light I saw shining in their depths was bright, wild and intense. He hummed a quiet tune, something insistent, something that sounded like the same song I had heard in my dream. The music of my name.
At the touch of those notes inside of me, my heart woke up. A buzz built in my mind, a high, clear note that lifted me with it as it spiraled up through my memories, cutting through the darkness that had weighed me down.
The music was everywhere. The music was everything.
And I suddenly recognized him. I remembered him. Seeing him made me smile; I couldn’t help it. I loved him. I remembered loving him.
He returned my smile. “I’m so glad to see you.” His silky voice matched the music inside of me. “I was worried that perhaps you’d forgotten me.”
I shook my head, not daring to speak. Filled with a sudden rush of shy adoration, I felt like I was dreaming again, the world drifting and slowing into softness around me. It was so good to see him. I felt safe, and the lingering darkness inside my mind was comfortable instead of oppressive. I wanted to stay as close to him as I could for as long as possible.
He glanced over my shoulder, and I half turned, following his gaze. Orlando had left his post at the window and was walking slowly down the far aisle toward the nave, his head tilted back so he could look up at the sculpted pillars and the filigree work around the windows.
When he reached the front of the nave, he slid into the first pew and knelt down. He locked his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes.
I turned around. The man standing before me had gone rigid. His breathing turned quick and shallow. A line of sweat broke out across his forehead. I saw an expression of pain pass across his face, tightening the skin around his eyes, before he quickly masked it. When he turned his attention back to me, his face was smooth. His eyes were the black of a raven’s wing. I could see how carefully he held himself, as if any sudden movement would break him or make him lose his tightly wound control.
A flutter of emotion filled me, a blend of fear and desire.
“I want you to trust me,” he murmured, the music of his voice winding its way deeper into my mind. He reached out to brush the hair back from my face. He wore leather gloves on his hands, the material smooth and soft and strangely warm. The wide sleeves of his cassock reminded me of angel’s wings, though in shadow instead of stone. “You know you can.”
My doubts disappeared at his touch. Of course I could trust him. I loved him.
“Will you come with me?” he asked, low and urgent.
I nodded immediately and stood up. I would go anywhere with him; I would do anything for him.
He slipped a gloved hand beneath my elbow and drew me deeper into the shadows, leading me to the foot of a statue of an angel. The carved marble wings were curved, not quite unfurled, and the angel’s head was bowed, stone tears frozen on his smooth cheek. Standing in the shadow of the angel made me feel like I was sheltered in a protective embrace.
He slid his hand from my elbow down to my fingers. A shudder passed through his whole body, but he controlled it immediately. “Will you do something for me?”
“Anything,” I breathed. I leaned forward, eager to hear his request and obey.
“Say my name. I want to hear it from your lips.”
My response was automatic. “Lorenzo,” I said, and felt a secret thrill pass through me. “Your name is Lorenzo.”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
He kept his eyes on me as he gently turned my bare hand in his, lifting my wrist and breathing a kiss along my skin.
His mouth never touched me, but I shivered as though it had. I felt heat radiating from his skin with a feverish intensity.
Lorenzo released my hand and my fingers tingled, aching to return to his grasp.
Another shudder suddenly passed
At the touch of those notes inside of me, my heart woke up. A buzz built in my mind, a high, clear note that lifted me with it as it spiraled up through my memories, cutting through the darkness that had weighed me down.
The music was everywhere. The music was everything.
And I suddenly recognized him. I remembered him. Seeing him made me smile; I couldn’t help it. I loved him. I remembered loving him.
He returned my smile. “I’m so glad to see you.” His silky voice matched the music inside of me. “I was worried that perhaps you’d forgotten me.”
I shook my head, not daring to speak. Filled with a sudden rush of shy adoration, I felt like I was dreaming again, the world drifting and slowing into softness around me. It was so good to see him. I felt safe, and the lingering darkness inside my mind was comfortable instead of oppressive. I wanted to stay as close to him as I could for as long as possible.
He glanced over my shoulder, and I half turned, following his gaze. Orlando had left his post at the window and was walking slowly down the far aisle toward the nave, his head tilted back so he could look up at the sculpted pillars and the filigree work around the windows.
When he reached the front of the nave, he slid into the first pew and knelt down. He locked his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes.
I turned around. The man standing before me had gone rigid. His breathing turned quick and shallow. A line of sweat broke out across his forehead. I saw an expression of pain pass across his face, tightening the skin around his eyes, before he quickly masked it. When he turned his attention back to me, his face was smooth. His eyes were the black of a raven’s wing. I could see how carefully he held himself, as if any sudden movement would break him or make him lose his tightly wound control.
A flutter of emotion filled me, a blend of fear and desire.
“I want you to trust me,” he murmured, the music of his voice winding its way deeper into my mind. He reached out to brush the hair back from my face. He wore leather gloves on his hands, the material smooth and soft and strangely warm. The wide sleeves of his cassock reminded me of angel’s wings, though in shadow instead of stone. “You know you can.”
My doubts disappeared at his touch. Of course I could trust him. I loved him.
“Will you come with me?” he asked, low and urgent.
I nodded immediately and stood up. I would go anywhere with him; I would do anything for him.
He slipped a gloved hand beneath my elbow and drew me deeper into the shadows, leading me to the foot of a statue of an angel. The carved marble wings were curved, not quite unfurled, and the angel’s head was bowed, stone tears frozen on his smooth cheek. Standing in the shadow of the angel made me feel like I was sheltered in a protective embrace.
He slid his hand from my elbow down to my fingers. A shudder passed through his whole body, but he controlled it immediately. “Will you do something for me?”
“Anything,” I breathed. I leaned forward, eager to hear his request and obey.
“Say my name. I want to hear it from your lips.”
My response was automatic. “Lorenzo,” I said, and felt a secret thrill pass through me. “Your name is Lorenzo.”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
He kept his eyes on me as he gently turned my bare hand in his, lifting my wrist and breathing a kiss along my skin.
His mouth never touched me, but I shivered as though it had. I felt heat radiating from his skin with a feverish intensity.
Lorenzo released my hand and my fingers tingled, aching to return to his grasp.
Another shudder suddenly passed
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