The atrium held several more potted plants flush with crimson orchids and the burble of a fountain spurting into a wide-rimmed marble bowl. The patterned glass entrance let the light spill out onto the tan tiles in shards. Even though she walked forward with the boys, her tread slowed as she clicked along, and she couldn’t help soaking in her surroundings. Why on earth had she thought playing a gig in the middle of Fae Fest was a good idea? Oh, right, because a crazy, half-suicidal part of her wanted answers. Not only of why Larsen sent cronies after them, but the long-held one of who the rest of her kind was. Where she belonged.
The closer they got to the door, the more her stomach flip-flopped with anticipation, even though she kept her mask in place.
A hand rested on her shoulder, almost causing her to whirl around. She glanced to see Kieran behind her. Even though the smiles were gone in the wake of entering into his least favorite place, the warmth in his eyes and palm made a dent in dousing her nerves.
“Don’t tell me big, bad Liz O’Brien has a case of the jitters,” Kieran murmured in her ear, a teasing note in his voice. Without any instruction manual, the man figured out how to press her buttons.
She forced a calm smile, meeting his eyes with a boldness she sure as hell didn’t feel. “Hoping I’d be some fainting flower falling into your arms?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He stepped to her side, linking his arm through hers as the butler by the door nodded in recognition, allowing them into the threshold. Once they stepped inside, her skin prickled like she walked through a spiderweb. She’d been expecting some big flash-bang of an explosion but felt underwhelmed—until she stared at her surroundings.
They stood in the mansion, yet apart from it at the same time. The vaulted ceilings stretched higher, and the effervescent glow of fairy lights danced across the expanse, held by no strings, no attachments—pure magic. The walls which had subtle gilt decorations before now gleamed with trails of molten metal that dripped and yet never fell, a slow mutation as it formed whorls and patterns across the surfaces. Hibiscus and gardenia wove along railings, and fuchsia dangled from any hanging lights, the vines and blooms twining around everything imaginable.
The whole experience swirled her mind like too much whisky, the infusion of sights, foreign scents, and the colors and light that sparkled and danced in her peripheral threatening to overwhelm. How the fae managed to slum through the human realms was beyond her—returning to regular San Francisco, the colors would be muted, the senses dulled.
Renn swaggered past them with his confident, nothing-to-lose stance, and Jett slunk after him, lifting his hand in greeting to one of the groups congregated in the foyer. Out of all of them, only Jett had the social graces to mingle here. Liz cast a glance behind where Trevor brought up the rear, each step begrudging as he fidgeted with the silver buttons on the sleeve of his leather.
“Trev, why don’t you take care of setup,” Kieran called to him. “I know you’ll miss all the socializing before we’re on set, but someone’s got to do it.”
Liz pursed her lips, ready to argue if he wanted it done so badly he could do it himself, when Trevor sped ahead of them.
“See you in the back, brother.” The gratitude in his eyes when he looked over to Kieran was tangible, and at once, she knew their lead singer gave Trevor the out to deal with whatever bugged him in private. Trev gunned it for one of the decorative side doors on the opposite end of the foyer.
They made it a couple of steps in before a satyr with gypsum horns and a frame the size of Renn’s stepped in their way. His burgundy uniform marked him out as help.
“Would you like a drink, sweetheart?” His eyes glimmered as he zoned straight in on Liz. So this was what Kieran meant.
Liz shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Kieran’s grip tightened around her as the satyr darted to the next group, offering libations to them as well.
Throughout the foyer, all types of fae and mythical creatures wandered through. She caught the glow of amber eyes from a shifter or the serpentine scales and forked tongue of a naga woman slithering through the place. To her surprise, she noticed several humans wandering in the midst as well, made clear not just by the lack of horns and fangs but also by the glazed expressions on their faces in thrall of whoever worked their mojo on them. She’d seen it often enough with the women who hurled themselves at the boys after Discord’s Desire shows to recognize the signs.
A woman stepped in front of them, her ebony skin contrasting with the patterned leaves that molded into a dress, tapering from her ample breasts to trail along the floor like forest bedding. She wore a crown of thatched twigs twined together with exquisite precision. Her long black curls tapered down her shoulders and back with a wildness reserved for the woods.
“Kieran, don’t you know it’s rude to bring a snack to a gathering like this?” The woman’s tone emanated cold even though she gave him a gracious smile, not even regarding Liz with a glance.
His grip tightened to a steel clamp around her arm. If she didn’t know how on edge he was, she might complain, but she noticed the flare in his eyes, and standing so close to him, she felt his muscles tense.
“I’m not a snack, just their booking manager,” Liz said, not caring if the bitch considered her rude. The way these Court types treated humans like cattle pissed her off already.
“Misandra, I see they let you out of your cage. What a pity,” Kieran snarled, swinging from calm and suave to feral in the span of a second.
Liz’s eyes widened with recognition of the name. So this had been Kieran’s first love, one of the many in his younger years who fucked him up. Cold steel coursed through her as her glare on the woman hardened.
“Please, if anyone appears an animal, you’re doing quite the job already.” The woman’s silk tone remained unruffled even though the malevolent glint in her eyes gave her away.
“I enjoy breaking my mother’s heart. She always wished I’d strut around like a stuffed peacock and waste my years engaging in pointless arguments in Court,” Kieran shot back with venom in his voice, although he’d eased off of the tight grip on Liz’s arm. She’d seen him angry before, and she’d seen him fight, but she’d never seen the bitterness gripping him fierce like it did now. She understood the stir of those tired embers all too well. How the cold ache threatened to shatter you over the years until it claimed you too.
“Funny, because he was the one invited here to entertain,” Liz jumped in, unable to help herself. “I’m not sure what you’re contributing to the party besides a nasty tongue and an appalling lack of taste.”
Misandra’s head whipped in her direction, her wild curls sliding around her shoulders. Those dark eyes that seemed so distant and hadn’t regarded her once turned their full focus on her. And with the concentration emanating from them, Liz could guarantee the woman attempted to whammy her with whatever fae abilities were in her wheelhouse. It took every ounce of willpower to not stick her tongue out in defiance and follow up with a ‘suck it, bitch.’
“You little whore,” Misandra hissed out, after a few minutes of focus which availed nothing.
Liz continued staring at her with a flat-lidded gaze, refusing to back down. One of the branches that coiled down the woman’s dress in what Liz thought was decoration began to move, the tendril rising into the air.
“Don’t you dare.” Kieran stepped between the two of them, putting his hands out. His voice, a silken purr, grew hard and heated. “She belongs to me.” He stared at Misandra until the tendril lowered, returning to casual decoration on her dress.
Even though Liz opened her mouth to protest—she belonged to no one—common sense kicked her in the rear. Fae had queer notions about everything, especially humans, and until she talked with Kieran about what the hell he meant, she would go along with it.
With those words spoken, the imminent violence shattered with a sharp laugh from Misandra who pulled away from them. “You should’ve told me you’d acquired a new pet, Kieran, darling. Seems like s
he’s got more use than the average human as well. Well, ta, love. I must make my rounds with people of actual consequence.”
Liz’s blood burned at the woman’s words even though she hid her reaction, keeping her chin lifted and her eyes on the mark.
Kieran growled, not restraining his rage in the slightest. “Speak to Liz again, and I’ll gut you right on the floor here, laws be damned.” His voice purred low and as deadly as the viciousness flashing in his eyes.
“Wouldn’t waste my time on an owned human.” She gave a shrug as she wandered away from them, her leafy dress trailing along the polished cherrywood floor.
Liz crossed her arms over her chest. Her hip jutted to the side as she glanced over to Kieran, waiting for an explanation.
Once the bitch shuffled far enough away, he took the lead, guiding them toward the wall. “So, I’m guessing you’ll want to know what that was about,” he said, his gaze skating the wooden planks. Liz pursed her lips, not saying anything as she tapped her finger against her arm. With the way he oozed raw and realness right now, letting him stew was a little too fun. “I’m sure you’ve noticed how humans are regarded amongst my kind. Not exactly championing their rights or anything,” he started.
She fought her smirk, but it won out.
As he lifted his head to look at her, the realization crystallized in his eyes. “Winter’s breath, woman. You’re too damn intelligent.”
“Figured it was one of your kind’s inane rules. Look, bucko. I’m my own woman, but I’m not an idiot. We’re in your kind’s territory right now, and I’m all about surviving. My pride can take a little bruising if it means coming out of this alive.”
He shook his head, a smile growing on his face and the tension that bunched his muscles tight leaking away. “You’re a perfect package, O’Brien.”
She couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk in return. “Like you’re one to talk, rockstar.”
He opened his mouth, about to respond, when a tall man with ladykiller looks stepped in front of them. The amber eyes, the thick black hair, and the angled jaw were all dead giveaways. Even though this man wore a tailored Armani like he came out of the womb in it and slicked his dark hair into a contained coif, he wielded sexuality the same way Kieran did.
“My, my, little brother. You’ve managed to snag yourself an invite to this? Who did you have to whore yourself out to? Jessa?” The man spoke with a sneer once he stepped into their vicinity.
Yep, couldn’t be anyone but Kieran’s asshole brother, Larsen.
Chapter Ten
Kieran’s fighting instincts rocketed into overdrive once Larsen stepped into view. And when the bastard opened his mouth, no power in the universe could stop him from tearing the man’s throat out.
Until Liz stepped between them, placing her hand on his arm while she glared at Larsen. A better sedative couldn’t have been found. Even though his blood raged at the sight of his brother, her calm strength gave him the control he needed. After all, if he went apeshit here, he’d be dead in minutes with all the enemies he’d stacked up over the years. And once they tore into him, those vultures wouldn’t hesitate to take out the other guys, or Liz.
“Why don’t you go bother some other folks?” Liz suggested, meeting Larsen’s gaze straight on.
Kieran had hoped they could wander through the place unobtrusively, gathering information as they went, but from the moment they stepped through the door, it was bad news bears.
“You’d deprive me of time with my kin?” Larsen placed a hand over his chest, his voice a mockery of concern.
“Shove it, asshole. When Mom and Dad signed the writ, I ceased to be a blood relative.”
Larsen made a demure clucking noise, so reminiscent of the one Mom used to when he’d stirred up trouble but she didn’t want to raise her voice in polite company.
Kieran’s hand balled into a fist before he even realized it. Larsen had sought him out the second Discord’s Desire arrived. Except unlike the gigs they played in the human realm, here among the fae in a Court function, his brother’s hands would be tied. No fae on fae fighting would break out in public unless sanctioned by the host.
Larsen’s gaze flickered to Liz with a deadly curiosity. Kieran’s blood turned to ice. If his brother hadn’t figured out his weak spot for her, he would after tonight. Without asking, Larsen reached over to grab Liz’s wrist, running his fingers along her pulse in a seductive way to turn any normal human to putty.
Liz’s lip curled in disgust, and she yanked her hand back.
Though Kieran couldn’t quash the internal triumph in his chest at watching her reject the man who’d stolen everything from him, dread followed.
Larsen’s eyes narrowed. “Rather dangerous to show up in the Otherworld after declaring war.” He stepped a pace away from Liz, as if he’d touched something poisonous. Her brows rose, and even though she kept a level expression, Kieran caught the glimmer of hope in those hazel eyes.
“Who’s declaring war, brother?’ Kieran asked, hoping maybe Larsen would have answers as to who her kind were.
“The hunters,” he said, his voice dark with disgust. “More than ever, you need to align. Fae are going missing, and the only way you’ll fall under Seelie protection is if you swear your allegiance. As for your girl, she’s walking around with a huge target painted on her forehead. There are many, many of us who wouldn’t mind draining her dry.”
Liz folded her arms over her chest. “I belong to Kieran, sweetheart, which means something in these circles.”
A look of surprise followed by loathing flashed across Larsen’s face. “You absolute idiot,” he said, fixing his gaze on Kieran. “You’ve brought the enemy right into your home.”
Kieran placed his arm around Liz’s shoulder. “Back off, Lars. She’s not my enemy—she’s our booking manager and my friend. Like I’ve said before—I don’t care what politics you’re involved in. I’m not going to align.” His muscles tensed as he pulled her tight to him. Even knowing his brother wouldn’t act in public didn’t help the surge of fear flushing through him with the way Lars dissected her with his eyes.
“Best get rid of her before you end up dead like the others,” Larsen responded, his voice cold as ice. “If you want to survive, you’d better choose a side, brother.” The hard glint in his eyes suggested he’d found a target. Even though Kieran wanted to throat punch his brother here and now, Court functions worked differently. Best to get the hell away for the time being.
“Alignment can’t be coerced. May as well give up while you’re ahead.” Kieran met his gaze. Yeah, asshole, message received clear as day.
Larsen smiled, but he didn’t bother with any more small talk as he caught the eye of a curvy siren who’d wandered in.
“What the hell is a hunter?” Liz asked, her voice sharp with curiosity and her gaze glued to Larsen’s retreating figure. He hadn’t let her go, even after his brother strolled away in those pretty little Gucci loafers. Truth be told, he didn’t want to. His brother scrambled his head in such a bad way he didn’t trust her an inch from his side around these sharks. Whatever war loomed between the Seelie and these hunters, he wanted no involvement.
“I haven’t the slightest clue,” he muttered as he stomped his way across the polished floor, the soles of his combats leaving smudges. He took the small victories where he got them.
Past the foyer, the first room they entered had a bar in the corner. The surly sprite bartender’s palms pricked with condensation, leaving imprints on the glasses. The red and orange flecked marble of the countertop offset the cherrywood, and a myriad of folks loitered around the tall high-tops in this room due to the close proximity to libations.
“Should’ve snuck in a bottle of hooch if all food and drink is off limits for me,” Liz complained while they stepped up to the bar.
“Two glasses of scotch. Neat,” he ordered. The sprite blinked her lazy eyes at him. She gave a quick scan over his attire before she whipped up the glasses and handed them o
ver. Kieran turned toward Liz and handed her one. “You can have drink I’ve offered you, because it comes with no tricks,” he said as they strolled away from the bar.
In another room, strings started up, followed by a sweet chorus of what had to be sirens, their enchanting voices twining together in pristine perfection. Nothing like the raucous shows he and his provided.
“And here I was thinking you were leaving me parched.” She swirled the amber liquid around the cup before taking the first sip. Together they strolled through the room, heading toward the one with the crooning sirens. After all, they’d be stepping onto the stage later in the night. Eyes glided over them from all directions, but Kieran welcomed their derision. He didn’t duck his head or try to hide, and instead, met their stares head-on with a scorching one of his own.
“Sweetheart, I never leave a girl wanting,” he murmured in Liz’s ear as they found a wall to lean against in the entertainment room. The sirens reached a beautiful crescendo, holding several humans and some fae spellbound while others swayed or tapped their feet to the music. Of course, Liz remained unaffected, her complete immunity unique.
She lifted the drink to her mouth and took a sip, her onyx bracelet jangling with the motion. He followed suite. Despite the way she hid her motions behind a mask, he’d grown to recognize her tells—how her eyes hardened on the defense rather than the slips of warmth he’d been privileged to see. At the moment, her lips pressed tight together as she tracked over the room—he didn’t have to be a psychic to tell that Larsen’s accusations rattled her. Liz needed more information, and bad.
“I see you’ve made your way to the bar,” a voice purred upon approach. Jett, of course, with his slick socializing smile in place. Kieran’s shoulders relaxed at the sight of his friend rather than another asshole arriving to give him lip and stir up the past.
“There was reason to drink,” Kieran mumbled, letting the refined tingle of the scotch glide down his throat. “Plenty of reason.”
Captivating Melody Page 9
