by Kaye Draper
They had only made it about fifty feet down the beach when there was a splash that drew their attention over the sound of the surf. The sprite stood on the waves, breathless and disheveled. Her laughter echoed on the wind like a set of watery wind chimes. “There’s a cove at the southern end of the island,” she said. “She goes there to rest when she needs to replenish. That is when she will be at her weakest.”
She looked from one of them to the other, as if assessing. Maybe looking for some clue to make her think they could possibly succeed. "The kleidí is a gemstone older than the island itself. It has old magic tied to it, which makes those who possess it even more powerful than usual. It was split into two pieces when the spell was cast, and she keeps the pieces separate to keep anyone from reuniting the two halves. She carries one, but she's hidden the other somewhere."
She started to turn away but stopped as Grey called out to her. "One more thing!" He took a deep breath and tried to sound commanding. "Tell your friends, or brethren, or whatever to stop with the pranks. I can think a lot better without homeless guys attacking me or fish swimming in my sink!"
She gave Grey a wistful glance. "Then perhaps you should hurry. They’ve been trying to get your attention. They're restless. It will only get worse." Then she disappeared beneath the waves.
“Thanks!” he called to the sea. A wave rose higher than the others, then crashed into the sea, as if the ocean was waving in response.
Grey turned to find Luca regarding him with a strange expression. “What?”
He shook his head. “You really are your mother’s daughter,” he said wryly. “Everyone’s in love with you.”
Grey glanced away, his heart aching. “Too bad that’s the only reason,” he whispered.
Luca grasped Grey's chin and forced Grey to face him. “It’s not,” he said, staring intently into his eyes. His lips covered Grey’s, warm and fierce, a flaring contrast that wiped away the touch of the sea sprite before him.
And made Grey momentarily forget all about Ethan.
Grey melted into Luca, willing himself to believe that everything would work out. But Luca’s words couldn’t remove that last lingering bit of doubt.
Chapter 55
Grey poked his fingers at the keyboard, picking out the melody, trying to put away his fears about the future for just the next half-hour or so. Surely, that wasn't too much to ask? He’d never been a great pianist, but he knew enough of the basics to help him practice his singing. He was no good at sight reading—he needed to hear the melody in order to sing it. He sang along in a halting way as he picked out the melody to a new song they’d been learning.
His eyes slipped closed and he pictured the band performing. Luca’s beautiful face as his guitar riffs twined with Grey’s voice, bringing the raw, honest emotions in Luca’s lyrics to life. Ethan would be pouring every bit of his limitless well of energy into his drums, eyes closed like he was in heaven, tattoos on full display along his muscular arms, that soft boyish smile plastered on his face. Mat would be slinking along the edges of the stage like a prowling panther, holding his base like a lover, a mischievous smirk on his face as his own sensual, trickster energy twined with the rest.
The studio door clicked shut and Grey stopped singing, coming out of his daydream in a guilty, jarring snap. In that moment, he’d been completely caught up in the fantasy, in the feeling that Lucifer’s members belonged to him. All of them.
Get a fucking grip, Grey.
Matheus waved at him from the doorway as he peeled himself out of his fluffy scarf and long black wool coat. “Sorry,” he said absently, as if he had to pull himself out of a fog. “I’ll just work over there,” Matheus pointed to the corner where his own equipment was. “You keep doing your thing.” He held up a pair of headphones. “Won’t bother me.”
The bassist crossed the room, his movements sharp and almost…edgy.
Grey nodded, at once on guard but trying not to show it. Had he done something to Mat? Magicked him somehow? God, Grey was a menace. “Sure. Come on in.”
If Matheus had the big, noise-canceling headphones on, he should be safe from Grey and his freak powers, right? Grey plucked half-heartedly at the keys until the bassist was all set up, with his guitar plugged in and headphones smashed down over his unusually messy dark brown hair. Something was clearly up with Mat today. He’d lost some of his smooth veneer, and there were dark circles marring the warm red-brown skin under his eyes.
Grey practiced his vocals in a whisper, afraid of being heard. But after a while, he forgot to be cautious. Mat couldn’t hear him anyway, so he was safe from Grey’s magic. If that was even a thing. Maybe Grey was imagining the whole “voice magic” thing anyway. It wasn’t like he had any clue what being a half-siren meant—especially trapped in a male body. Did that like…cancel things out?
Grey wasn’t quite getting the right sound for this song. He closed his eyes and tried to remember conversations he’d had with Luca about the piece. It was one of naked longing, of cursed love. At first, Grey stupidly thought Luca had written it for Christine. But now he knew better. He had never asked Luca, but he didn’t have to—Luca had written this song before he confessed his love to Grey, and it captured every bit of longing Grey had felt. He recalled how he had wanted Luca, how he had yearned for him and wished that he would just look Grey’s way.
The music washed over Grey and he lost himself to it. He knew he had finally found the emotional connection to the song that would make it alive and real. When he reached the last note, he opened his eyes, grinning. The smile faded as he noticed a can of coke sitting on the piano. He glanced around in horror, adrenaline zinging through him. At some point, while Grey was distracted, Matheus had taken off the headphones.
The bassist was lounging on the couch sipping his own soda. His eyes met Grey’s and he gave him one of his classic brooding looks, but something in his eyes was darker, more…predatory. “It sounded great, but you were flat on that last note.”
Grey let out a sigh of relief. Mat didn’t sound as if he were suddenly enamored with Grey just from hearing him sing. But…that look in his eyes and the weird tension in the room was making Grey nervous. His ears were rushing faintly, and he was coming to recognize that for the bad sign it was. He needed to just wrap this up and get out of here before something stupid happened.
Before he let himself remember the many, many dreams he’d had that featured all of Lucifer’s guys playing Grey’s body like a well-honed instrument.
Grey picked up the coke and cracked it open. Of course, typical of Grey's luck, it exploded when he opened it, dribbling foam and soda onto his shirt. Grey turned quickly, trying to keep the mess off the expensive piano.
Mat laughed at him and went to rummage around in the little cabinet where they kept everything from ketchup packets to spare headphone jacks. He came back with a handful of napkins from some fast-food joint. “Good thing Ethan’s a hoarder,” he said as he handed Grey the napkins.
Grey chuckled and set the soda can on a napkin. Then he went about mopping up the mess. He was so intent on what he was doing that he startled when Matheus knelt in front of him. Mat raised his eyebrows at Grey’s reaction, his lips curling up in a slow, wicked smile. “Jumpy?” Then he reached out and took the napkins from Grey’s hand.
Shit. Grey had thought Mat was unaffected by his singing.
Matheus looked up at him with his deep, brooding hazel eyes. A shock of shiny brown hair fell across his brow as he grasped the hem of Grey's wet t-shirt. “Maybe you should take it off.” His voice was a sultry purr.
Grey scrambled to think of how to fix this, even as the rushing in his ears intensified and his fingers twitched with the need to slide his hands into Matheus’s thick, shiny waves, maybe taste that perfect brown skin. But Matheus wasn’t soft and kind like Ethan. He wasn’t one to hesitate or wait for permission. He slipped one warm hand up under Grey’s shirt as he rose to put a knee on the piano bench next to him. The piano gave a discordant
bang as Grey was pushed back against the keys. Mat’s other hand cradled his head as he moved in for the kill.
Grey’s eyes darted to Mat's chiseled lips in panic as his dick throbbed to full life and everything inside him whispered “mine.” Oh fuck, was he in trouble here. “Mat--” he started. But Matheus cut him off.
His lips met Grey’s with a bruising intensity, and Grey’s hands moved without conscious thought, sliding into Matheus’s hair and pulling his head back as he leaned into the kiss.
Mat trembled under his hands, the bigger guy’s long, lanky frame wracked with a full-body shudder. When he pulled back for air, his wicked, pouty lips were red, and his pupils were blown wide. “Fuck me,” he whispered, his usually smooth voice going ragged and desperate. “Please. Just bend me over the piano and make me forget everything else.”
Grey swallowed hard, trying not to forget. Not to forget who he was, what he was, and what he and Matheus were to each other. But holy hell it was tempting, a raw feeling of power pulsing through him at the thought of being in charge—of stretching the tall, leggy bassist out over the sleek black surface of the baby grand and owning him.
He shook his head, startled by his own greedy—not to mention, masculine—thoughts. He sucked in a breath, reminding himself of Luca, seeing the singer’s hurt expression when he found out.
“Please.” Mat’s hands gripped Grey’s hips, fingers digging in, and it was the pure desperation in his touch, and in that pleading whisper, that finally snapped Grey out of it.
He made himself really look at his bandmate, noticing the dark circles under his eyes that definitely weren’t just smudged eyeliner, and that maybe the fine tremors in his body weren’t just because of Grey. Grey lifted his hands and grabbed Matheus’s face, forcing him to look Grey in the eyes. “Mat? What’s going on with you?” Now that he was attuned to it, it was like he could feel the pain radiating from the poor guy’s pores.
Matheus shut his eyes and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple working in his long throat. “Nothing. I just need to…blow off some steam.” He forced a jackass grin on his face, but he didn’t open his eyes and the expression wasn’t fooling anyone. “I’m bi. I don’t care if you’re a guy or a morph or whatever. Fun’s fun, right?”
Grey slid his hands from Matheus’s lean cheeks down to his shoulders, gently pushing him back so he could stand. Then he shoved the unresisting bassist onto the little loveseat that was pushed up against one corner of the room. “Sit.”
Matheus sat, his hazel eyes hooded. “So the couch, then? Not the piano? It’s always been a fantasy of mine, fucking on a piano. Classy, right?”
Now he was just rambling.
Grey sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then he plopped down on the little coffee table directly in front of Mat, not caring that he was probably ruining whatever papers and notes were strewn there. Something inside him ached, like he had a direct hook-up to whatever had wounded Matheus. “You know I’m not going to fuck you right? Especially not when that’s obviously not what you really need.”
He snorted. “How would you know what I need?”
Grey arched a brow at him. “I’m pretty sure you’ve tried the sex route plenty of times, how’s that working out for you?”
He bent forward and put his elbows on his knees, hanging his head. “It works. For a while. At least it’s not drugs or booze, right? Less destructive, warm bodies.”
Grey couldn’t take the tough guy act anymore. He scootched forward and awkwardly forced himself into Matheus’s space, so the other guy had to lift his head. “What’s going on? You’re hurting. Tell me.”
He tried for some of that siren magic that Luca talked about, but he wasn’t sure it really did anything.
Mostly, Mat just looked too tired to keep up his emo, tough-guy act. A little sob escaped his lips and he collapsed forward again. “I’m so fucking weak,” he whispered.
Grey caught him before he could bend forward all the way, wrapping his arms around Matheus’s neck and squeezing. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he knew a guy in pain when he saw one. Clearly, Matheus had something bottled up inside him, and that was a feeling Grey was all too familiar with. The bassist wrapped his long arms around Grey’s waist and clung while he cried his heart out, his whole body wracked with sobs, his voice muffled against Grey’s shoulder.
It was an awkward position, and he felt useless, but Grey did his best to squeeze Mat right back, holding him together through whatever was trying to break him.
The studio door opened, and a sigh reached his ears. He lifted his head to find Luca and Ethan standing on the threshold, wearing identical expressions of relief. They both came in and Luca closed the door. The sound of the latch clicking shut made Matheus flinch, and he struggled to choke off the sobs emanating from his throat, pausing to press his forehead against Grey’s shoulder as if he was drawing strength from him.
“I brought enchiladas,” Ethan said in a too-bubbly voice, beaming at Grey and Matheus as if this was all perfectly normal while he held up a plastic bag. “From your favorite restaurant, Mat. Extra hot sauce.”
Luca sighed and came to sit on the arm of the couch. “We were looking all over for you, dude. We didn’t want you to be alone.”
Matheus snorted and sat up, wiping a big hand across his red face, his eyes averted, but clearly struggling to put his don’t-care expression back on. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”
Grey huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, yeah. This is just how he always is. No biggie. Can I have his enchiladas?”
Matheus did manage a little twitch of a smile then, before all the breath left him in a whoosh. “No. Those are mine.”
Grey arched a brow at him, and he relented. “Well, maybe you could have one. Sauce packet. Once sauce packet for letting me use your shirt as a snot rag.”
Grey shook his head. “What’s going on, really?”
Mat closed his eyes like he was bracing himself. But Luca leaned over and patted his shoulder. “Today’s the anniversary of the day his mom died. It’s kind of…an unspoken pact that we look out for him extra hard around now.” He shot an apologetic look at Grey. “We should have told you. But…it’s Mat’s right to share with who he wants.”
Matheus reached over and snatched the bag of food out of Ethan’s hand. “Give. And stop fucking grinning. Idiot.”
Ethan pressed his lips together and Grey saw the bleak sadness in his eyes. He was doing it again…trying to cheer everyone up and be the one who was always happy. The one no one had to worry about.
“Ethan,” Grey said firmly. “Sit down. Stop smiling.”
He looked sheepish as he sank into a nearby folding chair.
“It’s stupid,” Matheus muttered, digging around in the bag for something to focus on, rather than look at anyone in the room. “Just these idiots being paranoid.”
He finally stopped his fidgeting and looked up, meeting Grey’s eyes, his own hazel gaze full of defiance and defensiveness. “And she didn’t die. She killed herself when she woke up with a dick.”
Luca sighed. “Matheus.”
Ethan looked like a wounded puppy. “Don’t say it like that. Like it doesn’t hurt.”
Shit, shit, and double shit. No wonder Matheus was so sullen and always looking for a distraction. And…fuck, how must Ethan feel? Did he worry that his mom might do the same thing one of these days?”
Luca reached over and took the food back from Matheus. “It’s not a big deal, Mat. You know we want to be with you. It’s okay to grieve. But you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”
Matheus hunched his shoulders and looked at the ground. “Sure.”
Grey licked his lips, desperate to help ease the hurt and pain floating around in the room. Just…maybe not in the way Matheus had suggested. No, that would probably come back to haunt him later. For right now he had an idea that was either brilliant…or stupidly dangerous.
He glanced up at Luca. “After we
eat lunch, can we practice the new song? I’ll…sing my part and you guys can give me some pointers. I don’t think I’ve got quite the right feel yet.”
Luca’s dark blue eyes met his and he gave him the ghost of a smile and a half-shrug that said, “worth a try.”
Grey was fairly sure he wouldn’t end up bespelling all of them into an orgy. Probably. And maybe whatever magic he possessed would provide some relief for Matheus.
Mat snorted, sounding almost like his old cocky self. “That’s a good idea. My ears were bleeding earlier. I thought you said you could sing, Grey. But you can’t carry a tune in a bucket!”
Grey simpered at him as he went to the piano. He’d been so stupid. He needed be more careful with his emotions while he sang. But he could do this.
In the end, it all worked out okay. Maybe Grey got the magic right—it felt kind of like he was doing…something. Or maybe it was just the easy camaraderie and the love between the members of the band. But whatever the reason, Matheus slowly lost his desperate edge, and they managed to end up laughing and joking like normal.
A couple hours later, Grey slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and headed out the door. His eyes met Matheus’s, and the bassist gave him a wry smile. Yeah, they probably had things to talk about, once Matheus was feeling more like his old self. But not now.
Thank God, not now, because Grey had no idea what to say. He’d been right there with Matheus in the “let’s fuck” boat. It wasn’t like he hadn’t kissed Matheus back. Or contemplated piano sex. Even if he had no idea what he was doing in that area.
Grey was a horrible person.
Once he was out of the studio, Grey leaned his back against the rough brick face of the building and drew in a ragged breath, shivering at the chill that had taken up residence in his chest. Ethan was going to give Mat a ride to the little strip mall to distract him with shopping, leaving Luca and Grey alone.
“You okay?” Luca asked quietly.
