in living it. I would never pass up love or laughter or knowing you because I was afraid of pain. It would be a small price to pay for your company. But then, I've known pain and experienced things others haven't. I've learned the value of love and laughter."
Dayan turned his head slightly even as his gaze remained fixed on her face, devouring her. He kissed her hand, drew her finger into the heat of his mouth.
At once her body clenched and a thousand butterflies brushed at the walls of her stomach. He made her feel beautiful, and sexy and very wanted. "What do you think you're doing?" She faced him with her heart in her eyes and her breasts rising and falling in anticipation.
His tongue did a slow, silky caress along her finger, then reluctantly released her. "Seducing you," Dayan admitted without remorse. He bent his head to find her mouth with his, kissing her leisurely, a long, slow kiss meant to tell her what he couldn't seem to convey with mere words. Poet or not, there were no words to say how much she meant to him. No words to say he would follow her anywhere. That she was life to him.
"You say it just fine." She whispered the words into his mouth, into his soul.
Dayan tensed, his arms imprisoning her, holding her tightly to him. There had been no blood exchange. Yet she was reading his mind. Slipping in like a shadow, with skill and ease, going where only those of Carpathian blood should go. Had she learned too much? Her heart wasn't laboring any more than normal. Carefully he touched her mind. Corinne hadn't even noticed what she had done.
She pulled away first, in a small, delicate retreat that made him smile even as he opened his arms to allow her escape. "What attracts you so much to music?" Dayan asked, surveying the neat stacks of music magazines on the coffee table.
"Music takes me to all the places my body will never let me go," Corinne told him, glancing up at him almost shyly. Her soft smile made his knees weak. "I'm able to feel the sensation of jumping out of an airplane or swimming beneath the ocean by just selecting the right piece. No matter where I am, or how difficult it is to breathe, if I can hear music, I know it will be all right." Her grin was self-conscious. "That probably sounds silly to you, but you're strong and free. I'm a prisoner trapped in this body. What my heart and soul and brain want are things I'll never experience, so I use music to soar."
Dayan said nothing. He couldn't speak; the lump in his throat was blocking his ability to breathe. It was the way she lived her life. Corinne accepted what had been given to her and lived wholly despite her limitations. She embraced life. Tasted it. Experienced it. He could imagine her flying as a bird in the sky, swooping through the treetops. He would always have to stay close to her, watch over her, or Corinne would go for the stars.
"Don't feel sorry for me, Dayan," she said softly. "You see, I've been incredibly lucky. I treasure each day I have." She turned to look around her home. "I've had so much in my life, so many unexpected things. Come with me, look at this. Lisa is an absolute cretin when it comes to musical instruments so she didn't appreciate this at all, but you will." She caught his hand and tugged. "I know you will."
He went with her because he had no other choice. He would have followed her to the ends of the earth. She took him through the hall to the open room with the piano, quickly exposing the ivory keys. Her fingers were tight around his as she pulled him to the bench, nearly pushing him onto it.
"Listen to this. Listen to the sound." Her hands skimmed across the keys, fluttered and settled to play a sonata he immediately recognized.
The sound was beautiful, the notes true. Dayan watched her fingers glide over the keys. She played effortlessly, with a certain abandon, losing herself completely in the music. She played the way she lived life. The way she would love him. Passionately, with everything in her. Giving freely, generously. A complete merging of her body and soul and heart.
She was so beautiful to him. Her head bent over the keys, her eyes closed, her hair tousled