Tempting Ballad

by Katherine McIntyre

  Kincaid reached for the napkin to wad his ears, knowing he and Marisa would be affected. She slunk up beside him and snagged the proffered napkin.

  “Inciting chaos already?” she murmured.

  Leo grinned. “It’s what they excel at.”

  The other Cantrell closed the distance to the girls at the same time Kieran leapt from the stage into the crowd below. At once, the folks cleared space for him, and Renn’s boots slammed onto the dance floor a moment later. Kieran launched into the next song, pure professionalism, even as he and Renn made a beeline to Danica and Liz.

  They launched into their song as they wound their way through the crowds who cheered around them—at least, those who weren’t busy making out with one another.

  Leo’s grip tightened on his glass, harder than intended. Whether or not he’d need to interfere depended on how fast Kieran and Renn sliced through the crowd.

  A click sounded from Liz and Danica’s end of the bar, drawing his attention.

  Liz whipped out a Beretta and aimed. “Take another step closer and your junk will be riddled with platinum, Clyde.”

  A hush swept around her at those words, and Leo restrained his groan. Liz of all people would want to stay incognito in a place like this—a hunter surrounded by fae while their sides warred. He’d asked them to be a distraction, so he guessed he should be grateful. A few undines got up from their bar stools and stepped away. Leo used the excuse to stand from his seat, glass of scotch in hand as he watched the turmoil like everyone else.

  Kieran sang a little louder, his voice booming through the area as he crossed past the dance floor. Renn’s piping started to set in, folks falling into a frenzied haze of lust far faster than the band’s normal melodies kicked into their systems. Some of the fae who’d been relaxing alongside him began eyeing their neighbors, suspicious glances abounding. He caught a few looks in his direction and took two long strides closer to Liz and the others.

  Clyde Cantrell’s companions backed away at the mention of platinum, but the satyr didn’t seem to have an ounce of fear—probably idiocy on his part. He stared down the barrel of her Beretta, his hands balling into fists at his side and his shoulders squaring like he prepared to charge.

  “Let’s see how big my cousin thinks he is when I deliver you both dead on arrival,” Clyde spat out.

  Danica snorted and cast a quick glance to Liz who restrained a laugh, despite the tension brimming around them. He didn’t miss how Danica’s hand crept to her side where she undoubtedly kept knives.

  Leo cast a quick glance over to Jareth and his other goblins who sat sipping the ale and sludge they downed, unaffected by the chaos. Goblins tended to have an immunity to most fae hijinks, and they didn’t seem disturbed by the unfolding scene. Not like the threat of platinum affected Unseelie anyway.

  Kieran shouted the refrain of his song, punching the air a few times for good measure. Those in the crowd still following along sang with him, though more and more had started to shed shirts and skirts in the typical orgy fashion that followed Discord’s Desire shows.

  Clyde leaned down, revealing those pointed horns.

  Liz stared at him unimpressed, her finger on the trigger even as her boytoy paraded the attention closer to their scuffle.

  Clyde was going to charge regardless. Kieran and Renn needed a few seconds to reach the girls. If Liz fired her pistol, this would turn into hunters versus fae all over again, and no one in this bar would stand to her defense.

  Leo twisted his fingers.

  Right as the satyr charged toward Liz, the tile of the floor wrinkled, sending him flying forward. Leo’s attunement to earth and stone yanked at him with the use. Danica and Liz both sidestepped as Clyde crashed to the ground.

  Kieran’s voice boomed now as he approached, several members of the audience trailing behind him and Renn. His satyr never stopped playing the pipes, his cheeks flushed with the effort. Leo took a quick sip from his scotch as he pretended to stand back and watch unconcerned. He could feel the press of gazes on his back.

  Clyde scrambled up to try and swing for Renn, but he dodged without missing a note. The moment the performers came close to getting hit, Luxe’s security lumbered on in. Two massive redcaps swaggered forward to step between Clyde and his compatriots. With the focus now on Renn and Kieran, Danica and Liz took the cue to slink away. Leo caught the pair heading toward the side door which led backstage. Better to avoid any further questions about Liz’s human and hunter status.

  The redcaps fast barred the way for Clyde and the others, and with them distracted, Kieran and Renn continued their tour around the bar before looping around through the crowd again. Clyde had arrived with the intent to cause a problem, though how he’d discovered they were playing so last minute could become a concern. Leo would have to deal with that. Taking on Discord’s Desire as allies came with its set of complications, but tonight he witnessed the proof.

  Leo caught Marisa’s eye from the crowd on the dance floor, and she offered a nod, her dark eyes sharp and intelligent.

  The bait was set.

  He strode away from his former spot in the middle of the bar to take a seat on the far end by Jareth Hollins and his gang. Murmurs burbled from them like a brook, and their gazes pressed into him as he settled onto the bar stool with his glass of scotch in hand. On the opposite side where the ruckus had broken out, Clyde writhed against the grip of one of the redcap bouncers shouting obscenities, and a few of his friends found themselves a different source of entertainment for the night.

  Kieran and Renn already looped around to the stage and climbed back up to join Trevor and Jett who stood there thrumming away at their guitar and bass respectively. Even though Renn and Ky’s march through the crowd hadn’t been subtle, the amount of pheromones lacing through the air meant most folks didn’t give a damn. Clothes dropped on the dance floor, and even more fae joined in on the growing orgy of bared skin, loud moans, and compromising positions all around.

  Kincaid caught Jareth’s glance and held it, lifting his glass in salute. “Nothing like a little bit of excitement to make the scotch sweeter.”

  Jareth nodded, two seats down. The man’s blue skin grew even darker in the dim lights from the bar. The knobby features, all lumps and bumps, carried deeper shadows, highlighting the scrutiny of those obsidian eyes.

  Jareth still hadn’t looked away. “Funny how the satyr just tripped out of nowhere.” His voice dripped with insinuation. “Word among the Courts is that you’re the cautious type.”

  Kincaid snorted and took another sip from his scotch. “Honestly, how many of us reveal our true proclivities around high society?” The line he walked stretched a little tauter, an invisible electric wire he led the goblin down. After all, most things in his life were fabricated—business relationships, friendships, social conversations. His gaze slipped up to the stage again to catch a glimpse of Renn.

  The man had been the first gasp of something real he’d experienced in far too long. The fiery emotions that arose around him, the spark of connection he didn’t want to deny—he’d been living separate from all of those things.

  Jareth pursed his lips and nodded. “That’s fair. We all have business we’d rather not advertise.”

  The conversation had the potential to dead end here, and Kincaid couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t need the man to spill all his secrets here and now—there was time for that. But he needed to get from outside to inside his circle.

  “Better guard my secrets more closely then,” Kincaid murmured. “I need the Courts to keep believing I’m the cautious sort if they’re to keep investing in my company. I’ll have to keep my thrill seeking to the gambling dens.”

  Jareth lifted a thick eyebrow. One of the goblins by his side passed him a meaningful glance. The others ignored their conversation, continuing their murmured chatter over their sludgy pints. What their boss chose to do with his business was his own.

  “There are other avenues to chase if you want to r
emain discreet,” Jareth ventured.

  “Such as?” Kincaid asked, leaning back in his seat. He couldn’t appear overeager, even though this was the exact track he hoped this train would follow.

  Jareth pushed up from his seat to stand, the man coming up above five feet. Even still, the way the others in the group deferred to him gave a clear indicator of the man’s power. “We’ve got a private room in this club, courtesy of Neil,” Jareth said, pointing to one of the doors lining the walls to their left. “If you want to follow me, we can discuss in there.”

  Kincaid’s heart thudded harder. This could either be the lead he searched for, or a trap. The door could head to another sector of the Otherworld or to a big beater ready to knock him out.

  He didn’t dare seek his sister’s gaze over the crowd, even though he wanted someone in his entourage to know where he headed. Hopefully Claude kept a careful eye on his goings-on.

  “Consider me intrigued,” Kincaid responded as he pushed up from his seat. Jareth crooked his head to the side, and two of the goblins who had been sitting back with their pints at the bar rose to flank around him.

  This had all the makings of trap, but he’d chosen this bar for a reason. Neil might take in extra income from Hollins’ business, but Kincaid’s company owned his loan. Not like that would matter much if someone slit his throat with platinum upon entry.

  However, no risk, no reward.

  Kincaid followed Jareth to the private room.

  Chapter Eleven

  After the stir-up with Clyde, Renn had been shocked they managed to play out their set with no further disruptions. His dumbass cousin got himself ousted from the bar though, and even if Clyde waited for him outside, at this point, he’d be outnumbered.

  He’d been watching the audience as he burned all the excess energy summoned from the surprise appearance of his douchebag cousin. A little before their set ended, Kincaid got up from his seat at the bar and followed a few goblins to the line of fancy black doors on the opposite side of the room. Not shady in the slightest. Even after they’d emerged from the back of house to go rub elbows at the bar, the charming yaksha was nowhere in sight. A pit opened in Renn’s stomach, the first fringes of worry that something might’ve happened to Leo Kincaid.

  That was new territory. Not like he didn’t get concerned over his bandmates, but never one of his lovers. Renn fucked and left—he didn’t stick around to get to know them or give a damn.

  Except, Leo had infected him. All those stupid subtle details from taking the lead in the bedroom to leaving meals for him when he headed out in the morning sent a thrill rising in his chest every time, one he sorely wanted to ignore. If he let that warmth in, he had to confront all of that pain, and he’d been running for years.

  Marisa strolled over to join their crew by the bar while Claude glowered from the corner of the room, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall like he was tuned in on the next band’s performance.

  Renn would be content drinking the bar out of Jameson and JD, but his cock had other ideas surrounding the man who’d vanished into a mysterious side room of this place and had yet to return.

  “Where’d Leo fuck off to?” Renn asked as Marisa stepped by his side.

  “I’m allergic to commitment, he says,” Trev murmured on his right side, smug amusement in his tone.

  Renn’s fingers itched to curl into a fist. “If you really wanted to know, I was promised a dick to ride tonight, and I’m not keen on letting the opportunity pass me by,” Renn responded, loud enough that Jett glanced their way too.

  Kieran and Liz had stepped outside to either tongue-fuck each other or fight about something—the way they always worked.

  Marisa let out a groan. “If I never have to hear about my brother’s sex life again, it’ll be too soon.” She cast a furtive glance over to the opposite end of the bar where a few goblins sat swilling pints of questionable sludge. “He stepped off with Hollins,” she murmured, her voice low. “I’ve been waiting for him to come back out.”

  “Besides, there’s an entire buffet of fae to get busy with tonight,” Jett called over to him. “Don’t tell me you’re tied down, Renn Cantrell.” His eyes flashed with a taunt, and a bit more than that. They were the inveterate singles of the band, sworn to never settle down. Besides, anyone with the sheer amount of damage they’d both compiled wouldn’t be riding off into the sunset with any Joe or Sally.

  Except he’d made the arrangement with Kincaid. For the duration of their fuck-buddy situation, he was with one man alone who happened to be able to satiate him in ways he’d only dreamed of before. As much as he could hit up the brunette at the end of the bar tipping back a margarita and tossing out long and lonely looks or chat up the twink nymph who twisted and writhed on the dance floor, his legs didn’t carry him onward.

  Truth be told, he’d been dying for another night with Leo Kincaid ever since the first one, and if he snuck out to fuck a random fae, he’d lose his chance. How badly he wanted this grated at his skin.

  “Never tied down, unless there’s a safe word,” Renn murmured. He glanced to Jett and arched an eyebrow. “But how many in the crowd are packing what Leo Kincaid’s got between his legs?”

  Marisa flicked him in the arm. “Enough about my brother, his cock, and all the filthy things the two of you do together. I’m going to vomit into my Manhattan.”

  Renn tipped back the glass of JD, the liquid warming him from the inside out. If only he didn’t feel so hollow. In this town, so close to the trail of the assholes who might have taken Belle, the old memories he’d buried decided to wake from the dead and go roaming. And he didn’t have a weapon in hand to knock those memories to rest again.

  Belle was the first person he’d trusted with his worries, his fears, and his dreams and ended up being the last. His family proved they weren’t worth the effort. From an early age, his parents made it clear he was a disappointment—whether it was his lack of manners or penchant for never following the rules. And when he mentioned his dreams to travel, they’d scoffed at him, telling him to grow up and accept his responsibility as the eldest. He’d be chained to the estate until the day he died. Too bad for them he broke that rule too.

  He’d begun chasing those dreams the day he found the rest of the band, and they’d become the closest thing to real family he’d ever found. Yet even though he loved his bandmates, some habits died hard.

  Kincaid didn’t do this for him. Renn needed to remind himself of that before the man’s care, his warmth, and his solid strength addled his mind any more. Leo Kincaid had an agenda a mile long and would use anyone to his benefit. He’d proved that before, and hell, Renn even respected those plans. Baller move on his part. Yet ever since he’d recruited him again, the lines blurred, ones he needed to return to black and white before he got sloppy and started making mistakes. Before he started to give a damn about the asshole who still hadn’t emerged from the closed VIP door.

  His finger tap-tap-tapped against the glass of JD as he dragged his gaze to the bar.

  “My brother will be fine,” Marisa murmured, low enough so only he could hear. “He’s been in worse situations.” Yet the unsteadiness in her tone didn’t quite reassure. Her eyes locked with his, and for a moment, he couldn’t hide from the fact he did give a damn about what happened to the smooth, sarcastic yaksha.

  Renn lifted his glass and drained it dry. “I’m going outside to get some air,” he announced to the class, avoiding the smirks from Trevor and Danica and the eye roll from Jett. With any luck, he’d also avoid Ky and Liz out there, probably sucking face against the side of this joint.

  He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he exited the flashing lights and sounds inside Luxe Cabaret and emerged into crisp, cool Boston air, promising chapped lips and broken hearts. Renn had been alone for a long time, even surrounded by friends and family. He didn’t let people in—after all, he’d gotten the crash course early on.

  Relying on folks led to disappoin
tment.

  He swerved past the smog of some jackass ripping through a cigarette like his life depended on it, and his nose wrinkled at the acrid scent of the smoke. He hadn’t missed the fact that from the moment he’d shown up in Leo’s hotel room, the man hadn’t smoked once. The yaksha never did anything without intention, and the act alone made a clear declaration.

  Renn strode over to the side of the building, his boots crunching on the crisp leaves littered beneath him, mingling with the crushed cans, cigarette butts, and plastic wrappers. He sank against the wall and stared at the sky overhead. The constant motion of the band had been his salvation for a long while now, but back in this place coming closer to the first sign of Belle in years, he found he couldn’t escape any longer.

  The cold, crystalline stars winked at him from overhead, and he didn’t know how long he stood there in silence, letting cool, silvery light wash over him.

  A low whistle sounded toward the front of the building, and a long, jagged shadow fell onto the pavement before him.

  “And here I thought you couldn’t get any more gorgeous.” Leo’s voice snared his attention, the deep gravel that seemed to stick itself to his bones.

  Renn didn’t look his way at first, keeping his gaze trained up. Even though he’d never admit it aloud, something coiled tight unwound. Relief coursed through his veins. Kincaid strode closer until his intoxicating scent wafted Renn’s way, enough to set him thrumming.

  “Have fun getting frisked by the goblins?” Renn asked, leaning against the brick wall. He cast him a sidelong glance. “I hope they bought you dinner first.”

  Kincaid leaned against the wall beside him, settling into place. His shadow drowned him, the massive height of this man making Renn want to climb him like a tree. He couldn’t help but sneak a glimpse. Leo Kincaid looked pure business professional slick in his white button-down and green sportscoat a few shades darker than his skin tone. His inky hair swept to the side, thick enough to grip, and those sensuous lips curled with the ghost of a grin.