Haven by Celia Breslin

lips, take each one between my teeth and test their fullness. “You play the piano well,” I blurted to redirect my thoughts.
    “Thank you.”
    “Are you, uh, a professional?” Wow, lame.
    “I was, yes.”
    “In a band?” Not getting any better, here .
    “Yes. A solo artist.”
    “Play any other instruments?” Okay, now I sounded like a bad reporter.
    He stared at me for a long moment, causing butterflies to circle in my stomach.
    “A little guitar.”
    Neat . “Electric or acoustic?”
    He didn’t reply.
    “I play a little piano,” I offered into the silence.
    He raised an eyebrow as if encouraging me to continue, despite the fact this had to be the most awkward conversation in human or vampire history.
    “Classically trained by my uncle. Started when I was five or maybe six, until I was about thirteen and—” Then they messed with my head.
    Alexander played a classical piece.
    “Chopin. Nocturne, Opus 9, Number 2.” I recited, remembering the notes .
    He caressed the keys and another pair of hands superimposed over his. Long, pale fingers edged by the frilly cuffs of a black shirt. A ruby ring adorned the left hand. My breath hitched.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Yeah, fine,” I lied. Blindsided by another memory and some surprising talent at Name That Classical Tune. No matter how benign the memories so far this evening, I didn’t enjoy their abrupt invasion of my head.
    “Why don’t you sit?”
    “No thanks.” Must not touch hot guy, must not touch hot guy. My new mantra wasn’t catchy, exactly, but whatever worked, right?
    “Afraid?” The music stopped, his hands poised over the keys.
    I shook my head. He stood in a speedy, fluid move. I sidled away, hand skimming the piano. He watched, face unreadable. I licked my suddenly dry lips. The crowd on the dance floor observed us, excitement palpable.
    “Want to talk about last night?” His question relieved a notch of the tension.
    Well, thank God one of us was brave enough to go there. That was usually me, but I wasn’t usually chatting up a sexy, mostly-dead guy who, if Faith’s prediction proved true, was my fated soul mate. “Yes, but honestly, I don’t know where to start. I’ve had a little experience with supernatural stuff, but that was intense.”
    His lips quirked, the smile tightening bits of me already aching in need. “Yeah.”
    “Does that happen a lot with you?”
    His eyes darkened, smoldering with unmistakable sexual heat. “Just with you. Only you.”
    His words flipped some invisible switch deep in my core. Heat washed over me. My awkwardness disappeared, replaced by the full force of the desire only he awakened. I wanted—no, I needed to touch him. Impossible to stay away. Why, that would be suicide. He was like oxygen, or water. Can’t live without his touch. I stalked up to him.
    “Don’t.” His soft command didn’t match the hunger in his eyes.
    “You want me to stop?” My hands shook with the desperate need to touch him.
    “Yes.” Eyes like pools of sparkling dark blue water beckoned me.
    “Liar.” I grabbed his hand, completing the connection.
    Power pulsed to life, along with pleasure, pain and wheezing.
    My knees buckled and Alexander pulled me onto the bench, clasping me to his chest as if he couldn’t resist the contact. His beating heart thundered under my ear . He has a heartbeat . Quite a random thought to have while gasping for air.
    Below us cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd, enjoying the suffocation show. The bastards.
    Mark and Ren rushed over and hauled me away while two vampires pounced on Alexander. Snarls and growls ripped the air, their fight a dizzying blur of motion. Alexander threw one attacker into the crowd. He whirled with the other in a tornado of flailing limbs. They crashed into the piano sending it gliding toward us. Mark and Ren flung us out of the way and we collided with Faith and Kai. We collapsed in an ungraceful heap eliciting laughter from the dance