Page 51 of Phantom
“I saw you watching me from box five. Then you vanished. It freaked me out and I had a panic attack. But how were you in my room so quickly? How did you know I…” I don’t finish the sentence, too embarrassed to say the actual word for what I did when I took too much medication.
His eyes roam over me, like he’s looking for any sign that I’ll run away before he answers.
“Because I watch you.”
I nearly prove him right as my fight-or-flight response kicks into high gear, only to settle onfreeze.
“You… watch me.”
“Yes.”
I wait for an explanation but when he doesn’t elaborate, I scoff. “What do you mean, youwatchme?”
“When you moved into your dorm, I realized quickly that you could hear me practice through here.” He points to the vent above the piano. “The first time you wrote lyrics to one of my songs and sang along…” He drifts off and the reverence in his voice makes my heart flutter. “Your voice is ethereal, Scarlett. I needed more of you.”
“That’s when your letters started.” I glance around the room, not sure what I’m looking for until I find a small desk with candles of various colors and sizes surrounding stationary and a laptop. It’s a juxtaposition of past and present, just like him. “You really are real. My demon of music.”
“I heard that in one of your lyrics. It fits. The world already knows me as the Phantom of the French Quarter. But being yourdémon de la musiqueis what I didn’t know I craved. Hearing your voice singing my music is… perfection.”
Pride swells in my chest, but I try my best to focus on what his words actually mean in this situation.
“So you… what? Break into my room?” I scowl at the thought. “Do you watch me undress?”
“No, of course not.” He frowns back at me. “I only stay long enough to hear you sing the lyrics you come up with and write in your journal. Your nose does this cute little scrunched thing when you concentrate.” His accompanying chuckle seems to surprise him and he cuts it off abruptly. Appreciation twists my heart in my chest, threatening to derail my resolve to be mad at him. “Except for what happened the other night, whenever you’re in a compromising position, I look away for your privacy.”
“Well, howgentlemanlyof you to stop looking long enough for me to—wait…” My eyes widen as realization creeps in. “The other night? Holy shit, itwasyou! Not a dream. You were actually there when I… Oh my god, you’resick.”
His lips flatten and he narrows his eyes. “Scarlett—”
“No.” I wave my hand and spin around to the door. “How the hell do I get out of here—”
“You’re not leaving—”
“Yes, I am,” I call over my shoulder as I march toward my freedom.
Two impossibly large hands latch on to my shoulders and pull me against his chest. Sol’s whiskey-and-sugar scent immediately floods my senses, but I fight against the intoxicating aroma.
“No! Let go of me!”
“I can’t do that, Scarlett. You need to listen to me.”
“No, damnit!”
I twist and dig my heels into the carpet, but with the combination of fuzzy socks and my unyielding captor, my efforts are futile. Once he wraps his long, muscular arms around me, my attempt to escape is completely hopeless, and he holds my writhing, cursing form until I’ve tired myself out and my chest is heaving for breath.
“Calm down and listen to me, little muse,” he murmurs above my ear. “Youknowme. You know I would never hurt you.”
I’m plastered to him with nowhere to go. His heart pounds at my back and like my own stuttering pulse, I can’t tell if his is due to fear or desire. My lungs adopt the same cadence of his breaths and my fight leaves me after several deep inhales and exhales. All the while, he never lets up on his strong embrace, which is somehow soothing in and of itself.
IknowI should be pissed. Any other woman would be in this situation. But unlike any other woman, even though I’m angry, hurt, embarrassed, and confused, I can’t deny the glaring truth. I’ve known and trusted my demon of music for months, and if hehadn’tbeen in my room last night… I might’ve died. Or if anyone else had found me I’d be locked up in a psych ward again right now.
“There you go. That’s it,ma petite muse.” His whispered encouragement flutters my hair, and I lean into his embrace completely. “Relax against me.”
My skin grows sensitive where his arms envelop me, but I push past the warmth flowing in my veins to remember why I’m frustrated.
“You’ve… you’ve beenstalkingme and… youpleasuredme—” I cough out when a shiver of desire rolls down my back.
“And you begged me to,” he purrs.
