Savor (22 page)

me their trust and I would rather die than break it. Thank God for digital because it meant I

didn’t have to burn negatives after developing. I just had to make sure no one stole my

laptop.

At the door, which Demitri didn’t seem to close at all, I covered my eye and patch before

stepping in. The answering throaty laughter put me at ease, but I still didn’t lower my hand. I inched inside then stopped, making sure an escape route was available if Demitri or Phoenix

were messing with me. Watching them make love once was more than enough for me.

“Is it safe to open my eye now?” I asked, not really joking.

Something slapped wood, which I assumed was Demitri’s hand or a book. The laughter

continued, much louder now. Chest deep and rumbling. Still, I didn’t lower my hand.

“It’s safe.” Demitri chuckled. “It’s safe.”

Slowly, I lowered my hand. Then I squinted my eye open, ready to shut it again. I scanned

the room and exhaled in relief. The room looked as it did this morning. No evidence left

behind of what I’d stumbled in on.

“I should have left when I had a chance,” I said. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

With a cheeky grin, Demitri waved my apology away. “If Phoenix didn’t want it to happen,

you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Just as I thought. My discovery could have gone all wrong. I gulped at the reality of it.

“At first I thought she wanted me to join you.” I hid my discomfort and played down my

blush with a laugh.

Demitri’s eyebrows came up. “Would have been possible. Although, Phoenix is not known

to be the sharing type.” He stood up from where he sat behind the desk. The kilt from the

video shoot rode low on his hips, the shirt he wore not long enough to cover the happy trail

that led to Phoenix’s wonderland. “So, where do you want me?” He reached behind him and

pulled off his shirt. I gawked like an idiot for a total of five seconds, letting my gaze rake down the expanse of muscle. When the rumbling of Demitri’s chuckle snapped me out of my

daze, I went into professional mode.

For the first few shots, I had him sitting on a reading chair with his boot-encased feet on

his desk, crossed at the ankles. Then I asked him to strum his electric guitar in the same

position. I exchanged the guitar for the Slash autobiography.

I scanned through the gallery of pictures so far and frowned.

“What’s up?” Demitri leaned back against his desk, arms crossed.

“Something’s not working.” I bit down on my lower lip, my brow wrinkling.

“Do you want me to remove the kilt?”

“Not helping.”

Demitri barked a laugh. “Maybe you’re over thinking things?”

The second his words sunk in, an idea clicked in my head. I whipped my head up and

looked beyond Demitri to the shelves of biographies.

“Put on your reading glasses,” I said, rounding the desk and proceeding to pull out the

titles. Without questioning me, Demitri complied. “Okay, sit in that chair.” I pointed

absentmindedly at the oxblood leather reading chair located at one side of the room. “And

take your guitar with you.”

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy.”

“Don’t flirt with me right now.” I went to the chair Demitri deposited himself in and rained

books around him.

“Hey!” He moved to pick up the books.

I pushed his hands away. “I promise to replace anything I break.”

“You better,” he grumbled. The pained look on his face every time I dropped a hardbound

on the floor amused me. Some books I strategically posed at his feet. Others I kept closed at

the sides of the chair.

Running out of books, I returned to the shelves and pulled out more. Soon Demitri sat in

the middle of a mound of books artfully positioned around him. Taking his guitar, I asked

him to spread his legs, not paying attention to the lewd quip he lobbed my way. I stood the

guitar between his legs with its strings facing forward. I asked him to rest his hands over the head stock like a knight would on the pommel of a blade.

Hands on my hips, I glanced around the room. Something was still missing until I noticed

the navy throw on one of the other chairs. Folding it into a make shift sash, I draped the

fabric over one of Demitri’s shoulders to cross over his chest and rest at his hip.

“The only thing missing is a crown,” Demitri teased when I pulled his hair out of its tie at

the back of his neck and divided the silky locks over each shoulder.

“Do you have one?” I asked in all seriousness, checking the part in his hair.

Without saying a word, he tilted his head toward a small cabinet on the other side of the

room. I stared at him in disbelief for a second before he grinned. Thinking he was kidding, I

marched to the cabinet and opened it. Inside, sitting on a velvet cushion, was indeed a crown.

Or should I say a circlet with four crosses sticking out at each point. Gold with intricate runes carved on the surface. No jewels, thank God.

“Why the hell do you have a crown?” I glanced at him over my shoulder.

He shrugged. “It’s actually my father’s. I’m just keeping an eye on it for him.”

“Oookay.” I huffed. “Why does your father have a crown? Is he royalty or something?”

Demitri choked on a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now, if you want to use that thing, hurry

up. I’m itching to return all my precious books you’ve mistreated back to their proper places.

It’s gonna take me all night to rearrange them using my system.”

“Alphabetical?” I teased, picking up the crown with my palms on each side. Something

akin to static shock caused me to drop it again onto the cushion. I managed to hold in the

yelp of surprise. My boots dragging on the carpet all afternoon must have caused the charge. I shook my hands and tried again. This time the crown came willingly.

“Genre.”

“Interesting.” I padded back to Demitri and placed the crown askew on his head. Stepping

back, I looked at him and nodded once. “Perfect.” I picked up my camera off my chest. “Now,

think you’re the king of rock and no one else is better at six-string slinging than you.”

Half of Demitri’s face crumpled. “I feel ridiculous.”

Rolling my eye at him, I said, “This from a guy who was willing to have me take pictures of

him and his girlfriend while in flagrante delicto.”

This relaxed him a bit, but still he said, “There’s someone better than I am at the guitar.”

I took a couple of test shots, liking what I was seeing in the digi screen, when I asked,

“Who?”

“Luka.”

My heart sped up at the mere mention of his name. “Of course he is.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Visitor

I had so much fun during the latter part of Demitri’s shoot that I finally drummed up the

courage to look through the pictures from the video shoot. Demitri reminded me to stay

focused, do what I came here to do. That included staring at pictures of me and Luka kissing.

The cameraman knew his stuff. The pictures were in focus. The proportions were even. He

also took some crazy shots where the camera was tilted at an angle. I couldn’t deny how

professional the pictures came out. In fact, a part of me envied how good he was. Well, I

guess if you stared through a lens all day every day you really got a sense of what looked good as still shots. If I had a phone, I would call that camera guy and have him explain how he

achieved some of the photographs. They were freakin’ gallery ready—no retouching needed.

Damn. I had so much to learn.

Feeling inadequate, I stared at this one picture where Luka’s lips were on mine and the

cameraman captured the exact moment when I gasped. So my eyes were half open when

Luka’s lips landed. His body was tilted inward and I got a good view of half his back. His

tattoo covered the entire surface. It was massive if I could only see a wing from the angle

where he had his body over mine. He had one hand on my face and the other, the one facing

where I assumed the video camera was, clutched the side of the slab I stretched out on. A

mysterious mist I hadn’t noticed on the day of the shoot curled around the slab, adding a

fairytale feel to the photo. I resembled a statue on a sarcophagus that Luka was kissing to life.

I squinted at the screen, trying my best to make out the tattoo. From what I could tell, it

was all black. From the side of his back I could see, the design stretched all the way to his

ribcage. The wing on the side tilted toward me was obvious, but below it looked like some

kind of vine design. They were interlocking with…thorns? Shoving my nose at the screen

didn’t help, and no matter how much I blew up the picture the design looked so intricate I

couldn’t begin to imagine what it made up unless I saw the whole thing.

So focused on playing Guess That Tattoo, I didn’t hear the knocking right away. Rubbing

the strain out of my eye, I said, “Coming!”

The knocking stopped. So not Yana or Calixta because having experienced being on the

other side of a door from them, I knew they wouldn’t have stopped knocking until I actually

pulled the door from their fists.

I took a second to stretch before standing up and pushing my chair to the side. My gaze

landed on the coffee pot and made a mental note to call the kitchen for a refill. I itched for another work-filled night. Less sleep meant less chances of dreaming. I shuddered. Not

dreams. Nightmares. Worse now more than ever.

Padding to the door, I scratched the back of my head before turning the knob. Outside

stood Phoenix in a sweater and sweats combo. Casual, but still all in black. And without

makeup. Dang. She still looked way too good all natural. Then the imaged of her arched back,

breasts in the air brought a blush to my cheeks. I dropped my gaze immediately. I couldn’t

look her straight in the eye anymore after that.

“Hey,” I mumbled.

“Hey,” she answered back. The uncertainty in her tone mirrored mine.

“Uhm…” Okay, I had run out of things to say. Of all the band members, Phoenix was the

one I hadn’t really interacted with. That needed changing since I had her next on my list for a photo shoot.

Thankfully, she filled in the increasingly awkward air between us. “Are you busy?”

“I was just taking a look at the pictures from the video shoot.” I hiked a thumb over my

shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to look at me when you speak?”

Guilt crumpled my gut. “Look, I know I’m being rude, but you’ve got to understand, I’ve

seen you and Demitri in a position no one has the right to see. That was a private moment

and I should have turned and left instead of staying and taking your picture.”

“Can we talk about this inside?”

The hiss in her voice reminded me of my manners. I stepped aside and let her in. Her flip

flops slapped against the underside of her feet when she padded her way to the living room.

“I was just about to order a fresh pot of coffee. Do you want some?” I asked when I

followed her in. I really needed to get a grip. So what if I’d seen her naked? We shared the

same girly bits. Plus, I’d seen far worse things than two beautiful people expressing their love for one another.

Without replying to my question, Phoenix went to the desk where my laptop sat open and

picked up the phone. She dialed for the kitchen, waited a second, then ordered tea and a plate of mini sandwiches.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said to me after ending the call. “I don’t drink coffee.”

I shook my head, finally able to lift my gaze to her chin. I called that progress. “I probably shouldn’t buzz up again anyway.”

Phoenix leaned over my laptop where I’d zoomed in on the picture of me and Luka kissing.

With the high pixel rate of my camera, no blurring of the image occurred. “This is

breathtaking.”

“The camera guy did a pretty good job.” I heard the envy and bitterness in my voice and

adjusted my tone. “I’ve been trying to figure out what Luka’s tattoo is. Have you seen it?”

Such a long pause followed my question that I didn’t think Phoenix would answer me until

she straightened away from my laptop screen. She sighed—such a sad sound, so full of regret.

I didn’t understand where it came from.

“Luka chooses the people he shows that tattoo too.” She traced the wing with her fingertip.

“It wouldn’t be right for me to tell you.”

God, did all of the band members have secrets? My eyebrows rose so high, I felt the scar

behind my patch stretch a little. I’ve got to hand it to them. They were loyal to a fault when it came to protecting each other’s privacy. A realization struck me then. You only found out

anything about the band if they chose to clue you in. I respected them more for that. Their

bond went beyond familial ties.

“Alright.” Appreciating the break from my work, I plopped onto one of the couches and

rolled my neck until I felt vertebrae pop back into place. Ah, love that feeling. “So, to what do I owe this visit?” Might as well get to the point, right?

Giving the picture one last look, Phoenix smiled before she took a seat on the couch

opposite from mine. The coffee table stood between us. She pulled her legs beneath her and

hugged one of the fluffy throw pillows. She looked so young in that pose.

She huffed, deflating a little in front of me. “I wanted to apologize for my brazenness this

afternoon.”

Yet another surprise that caused my eyebrows to lift.

“I guess I was just tired of keeping Demitri and me a secret. When I saw you standing

there with your camera, I stopped thinking of the consequences and asked you to take a