FascinatingRhythm (17 page)

They didn’t stop kissing until they reached Stockholm.

* * * * *

He hadn’t told her that he’d dropped everything to seek her
out until he received a call from his manager, desperate to get him to Berlin
in time for the sound check the following evening. Hearing some of Chick’s
threats and remembering the sheer size of the man, Sabina made him fly out that
night, promising him she’d follow by train. He didn’t go until he’d bought the
ticket for Berlin and seen her into a taxi for Emmelie’s house, where she could
collect more clothes.

So in the end she traveled alone to Berlin, and Beverley met
her to take her to the hotel. She liked Beverley but she didn’t want to confide
in anyone else the momentous decisions she and Hunter had to make, so she kept
mainly silent. “Do you want to see the concert or go and rest?” Beverley asked
her.

“The concert,” Sabina said.

“Okay, we’ll drop your luggage at the hotel and head out
there. It’s a great venue.”

“Is it better than the others on the tour?”

Simple questions to keep Beverley talking. Sabina learned a
lot about the band and the way the members worked together as a near-seamless
unit.

Other bands might have sent substitutes to a mere sound
check, but not Murder City Ravens. Proudly Beverley outlined what her lover,
Jace, the guitarist, did. Or rather, one of the guitarists, because Riku also
played guitar, and Zazz played too, for certain songs. They were all competent
or better at more than one instrument, all dedicated to their craft.

The venue was another big sports stadium but Sabina, lost in
her thoughts, didn’t register it until she was sitting next to a huge but
friendly security guy, an umbrella resting by his side because this was an
outdoor stadium. They sat close to the stage so she got out her headphones and
adjusted the level. She’d still hear them but muted. The man, Franz, raised his
brows, but she explained and he nodded, asked about her operation.

He was as good at putting her at her ease as Sabina had been
at distracting Beverley from too much speculation earlier. She chatted, and
only just before the band came out did she realize she’d been automatically
blocking out the extraneous noise. Shit, she was doing better than she’d
thought.

If she’d imagined watching two concerts on the same tour
would be the same, she’d have been deeply mistaken. Hunter had told her the
band had some parts of the set list where they might deviate into something
else. These days, big concerts like this were high-tech affairs, carefully
orchestrated, but the band wouldn’t let anyone dictate what they did, to the
point of obstinacy.

Someone must have told Hunter where she was sitting because
when he walked on, his gaze went immediately to her and he smiled, touched his
forehead and signed to her, “I love you.”

Her heart stopped then started again with a mighty thump
that made her catch her breath. So much so that Franz asked her if she felt
okay. Nodding, she concentrated on breathing deeply. He wouldn’t see her if she
signed back. Would he?

But she couldn’t risk it, couldn’t deny it either. That
wasn’t where their problems lay. “I love you,” she signed back, swiftly and
almost furtively. She did, she really did.

Hunter rapped three sharp beats on the side of his snare
drum and the band swung into the first song, the same as the one she’d seen in
Malmö.

But now she
heard
it. Now she could have the whole
experience, and know for sure what the rest of the world was getting so excited
about.

And fuck, over the course of the next two hours did she
realize.

The music was complex but not difficult to understand. It
had a central theme, mostly doom-laden but with the leavening of intelligence.
That gave the listener inner delight, a sense of sharing and being part of
something.

And that was only the first song.

She tried not to look at Hunter, overawed by the fact that
she knew him so well, that she’d known him before—before he’d got so good. How
the fuck had he done that? In a house where he couldn’t play, couldn’t practice
because he’d disturb someone living there. He’d had to live in that house, when
all the time he could do—
this
!

He played with passion, precision and complete
concentration. After a couple of numbers he didn’t look at her, well, not much.

Sabina lost all sense of time. For all she knew the world outside
this arena had ceased to exist. Only she and the people she felt so close to
right now, the people sharing this experience, mattered. Even turning down the
sound on her own headphones left her with a fuller sense of richness and depth.

She’d made the right choice. She’d decided to have the
operation so she could listen to this and if she lost it tomorrow, she’d still
have been right. Hearing this made up for everything, all the silent years.

It helped that she knew what the songs were about, having lip-read
most of them before, from all three concerts she’d seen. Subtle and beautiful,
chords and melodies and strange rhythms wound around her, into her, until she
heard a familiar throb, a beat. Somewhere inside her, that throb echoed. Almost
a heartbeat but with a faster double-beat at the end. She couldn’t work out
what or why it sank right into her, belonged to her, but put it down to the
sheer genius she was listening to. Apart, they were brilliant musicians, but
the band as a whole was genius.

V slid in so perfectly it was as if she’d been part of the
band from the beginning, but she’d joined the band last. Now they made a
fascinating whole, with V’s sax blending in and out. They must have a variety
of sources. Sabina remembered music from before she’d lost her hearing, but
she’d never heard anything like this. Ever. She doubted anything like this
existed unless there were copycats. Murder City Ravens gave everything, and
then some.

They played songs about lost love, and love that survived
disaster. They broke hearts, singing about corruption and miserable death, then
came back with fury, all three front men playing electric guitars, shrieking
and showing their agony.

They finished that section with a song that spoke of walking
out of a car crash, alive and guilty but glad to be alive. It ended with a
noise from Riku’s electronic rig that sounded like birdsong. Then the lights
went out, pitching them into darkness.

Franz caught her arm, part of his job to ensure she was
safe. Then the audience applauded and Sabina had to turn her headphones down to
cope with the cacophony.

The band came back, but this time everyone except V, Donovan
and Riku were topless. The crowd went wild, and Sabina applauded along with
everyone else. To her eyes, nobody could beat the sheer beauty and strength of
Hunter, not even Jace with his amazing dragon tattoo that went all the way down
his back to disappear under the belt of his low-slung jeans. Beverley got to
see that gorgeousness every night. But she didn’t get Hunter. He belonged to
Sabina.

She caught herself up. Hers? She hadn’t even decided what to
do yet.

Yes she had. Who was she fucking kidding? Not herself, that
was for sure.

He knew she was out there. For most of the performance
Hunter couldn’t see Sabina but he felt her presence and her approval as if it
were a living thing. Hope suffused him and he had to work hard to block that
emotion out, to tap into the senses he needed to help convey what each song was
about. That was what made them special.

Onstage, they opened themselves to the audience, revealed
their souls. It took a lot of bravery to do that and he’d had to force himself
the first few times but both incarnations of Murder City Ravens required that.
Sometimes, this new, revived band, with Zazz and Riku, went so close to the
edge it could feel like an open wound.

Tonight he was guardedly happy. Guardedly because they
hadn’t decided anything yet. And he had the press conference to get through.

After the show, wiped out and needing something, he looked
for her. He’d never forgotten her, and the way she made him feel was like no
other woman. He flew to her like a wounded bird, instinctively seeking out his
home, his nest, where he felt safe and sheltered.

The security guard assigned to take care of her had brought
her to the side of the stage. Although he wanted to hold her, kiss her, his
hair stuck to his neck in damp strands and his torso gleamed with sweat.

He grabbed one of the towels held out to him by—someone—and
scrubbed it roughly over his head and body. All the time she watched him,
unsmiling, only acknowledging the greeting of the other members of the band
with brief smiles and hellos. But she never took her attention from him and he
felt it like a caress, sending his nerve endings rioting.

He held out his hand to her. “Ready?”

She nodded. Already she knew what he meant, without him
having to explain it.

Hunter decided to go through to the press conference
topless, give them something to talk about other than Sabina. The others trailed
in but Hunter sat at his accustomed place at one end of the row. Usually,
partners and lovers kept away, but this time he found a chair for Sabina next
to him because they knew she’d be part of the questions.

Chick nodded at him in approval. “Keep her close,” he said.
“They’re smelling blood.”

“What?”

Chick shrugged. “I don’t know the details, man. I can just
smell it. It might not be you, but the way they perked up and started snapping
when you came in tells me otherwise.” Instinct combined with acute observation
and knowledge. The perfect combination, especially for a manager. Maybe the
senses jungle animals needed most, but then this was a jungle. Looking at the
press as a rabid pack of hyenas might be unfair but it worked for Hunter right
now.

Once the band had settled themselves, the questions started.

“
Aus den fotos im internet. können wir
—”

Chick interrupted the man in the front row who’d rapped out
his question. Hunter understood German but it didn’t come as naturally to him
as Swedish or English. “English only, please. Or you may speak through the
interpreter.” He indicated the prim woman standing by his side. Clever. Slow it
all down a bit and put the reporters at a disadvantage.

The man gave a heavy sigh and started again. “From the
photos that have appeared on the internet in the last twenty-four hours, we can
assume you have a new girlfriend, Hunter?”

“Yes.” Hunter folded his arms, drawing attention to his
chest. Despite drying off a moment before, it gleamed with sweat again. He
never answered questions about his private life and, unlike some members of the
band, he didn’t flaunt his affairs in public. So this was a first for them.

“What’s with the headset? Love the man, hate his music?”

Sabina put her hand on his arm as he was about to speak. Would
he take over or let her speak for herself? This felt like a turning point in
their relationship because she absolutely would not play second fiddle to him,
although he’d have all her support for his music. Especially after she’d heard
the concert tonight.

He leaned back and glanced at her, smiling. “Sabina can tell
you much better than I can.”

Relief surged through her in a tide that overwhelmed her for
a few seconds but she dragged her senses back together because this was
important. “These are special post-operative wear. Some of you may know that I
was deaf. I had some hearing but nothing to signify. I’ve had the new operation
at Uppsala University Hospital to put implants into my ears. The operation was
successful but I have to wear these for a while in public, to regulate the
noise.”

Cries of “Take them off!” followed. She held up her hand to
shut them up.

“Only if you promise to be quiet. You can’t make a lot of
noise or you’ll damage my hearing. I’ll remove them for a minute. That’s all.
Deal?”

Shit, they agreed. Hardened journalists in search of a
story, and she had them eating out of her hand. Glancing at Hunter, she tried
for a reassuring smile. Would they yell? They could cause her irreparable
damage. Or not. No telling.

She lifted the headset off and handed it to Hunter. Deciding
to go the whole hog, she shook her hair back so they could see her shaved areas
and scars. The doctors had been right. Once her hair had regrown the scars
would be virtually undetectable to most people.

Although a few people gasped, they obeyed her request and
the only sounds were a few low mutters and the clicking of cameras. Not many
mobile phone cameras in use here.

Tension rose inside her, tightening her throat. Without her
headphones she felt vulnerable, open to attack. Like a warrior outnumbered by
the barbarian hordes. But then, press conferences always seemed this way, even
the more civilized ones she’d attended with Emmelie.

Without speaking, Hunter got to his feet and put the
headphones back on her.

It was the cue for the noise to start again. “No external
attachment, no batteries?” one asked. Cochlear implants required batteries to
work.

Chick allowed her ten minutes, plenty of time to discuss the
operation, the pioneering work the university was doing to help the deaf and to
touch on the issues of operating on the deaf too young in life, before they’d
had a chance to learn the skills that would last them a lifetime.

Finally, she signed a message to them, using ASL, and then
the easier to understand SEE, the literal translation of speech that didn’t
have its own syntax and grammar, as ASL did. With some luck, those messages
might find their way into the general media and not just the music press. “I’m
thinking of setting up an organization to help bridge the deaf and the hearing,
especially with people like me who don’t belong in any world.” Her new idea,
very young as yet.

Hunter tugged her hand and as she turned to him, she saw
Chick making the winding-up signal. “She belongs here,” Hunter said. Cupping
the back of her head, he drew her close and kissed her. Cameras clicked and
flashed and, to her amusement she heard a smattering of applause.

Then he shocked the life out of her by dropping on one knee,
just as he had at the railway station. Except that when he opened his hand,
something glittered on his palm.

Fuck.
Silence fell and anticipation filled the air.

“Sabina, I love you and I will never stop. I haven’t stopped
in all the time I’ve known you. I want very much to make you my wife, but if
you don’t, then let’s make it a long engagement. Please?”

She stared at him, eyes wide, shocked to the core. Her mind
ground to a halt. Marry?

This was his way of saying sorry. Not just what he said on
the train. Her man was giving her the chance to say no and humiliate him on his
home ground. She could tell by the expression in his eyes that this time he was
taking nothing for granted. He needed her and he was telling her the truth,
just as she’d always wanted.

Six years ago he’d walked out on her, but she knew him
better now. He really had believed it was for the best, but also, simmering
between them was the knowledge that he’d run scared. Admitting that was the
bravest thing anyone had ever done in her presence. It made so much sense.

He’d come back ten times better than he’d gone away. He’d
found deprivation and been in a place where he could take nothing for granted.
It had made him stronger. Strong enough to do this and strong enough to accept
her rejection, if she did that.

Not that she would. “Yes, yes, please. I love you, Hunter.”

With a whoop of delight, he got to his feet and took her
left hand, pushing the ring onto her third finger. It fit. When she tore her
gaze from the sparkling diamond to raise it to his face, he grinned at her
quizzical expression. “I borrowed one of your dress rings. You wore it the
night of the concert and I purloined it long enough to draw around it and get
the size.”

“Sneaky.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed her sneaky man,
the man she loved, would love for the rest of her life. He buried his hand in
her hair, taking care not to dislodge her headphones, and kissed her back.
Flashes went off and people shouted, yelled questions, demanded they
look
over here, over there, no here
.

They ignored them all and instead, Hunter went back to the
table where the band sat, grinning and unashamedly gawking at them. Jace had
his arm around Beverley and a tall, dark man she assumed was Matt Sinclair
stood behind V, his hand on her shoulder. Looked like the moratorium on band
members’ partners was off then.

He took her to where Chick stood. “Can we have a car to take
us back to the hotel? Now, please?”

Chick slapped his back with a blow that made even the
powerful Hunter start forward. “Congratulations, man. Consider it done.”

Ten minutes later, a grinning Hunter, now wearing a T-shirt,
took a dazed Sabina outside to where a shiny black limousine waited for them.
The journey to the hotel took barely ten minutes, and then they went in via the
kitchen, to the floor Beverley had booked for the exclusive use of the band.
He’d held her hand all the way but explained he wouldn’t kiss her again because
they wouldn’t get to bed if he did, and that was where they were going.

Too happy to argue, Sabina went along with him, dreaming and
worrying. However, the press conference had explained something to her, and
parts of her plan started to fall into place.

Too happy to plan as well, Sabina clung to the hand of the
man she loved and let him take her wherever he wanted.

As it happened, they didn’t get much farther than the door
of the bedroom. He slammed it closed and then slammed her against it, hoisting
her up so she could hook her legs around his waist. Their kiss burned down the
night. She groped his T-shirt, dragged it up, hearing a rip but not caring
overmuch. He dragged her blouse open, scattering buttons and ripping fabric
until he could touch her. At the same time he tilted his head to one side so he
could kiss her more thoroughly, explore her more deeply.

He spun them around and, carrying her as if she weighed nothing,
took her to the bed and dumped her on the soft comforter. Dark red this time,
she noted dazedly. But she pulled at her clothes, tore them off without
watching or caring because she was too busy watching him strip.

He had such a beautiful body. From the top of his golden
head to the tips of his overlarge feet, she thought him perfect. Absolutely
fucking perfect. She loved the way his muscles flexed as he did such everyday
things like pulling what was left of his T-shirt off over his head and then going
for his jeans. Loved the way he devoured her with his gaze as she stripped for
him.

And loved it when he dragged open a drawer and found a
condom. Always thinking of her, even in this extremity of passion.

Sheathed and naked, he came to her. “Up on your knees.”

She hadn’t noticed the mirror opposite the bed until then.
Until she faced it. Saw him kneel on the bed behind her, bracket her hips with
his legs and take his cock in one hand. He reached for her pussy to finger it,
grazed her clit in welcome and ensured she was wet enough for him.

She was drenched. He groaned and drew his hand away. She saw
him raise his fingers to his mouth and lick off her juices as if they were the
most precious nectar. Closing his eyes, he savored her and then opened them
again, watching her as he guided his cock to her opening.

“Jesus, Sabina, you are so hot you’ll scald me. And I’ll
love every minute.”

She watched him in the mirror, read his lips and then closed
her eyes. “Talk to me.”

“How? Like this?” He drove his cock inside her, straight and
true, right to the heart of her. Embedded himself there. He shook her world,
changed it. He always had, but never more so than now. “Fuck, Sabina, you feel
so good. This isn’t why I asked you to marry me, but it’s a fucking great incentive.”

“I heard you.” She reached up, ripped off the headphones. “I
don’t need these here. I want to hear you properly.”

The world rushed in on her, the sound of the traffic outside
muted by the double-glazed windows but definitely there. And when he pulled
nearly all the way out and slammed back into her again, his body slapped
against hers.

She’d never heard anything so wonderful. As he fucked her,
and this was hard, wonderful fucking, they created their own rhythm, their own
sounds. His gasps and groans, her moans in counterpoint, the sound of their
bodies connecting, the sucking sound as he withdrew and her body tried to cling
to his cock, keep it inside.

And oh, the exquisite sensation of his body grazing hers,
rubbing it higher until she didn’t think she could bear any more and moved
forward. With a growl, he grabbed her hips, pulled her back against him so her
ass met his groin and she felt the muscles there as he worked.

Opening her eyes, she watched their reflections and gloried
in the fact that she didn’t have to watch to hear. His lips were parted,
revealing gleaming white teeth bared almost in a grimace. He was holding back
until she came. He wanted to make it good for her.