Page 178 of Bad Bishop
A live orchestra sat on a stage, musicians poised and swathed in formalwear.
Violinists, cellists, clarinet and flute players, trombones and trumpets. Bass and snare drums.
“May I humbly ask for the pleasure of a dance with you, Lila?” He bowed his head, and I realized I heard him because he spoke, not because I could read his lips.
Thatvoice. Thisman. God help me.
Tiernan offered me his open palm.
I took it.
We stepped inside.
The band began to play on cue.
The music filled my ears.
The harmony, the sound, the emotions it stirred in me…
I couldn’t breathe; I was so overwhelmed. It was pleasant and happy, but I got choked up on my own emotions.
I started shaking in his arms as he swept me elegantly across the dance floor in a waltz. Tears leaked from my eyes, and this time I let them fall. I didn’t feel weak. On the contrary, I’d never felt more powerful in my life.
“You waltz?” I heard my voice. It sounded slurred in comparison to my husband’s. But it was pretty. I liked it. It was…kind.
“For you, I do,” he confirmed. “We’re not talking about the dance classes I took last week, though.”
I listened to the edge of his voice.
To the playful lilt of his sarcasm.
To that low, soothing, manly baritone that I always fantasized about.
Whoa.
“What are they playing?” I asked.
I doubted whatever version of this song entered my ears was the complete product, but it was enough.
“‘The Blue Danube’ waltz by Johann Strauss.” He smiled down at me, happy because I was. “We’re going to go through all of the classics, darlin’. And then we are going to attend every ball in greater New York and flaunt your moves,” he continued, just as I stomped on his foot, my huge belly poking between us. “Well, we have a few months to practice.”
I tried to laugh, but the thrill of it all finally took its toll on my body. I fell to my knees in the middle of the ballroom and started sobbing uncontrollably.
Music.
Sound.
Love.
This man had given me so many things. And we almost never happened. It took a terrorizing tragedy to put us in each other’s paths.
Tiernan sank down to the floor, wrapping his arms around me. His fingers disappeared in my hair. He kissed my tears while I hiccuped, clutching him desperately, never wanting to let go.
Was it terrible that I was glad I had been raped and brutalized? I marveled at the stunning realization that my rape—the lowest point of my life, of my existence—carved my path to this beautiful life I had today.
If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have ended up here. With this man. Who had given me all I’d ever wanted, and things I didn’t even know I could dream of having. I’d always dreamed about a dashing prince. Heavily lashed, with pouty lips and big, beautiful eyes.
As it turned out, I fell in love with the complete opposite of it. With a Nephilim, a fallen giant, hands scarred from murder.
