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

CHAPTER FOUR

RIVER

" A fter you." Zane held the door to One Hop Stop open, his golden eyes scanning the interior even as he gestured for me to enter.

The familiar scent of hops and cedar hit me as we stepped inside, mixed with the usual chatter of early evening regulars. Vanin looked up from behind the bar and nodded in our direction. A few patrons turned to watch us pass, but most were absorbed in their drinks and conversations.

"Straight to the stage area," Zane said, his voice low and close to my ear. "I need to do a sweep around the place. Check for anything unusual."

"Yes, sir." I gave him an exaggerated salute, complete with a heel click. "Any other orders? Roll over? Play dead?"

His gaze traveled slowly down my body, then back up, the heat in it making my skin tingle. "Let's save the obedience training for later."

Oh. That tone did things to my insides that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way he'd been looking at me all day. The careful attention, the protective stance, the quiet moments when I'd catch him watching me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.

Today had been... fun. Despite the circumstances, despite the reason he was here at all, I'd laughed more than I had in months. Maybe longer. When was the last time I'd felt this light? This hopeful?

Since before Julian died, I realized with a start.

I pushed the thought away. No. I wouldn't let Julian's ghost haunt this moment, too.

I watched Zane go, appreciating the way his black t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, and how his jeans hugged his thighs.

He'd swapped his tactical pockets and holsters for more casual attire to blend in with the bar crowd, but there was no disguising the predatory slink in his movements.

My stomach did a little flip. Stop it , I told myself firmly. He's working. You're his job .

Plus, there was the whole pesky business of somehow salvaging a career once all this was over.

I turned my attention to setting up, removing my guitar from its case and checking the tuning. The familiar ritual focused my nerves where they belonged. This was what I knew. This was home.

I strummed a few chords, letting the sound wash over me as Zane spoke with Vanin and craned his neck to eyeball the ceiling fixtures with suspicion. After a brief back-and-forth, he seemed satisfied enough to continue on his circuit.

The sound check went smoothly. I adjusted the levels, tested the monitors, and ran through a quick scale. Everything seemed to work perfectly. No feedback, no electrical issues. Maybe my luck was finally changing.

That's when I saw it.

A figure slipped between two groups of people, moving with unnatural fluidity. One moment visible, the next obscured, as if the shadows themselves were parting to let them through. No one else seemed to notice, conversations continuing uninterrupted as the figure weaved closer to the stage.

My fingers stilled on the strings.

"Zane," I called, my voice barely audible over the crowd noise. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder. "Zane!"

He whipped around, instantly alert. I pointed toward where I'd seen the figure, but when I looked back, there was nothing there. Just people drinking, laughing, waiting for the show.

Zane was at my side in seconds, one hand on my elbow. "What did you see?"

"I—" I faltered, suddenly uncertain. Had I imagined it? "There was someone... some thing ... moving through the crowd. Like they were invisible to everyone else."

His eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. "Where?"

"By the back wall, but they're gone now." I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the crowded bar. "I'm not crazy. I saw something."

"I believe you." His voice was firm, with no hesitation.

Those three words nearly broke me. Not once, not once since hearing me out, had he made me feel like I was making up the stalker. Even Poppy wanted to believe I'd lost myself to grief. If something happened to Zane, who would believe me then?

"We need to get you somewhere secure." Zane's hand tightened around my upper arm. "Now."

"But the show?—"

"Can wait." He was already moving, guiding me toward the back of the bar. "Vanin's office should be safe."

I glanced back at the crowd. "Shouldn't we stay where there are witnesses? Safety in numbers and all that?"

"Not if whoever's after you can move through a crowd undetected," Zane countered, still scanning the room as we moved. "I need you somewhere I can control the environment."

We were almost to the hallway leading to Vanin's office when a figure darted around the corner.

Zane reacted instantly, shoving me behind him and dropping into a defensive stance a split second before the figure collided with his chest. The impact sent a small box flying, cookies scattering across the floor.

"Oh!" Poppy stumbled back, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry! I was just?—"

"It's fine," Zane cut her off, still tense as he scanned the area behind her. "Are you alone?"

Confusion raced across her expression as she slowly lowered the hood of her jacket. Her dark jacket. I felt like an idiot.

"Yes? I was bringing River her good-luck cookies." She glanced between us, her smile fading. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Here was Poppy, bringing me a thoughtful gift, and I'd ruined it with my paranoia. "It's nothing. I just thought I saw something in the crowd."

The adrenaline coursing through my veins made my hands shake as I stepped out from behind Zane's protective bulk.

Heat radiated from his body, and I could smell smoke and steel, stronger now than usual.

My heart hammered against my ribs, partly from the false alarm and partly from the way he'd moved to shield me without hesitation.

He threw himself between me and danger. Even when the danger turned out to be my best friend with baked goods.

"I'm sorry about the cookies," I said to Poppy, gesturing at the mess on the floor.

"Don't worry about it. I just wanted to bring these before your set." She paused, studying my face. "Are you sure you're okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Just jumpy," I lied. Better that than admit the shadows were coming for me. "Pre-show nerves."

Poppy didn't look convinced, but before she could press further, Zane's phone rang. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and frowned.

"I need to take this," he said, stepping slightly away but keeping me within arm's reach. "It's Malak with updates on the security arrangements."

At the mention of Malak's name, Poppy's eyes widened and a flush spread across her cheeks. She quickly knelt down to gather the scattered cookies, focusing on the task with unusual care.

"Okay, spill," I said, dropping to help Poppy with the mess.

"Spill what?" But her blush deepened, betraying her.

"That blush says everything. What's going on with you and the tech demon?"

"Ifrit," Poppy corrected automatically, then looked embarrassed at her quick defense.

I raised an eyebrow, noting this was the second time she'd made that distinction in my hearing. There was definitely more to this story than she was letting on.

"Fine. What's going on with you and the tech ifrit?"

She sighed, casting a glance at Zane to make sure he wasn't listening too closely. "It's complicated. He came on strong with the charm when they first moved to town. We had a lot of fun when he was around, but..."

"But?"

"But then I started thinking about what it would mean to be with someone who does what he does. They hunt things that would give most people nightmares. I'd already lost my grandmother, and the thought of caring about someone who might not come home..." She shrugged helplessly.

I nodded, understanding all too well the reality of losing someone. "So, you ended it?"

"I didn't want to. I only wanted to talk about precautions. Get some assurances he would not end up dead for a stupid reason." She grimaced. "He didn't take it well. He said any mate would accept him as he is, just as he accepted me."

"Mate?" I blinked. "Like... fated mate? Poppy! Are you for real?"

"Very real." Poppy's expression turned wistful. "That's what made it worse. He dropped that bomb on me in the middle of our argument. Like, 'by the way, we're destined soulmates, but clearly you don't want that.' Such bullshit."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." She shook her head. "I didn't handle it well, either. I told him I didn't believe in fate dictating who I should be with. That I had a choice."

"And you didn't want to be his mate?" Wow. Poppy and I always picked up right where we left off, but mate bonds and supernatural destiny? There was clearly more catching up than cookie drop-offs or bodyguard introductions could handle.

"It's not that simple. The mate bond doesn't force you to be together. You can reject it. But once you know it's there..." She trailed off, looking lost. "It's supposed to be this incredible thing. This perfect match. And all I could think about was how I'd feel if something happened to him."

I squeezed her hand. "So, what happened?"

"I told him I needed time to think. It's been three months." She glanced at Zane again, who was still on the phone but watching us intently. "It's not easy loving someone who risks their life regularly."

I nodded, thinking of all the musicians I'd known who'd lost themselves to drugs, to the road, to the lifestyle. Julian included. "No, it's not."

Poppy squeezed my arm. "I should let you get ready for your set. Break a leg, okay? I'll be right in the front, cheering embarrassingly loud."

"Thanks, Pops." I pulled her into a quick hug. "For everything."

I watched Poppy drop the spoiled cookies in a trashcan and weave through the crowd, a twinge of envy following her. What would it be like to have someone care about you enough to call you their mate? What if you met them at the wrong time? What if you weren't ready?

What if they didn't want you back?