Page 4 of Siren in Love (In Love #1)
Mike
M ike matched his steps to Corvin’s as they walked through the church doors.
Inside the building, colorful lighting and floral murals made the bar look like it was enchanted.
The original church had never had any stained-glass windows, so the owner’s solution was projecting artsy images up onto the tall walls.
It gave the effect of a slowly shifting kaleidoscope, and it was Mike’s second favorite feature after the live music.
Most of the tables were occupied, despite the early hour, and while Mike was wondering whether he’d have to use his siren song to get people to leave, Corvin moved left.
“You think we can fit?” he asked, looking over his shoulder while pointing at a small table hidden by the curvature of the wall.
I want to hold your hand. “Yeah, sure. Cozy is good, right?”
Corvin pressed his lips together, but his eyes sparkled. “Geez, buy me a drink before you get too cozy, or do you always move this fast? Maybe don’t answer that. Wait, what is that thing lawyers say?”
“Would you like to sign an NDA for me?”
Wild laughter broke out of Corvin, the notes forming a beautiful melody. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, cutting off the lovely tune, and looked at Mike with those big green eyes that were now framed with soft laugh lines. I did that. Okay, so far, this is going well.
Mike, daring once more, used the hand that still rested lightly on Corvin’s back to gently nudge him forward. “Let’s get our table before anyone else gets cozy there.”
“Okay, Mr. NDA. Will you make me sign one?”
Mike huffed. “Only if we go stealing exotic fruit together, and I didn’t have that planned for tonight.”
“Pity.”
“As your lawyer, I advise you to add an ‘allegedly’ whenever you talk about a felony.”
They walked past “confessional booths” that had been turned into photo booths, although outwardly they still had the gilded look of comfy places to talk about your sins.
Mike let go of Corvin when they got to the table and waited for Corvin to sit before he did.
“Really? Hmm, okay. Pity. Because, allegedly, we won’t have any sherbet this way.”
Mike’s breath hitched in his throat, and he was beginning to wonder whether this was really happening, whether it was really this easy to talk to someone so…different. Maybe my ancestors really are smiling on me, singing for me in the afterlife.
“Hey, if you’re craving sherbet later on, I’ll make you some.”
Corvin leaned on his arms. “We’ll see how the evening goes, Mike.”
Here, with the wall at Mike’s back and the lights shifting around the room, the wisdom of choosing the Old Church became obvious.
Corvin’s green eyes shimmered with a dark jade tint in the warm light, and Mike allowed himself a low hum, knowing Corvin didn’t have good enough hearing to pick that out over the background noise.
Corvin looked at the stage. “I completely forgot they’re having live music on the regular here now.”
Behind him, a table full of women burst out laughing at something one of them had said.
Mike hoped he’d hear more of Corvin’s laughter tonight.
But if I can get his moans… No. This is one date, our first date.
I want a second, and a third, and…I’d really love the right to brush his hair out of his eyes.
Mike folded his arms on the table and leaned in, mirroring Corvin. “It’s one of the reasons I like coming here. Most of the bands and singers are really good.”
“Ah, you’re a music aficionado.” Corvin shifted forward, and the menacing decaf cartoon cat stared at Mike as Corvin’s T-shirt stretched over his chest.
“Please don’t tell me you don’t like music.
It’s one thing if someone can’t tell whether a pineapple is ripe, another entirely if they don’t like music.
” Mike ran the back of a hand over his forehead in a mock swoon, knowing perfectly well he’d sing to Corvin until they found a tune the human liked.
Until they found music Corvin could enjoy.
And then I’ll sing that to him every day .
Corvin gave him a level look. “I will have you know that in exchange for food and shelter, my parents demanded that I learn to play the piano from an early age, so I can Bach you into a corner if I really, really have to. I even Mozart, but that’s about all I can H?ndel.”
Mike blinked. “Did you really just—”
Corvin nodded solemnly. “I dad joked, yes. Apologies. Now you’ve seen my dark side.”
Mike slid his right hand forward toward Corvin. “Don’t you worry. I consider that privileged information.”
Inwardly, some part of Mike melted into a bubbly, besotted puddle. He wanted to see Corvin at the piano, and he wouldn’t mind him being naked while his fingers tickled the ivories.
“Yeah? Better be careful. I might do it again.”
“I think I’d like that.” Mike let his voice drop once more, just barely keeping the siren song out of it.
Corvin stared at him for a full three seconds before saying, “Did you know melons have weddings because they cantaloupe?”
Mike, thanks to his courtroom training, kept a straight face. “No one will ever know.”
Before Corvin could respond, the women’s table behind him broke out in more noise again as they greeted a latecomer. The woman went around the group, greeting each person. People pushed their chairs back, stood. The lady directly behind Corvin was pulled into an enthusiastic hug.
Mike saw the latecomer’s heavy shoulder bag come toward the back of Corvin’s head, but he had no time to say or do anything before it connected with an ugly thud.
Corvin yelped, leaning over the table. The hugging women pulled apart and looked at him in shock. Mike jumped to his feet and rounded the table to bend over Corvin, who was pressing a hand against the back of his head while groaning.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” the weapons-grade purse owner said. “Are you okay?”
“Corvin?” Mike said, stroking his arm.
Corvin brought his hand around from the back of his head, and as he did, Mike saw the red of blood dulling Corvin’s golden hair.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” the woman with the handbag said. “It must’ve been that damn buckle.” She took a step back, looking a bit pale at the sight of the blood.
Mike looked at her and her friends, who seemed equally shocked.
“Napkins,” he demanded, voice steady but laced with a siren’s command. They gave him a handful, and without hesitation, he pressed them carefully against the back of Corvin’s head. Corvin winced.
“Sorry, honey.” Mike hummed, stroking Corvin’s arm down to the wrist with his free hand.
This isn’t how the evening was supposed to go. Fuck, he’s hurt. Fuck. Why didn’t I think to reserve a table in some quiet corner?
But it was too late for that now. Right now, it was time to take charge of the situation, and Mike had no trouble doing that.