Firebird (The Firebird Trilogy #1) (31 page)

In her bedroom, Stephanie stripped down to her panties and dropped an oversized T-shirt over her head. She switched off the light and climbed into bed. This far up, little street noise penetrated the condo. She listened to cool air blowing through the vents and the occasional creak of the couch as Alex changed position.

The clock on the nightstand informed her that she had tossed and turned for almost an hour. A shadowy form passed by the open door. The bathroom light winked on. The toilet flushed.

The shadow was standing in the doorway and tentatively knocked on the frame. Stephanie switched on the lamp and sat up. “Hey. Come in.”

Alex limped across the room. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to go or…”

“No. Stay. You’re too tired to drive.” She patted the space beside her.

He climbed in, pulling the blankets up over his legs. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder. He folded his hands in his lap and, smiling, cast an oblique glance at her. “I feel like we’re having a sleepover. When do we start watching romantic comedies and doing each other’s hair?”

Laughing, Stephanie elbowed him. “I missed you so much, Alex. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I did. Every day.”

The boundless adoration in his eyes, the lids heavy and pink from his breakdown earlier and the skin beneath them the dark blue of a bruise, brought tears to hers. “Maybe this sounds stupid, but some people think there are souls that keep meeting in different lives, and in every new life, they search for each other because there’s something they need to learn or do. So if you believe in that kind of thing, we’ve been traveling together for lifetimes, and in this lifetime, we have to complete whatever we left unfinished.”

“That’s beautiful, Alex.” She laid his hand on her lap and traced the black lines of his Veles tattoo, encountering a puckered vertical scar on his wrist. He tensed as she pressed her lips to it. He was here, and there was no need to dwell on the consequences if he had succeeded. The agony of never seeing him, hearing him, feeling him again. She would not allow his illness to convince him she didn’t care.

Tears welled up and trickled over. He kissed them away, as she had for him earlier.

“What’s wrong?”

“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore. I know you can’t promise that, but…”

He curled his fingers around her hand and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know how much it hurts to miss you. I don’t want to feel that ever again. I want this.”

A cryptic smile graced his lips. “I would’ve crawled across the country to be here with you. I’m still your Alex.” His eyes gleamed with that unspeakable sorrow, as though he believed she’d disappear again, knowing this time would be permanent. “I will always be yours.”

Her hand on his cheek, she skimmed her mouth over his. Drunk on the scent of him, on his heat, his body hard yet yielding beneath her fingers. She brushed her fingers along his visible tattoos, ran them through his hair and over his beard. So different and yet something greater than he had been. Stronger in the places where he’d been broken.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all week,” he whispered.

Her heart was trying to punch through her breastbone, booming in her ears. Alex parted his lips against hers. A shivering breath. Their tongues entwined in a molten kiss. She would have sat there with him until the end of time and beyond, until the universe and everything in it perished and gusted apart like dandelion blowballs. Mending each other’s wounds. Two teenagers discovering the wondrous things mouths could do. The temporal urgency, as though Alex was convinced they would never share such a moment again, did not escape her. But she was so tired of measuring time by how long they had been apart.

Their heartbeats, their increasing breaths, the sounds of a world in which everything else had ceased to exist. Alex cradled her head and captured her mouth again. His beard and moustache tickled her hypersensitive skin. He sighed and, biting his lip, pulled away a little.

She flicked her gaze to his crotch. No sign of arousal. Normally she had to do little more than look at him, like that morning.

His cheeks blazed crimson. “My doctor said Latuda could do this. Me, of all people. That’s irony,
da
? Couldn’t keep my dick in my pants, and now I can’t get it up when I want to most.
Svyatoye der′mo.
” He covered his face with his hands. “Not how I pictured this moment.”

With what she hoped was a reassuring smile, Stephanie lowered them. “There’s medication, you know.”

“Yeah. But I’m twenty-six, not fifty-six.”

“It’s fine, sweetie. Lie down with me.”

She lay on her side, facing him. Alex touched a fingertip to her lips. Over her jaw, her throat. Over her breasts, her nipples stiffening beneath the cotton T-shirt. Down her ribs, her hip, onto her bare thigh. Farther down still, along each thigh and back up. A lingering, featherlight touch on her inner thigh before edging the hem of her panties. Pressing her cotton-covered slit. Exploring the way he had years ago, his mouth half-open in wonder, when she was a new and exciting territory to be charted. Gooseflesh bloomed on her skin, and she gasped.

“If you could have anything in the world,” he said, “what would it be?”

“To see you smile again. Really smile. Because you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes reddened around the edges. Crinkled at the corners. His lips trembled as though trying to stave off a foreign and frightening reaction. Then spread into a resplendent smile even as tears dribbled down the side of his nose. “
Devochka
,” Alex whispered. Under her shirt, he charted her fluttering belly, her ribs, with his fingers. He thrust his tongue between her lips the way he could not. He molded and reshaped her breasts, teased her nipples between his fingers. He scooted down and clamped his mouth over one hard bud, suckling with vigor before giving the other the same attention. Her skin sparked. She fingered his thick, black hair, then arched her back and drew her knees up, offering what she wanted him to take. He slipped her panties down to her ankles. And in another moment, he was kissing her in the place that made her whole body sing.

Chapter Thirty

Alex held her close, her head on his shoulder. He had not shed a stitch of clothing, so Stephanie worked a hand beneath his shirt and relearned the planes and ridges of his hard, hair-roughened pecs and abs.

He was singing soft and sweet into her ear. She drifted where his voice carried her, to the grand revelation in store for him tonight. Proof that she was in fact brave enough to make a choice, to make the most vital choice ever laid before her. That she did not fear anymore.

“What if I want to keep you here and never let you go?” He skimmed his fingers over her buttocks. She hadn’t put her underwear back on last night and was glad she hadn’t.

“It would be very hard to argue with that, Mr. Volynsky.”

“I can be very persuasive.” He trailed his fingers down the cleft of her ass with a delicate stroke, finding her slick folds.

She wrapped her thighs around him. His tongue flowed into her mouth. He slid a finger into her, and she grunted against his lips.

“Is it working?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“So.” He caressed her clit. She moaned and parted her legs a little more. “We’ll lie here all day, and I’ll make you come over and over…” That impertinent smile, a flash of the old Alex. “I missed touching you,” he whispered.

Her body responded for her. She clung to him as her nerve endings fired all at once, thrumming, spasming, and rode each electric current to its peak.

Another kiss, deeper, arousing her again before the orgasm had faded. Beneath his shorts, his cock stirred just a little. “Now you may go about your business.” He ran his tongue up her neck to her ear, then followed his path with gentle kisses back down.

She wound her fingers into his hair and sighed, trembling with want. “I love you.”

Before Alex closed his eyes, she saw a flicker, a rekindling of the light. “I love you,
devochka
. Always.”

***

After she allowed Alex to leave, Stephanie showered and drove to Target. Then she put in a request to the building manager for a couple of private hours on the roof deck, approved when she mentioned it was a surprise for Aleksandr Volynsky, which she decorated with star-shaped string lights. Back in her room, she filled out a blank card with
“
Thank You
”
in elegant silver script on a black background.

For being the brightest star in my sky.
For being the love of my life.

Look up.

She opened two packages of glow-in-the-dark stars and, standing on the bed, stuck them to the ceiling in a precise pattern. A constellation that, no matter his response, spelled out the rest of their lives together.

***

Aleksandr

Alex killed a couple of hours shopping for a new outfit. To force himself out of Stephanie’s bed after waking up beside her for the first time in six months had been unbearable, until he imagined her saying yes to the most important question in the world.

A nice dinner, a serenade at the indoor-outdoor Pianos in Public pavilion, and watching fireworks on the roof deck. Then popping the big question. The end of their story or its newest chapter. The most perfect night of their lives or the most tragic.

I’ll never let you go again.

Like old times, the sales associates were tripping over themselves to assist a celebrity. He chose a pair of flint gray Burberry straight-leg pants and a white sport shirt. Trim fit, accentuating his build. Casual but not too laid-back. Stephanie would like it. He hated shopping for shoes but managed to find an acceptable pair of size-thirteen black leather Prada loafers.

He studied himself in the suite’s bathroom mirror, the ring tucked in his pants pocket. He swept his fingers through his hair, straightened his earrings, and smoothed his collar. His beard itched. Maybe he was getting hives after all. He shaved it off.

When he pulled into the lot of Stephanie’s building that evening, his hands were shaking. He punched the Call button on his phone. “Hey, I’m downstairs. Are you ready?ˮ

“Yep. I’ll be right down.”

Alex popped a breath mint and rubbed balm on his lips. Had he put on too much cologne or not enough? He checked his hair in the mirror and, too late, for any spots he’d missed while shaving.

She pushed open the back door. She was wearing a draped black romper tied at the waist and black gladiator sandals.

Bozhe moy
, those legs.

Stephanie slid into the passenger seat. She cocked her head and smiled with approval. “Well hello, handsome.” She ran her palm over his clean-shaven cheek, then undid another button on his shirt. “Perfect.”

Alex unbuckled his seat belt and faced her. He touched her face, moving his hand under her chin, telegraphing his intent. Stephanie set her hands on his shoulders. For one terrible moment, he thought she meant to push him away, until with a come-hither smile she slipped her fingers into his hair. No judgments in those enchanting blue eyes, no regrets, no trepidation. Only love. An unsealed vault protecting the greatest of riches, his for the taking.

He tilted his head. She licked her lips. Eyes closed, mouths parted. Locked. Slow and soft, he drew his tongue over her lips before nudging it between them. She pressed closer, her hands cruising up and down his back, through his hair. Provocative notes of crisp fruits and romantic flowers, with breaths of vanilla and jasmine, infused her hair and skin, itself as silken as petals. He licked at her tongue, swirled his around it, and sucked on it, each of her reciprocations sending a surge of energy through his stomach and into his legs. Into a galvanized cock that finally comprehended the significance of having not made love to her in half a year.

He pulled away bit by bit, his balls tightening, aching. He’d never forgive himself if he couldn’t get it up later. “So. Dinner,” he said, though he wanted to devour
her
, strip her bare and love her with his teeth and tongue.

“You okay?”

“
Da
. I just got a little, um…”

Her gaze wandered to his pants. “
Oh.
”

He cleared his throat. Heat flooded his cheeks. “Great timing,
da
? Couldn’t have happened this morning or last night.”

She kissed his cheek. “It will again.”

“I guess it could be worse. I didn’t know if we’d even get to this point.”

“Alex, I forgave you as soon as you walked into my office. Do you know why?”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Her expression was so kindhearted he could not acknowledge it. He would never be good enough for her, and so her love would remain a beautiful mystery best left unsolved. “I don’t.”

“Because you asked me to.”

Is that all I had to do, like Jacob said? She was right. We could’ve fixed this months ago.
“I’m so stupid.”

“You are anything but stupid.”

“I let six months go by. More lost time—ˮ

“Alex.” She sank her fingers into his cheek and turned his face to hers. “You’re here now. You
are
what I need. And I love you.”

Alex kissed her palms before lowering her hands to his heart. “You never knew how strong you were, and you made me want to be strong. I couldn’t do all of this without you.” He ran his thumb over the promise ring. “I don’t want to do anything without you.”

A furtive smile flitted over her lips. “Likewise.”

“What?”

“I said ‘likewise.’”

“No, that look. What are you up to?”

She giggled and pecked his lips. “You’ll see.”  

They shared a dinner of lobster poutine and crème brûlée at an upscale place just north of downtown. He thought of the extra workouts, or the extra sex, he would need to burn it off. He already had to watch his weight because of the lithium. Would she still love him if he got fat? A six-foot-five frame could carry a lot of weight, even if he did need to gain back those lost fifteen pounds.

They drove to the Piano Pavilion near Canalside. The collection of colorful, painted upright pianos had begun as a seasonal project half a decade ago, placed in high-pedestrian traffic and tourist areas for the public to enjoy in warm weather. After a successful fundraising campaign to which he had contributed twenty thousand dollars, because he shared the artist’s vision of inspiring kids to play music, the indoor-outdoor pavilion had been built and the pianos granted a permanent home year round, with room for new additions. One of the pianos bore a plaque with his name on it. He chose instead a blue piano with a beach scene, sat on the bench, and folded his cane. Stephanie sat beside him.

“This is called ‘
Ya pomnyu chudnoye mgnoven′ye
’.”

She clapped and leaned into him. “I’ve been waiting for this all week.”

He played the intro, then sang to her Pushkin’s romantic poem set to Glinka’s music. He would teach her Russian so she could understand his country’s music the way it was meant to be heard. So he could sing her a love song every day in the language that best allowed him to express his feelings for her, if any language could.

The crowd he’d drawn awarded his performance a rousing ovation, and more than a few people were clutching pens. The greatest reward, however, was Stephanie’s smile. Her proud kiss.

“Thanks, guys. I guess I can stick around for a few minutes…?”

The throng surged forward. Stephanie sat patiently beside him, smiling and chatting with people as though she’d attended a hundred of the wives’-and-girlfriends’ charity events. He signed autographs, talked with fans while reminding himself how much these inane conversations meant to them, how they would remember long after his mind had purged them to make room for more important things, and on occasion glanced at Stephanie for that revitalizing smile.

How lucky, he thought, despite all they had endured, to know that very first day, to have recognized in each other their souls’ counterpart. To understand, no matter how harrowing the journey, they would find their forever one day.

***

Stephanie

They climbed up to the roof deck with about an hour to spare before the fireworks began. Alex looked around, wide-eyed, at the lights strung along the deck railings and in the plants. “You did this?”

“Yep. It’s all ours until midnight.”

He propped his cane and stood behind her at the railing, and they gazed up at a clear black sky spangled with a million stars. He locked his arms around her waist. Rockets began shooting into the air every few seconds and exploding in a rain of incandescent sparkles.

“What’s that one?” She pointed high overhead to one of the brightest stars.

“Vega. Constellation Lyra, Orpheus’s magical harp.” He kissed the back of her neck. “He lost his love twice, and in grief-stricken madness wandered the countryside until he was killed. Because his music was so beautiful, the Muses carried his lyre into the sky and placed it among the stars, where it could be remembered forever.”

She shivered. “Tell me a happy story.”

He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know any happy stories.”

“That’s okay. We’ll make our own.”

Crackling, sparkling color bursts detonated in the sky over Canalside, continuous flares and booms that marked the finale. He hugged her closer to him.

Stephanie broke away only to set her phone on one of the tables, next to portable Bluetooth speakers. She opened the romantic playlist she had created earlier that day and hit Play, then held out her hands. “Dance with me.”

Alex glanced at his cane. “Steph, I—ˮ

“Don’t say you can’t. Don’t ever say you can’t. I promised I wouldn’t let you fall.”

He shambled forward and slipped an arm around her waist. They shuffled in a slow circle, her head nestled between his neck and shoulder and her stomach full of butterflies.

He pushed her hair away from her forehead. “Close your eyes.”

She did. His lips grazed each eyelid. Then, starting on the bridge of her nose, he kissed her freckles. Across her left cheek and back, across her right cheek and back, a tender sweep of his lips over her skin, warm as sunshine. He kissed along her jaw, down her throat, and in the space between her neck and shoulder. Then back to her mouth for the kind of kiss she’d first heard about in an old baseball movie. Long, slow, deep, soft, and wet. The kind that could last three days.

“I want to be with you,” he whispered. Alex nuzzled her neck, nipped at her mouth. He lowered her hand to the front of his pants, but when she opened her eyes, she could see for herself the engorged rod straining against the fabric. “Only you.”