Page 12 of The Demon’s Sinful Serenade (Silvermist Mates #6)

CHAPTER SEVEN

RIVER

G litter fell from my eyelid as I blinked, the tiny speck catching light before drifting downward into my lap. The portable mirror reflected a face I barely recognized. All sharp contours and dramatic shadows, heavy black eyeliner and shimmery eye shadow.

And a huge smile.

The bass line thumped through my chest, joining the rush of pre-show nerves coursing through my veins. But for once, the anxiety wasn't overwhelming. It didn't threaten to swallow me whole.

He's gone. Really gone.

The thought still felt strange, like pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurt. Julian had haunted me in more ways than one, and though the witches had banished his spirit, part of me kept expecting to see his shadow lurking in corners or feel his presence behind me.

"Fifteen minutes, Ms. Rathbone."

I glanced toward the festival stagehand hovering in the doorway of my makeshift dressing room—really just a partitioned section of a larger tent with a folding table and mirror. "Thanks."

When he disappeared, I turned back to the mirror, taking one final inventory.

The silky black slip dress shone under the string lights, its hem kissing my fishnet-clad thighs.

Ankle boots and heavy bracelets completed the look, the latter a recent addition thanks to Poppy.

Charms infused with protective wards were woven between the metal bands and looked, frankly, badass.

"You've got this," I whispered to my reflection.

A soft knock pulled my attention away from my reflection.

"Decent?" Zane's voice carried through the thin fabric separating us.

"Never," I answered, unable to help the smile that curved my lips. "But you can come in, anyway."

The partition rustled as Zane pushed through with a white bakery box balanced in one hand.

My breath caught at the sight of him. In dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled to show off those forearms, he looked good enough to eat.

His horns gleamed under the string lights, freshly polished.

"Poppy's good luck cookies," he said, setting the box beside my makeup. "She made me swear on my tail I'd deliver them before you went on." His eyes traced over me, and heat built in his gaze. "You look incredible."

"You clean up pretty nice yourself." I rose from my seat, crossing the small space to stand before him. "Very bodyguard chic."

His tail curled around my ankle in a possessive gesture that sent a thrill up my spine. "All the look, none of the responsibility."

"Hmm." I smoothed my hands up his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him through the fabric. "Just here to watch the show then?"

"Something like that." His large hands settled on my waist, thumbs stroking over the silky material of my dress.

The contact sparked along my skin like the opening notes of a favorite song.

"Although I did notice the security setup is shit.

Three drunk shifters and a dryad who keeps checking her phone? Shameful."

I laughed at the disgust in his tone, leaning into him. "Such a professional critique."

"I take my work seriously." His expression sobered slightly. "Your safety especially."

The tenderness in his voice wrapped around me, warm and unexpected. We hadn't talked about where this was going or what it all meant—what we meant. Hell, I wasn't even sure what I wanted it to mean.

Liar. You know exactly what you want.

I tore open the bakery box, needing an excuse to hide the sudden flush rising in my cheeks.

We'd been too busy recovering from the exorcism, preparing for tonight, stealing moments to touch and taste and discover each other's bodies.

But I'd caught myself thinking about after.

About what came next, when the festival was over and my career started moving again.

About whether he'd be part of that future.

"So." I kept my tone casual, testing the waters. "Hypothetically, if tonight goes well, there's a folk festival in Portland next month. The booker swung by about filling in for someone who had to drop out."

His expression remained neutral, but his tail tightened fractionally around my ankle. "Portland's nice this time of year."

"You've been?"

"Been there once or twice on jobs." He shrugged. "Can't imagine their security's better than this place, but I could make some calls. Set up something stronger."

I bit my lip to hide my smile. We were both dancing around this thing, planning around each other without admitting we're planning around each other.

"That would be helpful." I traced the collar of his shirt. "And there's a showcase in Seattle the week after. If you're not busy with… whatever ifrit mercenaries do when they're not babysitting musicians."

A slow grin spread across his face. "I could probably clear my schedule."

The stagehand tapped the canvas. "Five minutes, Ms. Rathbone."

A loud cheer erupted from outside the tent as the band before me launched into their biggest hit and final song of their set. We both glanced toward the sound before our eyes met again.

"I should get out there," I said, reluctance weighing the words.

He nodded, but didn't release me. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. "Knock 'em dead, kitten."

The nickname sent warmth spreading through my chest. I tilted my face up, stealing a quick kiss before pulling away to crack open my guitar case. I slung the strap across my body and dug a pick from my stash. With a final nervous smile, I headed for the stage stairs.

The crowd's energy hit me like a physical force the moment I stepped onto the stage. Hundreds of faces turned toward me, expectant and eager beneath the festival lights. My heart pounded as I positioned myself at the mic, adjusting the guitar strap across my body.

"Hey, Silvermist," I called out, my voice carrying across the field. "It's good to be home."

The cheer that followed vibrated through me, and I let myself sink into it, drawing strength from their enthusiasm. This was why I'd fought so hard to come back. For this connection, this rush, this feeling of being exactly where I belonged.

I launched into my opening song, fingers finding the chords instinctively as the music poured through me. Each note felt clearer, brighter than before, as if Julian's shadow had been muffling them all this time. The crowd responded, swaying and singing along to the chorus.

Halfway through my set, I paused to catch my breath, scanning the sea of faces.

I spotted Zane near the side of the stage, arms crossed over his chest as he watched me with naked pride in his eyes.

The sight sent a flush of heat through me, remembering how those same eyes had looked at me in the darkness of my bedroom, how his hands had explored every inch of me, how his mouth had?—

"This next one is brand new," I told the audience, shifting the capo on my guitar. "Something I've been working on about finding light after darkness."

The crowd settled as I began the opening notes, a gentle melody that built gradually in intensity. I swayed, letting the music flow through me, each word carrying a piece of my journey back from the brink.

The lights flickered briefly overhead, just a quick dimming before brightening again.

I faltered for half a beat before continuing, dismissing it as typical festival tech issues.

The massive generators powering the event weren't always reliable.

Too many acts, too much equipment, something always went wonky.

Julian was gone. It couldn't be him.

But as I moved into the bridge, something shifted.

A strange sensation crept over me, starting at my fingertips where they pressed against the strings.

A cold numbness spread slowly up my arms, into my chest, toward my throat.

The bracelets warmed against my skin. I tried to focus on the lyrics, on maintaining the rhythm, but my movements felt less precise, as if I were playing through thick gloves.

What the fuck?

The crowd's energy felt different. Hungrier. Their faces seemed to blur together into a mass of wanting eyes and grasping hands. My guitar felt heavier, breathing harder. I felt disconnected, like I was watching someone else perform while I floated somewhere behind my own eyes.

Stop. Something's wrong.

But I couldn't stop. I tried to look toward Zane, to anchor myself in his steady presence, but my head wouldn't turn. Panic rose in my throat as I realized I was no longer controlling my own movements.

I fought against it, struggling to regain control, but it was like trying to swim against a riptide. The more I fought, the stronger the current became, pulling me further from the surface. My voice continued singing, my fingers kept playing, but I wasn't the one driving anymore.

My fingers gripped the guitar pick tighter as I played, the small piece of plastic burning with unnatural coldness against my skin.

The bracelets on my wrists burned hot now, fighting against whatever was happening.

Through the fog of my trapped consciousness, a horrible realization formed: this was Julian's pick.

The same one we'd used in the banishment ritual.

Somehow, it had found its way back into my collection.

No, no, no. This isn't possible. We banished him.

Cold realization washed over me as I felt another consciousness stretching within my mind, filling the spaces, pushing me aside. Not gone. Julian wasn't gone at all. He'd been waiting, gathering strength, biding his time.

I screamed inside my own head, but my mouth kept singing, my face smiling at the crowd who had no idea that the person performing for them wasn't me anymore. I could feel Julian's satisfaction, his triumph as he settled more firmly into control.

Get out! This is MY body!

His laughter echoed in my mind, mocking my helpless rage. I was trapped, a prisoner in my own skin, forced to watch as he played through the set and soaked in the thunderous applause that followed.

I fought continuously, throwing myself against the walls of my mental prison, searching for any weakness in his control. But each attempt left me weaker, my sense of self growing dimmer as Julian's presence expanded.

He's going to take everything from me. Again.

"Thank you, Silvermist!" Julian said with my voice, raising my arms in victory. "You have no idea how good it feels to be back on stage."

As he turned to leave, I saw Zane waiting in the wings with flowers in his hand and pride in his eyes. Julian spotted him too, and a cruel delight spread through our connection.

No, please. Not him. Don't hurt him.

My pleas meant nothing. Julian strode purposefully toward Zane, my hips swaying with an exaggerated movement that wasn't my natural gait. I could feel his intention forming, wanting nothing more than to destroy this new connection I'd formed and isolate me completely.

"You were incredible up there," Zane gushed.

Julian forced my face into a stiff smile. "Thanks for the flowers. Very sweet." He took them and immediately dropped them on a nearby equipment case. "But unnecessary."

My wrists throbbed painfully where the charm bracelets touched my skin. Julian kept tugging at them as if they were too tight, the metal bands itching like invisible ants crawling over my flesh.

Zane's expression shifted, confusion deepening. "River? Are you all right?"

"Never better," Julian replied, using my voice to deliver his poison. "Just seeing things clearly for the first time in a while."

"What does that mean?" Zane stiffened, and his tail went unnaturally still behind him.

Julian laughed, the sound all wrong coming from my throat.

"It means this little fling was fun, but let's not pretend it was going anywhere.

" He stepped closer, looking up at Zane with my eyes.

"What exactly did you think was happening here?

That I'd stick around Silvermist playing house with a demon when my career's finally back on track? "

I screamed inside my head, throwing everything I had against Julian's control, desperate to stop the words coming from my mouth.

Julian twisted at one of the bracelets, managing to loosen it just enough that it slid partway down my hand.

The protective magic weakened immediately, and I felt his control strengthen, helpless to prevent the cruelty being unleashed.

Zane scanned my face in disbelief. "You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" Julian scoffed. "Poor Zane. Sorry to break it to you, but you were convenient. A nice distraction while I got my shit together." He leaned in, dropping my voice to a cruel whisper. "But I don't need you anymore."

I felt Zane's eyes burning into my back as Julian walked my body away, heading deeper into the backstage area. His satisfaction pulsed through our shared consciousness, and I recoiled from the dark glee he took in crushing Zane's heart.

This isn't real. This isn't me. Zane, please, you have to know this isn't me.