Nightfall: Weeping Moonlight

by xStormyx

Spurred on by her father's last words, Irina declares war on Ema and the Gavinners: she'll stop at nothing to get revenge. The games have ended and the boys are running out of time as they try to find her before she fulfils her promise. In the final part to the trilogy, Klavier and his friends will find the answers they've sought - but at what price?

2. Love Elixir

Love Elixir

.'.

The dark night guard us,

The moonlight guide us,

Take my hand, hold on tight,

And pray the end never find us.

'.'

Deston stuffed the white paper bag he'd been holding under one arm while holding a finger up to his earpiece. "You need to go check on Ema, make sure she's ok."

"She will probably wish to talk with you, Deston," Klavier warned. "Will you be available?"

"Sure," Deston said smoothly. "Unless anything urgent turns up."

"Are you still at work?"

"Just going home," Deston lied, looking at the small door in front of him. "Talk soon."

"Ja," was the smooth reply.

He nodded even though there was nobody to see the gesture and hit the button on his headset, disconnecting the call. Without preamble, Deston raised a hand and knocked on the door and took a step back, his ears straining to pick up any sounds coming from inside the building. He heard them then, their voices noticeable but inaudible, and he waited. Moments later, the door opened leisurely and a man stood before him, a knowing smile on his face.

"Deston," Phoenix said. "We've been expecting you."

He stood aside as the drummer stepped over the threshold and into the offices of the Wright Anything Agency. Phoenix led him through the entry room into the next where a once-successful lawyer's office had been. Deston took in the sight of the people already there, squished in small places to accommodate the clutter of mess belonging to Trucy Wright. He threw an amused smile at Phoenix before turning to greet them all.

"Hey guys," he said casually.

"Mr Cavatin," Edgeworth said with a formal nod of the head.

"Hi, Deston," Maya greeted him chirpily before letting her eyes wander to the package still under his arm. "Is that for me?"

He looked at her in amusement. "It depends. Did you order a cheeseburger?"

Maya didn't even answer that question. Her dainty feet hopped in the small spaces of the floor until she was before him and holding her hand out expectantly. He flashed her a smile and dropped the bag into her arms.

"Thank you!"

"Anything for the Kurain Master," Deston said with a bow.

"Frivolous fool," Franziska muttered under her breath and the Gavinner looked at her with a glint of amusement still in his grey eyes.

"Miss von Karma," he acknowledged. "We meet again."

Her only response was to stare at him pointedly but he turned to look at Phoenix again, his eyes now questioning. "What's going on?"

Phoenix gestured at the small space on the couch behind him. "Take a seat, Deston," he said while remaining standing himself. "I'm glad you could come."

Deston fell onto it, his interest piqued. "I know you wouldn't call me unless it was important."

Phoenix nodded thoughtfully and glanced at his friends as if he was making sure they were all there, all of them listening. He ran a hand over his beanie, watching Maya plop into a seat and Deston saw the wistful smile that touched his lips when she unwrapped the burger and sunk her teeth into it.

"First, how are Ema and Klavier?" Phoenix asked, turning back to him.

"They're fine," Deston answered with a nod. "Apparently, Ema's quite befuddled by the British speak."

"It can be a rather incomprehensible accent," Edgeworth agreed.

"Does Klavier know you told me everything?" Phoenix enquired.

Deston shook his head. "No. Neither does Ema."

"Let's keep it that way for a while."

"Wright," Edgeworth intervened, his voice quiet. "You should tell Mr Cavatin now. We don't have much time."

"You're right," the other man said, his face turning thoughtful again. "The question is where do I start?"

"Allow me," Franziska interrupted curtly and turned to Deston without waiting for Phoenix's permission. "You asked me to check on Rainsford's history with any crime rings."

"I did," he acknowledged with a nod of the head. "But I've discovered his criminal underground."

"I know that," Franziska answered in a cool voice. "Phoenix Wright has told me everything you told him. I have other information."

"My apologies," Deston said, biting back the smile that she always induced.

If she noticed his reaction, she didn't show it. "Kristoph Gavin has been planning something with him," she announced.

Deston's eyebrows shot up. "What?" he said startled.

"There was a significant amount of correspondence between the two until Klavier Gavin intervened with his PRA sanctions," Franziska explained.

"What did they have to correspond about?" he asked sharply.

"David Rainsford," Phoenix added. "Looks like Kristoph promised to use his influence to locate David."

"What for?" Deston continued in that same dark tone. "Kristoph wouldn't offer his help like that unless there was something in it for him. What did he—" And then he went still, as if a thought had speared him. He turned, his eyes roaming over Phoenix's casual attire and he inhaled sharply. "Son of a bitch."

Edgeworth cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "It appears you've gathered his reason for helping Rafael, Mr Cavatin."

"He is desperate," Franziska said in a voice now tinged with uncharacteristic apprehension. "He doesn't want Phoenix saying anything to anyone."

"Because up until his trial," Phoenix continued, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "he had his reputation to rely on. If I'd said anything to anyone then, he'd be okay. Nobody would believe the words of a forger over a renowned defense attorney."

"Especially one who stood up for you," Deston observed bitterly. "That bastard sure knows how to play."

"Indeed," Edgeworth said dryly. "However now that his reputation is in tatters, people will be far more willing to believe him capable of foul play in Wright's disbarring."

"So he offered to find David," Deston voiced aloud, more to himself than any of them, "in exchange for Rafael's help in silencing Phoenix."

"What I want to know is why haven't they tried again?" Franziska added.

Phoenix suddenly threw her an amused look. "So you've decided to leave it to others to finish me off, Franziska?"

She smirked. "It was a fair enough question."

"It is," Edgeworth agreed, ignoring their banter. "A sufficient amount of time has passed since Wright's accident." He looked at Phoenix. "What happened?"

"Maybe Rafael realised Kristoph couldn't help him," Phoenix conjectured.

"Or maybe he was distracted by Klavier," Maya chipped in suddenly, startling Deston — he'd almost forgotten she was there; her hands were scrunching up the paper bag and she was wiping at her mouth.

"Maya…" Phoenix started and Deston heard the wariness of his tone. He glanced at the man but before he could question him on the warning look in his eye, Maya spoke again.

"You know, Nick," she continued obliviously, "I think he was just distracted by Klavier's investigation into Gale's case. She said he'd think—"

"Maya," Phoenix cut across her, his voice devoid of all laziness now. Deston saw the sharp look he threw her, the way Maya bit her lip as if she'd realised she'd said too much.

"Phoenix," Deston said firmly. "What are you hiding from me this time?"

There was a stillness in which Phoenix looked at Franziska and Edgeworth, his expression so helpless it was as if he'd momentarily regressed into the animated attorney he'd once been. Their averted eyes told him he was on his own in this and he sighed, shooting Maya an exasperated look.

"I don't suppose you'll just let me say it's not important and—"

"No."

Phoenix sighed again and sat down on the sofa. When he looked at Deston again, his features had pulled together into serious maturity, lined by sombreness.

"I… knew Gale before you told me about her," Phoenix confessed, his voice heavy. "I apologise for withholding that information."

Deston's eyebrows shot up and his back straightened in surprise. "You knew her? How?"

"She was a legal advisor," Edgeworth cut in quietly. "Even I met her a few times."

"Gale was my friend," Phoenix said. "She confided in me about Rafael when she was still with David and she wanted to protect him. She wanted to know if there was anything she could do to get rid of Rafael."

"Wait a minute," Deston interrupted. "I visited Simon in prison. I mentioned you to him. He never gave any indication he'd ever met you."

"We haven't," Phoenix confirmed. "After her break-up with David, she moved away and I didn't see her again until after her daughter was born."

"She told you about Lana?"

Phoenix nodded, leaning forward and staring at the ground. "She swore me to secrecy. A few months before her death, Gale came to me with some files — folders, pictures. She said a man called Kade Richards would come for it and I had to keep it safe until then. Of course, he never did because he was arrested."

"Did you know what she was planning?" Deston asked sharply before promptly wincing: Ema would have killed him for asking such a stupid question if she knew — of course Phoenix couldn't have known otherwise he would have stopped Gale.

Phoenix, however, was unoffended. "No. I thought she'd misplaced her trust in Kade. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming. Why else would she give me anything to look after? But…"

"But...?" Deston prodded when he drifted off in thought.

"She'd also given me information on Kristoph," Phoenix said simply, looking at Deston seriously. "I realised later that it was probably done as much to distract me from the strangeness of her request as it was to help me."

"What was in the file?"

Phoenix hesitated for the slightest moment. "She told me not to trust Kristoph," he admitted. "She'd found evidence that he'd been enlisting Rafael's services."

"Was it to find Zak Gramarye?" Maya asked, voicing aloud the question in Deston's mind.

"That was one reason," Phoenix nodded. "But Gale found that some of Kristoph's clients were Rafael's men. They had an agreement — Kristoph would have Rafael's men acquitted and he was paid handsomely for it."

"Where is this file?" Deston asked.

"I gave it to David Rainsford."

He frowned. "You should have given it to me, Phoenix."

"Gale wanted David to have it," Maya interrupted quietly.

Deston's automatic reaction was to tell her it didn't matter what Gale wanted, that that evidence belonged with and to the law but before the words could make it to his throat, he realised that his responsive anger was premature. He glanced around him at the legends of the legal system: Franziska and Edgeworth looked unaffected by this piece of news which meant they knew what Phoenix had done. Their silent consent in his decision made Deston retreat: if these famed prosecutors had no problem with Phoenix withholding evidence from the law, there was a very good reason for it.

"Okay," he acceded with a deep breath and a slow nod. "You must know what you're doing so I won't push it. I'm trusting you."

"Thank you," Phoenix said quietly. A moment of silence filled the room and they all looked at each other as if trying to make sure everyone agreed to dispel the awkwardness that temporarily took hold. "There's something else," he added and Deston was alarmed by the gravity of his expression — his blue eyes were filled with an unsettling amount of consternation.

"Tell me."

"When you told me about what Rafael said," Phoenix explained, "I was confused."

"What?"

"Ema," he said simply. "Why would Rafael tell Ema he'd only tried to harm her once?"

Deston frowned. "I don't follow, Phoenix."

"Think about it like this," he explained, his fingers stiffening in an urgent gesture for attention. "The assumption is Rafael and Irina have the same goal in mind, correct?" He paused a moment and Deston nodded. "So why was he making a discrepancy? Why did he make a point of telling you all that the later attacks were Irina's doing? That he didn't even know about them?"

"He did say he didn't know about them," Deston muttered, his frown deepening.

"It is almost as though her reasons for attacking Ema were different than that of her Father's," Edgeworth elaborated.

"Which means," Franziska picked up, "that if one of the attacks on Ema was to warn you off—"

"—then the other was for a completely different reason," Deston finished off in a tone of disturbed realisation.

"Now think about this: why would Irina go rogue?" Phoenix asked quietly. "And why is she so fixated on Ema?"

Deston examined Phoenix's expression for a moment. "You don't think Irina is attacking Ema to warn me off anymore."

"I think to some degree, she is," Edgeworth interjected. "But at this point, I don't believe that is the driving force behind her actions."

"He said Ema had done something to annoy Irina," Deston muttered. "Implying her attacks are fuelled by more than just a desire to warn me."

"In the correspondence I could discover," Franziska said, her usually firm voice low as she lifted a folder off the space in the couch behind her, "I discovered this."

Deston reached forward to accept the sheet of paper she held out for him and he glanced at Phoenix whose perpetually apathetic face was now pinched with undiluted trepidation. He turned to the letter in his hand.

"This is from Kristoph," he said blankly, having instantly recognised the elder Gavin's elegant handwriting.

"Read it," Franziska urged.

He was already several sentences in, his eyes narrowing with each new word they read; the fingers clasping the edges of the letter were getting more and more tense, the muscles in his arm tightening, the tick in his jaw increasing—

"Dear God," he breathed, his body going slack with disbelief. His expression fell into one of shock and he glanced up at everyone, his sharp eyes dulled by one big question: "Why does he want Ema dead?"

"It's not difficult to figure out," Phoenix answered, his eyes serious, "if you consider Kristoph's primary target—" he gestured to himself "—combined with who her boyfriend is…"

"It is more than likely Kristoph Gavin disliked the idea of his brother consorting with a woman known to have strong ties with Phoenix," Edgeworth said.

"There is no doubt in my mind that Klavier knows something Kristoph doesn't want Ema — and, by extension, me — to discover," Phoenix said. "Which means we can safely assume that Rafael's attack on Ema was a hit request by Kristoph."

Deston snarled. "I'm going to kill that fucking son of a—"

"Don't be a fool," Franziska cut in sharply. "We don't know what else he might do if he found out we knew his secret."

"Franziska's right, Mr Cavatin," Edgeworth said quietly. "He's a dangerous man. Let's not underestimate him."

"We told you," Phoenix explained, "because someone needs to know. Someone has to know what to look out for."

"But Rafael's gone," Maya cut in again, puzzled. "So now Kristoph doesn't have anybody to turn to…"

"I don't trust him," Phoenix said seriously. "Irina is still out there."

"Keep an eye on Ema," Edgeworth instructed.

"I will," Deston said fiercely. "I'll be damned if I let any harm come to her."

"Kristoph could have ties to Irina," Franziska added, glancing at Maya. "Kristoph may also know of Irina's vendetta against Ema."

"Is there any chance Ema's kidnapping was the warning?" Edgeworth speculated. "Perhaps it was during the time she was held captive Ema did — or said — something which triggered Irina's enmity."

"Why didn't Irina just kill her then?" Maya asked.

"Because she likes games," Deston growled.

"Perhaps the Rohypnol was her attempt at murder," Franziska suggested.

But Deston was shaking his head. "It's too risky. If she wanted to ensure Ema's death, she would have used a fool proof method." His eyes lowered to the letter. "My assumption there is she wanted to induce a coma or play with her memories — maybe both. Rohypnol isn't good for much except drugging and amnesia."

"But why?" Maya asked again.

"I don't know," Deston said, his voice bitter.

"Ema isn't safe," Edgeworth said, bringing them all back to the reason they were all gathered here. "But we need to keep that knowledge to this room for the meanwhile."

"I'll deal with Kristoph," Phoenix said in a firm voice.

"How?" Deston turned his steely eyes on the former attorney.

"Leave that to us," Franziska ordered. "Your job is to find Irina Rainsford before she finds Ema."

"No," he disagreed quietly, letting the letter flutter to the ground as he stood up. "My job is to kill Irina Rainsford before she kills Ema."

.'.

Klavier paused at the bedside, watching Ema turn over in her sleep and murmur something incomprehensible. He frowned at the anxious sound before sitting down beside her and resting a hand on her face.

"Ema?" She didn't respond. He brushed the hair away from her face. "Hey, wake up."

Her eyelids flickered and she recoiled as if the light was painful to her. He leaned across the bed, taking care not to depress any weight on her sleeping form, and pulled the discarded blankets up to her face. He moved across the room to draw the blinds shut and when the brightness in the room dimmed, he went back to her, looking down into her face to see if it had given her some reprieve. She was watching him through bleary eyes.

"Are you okay?" Klavier asked gently, sitting down again.

Ema blinked up at him. "I'm fine," she answered, seemingly puzzled by his apprehension. "Why?"

"You were talking in your sleep. It was not a particularly happy sound," he told her. "Were you having a nightmare?"

Her forehead came together in a frown. "I… don't remember," she confessed, the frown deepening, "but I feel weird."

"Weird?" He felt a pang of worry and his eyes ran over her. "Do you feel unwell?"

"No," she said quickly as if to banish his concerns and when he relaxed, her voice lowered with confusion. "I just feel kind of down." She paused and Klavier waited quietly; he could see the wheels in her head turning. "I know I was dreaming about something important but I can't remember what. It's weird because it happened once before…" Ema glanced up at him with serious eyes. "The day we found Deston, I woke up feeling the same way. Klavier, do you think—?"

He understood her fear immediately. "I was on the phone with him less than five minutes ago," he said reassuringly, stretching out beside her and letting his fingers run lightly over her hair. "He is fine."

"He sounded okay?"

Klavier nodded. "He was on his way home." When she still didn't look reassured, he touched her leg lightly to get her attention. "I also spoke to Seren and Raoul. They are making sure he does not watch that video."

"Do they know what's on there?" she asked, the dread seeping into her words.

"Raoul intends on checking it before he allows Deston anywhere near it."

Ema nodded and he could see her trying to calm herself down. "I just worry."

"You have been through a lot, Ema," he told her gently, propping his head on his hand and turning to look at her. "It is natural you should feel this anxiousness."

"Do you think we can call him?" she asked timidly.

Klavier glanced at the night stand where he'd put his phone then looked back at her. "It is late for him," he told her. "He will probably be getting ready for bed. We'll try him later, ja?"

Ema nodded and looked up at the ceiling with still-sleepy eyes. "I forget the time difference."

"It is understandable," Klavier said kindly, reaching out to caress her cheek. "You have not been here 24 hours."

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked, turning to look at him.

He shook his head. "Nein. I was talking to Markus — the manager of this hotel. He is an old friend. We studied together."

"In Germany?"

He nodded. "Ja."

"How come he's working here?"

"He likes the UK," Klavier told her with a shrug. "I also considered taking up residence here."

Ema's eyes widened in surprise. "You did?"

"Ja. I changed my mind when my brother asked me to join him in America."

He saw her open her mouth as if to say something and then close it, her lips pursing together thoughtfully. He let his fingers trail up to her eyebrow as she turned her stare back up to the ceiling and he watched her for a moment, wondering what she was thinking.

"What is it?"

She threw him a glance, a fleeting look that was quickly averted as if she was uncomfortable. "It's weird. I can't imagine you being anywhere other than America."

"I cannot, either," Klavier said with a slight smile. "I cannot envision a life without you."

"Me neither," she murmured almost absent-mindedly and Klavier felt his eyebrows ascend in surprise. Apparently, Ema realised the uncharacteristic nature of her own comment because she looked at him suddenly, an embarrassed expression in her eyes. "I–I only meant that I can't imagine what it would be like to go to work for someone who wasn't a glimmerous fop."

"I believe you, Fräulein," he said sombrely and laughed when she looked away, a pout on her lips. His eyes were drawn to the cut that was still not completely gone on the lower lip and his finger travelled down to it, frowning when he felt its slightly rough texture beneath his touch. Ema's eyes snapped up to his. "Does this hurt?"

"No," she said quietly.

Klavier kept his fingers right on her mouth as he looked up to meet her gaze. He thought to tell her he was sorry she'd had to endure what she had but what was the use in reminding her of something she was trying to forget? It wouldn't heal the physical wounds she was wearing nor erase the situation. So, instead of saying anything at all, he leaned down and just before he brushed her mouth with his, he heard her quiet intake of breath.

She stirred under his touch: her hand came to rest at his cheek and he smiled slightly at the gesture, his heart skipping a beat at this small victory. It wasn't the first time she had touched him willingly — tenderly — but it still made something in his chest expand with absurd pleasure. It felt like he'd been waiting and fighting for her forever but now that she was finally here, he couldn't remember what life had been like without her.

He pulled back a little; she was staring up at him shyly, the look at once alien and adorable in her features and he smiled again, letting his hand trace the curve of her cheek. When had he fallen so endlessly in love with her? When had her emerald eyes captured his heart?

How long had he loved her?

He couldn't even remember. His mind was unsuccessfully telling him there had to be an answer — after all, everything had to have a beginning, didn't it? — but his heart was drowning out his logic with just one word: forever.

"What are you trying to reason out?"

The question took him aback and his train of thought was momentarily derailed as he focused on Ema again. She was watching him with an intrigued expression. "What?"

"You have that look," Ema said, seemingly unaware of his surprise. "The one you get just before you're about to pounce on Apollo with a hellish question."

Klavier let out a soft laugh at the comparison. "I had no idea I was that obvious," he said with amusement. "I shall have to learn to better conceal my expressions."

Ema waved him off. "You're not obvious. I've just spent too much time around you."

With a playful laugh, Klavier snaked an arm around her waist to draw her closer. "I do not believe you have spent enough time around me."

"Stop it, Klavier," Ema said with a roll of her eyes but he saw the slight flush that crept up to her face. "You don't need to turn everything into some sort of innuendo."

"I was not."

She quirked an eyebrow. "I don't believe you."

"I merely meant," Klavier said, the devil in him rising to the surface as he edged closer still, "that if you had spent too much time around me, you would know a lot more about me."

"Like what?" she said with a scoff. "I know you're a glimmerous fop."

"Oh? What is my favourite kind of food?"

Her mouth parted instantly as if she was about to answer but no sound came out. There was a split second of confusion in her face as she searched for an evasive answer and then her eyes widened in shock. "Oh my God," she exclaimed.

Klavier grinned. "I rest my case."

"Oh my God," she repeated, smacking a hand to her head. "I don't know!"

"I must say," he went on, unperturbed by her reaction, "that was the easiest victory I— Ema?"

She was upright now, her hand still to her head and looking utterly bewildered. He sat up with her, frowning at the look on her face when she turned to look at him, the lines on his forehead deepening when she spoke next. "I just flew across the ocean with you and I don't even know what your favourite food is!"

"Ema," he said, putting a hand on her back. "It is not that important a detail."

"Isn't it?" she asked, her expression troubled. "I know that we left just to get away from… from everything going on back at home—" a shadow passed over her features "—but should we have come such a long way when we don't even know anything about each other?"

Realisation dawned on him before she'd even finished her distressed rant but instead of being troubled by it, he smiled. He looked at her evenly for a moment, hoping that his undisturbed countenance would be infectious and she would calm down. Her eyes were flickering back and forth, waiting for an answer.

"Ema," he said soothingly, rubbing her back. "Let me ask you a question."

"I hope you're not going to ask me what my favourite food is," she said nervously.

"What attracted you to me?"

Whatever she'd been expecting him to ask, it wasn't that: her eyes lost some of their horror as astonishment took over. The colour in her face deepened at the question and she frowned as if she wasn't quite certain if he was serious. Klavier kept his gaze hers with patient expectancy.

"Well…" she said quietly, looking down at her lap as the frown between her eyes grew.

Klavier suddenly felt apprehensive, realising the enormity of the question he'd just posed: what would be her answer? Was he ready for it? Why wasshe attracted to him?

Am I going to regret asking her this?

"Because underneath all that glimmer and façade of foppishness, you're a good man," she said, her voice tinged with the barest hints of amusement. "I thought you'd never be able to accept Daryan's guilt but you proved me wrong. You didn't just accept it — you did something about it." She stopped as if she was done but just as disappointment was making its way into his system (was that all it was?)Ema spoke up again to dispel it: "I care about you because of who you are: strong, thoughtful and, cheesy lines aside—" she smiled a little and Klavier chuckled "—cemented with strong principles. You have a purer outlook on life than anyone else I've ever known."

"And did any of that require knowledge of my likes or dislikes?" he asked, smiling again.

She looked conflicted again. "No…"

"Ema," he said softly, turning her face so she was facing him. "It does not matter where we were because the past is gone. It does not matter where we will be because the future is unknown. All that matters is the present — because that is where we are."

"Where are we?" she asked quietly, her eyes searching his.

"Caught in the middle of a futile debate," he said and chuckled when she gave him a slight shove. He thumbed her cheek gently and shook his head. "It does not matter what my favourite food is. What will that tell you about my personality?"

She nodded slowly, understanding smoothing out the lines of her frown. "Nothing."

"Exactly," he said, satisfied. "A relationship built on colour preference or partiality to rock music will lead nowhere. Those are not the factors which rule your decisions in important matters, ja?"

Ema nodded. "You're right."

"I am," Klavier said with ringing finality and she arched an eyebrow again.

"Fop."

"A correct fop," Klavier said with a wink and ducked her swipe at his head with a laugh. "Nein, save the abuse for later. You must be hungry."

"Well…"

He didn't wait for the rest of her sentence — the way she glanced down at her stomach was enough. Dropping a kiss on her cheek, he rose off the bed. "I will go downstairs and procure us some food. You can take a moment to freshen up. And," he added as he walked over to the door and pulled it open, "when I come back, I will tell you what my favourite food is and anything else you wish to know."

Ema tilted her head. "Anything?"

He flashed her a grin. "Well, you do wish to know me better, ja?"

"Yes," she said, suddenly suspicious of the cheeky glint in his eyes.

"In that case, which would you prefer? A measuring tape or a ruler?"

"Measuring— what?" she asked, confused.

Klavier pretended to look pensive for a moment. "A measuring tape is more flexible, I suppose. You may wish to know the diamet—"

"KLAVIER GAVIN!" she yelled at the top of her lungs but it was too late.

He was already gone, leaving behind only an echo of his roaring laughter.

.'.

"Are you certain there is nothing more you would like?" Klavier said, lifting the tray off the bed and setting it aside on the bedside table. Ema, whose mouth was full, simply shook her head. She suddenly felt self-conscious under his scrutiny and lifted her hand to her mouth, half shielding it from him.

Klavier smiled in amusement at the gesture. "I do not see such manners when you ferociously munch your precious Snackoos."

"That's because I'm usually trying to drown you out," she said, swiping at his head. "Besides, don't remind me. I can't believe they don't have them here."

"I, for one, am extremely grateful," Klavier said, relaxing against the pillows and interlocking his hands behind his head. "Finally, a respite from the Snackoo-ing!"

She glared at him. "I haven't pelted you with those in a while."

"Ja," he agreed, throwing her a cheeky grin, "but only because I have put all my energy into keeping you preoccupied. Now I can relax a little."

"Hey!" she cried, grabbing one of the pillows and pummelling him with it. Klavier laughed but instead of recoiling from the attack, he grabbed and tugged on it strategically so that Ema landed across him. Her insides lurched at the sudden movement and she gasped when Klavier's hands suddenly clamped around her arms to steady her.

"Careful, Fräulein," he said in a voice filled with laughter. "Somebody might think you were throwing yourself at me."

She glowered as he pushed her up, settling her against the pillows, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Only an idiot would think I would throw myself at you."

What does that make you,then? a voice inside her suddenly asked as she remembered the times she had kissed him.

Ema flushed.

"Indeed," was all Klavier said as he lowered indulgent eyes on her. "After all, it is your aversion to me that makes you so different, ja?"

"I'm not even going to bother answering that," Ema said with a pout.

"Fine by me. It was a rhetorical question anyway," he said but before she could respond he looked down at her with a curious expression. "However, I do have another question."

Intrigued by his interest, Ema motioned an invitation. "Go on."

"You wished to know me better, ja?" he asked and waited until she nodded. "I propose a kind of cross-examination. I ask one question," he went on to explain when she looked confused, "and in return you may ask me one."

Ema looked interested. "That sounds like a good idea."

"I am imposing a penalty for unanswered questions," Klavier said warningly and Ema gave him an arched look.

"Penalty?"

He nodded. "Should you choose not to answer, you waiver your right to a question. Agreed?"

Ema felt a twinge of uneasiness but smothered it beneath a smirk. "You're turning this into a game."

To her surprise, he drew her closer until she could feel his smiling mouth on the sensitive area just below her ear.

"You can push me away but I'll always be here," he murmured, his voice wavering with melodic rhythm; his breath was hot against her skin. "And these games you play only bring me near…"

Ema shivered.

"Do you accept?"

Afraid to look at him in case he saw his effect on her, she simply nodded. "Yeah."

"Ladies first, I believe."

Ema did look at him then, startled but he was smiling at her expectantly. Not having expected this, she fumbled around for a question in her mind.

"What is your favourite kind of food?"

He simply grinned. "I do not think I have one although I must add that whenever I visit Paris, I am left craving for more of their exquisite cuisine."

"You've been to Paris?" she said.

"Ah, ah," Klavier chastised her with a wag of the finger. "It is my turn." Ema rolled her eyes but Klavier seemed to be considering something before finally looking at her again. "I have never heard you talk about college friends. Do you not keep in touch with them?"

She paused to ponder his question. "I wasn't all that sociable," she admitted. "College was about work for me. I had a few friends but they were more like acquaintances… So no, I don't keep in touch with them. And since I've moved back here, I've been too busy to socialise." She glanced up at Klavier sheepishly. "I guess you guys are my new friends."

"I hope I am a little more than that," he said with a slight tap to her nose.

"Yeah, you're a fop," Ema retorted, waving his hand away. "My turn. If you had one day to live, what would you do?"

His hand moved to rest atop her own and his thumb was tracing circles on her palm. "I would hold you in my arms till I breathed my last."

Her heart skipped a beat. The response was so unhesitant, the look on his face so intense, that Ema was frozen for a moment, her insides zinging with emotion.

"How do you like to celebrate your birthday?"

She was thankful he had broken the silence. "With my sister and friends."

He nodded. "Your turn."

"What is the most expensive gift you've ever bought for someone?"

"An interesting question," Klavier said, his expression thoughtful. "I believe it was the perfume I gifted Raina upon the announcement of her engagement."

Ema raised an eyebrow. "Should I even ask how much that was?"

"Let us say it was a 6-digit figure and leave it at that, ja?" Klavier laughed at the shock in Ema's face. "My turn. How close are you to your sister?"

The mention of Lana brought up one memory — the one when Ema had lied to her about what was going on. She lookeud at Klavier searchingly, wondering if his knowledge of her lie had made him curious about the strength of her relationship with Lana.

"She's been like a parent and sister," she told him. "Usually, I tell her everything but now—"

Klavier seemed to sense the defensiveness of her answer because he squeezed her hand and shook his head. "Ema, I am not judging you in any way. I was simply curious."

"You're not?"

He shook his head. "Not in the least."

She didn't realise how tensely she'd been waiting on his answer until her muscles relaxed and she smiled at him. "Thank you."

"It is not my place to judge you, Ema," he said softly. "And I respect you far too much to look down on you." He squeezed her hand again and dropped a kiss on her temple. "Your turn, liebling."

She reflected on his answer for a moment before posing her next question. "What do you consider the biggest drawback of your personality?"

His expression turned thoughtful for the merest second before turning almost guilty. "My intolerance to lies," he admitted. "I shut people out without giving them a chance to explain their motivations. It is what I did to Daryan — I judged him too quickly, too harshly."

"I don't think that's a drawback, Klavier," she said softly. "Nobody should have to tolerate dishonesty."

"True," he agreed. "Although, not all lies are told in evil. I often fail to understand that."

"If you failed to understand it, you wouldn't know there's anything to understand in the first place," she pointed out.

"Again, true," he said with a nod. "However, if I was confronted with a lie now, my judgemental instincts would no doubt take over."

Ema said nothing to that — her mind was on Phoenix and the knowledge Deston had confided in her. If it was true Kristoph had something to do with the forgery, did that mean he had also played on his brother's intolerance for dishonesty?

And what would Klavier do when he found out the truth?

"My turn," Klavier said, drawing her attention back to him. "What is the one thing you could never forgive?"

She didn't have to think about that one. "Manipulation."

"Manipulation?"

"I don't know if you ever heard…" She swallowed, unsure of herself, and looked at Klavier; he was watching her with a gentle expression. "When I was 15, there was a case—"

She stopped again, the uncertainty in her rising. Should she tell him? Would he judge Lana? Ema couldn't bear the thought. Her sister meant the world to her and if she was ever forced to choose between them…

"Ema," he said quietly, his fingers lacing with hers firmly. "I already know. Do not worry."

Her head snapped up; his expression hadn't changed. "You do?"

"Ja. I think your sister the strongest of women for enduring what she did."

She sagged with relief, her grip on him tightening. He knew. He knew and he didn't hate either of them and even though the strangeness of that registered dimly at the back of her mind (because hadn't he shown contempt for Phoenix for the forgery?), Ema smiled.

"She is. I owe Lana my life." She paused when Klavier looked as though he were going to say something but then he shook his head and motioned for her to continue. "I can never forgive manipulation because Gant almost destroyed our lives with it."

"That is understandable," Klavier nodded. "I am sorry you and your sister had to suffer his abuse."

Ema didn't know how to respond to that so she searched around for her next question. "What do you consider your greatest strength?"

Klavier smiled then, a genuine, tender smile that spread across his features. "My honesty. I have always strived to tell the truth." The barest hint of melancholy touched his expression. "It is my mother's legacy. It is the best way I know to honour her."

Ema's hold on him tightened but she said nothing — there was a faraway look in his eyes that told her he was thinking of his mother.

"She was an honest woman. She taught me to pursue the truth until the very end."

"I wish I could have met her," she said.

Klavier looked down at her. "She would have loved you, Ema."

"Even though I abuse you with my Snackoos?" she teased in an attempt to cheer him up.

He laughed. "Especially for that reason."

Ema wrapped an arm around his waist comfortingly and set her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. You obviously miss her a lot."

"I do," he said softly. "I suppose, in that way, we are a lot alike. You must miss your parents too."

"Yeah," Ema said quietly, the thoughts of faceless parents sweeping through her mind; the truth was that despite the fact that he would understand her pain at their memory, she didn't want to talk about them. So she forced herself to smile. "Your turn, fop."

Klavier tilted his head. "Very well. What would you do if your sister disapproved of me?"

Ema's insides jolted at the question because her mind recognised the intent behind it: he wanted to know how much she cared about him.

"It would be inconvenient," she admitted, thinking about how she would handle her sister's disapproval. "But she would understand that it's my life and I make my own decisions."

Something in his carefully constructed expression shifted. "And what would your decision be?"

"This," Ema answered, squeezing back the fingers laced around hers.

"You would disregard her opinion?"

"Not disregard, exactly," she disagreed. "But I would remind her that if I'm old enough to chase criminals, I'm old enough to choose who I want to see."

Klavier nodded, a slight smile on his face. "She could not argue with such logic, ja?"

"Don't bet on it," she countered, her face suddenly alive with proud laughter. "She wasn't the Chief Prosecutor for nothing, you know."

"I suppose you are correct," he acceded with a laugh of his own.

"My turn," Ema said and he gestured for her to go on. "What do you consider your greatest achievement to date?"

It was a few seconds after she'd posed the question that she realised just what it was she had set the grounds for and her heart sank — if Klavier mentioned Phoenix's disbarring now, Ema knew that she would slap him and stride out of the hotel. If he showed even an ounce of pleasure or arrogance at having brought down the man who'd given her back her family and her life, Ema knew she would never talk to him again.

"Solving Gale's case," Klavier said, oblivious to the way her narrowed eyes were trained on him; he was staring away, his gaze unfocused though his hand continued to grasp hers. "It has changed my life."

Ema flushed in shame.

She'd done the very thing she'd accused his friends of doing: judging Klavier. Even before he'd said a word, she had assumed the worst of him. Yes, it was true that he didn't hold Phoenix in the highest esteem but how could she imagine that the disbarring of an attorney would give him any sort of pleasure?

"Liebling?" he murmured, his voice suddenly in her ear. "Why the anguished look?"

She looked at him, suddenly feeling guilty and knew that she couldn't let him know she'd doubted him. The last thing he — they— needed was to argue or develop misunderstandings when they were living on borrowed time. It was a humbling thought. She lowered her gaze and looked at their joined hands for a second. Usually she chose to ignore the overhanging shadow that lurked wherever they went because they both knew that Irina was looking for her, that she was dangerous and that she wanted Ema dead at all costs. The fact that they didn't know why only made the situation worse because they had no way to negotiate no way to think the situation out or any way to predict her next move. They were sitting ducks waiting for the lion to come claim them for the prey they had become.

If Irina managed, did Ema really want her memory to induce doubt and uncertainty in Klavier? Did she want the others to one day find him the same way they'd found Deston only a few weeks ago? The thought was unbearable. They had told her about Raina and here she was about to lay the foundation for the destruction that had almost consumed Deston. There was no way she would repeat that same horror, no way she would leave Klavier with these memories no matter what her own misgivings were. She was not going to add to any sorrow he may suffer at her death, would not aid Irina in being successful in her mission to destroy them no matter what. Ema was above that. Ema had learnt the value of life a long time ago and she would not, under any circumstances, forget it.

So, throwing her guilt to the wayside, Ema turned to Klavier and shook her head. "I feel sad whenever I think about Gale."

"You two acted like you'd known each other forever," Klavier said, his tone curious.

"Is that your question?" Ema said, somewhat stalling the conversation to decide whether or not she wanted to answer it.

She half expected him to say no because it was a rather insignificant question (as far as he was concerned anyway) but he only looked down at her, his eyes boring into hers and then nodded firmly, as if he knew exactly how important it was. "I suppose it is."

She hesitated, remembering she could just choose not to answer but she knew there was no way she could do that without revealing she was hiding something and it would probably look worse than it actually was if he was left to guess the reason for it. And why did she want to keep it from him anyway? Yes, the truth was a bit strange (one she wasn't quite sure of herself) but so was Maya's mystical ability to call on the dead and he had no trouble dealing with that.

It wasn't something Ema had thought of often because her scientific mind would want to take it apart and blow it out of the water, no matter how well she knew some things in the world couldn'tbe explained away with cold, hard logic. However, every so often, she couldn't help remembering that when she'd seen Gale in that execution room, she'd known her instantly. Perhaps the recognition had been there since Klavier had admitted to his suicide attempt but her mind hadn't acknowledged it until she'd actually seen Gale physically standing before her — she was the one who'd been in her dreams.

"Ema?"

"I dreamt about her," she said, the words now tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I dreamt about Gale before I even knew about her."

He looked slightly taken aback by her response. "What was it?"

"I…" Ema swallowed.

Would Klavier think she was lying if she told him? Or would he believe her?

"There was a beach. You were—"

She licked her lips, her teeth biting into the flesh nervously, and tried again.

"You were walking into the water. I was trying to stop you but you weren't listening to what I was saying and then she was there, telling me to s–save you."

A silence followed her revelation and Ema stole a glance at him, fully expecting some form of annoyance, maybe even anger. However, Klavier's surprised visage had turned into a contemplative one and he was looking at the space between them, a thoughtful frown between his eyes. She was comforted by his proximity and it was only when his fingers fastened around hers in a firm grasp that she noticed he hadn't let go of her.

Ema exhaled in relief.

"That is how you knew," Klavier said in quiet voice, a wonderment to his tone. She looked at him inquisitively. "When I tried telling you what I had almost done," he explained, his eyes on hers now, "you guessed. You knew I had tried to drown myself. It seemed strange to me at the time…"

"You believe me?" she blurted out, so taken aback by his unquestioning acceptance that she barely realised he'd pulled her closer.

"Ema," he said, his voice pacifying. "I have seen far too much of the unknown to doubt it simply because I do not understand it. Besides, I know you would not lie to me."

Incredulous, Ema could say nothing else. Klavier was rubbing her back now, his fingers working away the tension and their eyes were locked, his unblinking and unwavering beneath her searching gaze. He believed her.

He believed her.

"It was twice, you know," she told him, leaning back against his shoulder as the tension ebbed away. "Both times it was the same thing."

His hand swept over her hair and a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "I had no idea you dreamt about me, Fräulein."

"Shut up."

"It's your turn, Ema."

"My— Oh, right." Her mind groped for another question. "What do you want to be remembered for?"

"The truth," Klavier said, his response strong. "The truth above all else."

Ema nodded. "I respect you for that. I think you're probably the only prosecutor I've known who doesn't turn his career into a competition."

Klavier smiled. "A person's life is at stake. Justice cannot be taken lightly. I could not live with myself if I wrongly accused someone simply to enhance my reputation."

Ema winced at the words, Phoenix flashing through her mind momentarily. However, Klavier seemed to barely notice. "Your turn," she said, changing the subject.

"How do you describe me to others?"

She rolled her eyes. "The fop is back in business, I see," she remarked, ignoring his laughter though she suspected that dispelling the seriousness in the atmosphere had been his intent. "You know how I describe you: the glimmerous fop."

Klavier grinned. "Three words to describe me, Fräulein."

"The. Glimmerous. Fop."

"Three adjectives," he tried again, wagging a finger. "And you answer cannot involve either 'glimmerous' or 'fo—'"

"Alright," she said, cutting him off. "Honest. Charming. And…" She hesitated again, torn between the array of adjectives in her head. "I'd have to say brave."

Klavier smiled at her when she looked at him. "Danke. I am pleased with your assessment of me."

She rolled her eyes again, trying to distract him from the faint blush spreading on her cheeks. "It's my turn. What three words would you use to describe me?"

"Beautiful. Amazing. Fearless." She blushed but he scarcely paused to register it, as if the answer had barely needed thinking about nor that it might fluster her. "When do you think about me the most?"

"When don't I?" Ema said somewhat grumpily (because she was irritated that he'd managed to embarrass her) and then realised what she'd said; her eyes flew up to his face and found that he was smirking at her. "What I meant was, you're either playing Casanova or harassing me at work. There's really no taking a break from you."

"Very well," was all he said but the way he was still grinning told her he didn't believe her.

"My turn," she said in a haste to change the subject. "What has been your most generous act of charity yet?"

Klavier looked intrigued. "That is a rather unexpected question, Ema," he said.

She shrugged. "The media always makes you sound like you're all money-throwing playboys and I don't think you are. Not that charity only comes in the form of money."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," he said and she looked up to see if he was being sarcastic but his expression was sincere. "It bodes well for us."

"I hope you're not offended."

"Nein, not at all," Klavier said reassuringly. "Though I must confess that it is a rather personal question — one I hesitate to answer."

A pang of insecurity hit her. "You don't have to answer if you—"

His fingers were at her lips almost instantly, hushing her. "Allow me to rephrase: I do not know how to answer the question without sounding arrogant. After all, is the silence that accompanies the offering not a part of the charity?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Ema admitted. "I suppose it's not the best question to ask you."

"Nein," Klavier said again, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I do not mind. I simply have no idea how much in charity has gone out. I can only tell you that for every million I earn, 20 % is redirected to charities and rehabilitation centres."

"Rehabilitation?"

"Ja," he said with a nod. "Youth rehabilitation centres. If children can be helped before they develop a permanently corrupt state of mind, perhaps the crime rates will drop and the success of the country will rise. It is a cycle and I aim to break it."

"So… So…" Ema stopped, her mind churning over the math of his answer. "You pay out two hundred thousand dollars per year?"

Klavier considered her for a moment as if he was wondering whether or not he should voice what he was thinking. "No, Ema," he said as casually as he could. "It is two hundred thousand for every million I make."

She frowned. "What's the difference?"

"Well…" He actually looked uncomfortable and the sight was so strange (because he rarely lost his composure) that it only added to her own unease. "I earn more than a million a year, Ema."

The statement made her jerk with realisation and Klavier, who might have been anticipating such a reaction, loosened his grip on her, his expression slightly wary. "How much doyou make?"

He stared at her, the guardedness of his expression heightening. "Ema… Are you sure you want to know?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Ema said, her voice somewhat choked.

"Are you certain?" he asked, ignoring her question.

Ema paused. She'd known he was wealthy in much the same way she knew she needed oxygen to survive — the knowledge was there at the back of her mind. However, now that it was being thoroughly examined, her mind was telling her that she didn't really want to know what he was worth because it would only remind her that he was a world famous prosecutor and rock star who had accomplished more in his 24 years than she ever could in a lifetime.

But the logical side of her also knew that she would then be plagued by thoughts of his wealth, constantly trying to guess how much he made and running herself aground with paranoia.

"Yeah," Ema said, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I want to know."

He sighed and nodded. "Very well. Since I respect the boys' privacy, I will only reveal my current net worth. Is that acceptable?" Ema nodded in agreement. "I'm not certain of the exact amount but it is at around 635 million dollars."

Ema blanched as she stared at him, his voice going round and round in her head, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

635 million dollars.

635 million dollars?

He's the lead vocalist for the Gavinners. What did you think he made?

I don't know. I was too busy being hunted down by demented ringleaders and…

Ema stopped mid-thought, the content of her cogitations hitting her like a freight train. The juxtaposition of those two things suddenly made his wealth so insignificant she was shocked she had even let it affect her. After all, what did his riches matter if she wasn't going to be around for them?

It was so absurd that a bubble of horrified laughter raced up her throat and escaped her lips.

"Ema?" His alarm dragged her attention back to him, the sound of his voice ringing oddly in her ears. He was looking at her as if he wished he hadn't answered her question. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." She shook her head. "Sorry. I guess I wasn't expecting that. It's… impressive."

It was obvious he knew there was more to it than she was letting on but instead of questioning her further (because really, what else could he do?) he just moved closer to her, his hand taking hers again. "It is my turn, I believe."

Ema only nodded.

635 million dollars…

"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"What?" Klavier's only response was a grin and she narrowed her eyes at him, the flush creeping up her neck and wrapping around her cheeks. It occurred to her somewhere in the back of her mind that he'd probably asked her such a bold question to distract her from the shock of his answer — and he'd succeeded admirably. "How did you know I wasn't a virgin?"

Maybe it was just her but Klavier's smile seemed to diminish. "I did not."

The pink of her cheeks deepened into a light shade of red when she realised she'd fallen into his trap and was too embarrassed to even be thankful that the drawn curtains darkened the room, shielding her from the full extent of his stare. "Fop," she grumbled.

"Indeed," he said with some amusement. "A fop still waiting on your answer."

"I pass." She refused to answer such a personal question.

And she didn't want to talk about her sex life with him anyway.

"My turn," she said hastily. "What—"

"Ah, ah," Klavier interrupted her, his voice still calm though somewhat less impish than before; he was looking down at her with a curious expression, tinged with…

…annoyance?

"Remember the penalty: if you do not answer, you forfeit your right to the next question," he reminded her.

Ema pouted. "Fine."

"Are you absolutely certain you do not want to answer the question?" Klavier said quietly, drawing her in, this time making certain that she was pressed against him intimately. She could see his curiosity was piqued and he was trying to entice her into answer him.

She swallowed a little nervously, somehow managing to hold on to her sarcasm. "Is that your next question?"

Klavier laughed softly, his arms snaking around her waist. "Nein, it is not."

"Then get on with it, fop."

She knew she was probably acting a little too indignant for someone spending a week with her boyfriend in another country but Ema was so completely taken aback by his question, flustered by the possibility of where that train of thought could lead that she didn't want to answer it. Would he want her? Could she even compare to the girlfriends she'd seen him with?

Well, I know the answer to THAT.

The truth was, she'd regretted the circumstances under which she'd given up her innocence. It didn't consume her but she knew that she'd been too rash then, too confused by the plethora of hormones driving her insane to realise what she was doing. Now she was a young woman who understood the intimacy of such an act. To think of it with Klavier…

She blushed.

Is that what he wanted? Is that what he expected? What would he do if she said no?

Did she want to say no?

And when she posed the question to herself, the silence of her response took her aback. It neither encouraged nor discouraged her. Ema looked up at him: Klavier's eyes were back to their entwined hands. She studied him through passion-coloured eyes for the first time: his features, which had always been so handsome to her, were now glorious. Suddenly, the man she'd been so content abusing for the past year was a complete stranger to her — an intimidating mix of polished sophistication and golden, sexy looks. Women purred around him which only seemed to amuse him because more often than not she'd seen him smile at them, his hand lifting in a casual wave of salutation that she had always considered arrogant. Yet now, as he lay beside her, Ema could have sworn there was no real egotism in this man.

He wasn't her type. He was too rich and too famous, too devastatingly handsome and too crushingly cool. Despite his amiable appearance, there was something about him that was far too enigmatic. He surprised her, surprised them all, because even the boys had a hard time predicting his reaction. And yet, she wanted him. Despite the difference in their personalities, despite the fact that they'd only been together a while, she felt like she knew him, understood him.

Ema let the feel of him register: his fingers were pressing into the sliver of her back that had become exposed in all the movement and the warmth of his touch seeped into her skin. There was something so comforting in his embrace, in his touch, that she didn't just want him to keep his hand there — she wanted more.

"What do I have to do to keep you in my life forever?"

His voice was suddenly at her ear, barely above a whisper, and the feel of his breath on her face made Ema shiver. He hadn't been there a few seconds ago. She turned to him, her eyes wide as her mind battled to choose which to process first — his sudden proximity or his question. The burning blue heat of his gaze was making it difficult to decide.

"What?" she said softly.

"What do I have to do to make you mine forever?" he murmured.

Make me your wife?

Ema jerked at the thought and her eyes widened. What the hell was she thinking? How had she jumped from trying to figure out how much he meant to her to wanting to be his wife?

"How do I answer that?" she said, needing to distract herself from her own illogical thoughts.

Instead of being annoyed (which is what she'd expected as this was the second time she'd ignored his question), Klavier smiled and tightened his arms around her. "You already did." Before she could interrogate him on this enigmatic statement, he dropped a kiss on her lips. "Your turn."

Let it drop. You got off easy on that one. Fop. Why is he making me uncomfortable? Maybe I should turn the tables…

"Have you slept with women before?" she asked bluntly.

Her attempt to make him squirm was shot dead instantly; Klavier simply nodded. "Ja, I have."

"Oh. Okay."

Well, that worked out well.

"My turn," Klavier said without skipping a beat. "Are you the jealous type?"

Ema laughed a little, the first genuine laugh untouched by nervousness. "No, I'm not. I hope you weren't expecting that."

"It would be amusing to watch," he admitted with a laugh of his own. "I would be very flattered."

"I bet you would," Ema said with a roll of her eyes. "It's my turn: how many women have you made love to then?"

Klavier answered instantly. "None."

Ema rolled her eyes. "You just said you've slept around with women."

"Ja," he agreed with a nod. "I did."

"Then how can you—"

"I said I slept with them, Ema," he said quietly, smiling down at her as if she was missing the point. "Not 'made love.'"

"You've lost me," she said dumbfounded.

To her utter surprise, Klavier leaned in, his hand slipping beneath her shirt. "I have slept with women but made love to none."

"What's the difference?" Ema forced the words out, trying not to focus on the way his fingers were slowly tracing the length of her spine, the movement of his arm inadvertently pulling up her shirt and revealing more and more of her skin.

He smiled then, a slow, seductive smile, and drew her in so that the remaining distance between them was gone. "There is all the difference in the world, Ema," he murmured, his face hovering over hers. "When you sleep with someone, it is to satisfy your body's cravings but when you make love to someone…" His head dipped and he swept his lips across her mouth lightly. "When you make love, you dance to the song in your soul." He pulled back to lock gaze with her again. "And you strum the strings of my heart to make a melody I cannot resist."

Ema's breath caught in her throat and she looked into those eyes that were welcoming her in, compelling her to wind her arms around his neck with shivering certainty. He watched her motionlessly when her fingers disappeared into his hair; she didn't know if he was answering to the unintentional pull of her fingers or if the invitation was in her gaze but Klavier's frame slid over hers. He was directly above her, holding himself up with one arm while the other was trapped beneath her back, his fingers never really ceasing their crusade on her spine.

Her lips parted under a rush of breath that was almost instantly swallowed by his invading mouth. The kiss was all fire and passion — he descended on her without warning, the kiss annihilating all thought from her mind and commanding sensation to rule. Her hands travelled down the expanse of his chest and wrapped around his waist, her fingers following his example and slipping under his shirt. How could she have ever needed to think about wanting this man? she wondered, marvelling at his hard-muscled frame. She thought she'd seen a man's passion but she was wrong; his kiss was hot and needy and probing and he was exposing her to the kind of burning desire she had only ever heard whispered in the farthest reaches of her dreams. Until now his kisses had been tender and warm and comfortable. Now, as his hand slid down her leg and drew it over his hip, he pulled her into a world of dangerous allure where she knew they could climb so high that the fall would last forever.

"Ema…"

The sound of her own name had never sounded so sensual: it was lost in the swirl of breathing between their mouths, muffled as his lips travelled down the curved column of her neck. She should have stopped him there, should have known that to arch and shiver against a man would tip him over the edge but she didn't care. She threw her head back, closing her eyes and surrendering herself to the sensation. His hands were gliding everywhere, caressing and getting to know her body. His kisses rained down on her like electrical drops, blistering the skin as they fell and setting her nerves on fire.

A loud groan escaped him and he pulled away, his body shuddering; Ema looked at him, wave upon wave of emotion rushing through her, and saw that Klavier had lifted himself up to rest on his arms. His head was lowered, his eyes squeezed shut and she could see a flash of white between parted lips — he was taking deep, steadying breaths through clenched teeth.

Ema hesitated then reached up to touch his cheek, afraid to say anything. She felt his jaw tighten under her touch and for a moment she pulled away, not knowing what was wrong with him, if he objected to her touch.

"No."

He said the word the same way he inhaled — through gritted teeth. Ema's confusion heightened, not knowing what he was disputing but then his eyes opened, the oceanic pools spilling over her like scalding water: the desire bubbling in them seared her.

"No what?" she whispered.

"Ema—"

He'd barely said a word before another, more violent shudder wracked his body, eliciting a louder groan this time. Klavier's eyes squeezed together again and then he wrenched himself away entirely, rolling onto his back with a sound of protest as if the movement was a barely won battle between his body and his mind. He landed next to her with a heavy thump, rocking the bed a little and she turned to look at him, frowning at the way he swung an arm over his eyes. She wanted to say his name, ask him what was wrong, but insecurity lodged the question in her throat.

It was as if he knew that her self-consciousness was rising because his other arm slipped under her back and pulled her though he kept his face covered. "I do not want to do something you are not ready for," Klavier murmured, the words drawn out tensely. "It is not something that should just—" he took a deep breath as if to calm himself "—happen."

Ema relaxed when his meaning registered and she curled into him, trying to calm down as much as she could, to disguise the roughness of her breathing. She put an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. For a while they just lay there, neither of them talking, and it was only when Klavier's breathing evened out that the possibility of conversation descended on them — he was the one to take it, the arm slung across his face leaving to wrap around her too.

"Have I upset you?" he whispered.

Ema laughed, half out of relief and half out of amusement. "I should be upset, shouldn't I?"

"But you are not?"

"No," she said truthfully. "I appreciate the fact that you care that much."

Klavier turned, his mouth falling to her hair in a soft kiss. "I care about you more than you know, Ema."

Unexpectedly, her heart sank, because the words coming out of his mouth suddenly didn't measure up to what was inside her. Carewasn't the same as love — and love was what was in her soul. She was so unsettled by this new insecurity, this new need that had arisen inside her, that Ema didn't say anything in response, didn't even have the frame of mind to wonder if he expected some acknowledgement of his emotions or an admission of her own. In the light of all the impending doom, Ema's thoughts seemed darker than normal and she swallowed, her throat working convulsively to remove the lump that had grown at its back.

Was she going to die unloved?

"May I make an observation without upsetting you?" he said, oblivious to her feelings.

"Yeah," she said, welcoming the distraction — now wasn't the time to sort through her emotions. She needed some solitude to organise her thoughts.

Klavier shifted to look at her from his position but she merely glanced at him before turning on her back and closing her eyes. "You did not reject me. Am I right in believing you would not have if I…?"

If I hadn't stopped?

Her first instinct was to lie. She thought about telling him that the only reason she didn't stop him was because she didn't know how far he wanted to go but the truth was she knew exactly what he'd had in mind (how could she not, given the question that had started it?) and she'd known just how far he was thinking.

If she started lying to him now, where would it take them? If she started hiding things from him, what would get left unsaid if something happened to her?

"No," she said quietly. "I wouldn't have stopped you."

His hand moved to her shoulder, his caress moving back and forth across over it. "Why?"

Ema flushed at the question, not knowing how to admit how much she loved him, how much she wanted him. How could she tell him that she wanted to be his for as long as she lived? That she would willingly give her life for him simply because it was already his? How could she tell him that her every thought seemed somehow suspended between his existence and hers?

She couldn't. He would think she was obsessed. He didn't care about her that much.

These are not the words of an angry man. This is the promise of a lover. And my love will never die.

What…?

The words came out of nowhere, as if her subconscious had been harbouring them just for this moment; his vow from that day resounded as if he'd suddenly leaned in and screamed it in her ear. Ema stiffened for a moment as she heard the words again, realising for the first time that not only did he care about her, he'd told her he loved her weeks ago. She had been so caught up in trying to keep him safe, to make him believe they couldn't be together, that the admission hadn't dawned on her. He loved her.

He lovedher.

But did he love her as much as she loved him?

Are you insane? Of course he does.

How did she know that?

Because when you went missing, he came for you.

She couldn't deny that: when she'd been in hospital, he'd stayed by her. Every time she needed him, he was there.

Because he's shown you patience, tenderness and consideration.

It was true: when she'd been giving in, he'd pulled away for her. When she had become upset because she didn't know enough about him, he'd talked to her.

You don't know where life will take you. There's no time for insecurities and procrastination — tomorrow is a gift you have no guarantee of receiving.

Ema's body seemed to no longer be listening to her brain; it shifted until she was closer to Klavier and her arms embraced him, drawing strength from his nearness and his response.

Take a chance that your heart is right.

"I wouldn't stop you because I want you," she heard herself say quietly and paused, wanting to see how he'd received her answer but he barely reacted — his hand continued to sift through her hair. "I want you every way I know how."

Klavier reached to touch her face and he tilted it till she was looking up at him. She would have found it difficult to look into his eyes if he was anyone else, if it wasn't for the words that had battled long and hard to make it to the threshold of her lips — everything was so perfect, so well timed, so rightthat Ema didn't hesitate.

"I love you," she whispered softly.

And almost as if he'd been waiting for those exact words, Klavier engulfed her in his arms and seized her lips in a kiss trembling with so many emotions, she barely had a second to be disheartened by the unreciprocated revelation.

"Ema…" he whispered into her mouth. His voice was shivering and on fire with something far more powerful than the drugging desire that had driven him before; this was all-consuming, devastating. It ravaged the fabrics of her being.

It drew out the wings of her soul.

Even if she'd had a moment to be crushingly disappointed, Ema realised later, it wouldn't have lasted long. Klavier took her face in his hands, his eyes burning through her with the force of a thousand suns, his mouth racing across hers.

And with one heavy breath, he laid to waste all of her fear and doubts.

"I love you too."