Page 31 of Scars Like Wings
“In families like ours, there are talents that can get passed down from one generation to the next. They can be physical or artsy or whatever you can imagine. In your dad’s family, for example, they pass down physical talents and the family bonds over memories associated with that.
“For my side, we love to play music. Almost everyone can play at least one instrument. When someone picks their instrument, they learn how to play the song of our family. This song has been passed through the generations, and you can hear it in the song. It’s deep because it runs deep. It’s soulful because its notes were created from our ancestors’ souls and are played through us. You can feel it as much as you can hear it. Honestly, if you close your eyes, you can almost see it, too.”
I used to love to sit and listen to Mom talk. I could do it for hours, hearing the timbre of her deep, expressive voice. It was like she was always telling a story that you had to listen to. But on this day, her voice and eyes were soft and distant. The way she talked about this song was almost reverent. Like, there was some power to it that she had welded before and let go of. I wanted to experience it.
But I knew already that I would never let it go.
“Listen to me. Just rambling. How about we get started, and then we will go pick you out your instrument, huh? Your father thinks you may be a guitar girl, but I think you are a bass or cello player at heart.”
I didn’t know what the instruments were that she mentioned. Not until we got to the store, and they let me loose to pick the one that called to me. It was an insane coincidence that Mom ended up being right. Or that’s what she always shrugged and said. When I went up to the cello that day, I didn’tknowit was called a cello, but I felt it was. I remembered Mom had guessed I would play it, which only made me want it more. It felt right, following Mom’s idea of a path for me.
After I got my kid-sized cello, Mom played our song again, and it was everything she had described and everything I couldn’t describe, being that young. I was quick to learn it and the old R&B and Motown hits Mom taught me. We played for hours until my fingers were hurting. But I loved every minute of it.
Mom was right. Even right now, I could feel it. I could feel my ancestors through the song. With my eyes closed, I saw Mom, too, so close I could almost feel her warmth. I parted my lips slightly to call out for her, but I didn’t want to disrupt the magic of this moment, of seeing her again. Plus, I didn’t have any clue what to say. Nothing felt good enough. So, I just watched as she smiled instead, close but still so far.
Still gone from me.
The last notes of the song echoed throughout the room, making the song feel longer. Everlasting. Eternal. I lifted the bow off the cello and let my hand fall to my side. I relaxed my hand on the cello’s neck. A cramp was already building, my fingers no longer accustomed to this position. I opened my eyes to a watery view of the room. I tilted my head back and waved my hands around my eyes. Even though I opted for the magicked smudge-proof lipstick, I had decided to go with regular waterproof makeup for the rest of my face tonight. If I messed it up, I would have to go downstairs, find the valet, and pull my bag from the trunk of my car, all with a ruined smeared face. With the mansion being as packed as it was, I’m sure countless would see me.
That’s the worst thing about parties. In a mansion full of people, you could never feel more lonely and more desperate to be alone at the same time.
“So beautiful…”
It was the last thing I heard before a series of cartoonish clatters and crashes.
Enchanted
Have you ever met a woman so fucking beautiful that you feel a shift in the universe just looking at her?
Even if the “her” in question was currently tangled in a drum set and had managed to knock over a harp, bass, and tuba.
I hurried to set the cello down to check on the mystery woman. I did my best to bend onto my knees in my leather mini-skirt.
Gods, she was evenmoregorgeous up close. She had nicely tanned skin that had a warm rosiness to it. Her wild loose dark brown ringlets went past her broad shoulders. They looked so freakingsoft. I wanted to touch them. The mystery woman wasbuilt, all muscles and strength, but was alsothickand plus size, her build reminding me of a human version of a bear. Her legs seemed to go on for days with her height at almost six feet tall. She wore some nice dress sneakers and a dark pair of jeans cut close to her muscular legs and thick thighs. Her white button down shirt had the first few buttons undone to show her ample cleavage—which I definitely wasnotstaring at—and she had the sleeves rolled past her elbows. Her strong forearms were on full display, showcasing a complete sleeve of cooking utensils and food on one arm and a patchwork collection on the other.I could make out a set of old-fashioned scissors, dog paws, an ax, and a geometric heart. The shirt stretched around all of her muscles nicely.Verynicely. I let my eyes move up to her face as she rubbed the back of her head from her fall, and I found no reprieve from how amazing she looked. Her eyebrows were sharp and arched with one of them razored with a slit, her eyes slightly downturned. She had a wide nose and soft lips—another thing Idefinitelywasn’t staring at. She also had three moles on her face: one next to her right eyebrow opposite the one with the slit, and two on her left cheek. Something stirred in me that I could not explain or begin to understand. I had never felt so attracted to someone just from looking at them.
I cleared my throat. “Are you okay?”
“Ah, yeah, I think so,” She groaned, her eyes closed. “It’s probably just a bump from a snare drum. It’ll heal.”
Her voice was liquid gold. She had anaccent. It was soft and subtle under her husky tones, but I knew it was Spanish. It made me feel warm down all over, with tiny ladybugs taking flight in my stomach. “That was a pretty nasty fall. Do you need some help up?”
“Yes, please,” she accepted with her eyes still closed. She held out her hand for me. I stood—again, carefully—and took her hand.
A bolt of electricity shot from where our hands met, and I soon became overly aware of everything. How calloused, rough, and hot her hands were against my hand. How warm my necklace suddenly got. The mystery woman’s golden hazel eyes, wide and locked on me now. How when she made eye contact with me, I felt as though no one had really seen me before. How my breath stopped and then quickened. How her breath did the same. How her hand squeezed tightly around mine like she didn’t want to let me go. How I hoped she wouldn’t. How this felt like forever.
But it only lasted for a moment.
Worse, I totally forgot I was in full motion right before the moment transpired.
When our hands locked, I pulled her up, but she wasn’t anticipating it. I ended up yanking her up to her feet, sure. However, she was too surprised to stop at just standing. I fell backward onto my ass, our hands separating during the fray. And she fell with me.
Ontopof me.
She was able to catch herself before she fully landed on me, her large arms on either side of my shoulders.Cagingme. She leaned above me,overme, kneelingbetweenmy legs of all places. I was enveloped in her scent—a campfire with an undercurrent of delicate, sweet milk chocolate. I had never smelled someone so strongly, but I was so obsessed with her smell, I was almost in a haze. My nostrils flared to get more of it. Also, she was sohot. I wondered if she was a fire elemental, if I was going to have burns. It would be worth it. A part of me wanted to lift against her, wrap my legs around her waist and see what happened, if she felt all of this, too. But I hastily swallowed those intrusive thoughts.
Gods, I needed to stop reading so many dark romance novels.
Her voluminous and cloudy curls formed a curtain around our faces. Even through the darkness of it, her golden eyes were so bright, just like caramel sizzling in a pan before it was poured over a bananas foster. How did her eyes even seem to radiate some strange flame?