Kieran didn’t bother restraining his grin as he cracked his knuckles. He’d learned at an early age how to bend the rules of his incubus nature. While he drew passion during sex and women fluttered to his bed like moths to the light, he preferred siphoning from a different passion—violence. After all, starting with his own folks, people had wanted him dead or gone his entire life.
“We’ve no quarry with the rest of you,” the rakshasa in the lead hissed out, his sounds flicking out with his forked tongue. “Only him.” The creature’s gaze locked onto Kieran, who raised his brows.
“Who’d you piss off this time, boss?” Renn asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kieran shrugged, ignoring the prickling down his arms. “I think they’re trying to say I’m the lucky recipient of their undivided attention. I mean, we all know how desperate I am.”
Liz snorted beside him. “We’re not going to sit back and sip our drinks while you’re busting in skulls.”
Kieran couldn’t hide his broad grin, even as he tried to ignore how his heart beat a little faster. The woman didn’t know how much she’d worked her way under his skin.
“Then you can get buried with him,” the lead rakshasa hissed out.
Jett heaved a sigh and stepped beside Liz as he rolled the sleeves of his button-down. “Or you could deliver your doom and gloom message and take one to whoever sent you. Fuck off.” His eyes gleamed with the challenge. “Do you need me to spell it out?”
The bony creature arched its back and reared its head. Kieran didn’t have to be a genius to guess what would follow.
“Duck,” he called out, grabbing Liz’s sleeve and tugging her down again. He caught her annoyed glare but didn’t care. His crew wouldn’t get hurt on his account. A glob of venom sailed overhead. Except this time, it found purchase on the bartender in the middle of picking up a glass. The pint shattered as it hit the floor, and the man emitted out an anguished scream. The venom sizzled into his shirt and then hit flesh. Kieran let out a low curse. This encounter had already gotten too ugly. If the authorities weren’t on their way yet, they would be in minutes. Chairs flipped as folks galvanized to action in order to get the hell out.
Time to start fighting.
Kieran rose from his crouch and with a push to take off, rocketed forward. One of the other rakshasas spat at him, but he brushed off the tingling globule. As fae, venom would only sizzle a little, just like poisons and flames needed insane quantities to do damage. Flecks dropped to the ground. He didn’t stop in his tread, heading toward the lead one before it struck again to incite more panic inside Shooters. Kieran leapt into the line of sight for the beast, his hands latching around the knobby throat and gripping tight.
The creature gurgled and lashed out, those clawed nails scoring his arms as it fought to breathe. Humans might struggle against a rakshasa, but his kind possessed the skills and constitution to fight those bastards. Kieran squeezed harder. The rage clouded his vision, a building pulse in his chest begging him to go further. To destroy more.
Someone tapped his shoulder. “Brother, we might want to be questioning that one.” Kieran’s grip loosened for a heartbeat of a second as he whipped around. Trevor stood behind him, the man’s dark eyes emanating perfect seriousness. Kieran cut a quick glance to the right to see Renn’s cloven hoof smashing his rakshasa to the ground with the sort of bulldozing attack he expected from the satyr. He sucked in a breath. As the leader, he needed to keep a grip on his shit, even if he wanted to rip the spinal cord straight through this creature’s mouth.
After all, they’d arrived here for him.
“So, who wants me dead?” Kieran asked, his voice low. The rakshasa inhaled greedy breaths as his chest fluttered up and down, the ribs protruding from its skeletal frame. The bar all but emptied at this point, the door swinging back and forth from the force with which everyone raced through it. The creature’s eyes narrowed. “My patience isn’t great,” he continued. “So you either tell me who your bossman is, or I have no problem ending this job right here and now.”
Silence filled the air for a brief bubble until gurgles filtered through the place from the guy Jett pinned to the wall with a fork through the throat. His guys were more than a little resourceful. Any fae trying to exist in the human realm outside of the Courts needed to be.
“He’ll send more,” the rakshasa said in a low, gravelly voice.
Irritation flared in Kieran’s chest. “Who?”
Before he asked again, the creature aimed a low kick, stomping on his foot. Kieran let go for half a second. In that time, the rakshasa dropped to the ground, but it didn’t continue attacking. Instead, a slit opened in the carpeting, and it slithered into the portal to the Otherworld. Entering the fae realm that way—who knew where it ended up. Jett reached for the slit, but just as fast, his hand hit solid carpeting again.
“Damnit,” Kieran spat, slinging a fist into the wall. Chunks of debris flew in the wake, and his knuckles throbbed, but the hit didn’t take the edge off his irritation.
“Well, you musta pissed in someone’s apple juice,” Trevor said, clapping a hand on Kieran’s shoulder.
“Haven’t we all.” Kieran cast one look around this tragedy of a bar, consisting of overturned tables, pools of black blood from the two dead rakshasas, and a dead, slumped over bartender.
“Boys, we better scram.” Liz spoke as the voice of reason. Despite the carnage she’d witnessed, she kept a cool head on her. The woman was as much of a vet to piss poor situations as the rest of them, something she proved after one violence bender when his mother deigned to write him. He’d shown up back at the RV covered in blood, most of it not his. The guys let him do his thing—they all had their damage, but Liz? She had the balls to challenge him. Had the courage to care.
“Not like the police are going to bring us milk and cookies,” Jett said, making his way to the front door.
Renn kicked the wall, his hooves carving dents in the wood paneling. “Looks like I’ll be flying solo tonight.” He stormed out the door next, followed by Trevor who shook his head, trying to restrain his grin.
“At least keep it down this time,” Jett called back, already outside. “Some of us don’t find your guttural animal noises attractive. It gave me nightmares.”
“Poor baby,” Kieran called over, unable to help his smile. Even though the incursion weighed heavy on his mind, he’d dwell on it another day. Heaving a sigh, he jammed his hands in his pockets and strode out of the bar.
****
Kieran awoke from a whopping three hours of sleep to the enticing smell of bacon. He followed the scent into the kitchenette where Trevor stood by a frying pan, turning the sizzling slices.
Trevor slid a glance over to him and lifted the flipper in greeting, even though he didn’t bother shifting from where he stood.
Kieran flung himself into the nearby booth along the opposite side of the bus and cracked a window as he lit a smoke. As far as human habits went, he liked the rhythm of this one. Though if Renn caught him smoking inside the RV again, he’d get reamed out.
“How ‘bout you start telling me who the hell might be sending folks your way.” Trevor piled the strips of bacon onto a plate and lifted it in hostage before Kieran snatched a piece.
He gave Trevor the side eye. “Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Marked-For-Life.”
“Now focus here, we’re talking about you,” Trevor drawled in his thick Louisiana accent.
Kieran sucked in another drag from his cig, letting the smoke trickle out. “Family hates me, but that’s an old as blood grudge. As for up and comers, most bar brawls don’t end in serious vendettas like this.” He settled onto the worn leather cushion. Trevor handed him a piece of bacon, causing Kieran to lift a brow. “What am I, a dog?”
“Good boy,” Liz said as she sauntered into the room. Her jeans hung low on her perfect hips, and the stained, torn-sleeve tee she wore couldn’t be sexier with the band of tanned stomach it revealed. She’d tossed her t
angled strands into a messy low bun that left her mischievous hazel eyes and full lips on display. Instead of beelining for the bacon, she dropped onto the couch beside him and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers.
Leaning back toward the open window, she took a drag, letting the smoke stream out.
She grinned before handing the cigarette to him. “Thanks, I needed that.” Her husky voice from waking up caused Kieran to shift in his seat, aware his hormones started revving this early in the morning. The girl had an effortless way of turning him on.
Trevor crunched on a piece of bacon as he leaned against the lacquer cabinetry of their kitchenette. He offered the plate to Liz who hopped up and snatched a piece.
“So do you think your fan club’s going to follow us to San Francisco?” Liz asked with her mouth full of bacon. The question in her eyes pierced him.
“I wish these fans of mine would make themselves known, because I have no idea how they’ve even heard of my work.” Kieran locked eyes with her, making his meaning clear. “If they’re mucking about though, I want you protected with more than just a gun.”
Liz lifted a brow. “Never realized booking managers were so important.”
She was. From the moment she’d crashed into their lives, Kieran couldn’t get her out of his head. The way she cared for them, even when she didn’t give herself the same attention made him want to turn the mirror around all the more. To make her understand how much her consideration meant in signing venues to keep them fed, how she brewed a full pot of coffee in the morning and kept a couple of mugs out. She’d sparked his interest from the start, and with each increasing day it intensified.
“Darlin, you have no idea what a mess we were before you joined,” Trevor said, polishing off the rest of his plate. “We would drive to a town, pick a bar, and then get our rocks off. Now we’ve got a plotted route, a tour schedule, and someone who’s willing to book strip clubs because we need a pick me up.”
“So no going and getting yourself killed,” Kieran jumped in. With the way those fae targeted him last night, more would come. The memory of the bartender lingered—if they’d made one wrong move the victim could’ve been Liz.
Liz rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m going to go toddle into traffic.”
Kieran took another drag from his cigarette instead of responding. He’d never gotten this flare of protectiveness before, though he also hadn’t bothered with many human friends. Hell, he barely had any friends at all until he’d met Trevor while fooling around at an open mic one night. After a shared drink and the need to escape their pasts, they’d formed the band then and there. The RV shuddered to a halt, and Kieran quick-flicked the cigarette out of the window as footsteps pounded through the place.
Liz’s eyes met his, hers dancing as she helped him close the window. Both of them knew what a bitchfit Renn would put up after taking driving duty for the night.
“Pit stop, assholes,” his voice resounded around the RV, causing a groan from Jett’s bunk. “We’re right outside of Berkeley.” Renn stepped into view, dark eyes scouring the room while Trevor washed his plate. His gaze landed on the frying pan. “Did you char that shit? It reeks, man.”
“True story.” Trevor cast a glance over to Kieran with the hint of a smile. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re stopping somewhere with food.”
“How’s anyone supposed to sleep around here?” Jett called from the other room. A thump sounded, and a second later, a crash. “If I look haggard on stage tonight, I’m blaming you lot.”
Liz snorted. “You’ll be beautiful, babe.”
“Thanks, gorgeous,” his voice came from the other room as a few more shuffles followed. In moments, he stumbled into the kitchen area with the rest of them. His black hair lay in tousled strands, and he’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a black button-down that somehow wasn’t wrinkled.
“You’re making us look bad, Jett,” Kieran said, gesturing to his threadbare camo cargoes and black wifebeater that had seen more than a couple of years.
“Oh stop.” Liz thwacked him on the chest. “You boys know you’re lookers.”
He couldn’t help the grin rising to his face, the same as he couldn’t help the twang of frustration because again, she lumped him in with the rest of them. When it came to Liz, he’d been wanting solo attention for some time now. “Tell me that in private?”
She rolled her eyes and thwacked a hand against his chest. Even still, he caught her small grin. “You’re insufferable. Save your ego for the stage, sweetheart. You’ll be performing tonight at nine in Berkeley.”
“And you’ll be waiting here in the bus where it’s nice and safe, right?” Kieran urged. Whoever wanted him dead wouldn’t turn tail because a few cronies bit it.
Liz crossed her arms over her chest and lifted a brow. “Yeah, try and keep me in a box. See how well that goes for you. Not only do I know how to pick locks, but none of your juju works on me either. I’ll be there at the show doing my job, like the rest of you.”
“Hurry up, kids,” Jett called from the door.
How he surpassed all of them blew Kieran’s mind, but the man slunk around like no one’s business. Heaving a sigh, Kieran stood from his comfy slouch beside Liz and made his way to the door. Normal nights he might sing his heart out on the stage, riding the waves of the coital energy going on all around him and maybe even taking a couple of samples home for the ride. However, tonight, his sole focus would be on Liz, because if any asshole fae paid him a visit, she’d be the most vulnerable.
And Kieran of all people knew how much monsters liked exploiting his weak spots.
Chapter Three
Liz shut and locked the bathroom door for a little privacy while she dressed for the show. Not like she applied anything too fancy, the average wingtip liner, a hint of dark shadow, and one of her dozens of lipstains. However, she lingered in here longer due to the residual jitters from last night’s attack. One moment the bartender had been standing there flirting with her, and the next he became a pile of sizzling flesh on the floor.
She squeezed the porcelain sink in front of her, relieved for the alone time even if it only lasted a couple of minutes. Not like she didn’t trust the boys—she did. However, no one got to see her vulnerable. Coolness seeped into her palms as she stared into the mirror.
She was a human in this fae world where she didn’t belong. Not even human. With the way she saw past glamour and the occasional times she would hear buzzing, how it grew to a roar in her mind any time a foreign fae emerged—she was a grade A freak.
At one of her first homes, she’d screamed herself hoarse over the bone-thin creature that watched outside her window, the one with eyes like the moon. Within the week, she’d been back in the system, starting a trend, until she wised up enough to keep her mouth shut. She had to pretend she didn’t hear the banshee’s wail at night or see the minotaurs lumbering along amongst the normals. Pretend they didn’t notice her in turn.
Liz pulled out the tube of Ruby Red to wear tonight and redid the lines before sucking in a deep breath. Even though those fae last night had shaken her, she was better off with the boys than wandering from town to town by her lonesome. Still, Kieran’s bossier than thou demands for her to stay back in the bus tempted her. The Pay Per View porn sessions that were Discord’s Desire shows left her frustrated, and ever since she’d joined, she’d been on a dry spell.
Last time she indulged in the sexual energy of their shows was on the fateful night she’d hooked up with Jett and joined them on the road. Today she’d dressed up a bit more than normal with torn fishnets, a pleated black skirt, and a silver tank top. Her trusty Doc Martens came to her knees, and she was ready to mingle. Maybe even ready to brave the audience for once. Besides, the safest place for her would be blending into the crowd. If someone came after Kieran, they’d search backstage first, not plunge straight into the horde of humans.
She slapped the porcelain sink before spinning around to unlock the door. Bright smile and
a stage face. The boys weren’t the only ones who could put on a performance.
When she stepped out the door, a low wolf whistle greeted her. Kieran, of course.
Where the other guys lost interest, returning to their casual flings after shows, his increased. To top it off, the steady stream of women he used to bring to the RV died down over the past month to the point where he siphoned sexual energy from onstage alone. However, passion wasn’t the sole way incubi got their energy. He’d been fighting more than ever, picking them on purpose.
His wicked eyes gleamed with his grin as he scanned her up and down. “Do all that dolling up for me?” Kieran leaned against the booth beside their kitchenette.
Liz rolled her eyes, fighting hard to restrain her smile. Even though the logical part of her brain declared him off limits, one look at his teasing gaze turned her knees to jelly, and his flirting was fun. However, Kieran played for keeps until he got what he wanted, which in this case was her. If she were being honest, the thought sent a secret thrill through her, but she knew better than to get involved with an incubus.
“You wish this was for you,” she sassed, unable to hide her smirk as she swung her hips back and forth while walking past him. She found a stretch of the black-tiled kitchen counter she liked and leaned. “I’m infiltrating the audience tonight.”
“Smart,” Jett agreed, tweaking the strands of his hair to make sure they were pin perfect for the show. He swerved past her to plop onto the red vinyl couch across from the kitchen. “Mingling with the crowd will keep you from becoming a target.”
“Not if you’re sucking face with some jackass,” Kieran drawled. Even though the way he draped his arms across the length of the booth appeared nonchalant, his tone sharpened the slightest bit, and those eyes honed in on her.
Captivating Melody Page 2
