Tempting Ballad

by Katherine McIntyre

  “I’ve got to head out the door in a few. I’ve got a meeting with one of the families on the list you gave me—one of the only ones willing to talk. However, tonight’s another story,” Kincaid murmured, his low voice vibrating right through him. “Think you can wait that long, Cantrell?”

  “Don’t know,” Renn challenged, enjoying the back and forth between them far too much. “What’s in it for me if I do?”

  Kincaid lowered his hips to press against Renn’s, and the thick erection tenting his business slacks brushed against Renn’s thigh. Yeah, that would be enough.

  “Nothing, if you duck off for a snack beforehand,” Kincaid murmured, his mouth inches away from Renn’s. “Trust me, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of all the filthy things I want to do to you. Tonight, I’ll make sure to deadbolt the door if I have to—no interruptions.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have any relatives who want to swing by for a peek?” Renn teased. “We’ve got to figure out more compromising positions to shock this onslaught of visitors.”

  Kincaid crooked an eyebrow. “The last batch were your overprotective friends. Installing trackers? That’s stooping to my level.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve attached a tracker in case I try to run off and expose your mastermind plans?” Renn cast him an arch look back. He hadn’t been shocked Trevor wired ones on them after Ky got kidnapped by his insane ex, but if Leo started trying to mark his territory, they’d have some issues.

  “A tracker’s not necessary,” Kincaid responded, pushing off of him to sit at the side of the bed. The man cast him a knowing glance. “After all, you’ll come searching me out either way.”

  Renn’s jaw dropped, and amusement trickled through a moment later, a warmth he sorely needed amidst all these changes. “We think mighty highly of ourselves, don’t we?”

  Kincaid shrugged, even though the edge of his mouth quirked with his smirk. “Only being truthful.”

  Renn flicked him in the side before he pushed to a sitting position alongside him. The residual bits of his hangover had already ebbed, and his brain started functioning again—though he would do a thousand times better with coffee.

  “Right, so I’m expecting you ran the whole Discord’s Desire playing the club thing by Liz?” Renn asked, itching to tug down the zipper of Kincaid’s pants, which was within reach. Truth be told, while he’d become crazy pent up after the constant disruptions, he’d also do anything to ignore how his heart thumped a little harder every time this man stepped into the room.

  Every time he was around Leo, he had to remind himself why he kept people at a distance. The empty cavity inside had been carved at an early age, and truth be told, he was terrified to try and fill it again.

  “What do you take me for, an amateur?” Leo asked, running a hand through his tousled black strands. “Your band manager and I were up and chatting in the early hours over breakfast—which you and the rest of your bandmates missed, mind you. And lunch, for that matter.”

  In response, Renn’s stomach grumbled. “Yeah, I better get up to the whole scrounging for food thing.”

  “Or you could check the mini-fridge,” Kincaid responded, casting a glance toward it.

  “Otherworld be damned, man,” Renn shook his head and padded in the direction of the mini-fridge. “Way to make the rest of us look like layabouts.” Inside the fridge sat a wrapped turkey and swiss sandwich, because the man apparently thought of everything. Not like he expected anything else from Leo Kincaid, who planned his next five minutes to his next ten years.

  “Not so,” Kincaid responded, heat in his voice. “I’m looking forward to watching you work later, stud.” It could be Renn’s constant fixation on sex turning his words sensual, or the fact that everything Leo Kincaid did drove him wild.

  Renn let out a short breath.

  Leo strode toward the door, as if he hadn’t just shoved Renn down and made filthy promises.

  “What family are you meeting with today?” Renn asked, pushing himself up.

  “A Seelie one this time, the Saranais,” Leo said, reaching for the door handle. “A group of kelpies, so I’m going to one of the bars connected to the Otherworld.”

  “I’ll keep looking for more for the list,” Renn responded. He’d never gotten this far on his own when searching for his sister, but he had years of evidence he’d collected. Together, he and Leo were forming the semblance of a picture, even if the trajectory made his skin crawl. The Harrods continued to crop up, a connection to almost every single family with someone missing.

  Leo nodded and winked. “See you tonight.” The promise reverberated through the room even when he shut the door behind him.

  ****

  A few nights ago, Renn thought he’d be playing his last show with Discord’s Desire. Yet here he was setting up with the guys behind another stage—this time in some swank fae club. The pulsing backbeat of the house electronica vibrated the tiles beneath their feet. They’d be disrupting that real fast and offering the crowd their mixture of punk, rock, and whatever the hell they wanted to blend. While they all loved making music, they weren’t in this to rise on the charts or get famous.

  Discord’s Desire had formed because Trevor had been looking for a way to stay on the run and make money, while he, Kieran, and Jett had some hardcore lust to burn. When they didn’t refill their tanks, shit got real ugly. Before Liz, when their gigs were a lot sparser, quite a few instances arose where he could’ve guaranteed he’d return to the RV in flames.

  “So level with me,” Trev said from where he stood, testing out the strings of his guitar. “Does this whole running off into the sunset with Kincaid thing mean our ever-slutty satyr is off the market?”

  Renn lifted his middle finger. “It means for the time being, we’re in a mutually beneficial partnership.”

  “Look at you, picking up the lingo from your bigwig boyfriend,” Jett drawled as he strummed at the bass.

  A shudder rolled down Renn’s spine at the ‘b’ word. “Just because Trev and Ky are content with dining at one restaurant for the rest of their lives doesn’t mean I’m about to quit the buffet.”

  Waking up nestled beside Leo the past few mornings stirred a warmth in his chest that usually made him bolt. Yet unlocking that part of his heart meant a cavalcade of old pain, from his family’s coldness that he pretended didn’t bother him to the grief that still clawed at him after losing Belle.

  This whole sticking to one bed partner thing was dangerous for him and not because of his ramped-up sex drive. Leo had gotten in closer than he’d let anyone for far, far too long. Which meant once their arrangement ended, he’d need to fuck most of the state of Massachusetts to get Kincaid out of his system, because he hadn’t lied. He’d learned early on how connections never remained permanent.

  He cast Jett a pointed look. “Commitment is a death sentence for assholes like us.”

  Jett’s lips turned in a grin as he ran his fingers over the strings of his bass again. “You said it, not me.”

  Ky threw a hand over his head in mock agony. “Oh what a horrible fate I’ve succumbed to, getting fantastic sex whenever I want. My life is pure agony, having the support of someone who gives a fuck about me.”

  “Seriously, I don’t miss combing the crowds or the bars in the slightest,” Trevor said, letting out a louder strum of his guitar. The house music began to quiet, which meant they’d be on soon.

  “Let’s be real, you guys would have a coronary if I proclaimed Leo Kincaid and I were in a relationship and not just having sloppy sex any chance we got.”

  Ky shrugged as he ran his hand up the mic stand. “I might not trust him worth shit, but hey, I didn’t trust Danica either and she managed to prove herself.”

  “Though she didn’t implicate us in a Courts-shattering crime,” Jett muttered. “The man’s so devious I almost admire it.”

  The announcements came over the speaker as the house music lowered in volume. Kieran shot them a glance. “Alright,
guys. Showtime.” He flicked his mic on.

  “Testing, testing,” he purred into the mic. A few shouts sounded from the audience, and a grin spread on his face.

  Renn shook his head and settled behind his trusty old Aquarian. He let out a rattle and roll, enjoying the feel of the drumsticks back in his hand. Fuck, he was so relieved to be here onstage with his bandmates.

  Tonight, Kincaid would be taking the next steps in their plan to infiltrate the Harrods. As much as Renn wanted to rush the estate and search it from top to bottom for Belle, this was the smarter route.

  The curtains peeled back, and a sizeable crowd for a club teemed on the dance floor below them, their cheers vibrating up to the stage. Renn soaked in the screams and applause, and he rattled off a drumroll. The spotlights gleamed down on him, gliding over his skin in a steady sweep. His heart thundered. Why he thought he could give this up was beyond him.

  Luxe Cabaret was the swank sort of club that would draw hordes of humans if it hadn’t been carved into a slice of the Otherworld. This fae-only establishment contained the best of what his kind had to offer and better yet, catered to both Unseelie and Seelie crowds. Upside down steps scaled from the vaulted ceilings backlit with a silvery wash, and pixie lights glowed amidst the strobe lights as they blinked in a variety of different colors.

  “Thanks for the hearty welcome to this last-minute addition,” Kieran’s voice boomed across the audience. “If you haven’t heard of us before, you’re in for a fucking whirlwind. We are Discord’s Desire.”

  At the sound-off, Renn’s hands moved on instinct with a steady thump to welcome in the soulful strains of Trev’s electric guitar. The cheers from the crowds began to die down as they listened. A glittering miasma of what looked like clouds floating overhead soaked up the strobe beams and filtered them out in a rainbow of different colors. Jett strummed on the bass, the melody weaving together, and then Kieran’s vocals slammed into the mix, detonating through the room.

  Renn’s shoulders moved up and down, his entire body sinking into the rhythm as he drummed away on stage. He closed his eyes, losing himself to the melody that poured out of them. This moment needed to be savored, before he dove headfirst into finding his sister. Still, he had the band at his back the entire way, which he’d never let himself hope for before. He loved each and every one of those stubborn fuckers.

  So much for keeping people at a distance. Renn shoved that thought away, trying to jam it back into the box where he’d locked all of those traitorous truths.

  Kieran let out a howl, and the melody intensified. Renn slammed his sticks down even harder, his wrists elastic as he drilled into the drums. He stared out at the crowd ahead of them, most of them clustered around the dance floor. From what he could see, all different types of fae crowded in this bar, from other satyrs to those spindly, shadowy rakshasas, but no one tried to murder anyone else. Yet.

  Marisa prowled from one end of the back bar, but Leo sat in a stool with a scotch glass in hand, simply watching. The ever calm, ever coolness of the man drew him in, but Renn couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to see him undone. The chance might make it worth sticking to one partner … for the time being. Those golden eyes locked on him, and just like the other show he’d caught Kincaid watching, he found he couldn’t look away.

  Trev let loose on his guitar, diving into the solo while Renn kept a low-key drum beat in the background. Already, some of the fae were getting into the show, beginning to make out and run their hands up and down each other’s bodies. Unlike humans, the fae who were affected by their abilities varied by type. The Courts tried for years to categorize and classify, but since everyone fucked everyone, the new variants created complications. Except for families like his arrogant one who stuck to their kind only.

  Danica and Liz camped at the opposite end of the bar, both of them nursing drinks as they watched from the audience. The girls formed a steadfast addition to the band, providing a necessary dose of cleverness from Danica and grounding from Liz, who was the most levelheaded out of the crew, barring Jett. Both of the girls turned in the direction of the door.

  Renn continued to drum away as he followed their gazes.

  Five newcomers entered the scene—two big redcaps, a water nymph, a dryad, and one familiar fucking satyr.

  Clyde Cantrell had decided to pop in on their show.

  Renn’s grip tightened on his drumsticks and his jaw clenched at the sight of his asshole cousin.

  And the sanctimonious bastard and his crew headed directly for the girls.

  Chapter Ten

  Leo had acquired his targets from the moment he stepped into Luxe Cabaret.

  On the far end of the bar, a goblin by the name of Jareth Hollins sat nursing a beer with his entourage. The Hollins had long associated with the Harrods, the two families entwined like the snakes of a caduceus, allied for as long as the Accords existed. Anyone else might feel even a stab of guilt about destroying those longstanding fae governances, but the idea of the shattered Accords made him burn with resolve instead.

  He would overturn the Courts and the old guard one step at a time.

  Leo swirled his scotch, infused with a rare variety of copper bark from the trees in the Summerlands of the Otherworld. Unlike half of his brethren who preferred to spend the majority of their time in the Otherworld, he enjoyed the human realms. The curtains were still closed, but any moment, the band would begin to play.

  “What brings Leo Kincaid to my bar?” a low, gravelly voice boomed behind him.

  Leo swiveled around in the bar stool to face Neil Castanet, the sluagh who owned this establishment. The man’s eyes glowed like lanterns at midnight, and his features constantly shifted, cast in a shadow ebbing around him. The man might spell trouble for humans, but he stayed away from their realms for the most part, keeping to his cabaret in the Otherworld. Leo and his former partner’s company had been the one to finance this business.

  Why play on neutral or unfavorable terrain when he had an in with the owner?

  “Happened to be passing through town on business,” Leo responded, his elbows digging into the obsidian surface of the bar as he leaned back. “I figured I’d pay a visit while I was in the area.”

  “Shame to hear what happened to Alberich. Traitor to the Courts and all that nonsense,” Neil murmured, wringing a rag before he slapped it on the counter and poured another glass of the scotch Leo drank. He passed the drink over. “Here, on the house. You’re probably overloaded with the entire business on your shoulders.”

  Leo had been planning to overthrow Alberich for so long he’d set his players in place years ago. When the news broke of the shattered Accords and Alberich’s supposed hand in the mess, the business seamlessly transitioned on without him, the way Leo set it up to.

  “Shows you just never really know anyone, right?” Leo responded with a shrug and a lift of the proffered glass.

  Neil nodded before he tilted his head to where Danica and Liz stood on the opposite end of the bar, waiting for drinks. “I’ll check on you in a bit.”

  Kieran’s sound check echoed through the audience. His voice was like the first plucked chord of an electric guitar, the resonance filtering long after the sound hit. Then those curtains swung open, revealing the boys on stage decked out in their full gear.

  Kincaid’s gaze drifted to Renn at once. The man looked mouthwatering behind the drum set, his dark eyes lined in kohl and ends of his dark hair spiked out. The loose tank top he wore revealed those corded arms and his lithe figure. Every time he ran into Renn Cantrell, the sight of him sucker-punched his libido.

  He savored the sound of the music bursting from the speakers, soaking through every inch of this space. His gaze remained on Renn as the man unloaded on the drums, his hands blurring with the speed, his movements graceful, mesmerizing. To his left, Danica and Liz grabbed their drinks, but he kept separate from them tonight. Discord’s Desire performed as the distraction, the set piece, while his team wove through t
o create a reason for him and Jareth Hollins to share a glass.

  Marisa swept by, joining the crowd to dance while other times she slunk by the crowd of goblins and other Unseelie who joined Hollins. His sister was a master at blending—both of them had learned at an early age how to be. They wouldn’t have survived otherwise. Claude, on the other hand, watched the show from the far walls as lookout.

  Kincaid swirled the scotch in his glass before taking another sip, savoring the woodsy taste with the slight tang from the copper bark.

  The door swung open, and a group of five fae sauntered in like they arrived on a mission. The satyr’s face looked somewhat familiar, but it took Leo a moment before he could place why. The man was another Cantrell—their genetic markers were distinctive. A frown creased his forehead for a flicker, but Leo kept his gaze forward, even as he kept close watch on his peripheral.

  The newcomers marched straight for Danica and Liz.

  Kincaid’s shoulders tightened.

  “Now for something unorthodox,” Kieran called into the microphone. “Renn, do you have your pipes?”

  Oh thank fuck. The rock gods of destruction could handle bringing the chaos all on their own. Kincaid wrestled with his grin, impressed at the sheer amount of havoc this crew managed to wreak with minimal effort. They all seemed oblivious to how much of an impact they made, simply by their refusal to align with the Courts. The boys of Discord’s Desire were revolutionaries, even if they didn’t realize it yet.

  Renn rose from behind the drum set and tugged out his pipes.

  Kieran unhooked his microphone from the stand. “Make space,” he called, rushing to the edge of the stage.

  Renn followed suit, his mouth lowering to the pipes. Trevor remained on stage, strumming away at his guitar with a grin on his face, and Jett just shrugged even as he continued to pluck at the strings of his bass. Renn’s lips skated across his pipes, and the sound of them echoed through the place, amplified by the vaulted ceilings. A satyr’s pipes could drive anyone susceptible to a frenzy.