by R K Knightly
His eyes were laughing, but Elle could see what he was doing. He was trying to pull her out of her shell a bit more. She loved to sing, but only did so alone or – more recently – in Liam's presence.
"I...well, I just-" she stumbled over the words.
"Say yes, baby," he cajoled softly, voice husky, and leaned forward so his lips were barely touching hers. She whined.
"You don't fight fair," she told him, relenting. That caused a sly smile to lift his lips.
"Never said I did," Liam said as he got up and walked over to the short line by the emcee.
Elle whimpered as she saw Liam go through the song list and then write his selection and name on the growing list of performers. Maybe if she was lucky the place would catch fire before she was forced to sing whatever song Liam had picked. She doubted she would know it. He seemed a more rock anthem type guy, and she was more pop.
"What did you pick?" she asked anxiously when he arrived back at the table.
"You'll know it, don't you fret," he told her, correctly deducing her worries. "My sister has the same tastes as you musically and blared her radio morning, noon, and night when she was living at home."
Shit. She had sort of been afraid of that. He had mentioned liking some of the songs she had downloaded on her iPod the other day. They weren't exactly his type of music, but he knew some of the words and most of the melodies.
Fuck. She felt trapped and sent a silent May Day to the heavens. She needed a true-blue miracle of God to get out of this mess.
"You're not going to give me a hint?" she asked. She was becoming slightly aggravated with him. This was an emotional coup d'état, and she was the target. The bastard.
"Only if you're lucky, baby," he told her and winked.
They watched as performer after performer came up to the stage. Most were horrible and off-key, but had fun trying to sing. Some were okay and could even carry a halfway decent tune. There were a couple who could actually sing pretty well, and they made Elle even more nervous.
Liam's hand came down on her knee to stop her leg from bouncing up and down with her barely contained anxiety. She was full of so much nervous energy, his touch almost had her rocketing up from her seat.
"Angel, we're up next," he told her at the halfway point of Sunday Bloody Sunday. "No one's expecting anyone here to be professional. It's all for fun anyway. Don't be so nervous."
"I don't...don't sing in front of people," she choked out.
"You sing for me," he told her. "And I'll be up there. Just pretend it's just me and you in the room."
"At least tell me what we're singing," she begged. "That's half of my nerves right there."
Liam smiled and relented.
"Lucky by Jason Mraz with Colbie Caillat," he told her.
That did, in fact, make her feel a bit better. She knew the song well, and it was a pretty simple tune. It was nothing too showy either. Elle blew out a semi-relaxed breath and closed her eyes.
Once the applause started for the singer on stage – he was actually pretty decent – her heart rate picked up, and she glanced nervously over at Liam.
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and smiled over at her.
They were called up to the stage, and Liam made sure Elle got there without tripping over her own feet. That was a feat in itself since she was pretty sure she had left her balance back at the table somewhere.
They both grabbed a mic and Elle smiled nervously at the crowd before looking at Liam. He didn't seem nervous at all, and before she could question that, the first bars of the song played.
Liam picked up the words right away and Elle...she was completely shocked. The man could actually sing.
And he sang directly to her. Somehow that made her nerves give way and she let the melody wash over her and the joy of performing come to the fore.
They sang the entirety of the song together and Elle almost completely forgot they were surrounded by strangers in a pub watching them. Possibly armed with ripe fruit.
Liam gave her a small smile and a soft kiss to her lips at the end of the song and a burst of applause could be heard. It jolted Elle out of their little two-person bubble. She laughed and buried her face in Liam's chest as he held her close.
"Encore!" someone yelled, causing Liam to smile. The request caught on even after Elle started to bring the mic back over to the emcee.
The man at the table handed it back to her with a grin.
"No way," he told Elle. "Your adoring public is waiting on your encore, little lady."
"Well, we got to give the public what it wants, don't we, baby?" Liam asked as he came up behind her and tried to pull her back to center stage. She was reluctant to go, but the adrenaline buzzing in her veins didn't allow for any more nerves, and she relented.
"Hey, what do you want to sing?" the emcee asked, and Liam thought quick, still pulling Elle back onto the stage.
"No Air," he told the man.
"Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown?" the man called back.
"That's the one," Liam said. "You know it, don't you, angel?" he asked Elle.
She nodded back at him and her lip twitched slightly.
The emcee was quick, and a slow beat started as soon as they hit the middle of the stage. This time, Elle started the song. Again, she focused on Liam, the way he sang to her, the interchanging lyrics responding to each other’s on a deeper level.
By the end of the song, Liam had tilted her head up to his with his hand, and gave her a soft, slow kiss which caused a round of rowdy catcalls to join the even heftier round of applause.
More shouts of "encore" were heard, and this time it was Liam that shook his head and declared his show business days were over.
"No way," he said into the mic. "But maybe my little angel here can give you a taste of her solo career. What about it, baby? One more for the road?"
Elle looked at the buoyant grin on Liam's face and nodded slowly.
"Okay, but just one more," she said into the mic. "And I get to choose this time."
She walked over to the emcee who introduced himself as David. He was the son of the owner of the Norfolk Tavern, and karaoke nights were his favorite. They were a little rowdier with drunken singing and loud boisterous off-key anthems, but the aura of the place on those nights was ultimately one of fun, and David seemed to live off that raw vibe.
"Real Emotional Girl? Never heard this song before," he mused as he read her selection.
"It's not a contemporary piece," she told him with a shrug. "My mom and Dad had an old Randy Newman album with it on there. I remember this was one of my mother's favorites songs."
"Alright, well let's hear it, songbird," he told her. "The natives are getting restless and I think the rest of the people that signed up aren't too willing to follow you and your man's performance out there."
Elle walked back to the stage and cleared her throat before she spoke to the crowd.
"A lot of you probably don't know this song," she said. "But it was one of my mom's favorites and, recently, it became one of mine as well."
She saw that Liam was watching her intently, leaning forward in his seat.
The first piano chords played, and it was like she was at home again in her parents' living room, listening to the album with her mother.
Emotion dripped from her every word, particularly when she sang about meeting someone who broke her heart and made her hesitant to love again. And then, how it made her lose herself inside herself. It made Liam want to reach out to hold her, tell her everything was okay; that what they had was better than anything he had ever experienced before – even the love of his true mate.
When the song ended, it was silent. The applause came slower, almost hesitant to begin. It was just as heartfelt, but it seemed the crowd felt a bit of what she was feeling: a little heartbreak, a little sadness, a little homesick.
But it was still beautiful.
And Liam was walking swiftly towards her. Before she could move toward the s
teps to leave the stage, he was pulling her off it and into his arms. Her feet gently hit the floor and his hands framed her face, thumbing away tears she’d had no clue were there until Liam brushed them away.
"Liam?" she asked, an uncertain question in her voice.
"Hush, angel," he told her softly. "That was beautiful, but so sad."
And he fucking hated it in a way. He was so happy that she was here, and with him, and all his, but he hadn't thought really deeply about how much she was probably missing her family.
He held her gently, the applause slowly fading away before he walked them back to the table. He tossed twice as much money than they needed to pay onto the table. Liam didn't care. It would have been worth a small fortune to see Elle be so fearless as she was when she opened herself up to sing that last song. She had made herself vulnerable in front of complete – yet adoring – strangers. They walked out of the tavern in utterly comfortable silence.
"Hey, songbird! Sir!" a voice called out as Liam and Elle started making their way towards where their car was parked. Both turned around and saw David, the owner's son, running toward them. They waited for him as he slowed his pace and came up to them.
"Listen, that was some of the finest singing I've heard at this joint in a while," David told Elle. "You too, man," he said to Liam with a nod.
"Thanks," Elle said, flushing prettily.
"I don't have much time in between songs, so let me just say this," David said, a little out of breath. "We have a piano night here on Fridays. It's not very popular since people want to hear more than just background noise. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like to sing for it. I play the piano and we could work something out, drum up some clientele. We would pay you of course, and there are tips if things go well. Just think about it and let me know, yeah?"
The man handed her a business card with his name and number on it, giving him the title of "Artistic Director" of the Norfolk Tavern. He then turned around to head back inside.
Liam took the card from her and, after scrutinizing it, put it in his wallet before freezing in place. He stood completely still for a moment until Elle placed a hesitant hand on his chest. His pupils dilated slightly, and he looked down at her in fear.
"Angel, we have to hurry," he told her and pulled her towards the car. "Something's happening at home. We're under some sort of attack."
Chapter 28
Liam didn't know what to do. If the territory was under attack, he was only bringing his mate closer to the battleground. Still, he couldn't not help defend his land and people. And the truth was, it was probably due to Elle that this was happening at all. This was unprecedented.
What's going on? Liam demanded of Blake through their link.
The intruders smell like rogues but seem to be more organized. It’s like they’re looking for something. Or someone, Blake told him.
"Shit," Liam muttered and pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal.
"Liam?" Elle asked as she grabbed the "oh shit" handle and hung on for dear life. "What's going on?"
"Rogues," Liam said shortly, and took a sharp turn blindly. "Blake said they seem to be looking for something. They're not…fuck, they aren’t acting naturally."
"Me? Are they looking for me?"
Liam looked over at her and couldn't lie. Not to her.
"I don't know, angel. Maybe," he said. "I wouldn't put it past Jeremiah to enlist rogues to get you back. It seems like the sort of underhanded, cowardly shit that sick fuck would pull."
"Maybe I should-"
"No!" It came out almost like a snarl. "Don't say it, baby. Don't even think it. You go back there and you're as good as dead. Or worse."
He was right, but Elle felt her lips tremble as a set of hot tears rolled down her face unchecked. Liam’s hand fell to her knee briefly before he needed it to take another sharp turn.
Blake kept Liam abreast of things and then mindlinked with the head warrior to meet him at his house in five minutes with a few of his men. He had to go back to help with the fight, but he wasn't leaving Elle alone either.
"When we get to the house, I want you to go with the warriors that will be meeting us there," Liam told her stiffly. "They'll keep you safe until this…thing is over with."
"No, I can-"
"Elle, please," Liam requested quietly. "If you were there trying to help, it would only distract me. Since you may be who they are looking for, it will be harder for me to protect you when they catch your scent. Please. Just do this."
Elle nodded her head but was still unhappy. She was sure that there was more she could do, even if it was just to act as bait for the rogues.
How many are there? Liam asked an exhausted Blake when they were about two minutes away from the border of Plumbrook.
We're down to ten left, Blake told him with a gasp. There was twice that number that somehow snuck past the border when patrol was starting their rounds.
I'll have their fucking heads, Blake. Patrol is supposed to keep this kind of shit from happening!
I know, Liam. I know, Blake responded in kind. But we don't have enough men to surround the entire place. Even with the increased numbers on patrol there was always a chance they could get through.
Keep at least one of them alive. Kill the others, Liam told him. I want to know what they're doing here. We haven't had an attack in years. This is very suspicious.
Blake agreed, and gave orders to keep a minimum of one rogue alive for now. The others were to be hunted down and killed.
By the time Elle and Liam had gotten back to the house, only a few of the interlopers remained. The other seventeen had been killed by the warriors, Blake, Trace, and Caleb. Many of the pack involved were still shifted, sniffing the ground uneasily, and whining deep in their throats at the unfamiliar scents.
Two warriors walked into Liam's home, following their Luna and Alpha as Blake mindlinked Liam to say he had the last three rogues in the cells.
Liam gave orders for the warriors with him not to leave the house unless ordered directly by him, and kissed Elle on the cheek before letting her go into the bedroom to get ready for bed.
As Liam stalked down to the cells, an underground property about fifty feet into the woods behind the Packhouse, he linked with Blake again and told him to meet him there.
"Any casualties?" Liam asked when Blake arrived, winded and a bit worse for wear. He had several claw marks across his torso that were halfway to healed, and his grey t-shirt was utterly ruined, not that he cared.
"No fatalities and only a couple of severe chest wounds to some of the warriors," Blake told him on a long exhale. "Doc D'Amato says they'll live."
"What. Fucking. Happened?" Liam snarled out, all his earlier joy from the night out completely disintegrated into red-hot fury.
"Don't know," Blake said. "Patrol was just heading out when they heard snarling and smelt the stench of rogue. They were able to get some of them before they got close enough to the houses, but half of them got away and started sniffing around. They acted like they were searching for something. You'd have to ask them what it is, though. We got three of them underground chained in silver, so you can ask them yourself."
Liam nodded and pulled the door to the underground cells open with one large hand. He skinned quickly down the stairs and didn't bother to greet the guard at the bottom. He simply moved past without a word until he was face to face with some of the filthiest mugs he had ever seen.
"The first one of you who talks, won't get a week of torture before I rip your head from your neck," Liam said, not mincing any words. "Now who has anything they’d like to say?"
A soft cackle greeted his ears and he snapped his head to the last cell on his left.
"You!" Liam growled out, moving towards the cell in question. "What's so fucking funny, mutt?"
"So, you're the man who has Jeremiah all hot and bothered about taking back his little Luna," the man said with a sadistic little grin. “He never said you were such a tall drink of water, thoug
h. I'm surprised."
"Jeremiah all but rejected his mate," Liam gritted out. "She was practically dead when we found her and would have died soon after if we hadn't gotten her help."
"Still, the little bitch is his female," the man said, his rotting yellow teeth peeping out as he smiled. "She is his to see to. If he wants her dead, she would be dead."
"She's mine!" Liam decreed, his eyes changing to the amber hue of his wolf's. "I claimed her and she is my mate! Jeremiah can choose someone else to be his Luna."
"But he doesn't want another Luna, you idiotic boy," the man told him. "He wants her. Oh, he won't admit that to anyone, but it's as plain as day. He won't give up until one of the three of you is dead. My money is on the Omega. She'll probably try to do something stupid and heroic and get her ass killed in the mix."
"Don't," Liam warned him. "Elle wouldn't do that. She's smarter than that."
"Elle, you say?" The man sounded suspicious. "I thought her name was Giselle."
"Her name could be Mud and it wouldn't matter to you, vermin," Liam bit out. "I assume that Jeremiah put you and your gang of mutts up to this. What did he promise you? Money? A place in his pack?"
"Oh, I don't need the money myself," the man told him. "And I could give two fucks about being in his pack. What I really wanted is retribution."
"Retribution? What for?" Liam asked, confused. The man had surprised him.
"Little Giselle there – your mate? She's my dear, sweet cousin," the man told him. "My name is Jackson Kincaid and Giselle's father is the reason I was made rogue in the first place."
∞∞∞
"Halt! Who goes there?" a voice called out as soon as they could smell the scent of the foreign shifter.
"It's me," the other voice called out. "I wish to speak to your leader."
"Who are you and what do you want with our Alpha?" asked the man. He looked to be in his early twenties with wide shoulders and a trim waistline. His stature was tense, though he knew the person was not a filthy rogue.