Page 5 of Howl Me to the Moon (Moonlight Siren Supernatural Cruises #2)
CHAPTER 5
REX
T hrough practice the next day, I kicked myself for how I’d acted around Piper. Like a total idiot. I wouldn’t blame her if she avoided me from now on.
It didn’t help that my bandmates gave me crap about it.
“Real smooth with the ladies last night,” Van said when we met up.
I groaned. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Course not, we’re a band now, get used to it,” Damien added with a chortle. “You were as sleek as a selkie.”
Caleb grunted. “No talk about selkies.”
He was still pissed about the bass shifter I’d replaced. I didn’t blame him. It sounded like he was a real dick since he attacked a bandmate on stage during a show. How unprofessional. And what a letdown for anyone who came to see the show.
That was one thing I hated about musicians—when they got too big, their egos would explode, overpowering what was really important—the music. Not to mention the fans and connecting with them. Instead, these ego-driven monsters would get all bent out of shape about some minor shit that didn’t mean crap to anybody but themselves.
I ignored the ribbing to focus on our set, determined to do better than last night. The alternative was getting fired. What would I do then? Return to my former pack with the proverbial tail between my legs? Hell no. I’d rather kiss a serpent than apologize to my former alpha, a stubborn sleazeball. When he’d pushed my sister with his unwanted advances, I’d intervened. He thought as alpha he had rights to paw every unmated female in the pack. Pathetic. Especially as she’d found her true mate in another pack. He wouldn’t tolerate another wolf having what he thought he owned. We’d come to blows, and I’d left the pack. My sister, fortunately, was now happily living with her fated mate in a different pack. And me?
I was starting over while pushing forty. Fantastic. But I embraced this opportunity; I wanted it. So I’d prove myself as an integral part of the band, one without the ego and drama of the shifter I’d replaced. I couldn’t lose this gig.
I couldn’t be torn away from Piper.
No way. Although I didn’t know what to make of my wolf harping on about us being mates, I knew I had to see her again. And since we lived and worked together, I’d find a way to make that happen. Make a better second impression than the first. Let her see that I was more than a monosyllabic buffoon.
So I focused on playing well and threw myself into practice. We were playing a '70s classic rock show tonight and went through songs ranging from Black Sabbath to the Rolling Stones.
“Sounding good,” Van acknowledged with a nod.
That night, we returned to the Nocturnal Lounge and took our place at our instruments on the stage. While Van introduced us and welcomed the audience, I searched for Piper. No surprise, she wasn’t there. My wolf insisted we search for her, track her scent on the ship.
Knock it off, I admonished. We have a show to perform. And I didn’t have the headspace for any mistakes tonight. Besides, Piper was probably working, just like I was.
Bingo.
That was what I could do. I could go find her after our show. After all, I’d just be looking at art, like a regular passenger. Nothing wrong with that, right? It wasn’t stalker-ish at all.
Sort of…
Resolved that going to the art show would be my next move, I got into the music. All went smoothly that night, and when our set was done, my bandmates suggested we have a drink at the crew bar. I said I needed the restroom first, and during my escape, I checked out the ship’s daily schedule to see what art events were occurring. I’d missed an art lecture that afternoon, but there was a showing at midnight. Perfect. It would give me enough time to shoot the shit with the guys and then meander into the art show—like a completely normal art enthusiast.
Minutes ticked past as I drank an ale. Then it was finally time to go.
I raced to my room to change into something more fitting for the event and put on a black button-down shirt. As I headed to the Mermaid’s Gallery, where an art auction preview was taking place, I caught a hint of Piper’s scent amid all the other competing ones on deck. Once I had a whiff of it, that was all I could focus on.
I entered the vast space that was set up with countless paintings displayed on easels. Around the room, dark curtains twinkled with tiny lights, resembling a night sky. Crystal chandeliers cast dancing rainbow prisms overhead. Servers carried trays of champagne to the throngs of passengers in the room who gathered around paintings.
I tugged at the collar of my shirt and rolled my neck. My wolf was already restless, sensing she was nearby. Then I caught her scent—like cinnamon and the forest under moonlight. Piper stood near an abstract painting in an ornate frame, gesturing animatedly as she spoke to an older couple who dressed fancy in a formal suit and cocktail dress. She wore a crew uniform, a navy blue blazer and matching skirt. Although the color was drab, it made her rose-gold hair stand out, shimmering like gems.
Mate. My wolf surged forward, desperate to get closer.
Easy, I said. Let’s be casual.
Attempting to follow my advice, I walked toward her slowly, pretending to admire paintings along the way. At least some of these had something that made sense—landscapes, portraits—not those abstract blurs of color like in the one Piper was discussing with the couple.
While I approached, I brainstormed what to say. Something witty. Something charming. Definitely more than grunting out “bass.”
Piper laughed from across the room. My wolf perked up. The musical sound enchanted me, and I jerked in her direction.
Right into a server gliding past with a fresh tray of champagne glasses.
No. Oh no. No!
Despite my silent protest, the glasses flew from the tray, spraying me with cool champagne, and lunged to the ground. Where they shattered. Loudly.
All conversation ceased.
All attention turned our way.
I stood shocked, frozen, and dripping with champagne as everyone stared at me.
Including Piper.
The server apologized—as if he were the one who caused the turmoil—and handed me paper napkins. I finally broke from my statue state and said it was all my fault while attempting to help pick up shards of glass. In doing so, I sliced my fingertip.
Shit.
“Oh my.” Piper rushed over, carrying a handful of cocktail napkins. “Are you okay?”
My face burned hotter than a dragon's ass. “Totally fine.” I gulped. “I think the ship lurched.”
“I didn’t feel anything.” Her lips twitched into a smile as she pressed the napkins to my index finger. “At least it wasn't red wine.”
I grunted. “True.”
As she held my hand, keeping pressure on it, I inhaled her scent more deeply. My wolf rumbled with contentment inside, despite the scene he’d caused.
She tilted her head and gazed into my eyes. “What are you doing here, Rex?”
I cleared my throat and motioned out to the easels with my free hand. “I came to check out the art.”
“Oh really?” she asked, her tone a slight challenge, calling me on my bullshit.
“Yeah.” I gulped and glanced around, searching for a lifeline. Spotting the painting she’d discussed animatedly with the older couple who had moved on, I gestured toward it. “That one in particular. Can you tell me about it?”