the project were sacred.

My jaw almost fell off when Luka defended me. He said something about how he wouldn’t

show any of them a new song until it was ready. This they understood and I was pretty much

left alone until Phoenix pestered me about her own shoot. She had some ideas, that girl. I

told her I’d let her know when inspiration struck me then excused myself from the table,

claiming work.

Before I made it all the way out of earshot Dray launched into another tale of his splatter

drumming experience. I remembered watching Luka through the viewfinder pour paint on

each of the drums as I instructed him, adjusting the focus. He had whispered something to a

serious looking Dray. The mad scientist drummer nodded once. Luka ran back to my side.

When I asked him what he told Dray, he just said to watch. So, I gave Dray the signal and it

was like fireworks. He executed a complicated drum solo. The paint muffled the pounding but

the splatter was spectacular. The explosion of color almost made me forget I was supposed to

take pictures. For the first time since meeting him, Dray didn’t have his eyes closed. He

looked straight at me, a sexy smirk on his lips. Like he enjoyed himself beyond words. It

warmed my heart immensely that I was able to give him that experience.

A constant grin stretched my lips all the way back to my room. Not wanting to stall my

productive momentum, I went straight for my laptop and plugged in my camera. Small

splatters of paint still clung to the shutter release and lens. I waited until all the pictures were downloaded.

One down, eight more to go—the tenth being the composite. I felt good about myself and

where the project was going. I already had a couple of new ideas swirling in my head for the

other band members. I crossed my arms, as I scanned through the photo gallery. Luka might

be the toughest one only because of my attraction to him. I knew I wanted him. My body

clenching every time I got a mere whiff of him told me so.

Thinking fast, I made the decision to save him for last. I’d take care of Demitri and

Phoenix first because they were less of a mystery than their band’s bassist. I should have

known from the time he played hard to get at Sacrifice that Luka would pose the biggest

challenge. Not that I minded. It only pushed me to become better. This meant good things for

the project and everyone won in the end—especially me.

By the time I stretched and leaned away from my laptop screen, the mini clock on the

sidebar blinked midnight. If I counted, I may have slept a total of two hours today. Not good, even for an insomniac like me. Stifling a yawn, I rubbed my eyes and got out of my seat.

I stumbled to the bedroom straight for my bed. Its sheets called to me. I flicked the mint

aside and let my body fall. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out.

I hated this part of the dream.

I lay on my back spread out on the damp, cold ground, kicking and screaming. A hard slap

from one of the large hands lands across my face. Pain explodes on my cheek, swelling the

skin almost immediately. Dark spots pop before my eyes. Still I struggle. Kicking, scratching, screaming. He whispers that no one will hear us. This is the first time I hear his voice—deep, gruff, ugly. He straddles me. I feel the bulge between his legs and try to aim a punch or a hard kick at it. If I can get up, I can get away. Something in my gut tells me he doesn’t have the

strength to keep coming after me if I take off again.

The bodice of my dress rips, exposing my breast to the cold night air. I scream again,

twisting to my side—any way away from him.

That’s when the glint of a knife caught my eye.

I gasped awake, cold sweat covering my brow. I reached up for my patch, but it wasn’t

where it was supposed to be. Small prickly balls of panic bounced around in my chest. I

pushed away from the sweat drenched sheets. On my hands and knees, I patted around. My

good eye useless in the darkness. A horrible whimper escaped my lips. My throat closed. I

couldn’t take it. Where was the damn patch.

Just about to flip the sheets off the bed, my fingers brushed against the velvet hardness of

the small dome that kept my secret safe. Like what I did with my camera, I held the patch to

my chest until my breathing stopped sounding ragged to my ears. If my body didn’t need

sleep, I wouldn’t ever allow my eye to close ever again. The longer I stayed awake the safer I was from my dreams.

Still shaking, but breathing less erratically, I crawled out of bed. In case someone was in

my east wing quarters, I covered my eye with my hand, my patch still held in the other. I