Page 4 of The Demon’s Sinful Serenade (Silvermist Mates #6)

CHAPTER THREE

ZANE

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, watching the cottage through my sunglasses. Quaint. Isolated. Defensively nightmarish.

Too many trees created blind spots. The gravel driveway announced visitors, but the slightly overgrown grass masked footsteps once someone left their vehicle. One road in, same road out. If someone wanted to trap you here, they'd have an easy time of it.

River shifted in the passenger seat, her scent filling the enclosed space.

Rain and citrus. Earth and ozone. The same intoxicating combination that had kept me awake half the night on that uncomfortable lobby couch, my body humming with awareness while my brain ran scenarios of everything that could go wrong.

Your flames will burn brightest in the shadow of death.

I'd replayed that night in Prague a hundred times, searching for clues I might have missed. Was I supposed to protect River from this threat, or was I somehow part of it? Was finding her a blessing or a curse?

"We going in, or are you planning to stare at trees all day?" she asked.

I turned to find her watching me, one eyebrow arched. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, but her voice held steady. Tough. I liked that.

"Just assessing the security situation," I said, killing the engine. "This isn't one of the typical tourist rentals."

River blinked. "How would you know that?"

"Too far from town. No neighboring properties. Private road." I nodded toward the cottage. "Your place?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you stalking me now?"

I snorted. "River Rathbone, thirty-five, from Silvermist Falls originally.

Left at eighteen to pursue music, returned sporadically for holidays until about five years ago.

Career highlights include three increasingly successful albums with River & Rath, a single that charted for six weeks, a sold-out regional tour, and performances at eight major festivals. "

Her eyes widened. "How?—"

"I did some research after you went to sleep." I shrugged, checking the mirrors again. "Just be glad you bullied me into protection. I'm much more comfortable punching the problem than snooping. Malak would know all your dirty digital secrets in ten minutes."

She stared at me, expression caught between impressed and disturbed. "Ten minutes, huh?"

"Five if he's particularly motivated."

That earned me a small smile. She gestured vaguely toward the center of town. "I grew up about ten minutes from here. My parents moved to Arizona three years ago. This place belongs to Poppy's aunt. She rents it out to visitors, but Poppy arranged it for me while I'm in town for the festival."

I nodded, scanning the surroundings one more time. Nothing moved except the branches in the breeze. Still, my instincts hummed with tension, that same hyperawareness I'd felt since she'd walked into the compound.

"Stay here," I said, reaching for the door handle. "I'll check the perimeter."

"I'm not sitting in the car while you play commando," River protested, already unbuckling her seatbelt. "It's my rental."

"And my job is to keep you alive." I held out my hand. "Keys."

She crossed her arms. "I'm not giving you my?—"

I plucked the keys from her jacket pocket while she was mid-sentence. Her mouth fell open in indignation.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." I pocketed the keys and stepped out of the car. "Lock the doors behind me."

The exasperated huff that followed me out of the vehicle was oddly satisfying.

I heard the click of the locks as I made my way toward the cottage, every sense on high alert.

The gravel crunched, and the grass softened the sound of my steps, as expected.

Birds called from the surrounding trees, their normal patterns undisturbed.

I circled the property twice, checking for signs of surveillance or tampering. Nothing seemed immediately out of place, but that meant little. If someone was determined enough to follow River across the country, they wouldn't leave obvious traces.

The cottage door opened easily with the key. Inside, the space was cozy but sparse—clearly a rental property with just enough personality to feel homey without being cluttered. I moved through each room methodically, checking closets, under furniture, behind shower curtains.

After fifteen minutes of thorough inspection, I returned to the car.

River had her head tipped back against the headrest, eyes closed, fingers tapping out a rhythm on her thigh.

The morning light caught in her blue curls, turning them almost silver at the edges.

Something in my chest twisted painfully.

I rapped my knuckles against the window. She jumped, then glared at me before unlocking the doors.

"All clear," I said as she stepped out. "But we need to secure a few vulnerable points."

"Did you check under the bed for monsters, too?" The sarcasm in her voice didn't quite mask the genuine relief in her eyes.

"No monsters." I handed back her keys. "Just a laughably shitty lock on the back door and a window that might as well be propped open with an engraved invitation."

She followed me up the porch steps, close enough that her scent wrapped around me with every breath.

My skin prickled with awareness. Every instinct urged me to pull her closer, to wrap myself around her until nothing could reach her.

I forced myself to maintain distance, to remember she was a client who had no idea what we were to each other.

Your flames will burn brightest in the shadow of death.

I needed her alive. I needed to focus on keeping her alive.

"Bring your things to the living room," I said as we entered. "Suitcase, guitar case, purse, phone, anything you brought with you."

River stared at me as if I'd asked her to strip naked. "Why? What are you looking for?"

"Trackers. Bugs. Anything that shouldn't be there." I dropped my duffel and started unpacking. Compact motion sensors. Miniature cameras. Scanners. Nothing that would damage the property, but the tradeoff meant not as easily hidden. "Your stalker's finding you somehow."

She hesitated, clutching her guitar case to her chest like a shield. "The police checked my car twice. My former manager hired a security consultant who went through all my equipment."

"They were not me." Or Malak, but I'd picked up enough over the years to handle the basics. Plus, I woke his ass up for a long-distance checklist of equipment. He'd coughed up the information and promised to send Rava home early so I'd have some backup.

Something in my expression must have convinced her. She nodded once, then carefully laid her guitar case on the coffee table. Her hands lingered on the worn leather for a moment before she stepped back.

"I'll be careful," I promised.

I swept the scanner over the case's exterior first, then had her open it. The guitar inside was beautiful polished wood with subtle inlays along the neck. Moving methodically, I checked every inch of the instrument, every tuning peg, every strap connection I could reach. Nothing.

"This is nice," I said, carefully lifting it out. "How long have you been playing?"

"Since I was twelve." Her fingers twitched like she wanted to snatch it back.

"My dad taught me the basics, and I just..

. never stopped." At my urging, she held it aloft, running her fingers over the guitar's worn finish as I scanned the sides and back.

"This was his, actually. He gave it to me when I started doing open mic nights at One Hop Stop at sixteen. "

"You've been playing there that long?"

"It was my first proper stage. I was terrified the first time, and definitely puked in the bathroom before going on." She let off a self-deprecating laugh. "But once I started playing, everything else just... faded away. It was just me and the music."

I nodded, understanding the attachment to a reliable weapon. I had blades like that, ones that had saved my life so many times they felt like extensions of my body.

Now, they would be put to use protecting her . My mate.

I swept a hand over the motion sensors like a dealer showing off at a card game. "I'll install these while you get the rest of your stuff. We'll know if anyone sneaks in while you're performing."

"You make it sound so easy." She set the guitar back in its case. "Like this is just another Tuesday for you."

"It's Thursday." I positioned a sensor near the front window. "And yeah, this is basic. If I had Rava and Malak, we'd have the place locked down tight in thirty minutes with thermal imaging and a detection grid that could spot a ghost fart."

She snorted from the bedroom. "Ghost fart?"

"You know what I mean." I moved to the back door, eyeing up angles for a temporary camera. "Rava's got this trick with magical trip wires. Malak can hack anything with a chip in it. Between the three of us, we've got most bases covered."

"And your boss? Kaz, right?"

I eyed her, fairly certain I hadn't mentioned Kaz by name…

"You're not the only one capable of operating a search engine," she said primly as she dumped a suitcase, purse, and backpack in the center of the living room. "Do you mind if I practice a bit? I need to obsess over my set list, and ultimately change nothing, before tonight."

"Front row at a free show? Go right ahead." I turned my attention back to installing a motion sensor above the kitchen window. "Just… don't wander off. Stay where I can see you."

River settled back on the couch, guitar in her lap, and began tuning it by ear. The simple exercises gradually shifted into melodies, fragments of songs that teased at the edge of my recognition. I found myself slowing my work, ears straining to catch each note.

Occasionally she'd pause, hum something to herself, then try a different progression. Without seeming to think about it, she started making up lyrics about the cottage.

" Old wooden floors that creak when you walk, windows that rattle when the wind starts to talk... "