by Sierra Dafoe
Keep him.
Which was, of course, impossible.
Her vision blurred with tears, and Lu crawled silently from beneath the bushes, her heart aching like a cold stone in her chest as she crept away.
Chapter Four
As her fingers moved unerringly over the heavy strings of her bass, Tori watched Luna from the corner of her eye. Lu’s eyes were closed, her face contorted in concentration as she beat at the drums with a fury that had Tori worried.
Something had happened that night. Something more than just the blowout with Rick. For the past four weeks Lu had lived in a daze, dragging herself to gigs, to the grocery store, basically not moving unless Tori made her. The rest of the time she just lay on her bed, staring blankly at a wall Tori was certain she didn’t even see.
The only time she seemed to come alive anymore was behind her drums -- and then she came alive with a clenched, desperate energy that was terrifying to watch.
This wasn’t like her. Through all her failed relationships, Lu had always bounced back, jumping like a puppy at the next man who offered her any affection whatsoever. As annoying as that endless optimism had been, like watching a train wreck happening over and over, it sure beat the hell out of this -- whatever it was.
What had happened to her?
Lu was a mess, Tori thought candidly. Her shaggy hair was stringy, matted with oil. Her green overalls bagged over a tight-fitting gray crop-top. She hadn’t even, Tori noted, bothered to tie her boots.
The song ended, and Tori stepped back from the mike, debating whether to end the set early. Somebody had to talk to Lu… and “somebody” invariably meant her. But before she could signal the others, Persia had slipped her Strat over her neck and was picking out that goddamn Stray Cats riff again.
Tori gritted her jaw -- but Luna did more than that. She thrust to her feet so abruptly she knocked one of her snares over, and the clatter cut Persia short. A whine of feedback seared the sudden silence as Lu stalked across the stage toward the wing.
Tori and Persia stared at each other helplessly, frozen in shock. But halfway there Lu paused, then reached suddenly for Tori’s Ovation. Tori could hear the audience shifting uncertainly, and she moved quickly, dragging a stool out for Lu -- who didn’t even look up as she took the offered seat -- and reaching for the mike stand to move it closer. Lu shook her head.
She was right, of course -- giving Lu a microphone was like pouring gasoline on a forest fire. She didn’t sing often. Tori used to encourage her to, thinking that Lu’s reluctance was just nerves. When Lu snarled at her and threatened to quit the band if she didn’t back off, Tori finally figured out that it wasn’t simply stage fright.
She watched nervously as Lu fiddled with the tuning knobs, bent low over the guitar, her face utterly void of expression as she plucked lightly at the strings.
What was going on in that shaggy head of hers?
Finally Lu opened her mouth, launching into an achingly gorgeous Sass Jordan tune. Shivers ran up Tori’s spine as Lu’s rich, haunting voice rolled out, stilling the restless crowd, seizing them in a velvet and unbreakable grip.
Jesus, Tori thought. If Lu sang all the time…
If Lu sang all the time, they’d be famous. Which would carry problems of its own. But she wouldn’t. She hated her voice -- and Tori knew why.
It was the voice of the wolf.
Softly, Tori picked up the bass line, saw Persia move behind the drums to add a quiet backbeat. Not that Luna needed either of them. Hell, she didn’t even need the guitar. Her voice throbbed in the air as she poured every ounce of her grief and longing into the simple, beautiful song. “I want to believe in something for real. I want to believe in something I feel…”
The crowd was utterly silent, mesmerized even as Tori was herself. Tears welled in her eyes as Lu’s voice soared upward, climbing on a wave of need and yearning so palpable, so poignant, it made Tori’s throat ache.
Then, from somewhere in the audience, Tori felt a strange, echoing intensity. Lifting her head, she scanned the crowd, looking over their still, upturned faces.
There. At the bar. Broad shoulders hunched over a pint of beer, a mass of curly black hair -- and dark eyes that watched Lu with a hungry concentration. He was listening with an intensity that was almost uncanny. But he wasn’t just listening, Tori thought. He wanted something.
What? And who was he?
She was just being paranoid, Tori told herself sternly -- but she was oddly relieved when he rose, paying for his beer and quietly slipping out of the bar at the end of Lu’s song.
The audience was absolutely silent, still caught in the thrall of the music as Lu placed the Ovation back in its stand and strode off the stage. Slowly, a smatter of applause rippled through the club. A single, shrill whistle rose. As if that was some sort of signal, the entire crowd burst into cheers, so overwhelming Tori doubted they could even hear her as she spoke into the mike. “Thank you. Thank you, everyone! We’re the Shifter Sisters. Thank you, and good night!”
Then, as the entire club shook with their thunderous applause, she and Persia followed Lu off the stage.
* * *
Lu slumped in the hallway that led to the loading dock, her hands jammed deep in her pockets, her back against the wall. She could feel the shouts and clapping within vibrating through her shoulder blades, but so what? Who cared? She scowled as Tori, coming through the stage door, beamed at her.
“My God, Lu, can you hear them?”
“Yeah,” Luna replied morosely. “Like they even know what they’re clapping for.”
“Lu…”
“Maybe I should just go in there and show them. What do you think?” She glared at Tori challengingly.
Persia’s face fell into its usual sulky lines. “I don’t know what you’re making such a stink about, Lu. We all have to deal with it…”
“No.” Lu cut her off. “No, Persia, you don’t. You get a goddamn choice.”
“Well, it’s not my fault you turn into a goddamn we -- oof!” Persia shut up abruptly as Tori threw an elbow in her ribs.
“What?” Lu demanded. Tori was staring at her like she’d sprouted fangs right in front of them. Except…
Except she wasn’t. She was staring past her. So was Persia.
“Excuse me, ladies… I don’t mean to interrupt…”
Lu turned slowly.
Oh… my… God.
It was him. The man in the window. The man with the guitar. The man who’d… Lu gulped, flushing as a vivid recollection of the last time she’d seen him rushed through her brain.
He seemed puzzled by the trio of stares directed at him, which made Lu only stare harder. Could he really be so oblivious to the way he looked? Coal-black hair tumbling in a mass of curls around his face… his face…
Jesus, he was even more gorgeous up close. He seemed younger somehow tonight -- maybe it was just the small smile playing around the corners of his lips as he looked at them. From the corner of her eye, Luna saw Tori gulp. At that, he ducked his head, abashed by their appreciative stares.
Fucking gorgeous, and cute. Hot damn.
“I’m sorry. You’re Lu, right?”
After Tori elbowed her twice, Lu remembered to nod.
“I was, ah… I was wondering if I might have a word with you.”
Yup. Irish. Just a ghost of a brogue, but there. What else would he be, with skin like warm ivory and that midnight-black hair?
“Uh… sure. Sure.” Turning on her heel, Lu strode toward the loading dock. The man followed behind.
“Hey!” Persia shouted after her. “Hey, what about your stuff?”
Luna paused and almost turned back, then grinned as Tori whispered fiercely, “Persia, shut up.”
Outside, she stopped on the loading dock, looking down into the narrow alley that ran behind the club. The man -- whoever he was -- jumped down to the pavement and held out his arms. Was she supposed to follow?
What the heck? Reaching down to brace
her hands on his shoulders, Lu let him catch her as she dropped to the asphalt, then stood for a second just looking up at him. His hands rested lightly on her waist. A soft wind from the bay tossed his hair, and she realized he was only a few inches taller than her -- six-one, maybe. Or six-two. His lips looked so soft, so warm. All she’d have to do would be tilt her head, and…
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually this forward.” Flashing that self-deprecating, lopsided grin, the man stepped back, dropping his hands from her waist. “But I really do want to talk to you.”
“Yeah.” God, why couldn’t she gather her thoughts? They seemed to scatter in the breeze every time he smiled. And every time she looked away, all she could see was his hand on his cock, stroking it…
Oh, shit. He had seen her. What else could this be about? But why hadn’t he just called the cops, then? Why wasn’t she sitting in a jail cell right now, charged with vagrant eyeballing, or something?
She waited, tense and silent, until finally, he cleared his throat. “It’s… Well, I write, you see.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, this is… God! Why is this so awkward?”
Maybe because I want to toss you down and rip your clothes off right here in the alley. Or maybe because I watched you jack off, and we both know it.
But he didn’t seem to. He seemed embarrassed, yes, but… “Uh, who are you?”
“Oh, aye, Sean. There’s a fine start. Why don’t you try introducing yourself to the lady?” He threw up his hands in self-disgust. “I’m hopeless at this, you know.”
Lu found her lips twitching in a smile, and ducked her chin to hide it. Well, whatever he wanted, it didn’t appear to be upbraiding her for watching him.
“I… Look, can we walk a bit?” He extended his arm and Lu, bemused, took it. “I’m Sean,” he added as they reached the sidewalk. A gust of wind caught his hair, tossing it. “Sean O’Shaughnessey.”
“You are not!” Staring, Lu dropped his arm. He was putting her on. He had to be.
“Ah, it’s a wicked curse my parents laid on my birth, so it is.” He broadened his brogue on purpose, grinning. “They’re first generation Irish, you know. Never gave a thought to what that name might cost me in grade school.”
“And what did it?”
“A lot of teasing, nothing worse. What’s Lu short for?”
“Luna.”
“That’s a lovely name. The moon. We’re ruled by the moon, you know, we Irishmen. Poets and dreamers, the lot of us.”
Yeah. Try being really ruled by the moon. Lu replied curtly, “Is that so?”
He nodded sagely. “And that’s what I…” He broke off abruptly, glancing down at the ground. His brow wrinkled slightly. Then he dropped to one knee before Lu and reached for her feet.
Startled, she drew back. “What are you doing?”
“Tying your shoes. You’re going to break your neck walking around like that.” Deftly, he knotted the laces of her boot. “Now the other one.”
Lu stood there, looking down at his bent head, all that glossy mass of black curls practically brushing her thigh… She was suddenly conscious of the smell of her own body; the tang of dried sweat from a hard night’s drumming. And he’d taken her arm, while walking? She shuddered. He really was a gentleman.
“There, that’s better.” He grinned up at her. A few patrons leaving the club stared, and Sean stood quickly.
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want?” Lu’s voice was harsher than she’d meant it to be. She couldn’t help it. There was something about him, with those high, heavy cheekbones, and those thick sable lashes around eyes that were so deep a blue they looked almost black. His shoulders, broad and angular as he’d bent before her. The strong, graceful column of his neck and those curls, whispering against the collar of his flannel shirt…
Stop it, Lu!
Never in her life had she wanted a man this bad.
“Well, I don’t know quite how to ask this, but…”
My God, was he going to ask her out? Lu’s heart beat triple time as she waited, breathless.
Why was she so terrified? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t ever been on a date before. Well, okay, so maybe “date” wasn’t really the right term. She wasn’t the kind of girl guys usually asked out to fancy dinners. A movie, sometimes -- she’d usually ended up sitting in the back, feeling her companion’s arm slide stealthily around her, knowing the entire second half of the film would be lost in hot breaths and heavy petting.
And she’d never seen anything wrong with that. Until now.
Maybe she did deserve to be taken on a date. A proper date, one that was more than a pit stop on the way to some guy’s bed. She’d always been so busy being grateful that anyone would pay her any attention at all, that…
“It’s your voice, you see.”
“What?” She blinked.
“Well, that was why I wanted to talk to you. I’m a songwriter.” He shrugged disparagingly. “Irish. I told you. I’m not very good. But I thought maybe we could get together sometime… I’d love to hear you sing one of my songs.”
Lu shook her head, trying to reorient herself. Of course he’s not interested in you! How could he be? Look at yourself, Lu. You’re not Persia. You’re not Tori. You’re built like a fucking linebacker, for Christ’s sake. And you haven’t washed your hair in…
“A week,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry?”
She looked up at him. Sean O’Shaughnessey. She chuckled sadly. He was way too improbable to be anything but real. Real, and honest, and caring.
And not for you.
Lu sighed. “Sorry. I was just thinking out loud. Sure, we could do that.”
“Really?” An amazed smile broke across his face. The brilliance of it hurt, and Lu had to look away. “Great. That’s just… Tomorrow? How would tomorrow be?”
“Fine.” Lu spoke woodenly, not even hearing herself. Her voice. That’s all he was interested in. A dull, familiar anger filled her as she hunched her shoulders and nodded toward the club. “I should get back.” Turning abruptly, she started away.
“Uh, Lu? Can I… get your phone number or something?” Sean loped to catch up, and then fell in alongside her, his long strides matching hers. “Or we could just meet somewhere, if you’d rather.”
She stopped abruptly, cursing herself for an ass. “Yeah. I’m sorry. You got a pen?”
He did, and she wrote her number down for him, watching as he folded it carefully and put it in his wallet, then stuck the wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. Loose jeans. They hung low on his lean hips. They’d be soft, she bet. Soft against her palm, with warm, hard muscle underneath…
Oh, Christ, Lu! Stop it!
She dragged her gaze up from his crotch, and found herself looking into his midnight-blue eyes. She was struck again by how near in height they were, how easy it would be to just tilt her head and…
Except that it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy at all.
She stepped back, and Sean ducked his head, grinning a bit -- not at her, though. At something he was thinking, maybe. It wasn’t a happy grin.
Suddenly, she remembered how he’d looked that night almost four weeks before -- grim, somehow. Almost melancholy. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugged, his shoulders moving easily under his shirt.
“I told you, Lu, I’m hopeless at this.” He smiled again wryly. “See you tomorrow?” Lu nodded numbly. “Good. I’ll call.”
Turning, he strode away. After a moment, he started whistling. Lu just stared after him, hugging herself against the ocean breeze, which was growing chill.
Quietly, she whispered, “No, you won’t.”
Chapter Five
“Where the hell have you been all night?” Tori, looking bleary-eyed and cranky, leaped up from an armchair as Lu let herself in. She’d spent the entire night wandering, unable to go home, unable even to make herself go back to the club where Persia and Tori had undoubtedly waited. And waited…
; What did it matter where she went? She was still a werewolf. A freak. As she’d sat, finally, on the Eastern Prom, watching the fat, nearly-full moon sink into the west as the sky slowly grew light over Casco Bay, that was the only thing she’d been certain of. And nothing would change it.
Persia was curled on the sofa, half-asleep, but she blinked awake as Tori stalked toward Lu, furious. “Do you know what time it is? You had me worried sick!”
“He tied my boots.”
“Lu, are you even listening to me?”
Crossing the living room, Lu repeated woodenly, “He tied my boots. And he likes my voice. Shit!” She flung herself down onto the sofa. Persia sprang out of the way just in time.
“He tied your boots.”
Lu covered her face with a pillow. “I said that. Twice.”
“So he likes you.”
“No. He likes my voice.”
“Well,” Persia said brightly, “that’s a start.”
“Per!” Abruptly, Luna sat up and fired the pillow across the room in frustration. “Did it ever occur to you I only date losers because I won’t mind losing them?”
“Well, duh. We were wondering when you were going to figure that out.”
“What?” Lu glared at her and Tori in outrage. Tori’s lips quirked. Sullenly, Lu threw herself back down on the couch and folded her arms. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not interested in me. He won’t call.”
“He already did.” Tori’s tone was dry. “At eight-thirty this morning.”
“Shit!”
“Yeah,” added Persia, “and if he does it again I’m removing his balls.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. What’m I gonna do?” Suddenly, Lu couldn’t sit still. She leapt to her feet, running her hands through her oily hair.
“Take a shower for starters,” Persia suggested.
“No, you don’t understand! He’s interested in my voice, not me, and he’s perfect, and I am so totally fucked.” The phone rang. Lu froze. “Oh, fuck.”
