Page 8 of The Demon’s Sinful Serenade (Silvermist Mates #6)

CHAPTER FIVE

ZANE

I flipped the blade between my fingers, watching the overhead lights catch on the metal as it spun.

Bad habit. Dangerous habit. If Kaz were here instead of handling royal bullshit at court, he'd snatch it midair and give me that look—the one that said I was embarrassing the clan in front of clients.

But Kaz wasn't here, and River's eyes followed each rotation with undisguised fascination. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip as she tracked the knife's path between my fingers. Her hands twitched against her thigh restlessly, like she fought the urge to reach out.

Something about her attention made my skin heat. Made me want to show off.

I flipped the knife again, higher this time, adding a second rotation before catching it by the handle without looking.

"Is that really necessary?" Poppy asked, perched on the edge of a chair like she might bolt any second. "Or are you just trying to lose a finger?"

River's lips quirked up at the corners, and something in my chest tightened. Her scent had changed since the bathroom incident, still rain and citrus, but sharper now. Afraid. The sight of her dead bandmate had rattled her more than she wanted to admit.

Every few seconds, she'd glance at the door, then the clock, then shift her weight to her other foot or pace away a few steps.

Watching her move was a special kind of torture.

My lips still burned from our kiss, the taste of her lingering like a drug I couldn't shake.

I'd wanted to devour her right there, to claim what the mate bond told me was already mine.

But she didn't know. Couldn't feel it the way I did. And pushing her now, when she was vulnerable and afraid, would make me no better than the opportunistic bastards I'd spent my career hunting down.

I flipped the knife again.

"I still think we're making too big a deal of this," River said, arms crossing tightly over her chest. "It could have been a trick of the light. Or stress-induced hallucination."

"You saw him," I reminded her. "I saw him. And neither of us hallucinated your equipment failures or the light nearly crushing you."

"But a ghost? Really?"

"You hired demon mercenaries to handle your stalker problem," I pointed out. "Is a ghost that much harder to believe?"

River scowled at me, but there was no real heat behind it. More like she was going through the motions of being difficult because it was safer than admitting she was scared shitless.

I wanted to pull her into my arms. Tell her it would be okay. That I wouldn't let anything happen to her.

She's not yours. Not yet.

But gods, I wanted her to be.

I gently tugged River aside, my hand lingering on her elbow. "Come here."

She shot me a puzzled look. "Why?"

"Because—"

A cloud of crimson smoke erupted in the exact spot where she'd been standing. River jumped back with a startled yelp as Rava and Zral materialized, Miranda between them. The witch looked greener than the orc, one hand pressed to her stomach.

"Holy shit!" River clutched at my arm, her fingers digging into my bicep. "You could have warned me about the smoke show entrance!"

I shrugged, fighting a smile at her wide-eyed reaction. "More fun this way."

"Fun for who?" Miranda muttered. "Next time, I'm driving."

"You get used to it," Rava said, patting her shoulder before spotting me. Her tail lashed behind her. "This better be worth leaving Malak to handle surveillance alone. He's going to milk this for weeks."

"Nice to see you too, Rava." I nodded toward Zral. "Thanks for the backup."

The orc gave me a lazy salute. "Wouldn't miss it. Rava promised family drama and a chance to watch you squirm."

"I did not say squirm," Rava protested, but her smirk said otherwise.

Miranda brushed her dress free of imagined wrinkles. At least her color was looking better. "I was in the middle of prepping inventory for the music festival, so this better be apocalyptic."

River leaned closer to me, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Are they always this cheerful?"

"Only on good days." I turned to make introductions. "Everyone, this is River Rathbone, my client. River, meet Rava Kadhan, her mate Zral Shieldthorn, and Miranda Crowell."

"Hannah's on her way," Zral offered. "Galan said she just finished her shift at the hospital."

Right on cue, someone pounded their fist against the entrance. I buzzed open the door, then swung it wide. Hannah stepped inside, red-gold hair pulled back in a messy bun and dark circles under her eyes betraying her long day. She nodded a greeting to the room as we rounded out the introductions.

"Perfect." I gestured toward the conference room. "I called you all here to discuss an exorcism."

Rava's eyebrows shot up. "Look at you, thinking through a problem before trying to punch it. I'm impressed. Personal growth."

"I can, occasionally, rub two brain cells together," I growled back.

"When did you get a second one?" she asked sweetly.

I flipped her off, which only made her grin wider.

We filed into the conference room, with Poppy taking charge of getting everyone settled. River stayed close to my side, her scent a constant reminder of why I'd called in reinforcements. Once everyone had found their places around the table, I cleared my throat.

I turned my attention to the three witches. "So, you're like a little coven, right?"

All three women grimaced simultaneously.

"Think of it more as three very different cats in a feral colony," Hannah said dryly.

The room erupted in snorts and laughter. Even River cracked a smile, some of the tension easing from her shoulders.

"Here's the situation." I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table.

"River hired us for protection after a series of accidents during her performances.

We initially thought it might be a stalker, but tonight we both saw something in the bathroom at One Hop Stop.

" I glanced at River. "A shadow figure that looked like her former bandmate, Julian Rathaway. "

"Who's been dead for a year," River added quietly.

The easy atmosphere evaporated. River's fingers curled into fists on her lap as five pairs of eyes fixed on her.

Miranda straightened in her chair. "You're saying she's being haunted?"

"That's our working theory," I confirmed. I went over the rest of the details and steps taken from my end. Which was not much, admittedly. Plugging in a few bits and bobs didn't do shit against the tailor-made horror movie of that bathroom reveal.

River laid out her side of things as coldly and clinically as when I first heard the story. She kept her voice steady, but her fingers found their way to her lap, drumming and twisting against her thigh. I resisted the urge to reach for her hand.

She wrapped up her story, her voice trailing off like the last notes of a song nobody wanted to hear.

I watched the witches' reactions—the slight narrowing of Miranda's eyes, Hannah's analytical head tilt, the frown tugging at the corners of Poppy's mouth.

The silence stretched uncomfortably, filled with unspoken questions.

Even Rava's tail had gone still, a sure sign she'd caught the scent of something important being left unsaid.

Poppy said gently, "River, they can't help if they don't know everything."

"It's nothing." River shook her head. "Just... stupid guilt."

"About what?" Miranda leaned forward, her expression softening.

River remained silent, jaw clenched.

"River." Poppy's voice held a note of steel I hadn't expected from the baker. "Tell them. All of it."

River exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Fine. Julian and I had a fight the night he died.

A big one. He'd been spiraling for months, missing rehearsals, showing up high to gigs.

It was affecting his playing, his writing.

.. everything. We were supposed to be the opening act for a European tour, our biggest break yet. "

She paused, swallowing hard. "I told him he needed to go to rehab, or I was pulling the plug on the tour.

He accused me of trying to control him and said I was jealous of his talent.

Then he..." Her voice cracked. "He threatened to tell everyone I'd been stealing his songs. Taking credit for his work."

"Was there any truth to that?" Hannah asked.

"No!" River's head snapped up, eyes flashing. "We wrote together. Always. I have notebooks filled with both our scribbles. I never thought he'd stoop to such an easily disprovable lie."

I fought down a growl. Dead or not, I already hated this Julian.

She took a shaky breath. "So, I left. Told him to call me when he was sober and ready to be professional again. He was dead by morning."

The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of her confession.

The pain in her voice made my chest ache.

I wanted to go to her, to hold her until she stopped hurting.

To assure her that she had done nothing wrong, that she had no fault in this, that she didn't deserve the harassment of an asshole in life or death.

But I couldn't. Not now, with everyone watching. Later, I told myself. After we figured this out and dealt with whatever was targeting her.

"The question is, what kind of entity are we dealing with? A true ghost? A poltergeist?" Hannah tapped her fingers against the table, thinking. "What about a manifestation?"

"A manifestation?" River repeated in disbelief. "You think I'm causing this? That it's all in my head?"

I could see the hurt in her eyes, the fear of not being believed yet again. I opened my mouth to defend her, but Miranda beat me to it.

"Not exactly," Miranda clarified. "Sometimes intense emotions can forge a link between the living and the dead, especially if there's unresolved business.

It doesn't mean you're imagining things.

It means your grief and guilt created a pathway for Julian's spirit to follow.

That can be catnip to a troubled spirit. "