Bloodspell (The Cruentus Curse, #1)(24)

An alumnus of Julliard, her mother had been a concert pianist and Victoria's childhood had been filled with music. She'd learned to play the piano at the same time she'd learned to talk. Despite her natural talents, she'd stopped playing the day her parents died.

"Hey Tori!" a young man with a tuba called out waving. She turned to wave back making her way to the front office and crashed into someone on his way out. She fell straight back into an ungainly heap on the floor.

"We really have to stop meeting like this," a wry voice said, extending a hand to help her up. "At least this time it's not me on the ground."

Victoria grimaced from the pain shooting up her backside and ignored Christian Devereux's proffered hand. She pulled herself up and glared at him.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he stuffed his hand back into his pocket. His face was expressionless, guarded, and still as compelling as she'd remembered. Her gaze flicked to the floor.

"Rehearsing."

"But you're not in the band. You don't even attend Windsor."

"I'm a guest soloist for the performance," he said, moving past her and brushing her arm as he stooped to pick something up off the floor. Almost immediately she could feel the flush start in her toes and work its way all the way up the backs of her knees to her ears. "You dropped this," he said, and handed her a clipboard.

"Thanks," she said, concentrating on the fabric of his sweater and not the way it hugged his body beneath it, which was an entirely hopeless effort. Her eyes swung to his face, avoiding his eyes and fluttering to his lips instead. Her chest flared. Focusing on a point on the opposite wall, Victoria gritted her teeth, ears flaming and pushed past him, suddenly desperate to escape him. "Well, okay, see you."

"See you." His response was soft, and something lingering in the two words tugged at her. She ignored it and after a few minutes he walked away.

Victoria felt her heartbeat calm after heaving several large gulps of air into her lungs. Her arm still burned where his shoulder had grazed against it, and she rubbed at it furiously as if trying to erase his touch. It brought back feelings and words she didn't want to think about—the sound of him saying that kissing her had been a mistake and the humiliation she'd felt that was now returning in hot, violent waves.

Get it together, Victoria. It's over and done with. Ignore him. You have a job to do, so do it, she told herself fiercely.

Christian wasn't at the rehearsal and Victoria assumed that he was off practicing in another room. The band shifted on the stage for a new song, and Victoria distributed the sheet music. She heard the music director call her name.

"Can you give Christian a folder, please?" he asked.

"Sure." Christian walked over and she handed him a booklet with the piano sheet music.

"Violin," he said.

"What? But you play the pi—"

"It's a violin solo," he said gently, reaching for another folder lying on the table next to her.

Victoria shot him a dubious look. He couldn't possibly play the violin as well as she'd heard him play the piano. But she was wrong. When Christian drew the bow over the strings, it was as if everything else in the room just disappeared and the music took over. Victoria had never heard a violin played with so much effortless grace, and she was sure her mouth hung open.

She didn't want to look at him but couldn't help herself. Christian was staring right at her as he played, and she felt her breath stop as their gazes collided. For an unguarded second, his eyes held an impossible longing, communicated only by the fluency of the wooden bow and violin under his chin. But before she could blink, it disappeared and the music came to a resonant halt. The hall erupted in spontaneous applause.

Dumbly, Victoria clapped along with the others, certain she'd misread their shared glance. Christian didn't want anything to do with her; he'd made that very clear.

Jake, the boy with the tuba, elbowed her. "He's amazing," he said, his voice awed. She nodded, an automatic response, and stood, making her way out of the room pretending to collect discarded sheet music. She felt Christian's eyes on her again, but kept walking until she reached the office.

She took a deep breath, focusing on the energy inside of her and calmed her racing heart, beat by beat. The magic helped to soothe her frantic spirit. And she was grateful.

After that, when Victoria saw Christian at rehearsal, it was as if the interlude during his first violin solo had become a figment of her imagination. He ignored her most of the time, and seemed to take special care to not be in the same room when she was. Sometimes it was inevitable, and during those times, he treated her with a casual indifference that hurt more than anything, but after a while, she became adept at concealing her hurt behind a facade of activity.

If she concentrated hard enough, the sensation of him seemed to fade into the background like a dull buzz. She had no idea if what she was doing was a part of her magic but it helped, and that was all she cared about. The amulet became a source of comfort as she found that whenever she held it, she found clarity, and with it strength. And each day it became easier to avoid and even ignore Christian Devereux.

Along with Christian's violin solo, he was also doing a piano duet with another girl in the orchestra; one who stared at him with such lovesick eyes, it was a wonder that she could even play sitting next to him. The choice of music was a beautiful piece, a four-hand piano arrangement of Tchaikovsky's The Sleeping Beauty Suite.