Sing For Me
Ellabee Andrews
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Sneak Peek
Princes and Pedigree
Taking Then By Storm
Wishing For Them Link
About the Author
Sing For Me
Copyright @ 2018 Ellabee Andrews.
It is illegal and Piracy to copy and publish other people’s works as your own. Please don’t be that person. Nobody likes that person.
Cover Design by Ellabee Andrews
Formatting by Kassie Morse
Created with Vellum
“When something bad happens you have three choices. You can either let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.”
― Dr. Seuss
Chapter One
The spotlights are hot as they shine down on me, bathing my body in a pink glow as they reflect off the glitter and gems that cover my costume. They no longer blind me as they once did. I’d grown up on this stage, and I know it as intimately as I do my own body.
I ignore the urge to look at the crowd to try and discern individual faces, because it doesn’t matter. Once the curtain falls, they’ll be gone, and I’ll go back to my trailer until the next night. When I do it all over again.
Smiling coyly as I slowly settle into my swing, I begin to sway, beating my wings gently behind me to propel me forward, a motion that I’m told the audience loves. Though they aren’t close enough to see the silver specks that dot my lavender eyes, I look up through my lashes, and pretend I’m somewhere else. But since this stage, and the cage my swing sits in, are all I’ve ever known, I can’t pretend for long.
“Ladies and Gentleman, tonight we have a very special treat for you all. One of the rarest creatures to ever grace the stage, a beauty unmatched by others, and a voice so exquisite, none can compare. I give you the diamond of this show. The one, the only, Nightingale!”
My heart beats faster as I hear the ringmaster announce me. A blush staining my cheeks as I think of his immaculately groomed mustache, or the suit that hugs his lithe, but muscular form. Even twenty years my senior, he is as handsome as he is charismatic. Though, he never looks at me the way I do him.
“As you can see, she’s a bit shy, so I think you’ll need to coax her a little, make her see that you are excited to hear the voice that’s worth crossing oceans for,” he says, as he twists his arms in my direction in a rehearsed practice that’s repeated each night, and just like all the other times, the crowd screams their excitement. Their shouts and cheers almost too loud, even for my partially deaf ears.
That’s okay, though. Even if I can’t make out their distinct words, I can feel the bass of the music as it blends with the rhythmic pounding of their colliding hands. It floats through the air, coaxing the part inside of me that is drawn by the music. The song, my place of solitude.
Perched in my cage, my large black wings still beating behind me, I push aside my long curls, the pink, orange and white colors of them blending together in an ombre effect. Despite the beliefs of others, the color is all natural. What had started as a few curls here and there, with a kiss of pink or a touch of orange, has grown to cover my whole head, each year the colors only become more prominent.
Seeing my cue, the ringmaster lifts his right arm, twisting his wrist in a theatrical way, and I push aside any thoughts that don’t pertain to the performance before me. Wondering whether my mother would have had curls like mine or if it was my father that passed down the ebony color of my wings will do me no good now. The show has begun, and I am but a willing servant to it.
With the eyes of the crowd watching me, I’m no longer the unsure seventeen-year-old Nightingale shifter. I’m The Songbird. The jewel of the Tri-Star Circus, and this is where I belong.
Strengthened by those thoughts, I open my mouth as the music silences, and let the first notes of my lullaby spill from my lips. A song I had never been taught, but have known for as long as I can remember.
“As the river runs, and the trees sway, there is a kingdom far away. Upon the clouds, it reaches high, where angels fly through the sky.”
The words leave my lips in a slow, almost melancholy tone, and a sense of homesickness fills me, leaving my chest heavy, and my heart aching for a place I’ve never known. Home is the trailer and the circus I travel with. Yet, despite reminding myself of this each night, I sing my song, serenading the crowd with the breathy, melodious tones of my voice.
The audience reacts to my lullaby the way it always does. The people who were but moments ago talking over each other to be heard, and full of energy, are now silent. The music no longer rings throughout the large, striped tent, and even the animals in their pens are still.
Nothing moves as I belt out the last few notes of my song, and no one notices the tears that trace salty paths down my face. Tears for a place I’ve never known, except for in my lullaby.
“You were distracted tonight Lori, what’s up?” Sal, my closest friend and fellow performer asks as she walks into my trailer without knocking.
She knows she’s always welcome, and gave up on the habit of announcing herself years ago. Besides, even if she tried to sneak up on me, I’d feel the heat that she naturally emits before she even had the chance. As a Phoenix, she runs much hotter than humans or other supernaturals, and my wings are especially good at sensing that heat.
Scrubbing off the last of my makeup, taking care to remove the glitter that is arranged into intricate designs, I answer with my eyes closed. “Was it that obvious? I tried not to let it show, but I don’t know, I just couldn’t get into it out there. Like, the closer my birthday gets, the harder it is for me to concentrate. Even my lullaby has lost its ability to soothe me like it once did. The crowd didn’t notice did they?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral, and not show my worry, but she knows me better than that.
Coming to stand by my side, I open my eyes, half of my face still done up in the performance makeup. Our stares meet in the mirror and I hate the pity I see in her eyes. It’s in the small downturn of her lips. “Did the crowd notice? Or did Barney notice?” She guesses my true thoughts, using the ringmaster’s first name, and I curse my pale skin for allowing my blush to shine through so brightly.
Sighing at the obvious answer, she claims the right edge of the bench I sit on, sitting so that she can speak into my good ear, and never breaking eye contact in the mirror.
The two of us couldn’t be more opposite if we tried. Me, with my moonlight pale skin, and hers like onyx. My long hair with the pastel curls, while hers is short, almost shaved to her head, bright red with yellows and oranges strategically placed to mimic the flames of her phoenix form. Despite these differences, we had formed an unlikely friendship years ago when I defended her from some of the other performers.
I’d stood up for the small girl with the lost face, but she’d soon proved I shouldn’t have bothered when she shifted into a bird made of flames and burnt the clothes right off her bullies. We’d shared a lot of laughs that day, and still reminisced about it at times since then. It was the day I knew solidified our friendship for life.
“You know I love you, Lori. I just hate seeing you pine for him. I mean, you’re a
lmost eighteen, which is twenty years younger than him! You can’t live your life hanging on and reading into his every word. Just, think about it, has he ever given any indication that he may return your feelings?”
Her words sting, but not because she’s trying to be cruel. It’s because she’s right. The man I long for, whose very voice seems to enchant me as mine does others, never looks at me in any other way but that as a master does to his ward. Seeing my defeated face, Sal pulls me closer.
“I’m sorry, Lori. I know how much you care for him, and no, I don’t think he noticed your being distracted. Honestly, you had the crowd too enthralled to notice anything, and Barney was too busy emptying his pockets in preparation for all the tips he’d be getting. You’re definitely the money maker of the show,” she finishes.
I search her face as she says this, but there’s no resentment there. No, I’ve experienced enough of that from the other performers. Sal is just being Sal. And that’s fiercely loyal, and honest to a fault.
“I’ll try to do better. I know your earplugs keep you from being caught up in my song, but if I don’t focus, then the crowd won’t fall into my song. I can’t imagine how disappointed Barney would be then,” I say, shuddering to think of how much it would hurt to know I let him down. After taking me in and raising me, I owe him everything.
I’m pulled away from my thoughts when I feel three raps at my door. The sound barely penetrates the fog of my ears, but the vibrations reverberate through my wings, and with a shrug, Sal rises from the bench, uncaring that it’s my trailer and not her own that she’s in, walks over to the door and opens it.
Curious, but unable to hear what she says, I watch her from my spot as I finish wiping away my makeup, but when I see her tilt her head forward in deference, I quickly look back in the mirror, cursing myself for removing my makeup so soon. Barney is here!
Schooling my features, lest he think I’m some lovestruck girl, I nervously run my hands down my silk dressing robe, glad that it at least accentuates my curves. It’s as I’m doing this, that I hear the timbre of his smoky voice, and I close my eyes to block out the longing that washes over me at being so near to him but knowing that It will never be.
Getting my breathing under control, I turn to take in the two of them, reading his lips as sound barely reaches me.
“I need to speak with Lorelei alone, Sal. Please leave us,” he says, and I watch the conflicted look flash across Sal’s face before she eventually nods her head and squeezes through the small space that’s left between him and the door. She gives me one last wave and pointed look before she disappears out the door.
Stepping into the room, black and red striped suit still in place, I find I can’t meet Barney’s eyes. Focusing instead on the gold buttons and the perfectly pressed lapels of his costume, I just stand before him quietly as he closes the door behind him and steps further into the room.
“Another five star performance from my little songbird. You make me so proud,” he says by way of greeting, and I raise up my head, beaming with pride at his praise. “But, you weren’t paying attention and stumbled over the third chorus,” he adds, and my smile melts away as shame and embarrassment wash over me.
Moving forward and motioning for me to turn around, I do so without question and feel his hands go to the binds of the choker I wear around my neck.
“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Iverson. I guess I was just thinking too hard about my upcoming birthday, and it caused my focus to slip. I’ll do better next time.”
My breath catches as his long fingers brush the sides of my neck before allowing the thick leather to slip slowly down my chest, his hand trailing it slowly down.
“My sweet Nightingale, you know that you can call me Barney. There’s no need to sound so afraid. I simply want the best for you. If you’re to remain a star, you must always give one hundred and ten percent. I don’t get on you because it’s my show. I do so simply because I know how much potential you have. You know that, don’t you?” he whispers into my ear, stepping in close enough that the line of his body presses gently against mine.
I whimper a little at the way his breath tickles my neck as his hand finally stops the descent of the necklace, right as it reaches the crest of my breasts.
“I know you’re only looking out for me. I think, after my birthday tomorrow, I’ll be able to perform better, as my mind won’t be focused on it,” I say, a small quaver in my voice.
“Ah yes, my little songbird becomes a woman tomorrow. Don’t think I haven’t thought of that either. I’ve actually come to you tonight because of that. I’ve brought you a gift,” he says, surprising me enough that I turn to look over my shoulder at him.
“Tsk. Tsk. No peeking,” he tells me, and I’m quick to comply, turning my head forward again and closing my eyes. When I do so, I feel a brush of cloth move across my wings as he retrieves whatever my surprise is.
Standing there with him so close by, my wings tremble slightly. There’s a vulnerability of standing in the low light of the trailer alone with him, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to be able to turn and have him take me into his arms as he kisses me passionately.
Distracted by the thought, I miss him pulling away and coming to stand before me, until I feel the stroke of his thumb as he rubs it across where I bite my lower lip.
“You shouldn’t bite such a perfect pout, Lorelei. I’d hate for anything to mar that beautiful face. Now, are you ready for your birthday gift?” he asks, as I open my eyes, nodding eagerly.
“Yes,” I say instantly, my words coming out breathy.
Chuckling at my response, he reaches up once more, except this time, instead of removing something, he gently clasps a delicate chain around my throat, the metal cold against my flushed skin and the length long and ending with a heart shaped jewel that rests cradled between my breasts.
I gasp at the beautiful necklace. It catches the light when I move, and I marvel at how he found a jewel to match my lavender eyes. The question of how he did dominates my thoughts, but with him standing so near, I can’t make myself ask, too transfixed on studying the piece I now wear.
“Tomorrow, after your performance, there will be a party,” he starts, and I’m so excited by his words that I can’t help but interrupt him.
“A party? Like, a birthday party? Will my friends be there,” I ask, but quickly close my mouth when his eyes flash, his disapproval evident at my speaking out of turn. Bowing my head forward quickly to express my regret for cutting him off, he acknowledges the apology by laying a warm hand in the dip of my shoulder, his long fingers cupping my neck as his palm sits over my collarbone.
“As I was saying,” he starts, raising a brow to make sure I won’t cut him off again, “there will be a party tomorrow after the show. When your act is complete, I want you to come back here and change. There will be a dress waiting for you, and Catrine will help you get ready. When she tells you it’s time, you’ll have an escort bring you back to the smaller tent where a private party will be held. This is not just a birthday party, Lorelei, this will be a group of investors that are looking to really put our show on the map. You’ve been personally requested to be there by numerous potential investors, and they are very eager to get a look at where their money will be going. Tomorrow is extremely important, so I expect you to be very accommodating to our guests and look your best,” he says, stepping away and making his way toward the door.
Finally feeling as if I can breathe again, but too confused to say anything else, I watch as he turns the handle on my door. Before he steps out into the night, he stops and turns back to look at me once more. His gaze starting at my feet, slowly traveling up my body, lingering at my breasts, before coming to rest at my face.
“Make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight. You have a very busy day tomorrow, and I need you at your best to make sure our guests are satisfied,” he adds, and leaves the trailer, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
Weak from being so close to him, a
nd confused about what he’s said, I sink back onto my bench and stare at my flushed face in the mirror. The necklace sits perfectly within the swell of my breasts, but as much as I want to be able to admire the gift, worries for what tomorrow holds plague my mind. He’d called them investors, which meant, if I didn’t make sure they were happy, I could lose my spot in the show. And more than that, lose the only home I’ve ever known.
Chapter Two
“Tell me again, why do you have to go to this? I mean, it doesn’t seem like they’d want the help hanging around business dealings,” Sal says, eying the small scrap of fabric Catrine holds, her face pinched and eyes narrowed at what’s supposedly, a ‘dress’.
Unable to pull my eyes away from what I’ve been ordered to wear, the black dress more lace than spandex, I reply, “Something about the investors wanting to meet me. I guess they requested it as part of their meeting? I don’t know. Maybe they’ll want me to sing?”
I don’t need to hear her snort, because her derision is clear on her face, and as I use the moist rag to wipe down the sheen of sweat that performing under the hot lights have left me with, I finally look away.
“Look, I know it’s not something I’ve ever done before, but I’m sure everything will be fine. Besides, I’m just going to pretend this is my birthday party,” I say, making my words soothing and hoping to ease her worries, but she narrows her eyes on me, knowing exactly what I’m up to.
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