The Last Lullaby (The Spellsinger Book 1) Page 30

  I undulated my hips and melted into the dark tempo, the erotically eerie music. The words came easily, but I couldn't focus on them. I was too intent on Banning. Oh gods, what was he doing there? How had he found me? And then the important question: how did I feel about it?

  I swayed with the bass, my eyes closing as I felt the rise of emotions brought on by the sorrowful song. Heartbreak for Torin, regret that I hadn't given Banning a chance, fear that it would end badly if I tried to be with the blooder now, and an ache for causing him the same kind of pain Torin had saddled me with. The longing in the lyrics became my own; the apology in the words was my personal lament.

  Banning's eyes sparked and brightened in the shadows. His chest was rising and falling steadily, but intensely, and his hands were clenching at his sides. A woman tried to approach him, and he waved her away without removing that mesmerizing stare from mine.

  The lines lifted from self-blame into something hopeful, something pensive, and I felt like I was speaking my truths directly to Banning. Did we end with Fortune's death? Was that all there was for us? I felt my face shifting with the strength of my emotions, begging him to understand. What if we tried to be together, and it wasn't the same? Doubts had been bubbling up inside me since the moment I'd seen my own face tattooed upon his arm. Now they were surfacing in full force. Torin wasn't standing between us any longer. There was nothing to hide behind. So now I had to face those fears. Face Banning.

  The music pulsed on, vibrating through my blood, as I made this strange, lilting appeal to a man I had loved in a previous life. When the song finally groaned its way into its conclusion, he slowly nodded, acknowledging everything that had passed between us. There was understanding in the tilt of his head, and smooth satisfaction in the twitch of his lips. He leaned back farther, crossed his arms, and settled in to wait for me. Yes, he'd waited a long time already, but he didn't care one whit.

  I turned away from him determinedly, heading into a corner of the stage to secretly remove my steel and onyx bracelets. It was time to work, and I needed to push thoughts of Banning out of my head or I'd be swaying him as well as the loup. On my way back to the mic, I told the band what song was next: “Glory Box” by Portishead. It was a risky choice for the situation, a twisted sort of love song, but I wanted to do more than stop Jack from cheating on women. I wanted to make him see women as worthy of respect and love, and maybe show him how unworthy he was of them in his current state. I wanted to make him a better man.

  Perhaps I was projecting my issues. But what the hell? If work helped bring me catharsis, then all the better.

  I began to sing the cynical lines, letting them soak up the fury I felt on behalf of those scorned harpies. Magic lifted inside me, exultant in its sudden freedom, and it responded not only to my intentions, but to the intensity of my emotions. I may not have the relic anymore, but it had left a part of itself inside me. I was stronger than I'd been before, my magic exalted to a new level, and every time I sang, I discovered new facets of my enhanced abilities.

  I directed the energy to Jack Armstrong alone, and saw him jerk in shock. His mouth softened, his eyes widening as he stared at me. As we connected through music. I spoke to him with my will as well as my words, showing him that women were more than sexual objects. That he was squandering the chance to have love in his life. To have something real. Something beyond the pleasure of flesh and the rush of blood.

  I felt him succumbing to my spell, but more than that, I felt his anguish over his wasted life. The words made their own appeal, all on their own, enhancing my magic and forming a bond between me and Jack. I sensed the rise of his epiphany. His heart was a wasteland he had abandoned long ago. Jack Armstrong began to tremble as the jazzy sounds delivered my sweet, stuttering command straight into his subconscious.

  I knew precisely when the spell solidified and cracked open that hard heart of his. Jack the womanizer bent over, covering his face with his hands, and wept.

  I soothed him now that he'd submitted, ending the song with motivation instead of censure. Urging him to shift his thinking, and open himself up to deeper emotions. They were worth the risk. See more; be more. You do not have to limit yourself to this mask you wear. Let it go and you'll be rewarded. It will be all right, Jack. There's an endless supply of love; you just have to look for it.

  The crowd cheered, and I hurried through accepting the accolades. My job was over, and I wouldn't be returning to the stage that night, nor would I likely sing there ever again. I'd collect our earnings and hand it all over to the band. Their pay would be nothing compared to mine, so it felt wrong to keep any of it. Not that I was in it for the money anymore. I just needed to keep moving, keep doing. I was trying to outrun the heartache. But maybe it was time to listen to my own music. I needed to stop running and start looking.

  I jumped off the stage, making a quick stop to speak with Jack. I laid a hand on his shoulder as I pulled out my cellphone, surreptitiously hitting the Record button on my video screen.

  “Hey, you all right?” I asked him.

  The loup looked up at me with horrified eyes. “I've been such a complete asshole.”

  “Yes, you have.” I angled the camera toward him. “But it's never too late to change. If you could speak to all the women you've hurt, what would you say to them?”

  “I . . .” He blinked and sniffed. “I'd want to tell them that I understand. That I know what I did to them was wrong and I'm sorry. I'm going to change, I promise.”

  “I know you will, honey.” I gave him a pat and walked away, hitting Stop on the video, then sending it to the harpies for confirmation. I would have my payment by morning.

  I angled my way through the crowd, heading to Banning. When I reached him, I simply took his hand, and led him out of the bar. He didn't resist. In fact, he came up beside me and slid my arm around his, so it was more like he was escorting me than I was leading him. Subtle, but kind of sexy. I shot him a knowing look, and he smirked.

  As soon as we rounded the bar's red-brick corner, I turned on him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Cerberus told me I should come.” Banning shrugged. “He said things had taken a bad turn with Torin, and that you might be looking for some comfort right about now. He thought I would be better than some random stranger.”

  “First of all”-I pointed in his face-“thanks for the brutal honesty.” I grimaced. “Second, I'm not seeking comfort from anyone. I'm fine. I'm a big girl, and I can handle my shit. That being said, I'm glad you're here.”

  “You are?”

  “I am.” I nodded. “I don't know if I want anything more than friendship from you, but I do want something. I want you in my life, Banning.”

  “I want that too,” he said. “In any capacity. So how about spending some time with me before you run off to your next job?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Walking”-he shrugged-“maybe sitting on a bench. The location and motions don't really concern me as long as we can talk.”

  “I need some dinner.” I jerked my head in the direction I wanted to head.

  As we walked, I pondered him and my response to him. I found him attractive, but that simmering emotional cauldron hadn't returned to my belly. I'd been waiting for it. When I saw Banning in the club, I'd been sure it would return. I may have even anticipated it a little. But I felt nothing, and there had been no dreams or flashes either. If the spell forged by the relic between me and Torin was broken, I should be seeing memories of my past life again. So where were they? Unless there had been no true memories. I looked sideways at Banning. Had a blooder somehow managed to trick me? Had I been under an enchantment? Or maybe his intensity had somehow influenced me, and my mind had fooled itself.

  “What is it?” Banning asked.

  He had his hands stuck into his pockets, looking like every other guy walking through the sea-scented night. Except he was gorgeous, his pale face shadowed mysteriously by the street-lamps we passed beneath, and
his fit body evident, even through the layers of clothes he wore. I could smell the remnants of the bar on him, but his own dark aroma was lifting through it. Why didn't any of it affect me?

  “Just thinking about our alleged past,” I muttered.

  “Alleged?” Banning looked surprised. “I thought you had accepted it as truth?”

  “I'm not sure that what I saw was real.” I narrowed my eyes on him.

  I was raised to never trust a blooder. It wasn't just my bias either. Most of the paranormal community didn't like them. Blooders were viewed as parasites, no more than diseased humans. Except their infection turned them into leeches, and in most cases, murderers. They weren't even viewed as a true supernatural race. More like party crashers who had managed to slip in through the back. This existence, of killing or coercing their prey, along with centuries of hiding, had made them, in my mother's opinion, shrewd liars.

  “It was real, Elaria.” Banning sighed. “How would I have deceived you?”

  “A spell.” I shrugged.

  “And the painting?” Banning asked. “My tattoo?” He angled me out of the way of the other pedestrians. “How did I fake those?”

  “A really talented artist,” I said. “On both accounts.”

  “And I just so happened to have them prepared for you to see, on the off chance that we met? An Elizabethan-style painting, and a matching, healed tattoo,” Banning huffed. “I had no idea of your existence until Cerberus told me you could help me.”

  “Cerberus,” I frowned, wondering if it had been a set up.

  “Stop it!” Banning pushed me up against a wall. “You trusted someone, and they failed you. I get that. But you can't let it color all of your relationships from here forward. Don't let him break you, Elaria.”

  “I'm not broken,” I pulled away from Banning, and started walking again.

  “Then think without the taint of suspicion,” Banning strode up beside me. “I have no reason to choose you to trick. I have nothing to gain but your affection, and I would hardly win that if I used foul means to seduce you. You're a magical being; you would eventually discover any deception, and then you'd hate me. That's not something I want, Elaria.”

  “All right,” I whispered. “But the problem is, Banning, I don't know what I want anymore.”

  “You don't have to figure that out right this second.” He eased his hand into mine. “Just be open to me as an option. That's all I ask.”

  I looked down at our joined hands and felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe there could be something between us.

  “I think I can manage that,” I said softly.

  And I did. I let Banning ease into my heart. Just a little. Just enough to remind myself that there was still someone who loved me. Who wanted me desperately. Torin was not the last man I would love. I had talked a tough talk, saying all the things Banning had just reiterated to me. That I couldn't let Torin win. That I would have love again if I just opened myself to it. Now I needed to live the lines.

  So I spent the night with Banning. Nothing naughty- I wasn't quite ready for that, but it was almost more intimate for the lack. We had dinner and talked. He told me more about our past together. I told him about my past in this life. Banning listened with gentle focus as I spoke of my parents, my childhood, and my friendship with Cerberus. Then I listened as he told me of his present. The European Falca had expunged all of his crimes, and he was free to grow his gura again. He explained the working of his various businesses to me-he had many more besides the country club-and what he hoped to achieve in the future.

  We spoke long into the night, ending up lying beside each other in bed. I fell asleep, and he woke me shortly before dawn.

  “I have to go, Ellie,” Banning whispered as he pulled a blanket over me.

  “What?” I murmured and blinked him into focus.

  “Dawn is near.” He smiled and kissed my forehead. “But I'll call you and we'll talk again.”

  “Okay,” I said. “See you soon.”

  “Soon,” he agreed.

  Chapter Fifty

  Declan found me in Venice.

  I had just finished a job for a local ryū dread. They'd pooled their funds to hire me so I could run some blooders out of their territory. You'd think a bunch of dragon shifters could handle their own business, but these were of the Asian variety, and they're less inclined to violence than the Western, drachen dreads. And yes, there are Asian dragon-shifters in Italy. Don't be racist.

  I was relaxing in a local cafe, sitting at an iron table near an only moderately odorous canal, when the Alexandrite king walked up, casual as can be. I nearly spewed expensive wine all over my new Valentino dress. I had been treating myself, okay? It wasn't like I didn't have money to blow.

  “You look well,” Declan observed, then waved a hand toward the empty chair before me. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Sure.” I patted at my mouth with a linen napkin, staining it pink. “How did you find me, King Declan?”

  “Can't we dispense with the titles when we're in the human world?” Declan asked with a sensuous smile.

  “If you like,” I agreed. “How did you find me, Declan?”

  “Bribery.” He took my glass of wine and stole a sip. “Lovely.” He looked up and motioned to a waiter. “Un altro, si prega.”

  The waiter nodded and ran off to fetch another glass.

  “You speak Italian?” I looked over his sharp, but casual, clothes: tailored pants and a white shirt, open at the collar. His cuffs were rolled back, and a gold watch glimmered on his wrist. The smell of expensive cigar smoke, and even more expensive cologne, wafted off him. “Hell, you look Italian.”

  “Thank you.” He eased back into his seat, just as the waiter laid a glass before him. “How did it go with the blooders?”

  “Cerberus.” I shook my head.

  “Cerberus was with the blooders?” Declan lifted a brow.

  “No, Cerberus told you where to find me,” I accused. “That's who you bribed.”

  “Yes, of course,” he shrugged. “Who else would know your whereabouts?”

  “No one,” I sighed.

  I'd been enjoying the string of new faces I'd met with every job Cerberus gave me. I hadn't been home since the day he sent me to Switzerland. And I hadn't seen a familiar face since my run-in with Banning. I was speaking to him regularly now, slowly warming to the idea of taking things further. But he didn't know where I was currently. Not even my parents knew that.

  I had called them after I'd returned from Tír na nÓg. I wanted to check in and let them know I was all right. I told them about the relic and the Shining One war, but not about my catastrophic romance with the Onyx King. I had been too heartbroken then, and their pity wouldn't have helped. My mother had been horrified over my wielding an ancient weapon, but my father was thrilled. He ran off to tell all of his coven buddies about his daughter “the witch warrior.” If not for all his enthusiasm over the relic, I would have gone for a visit. But I didn't want to have to talk about the war. So instead, I'd gone to Venice, thinking that I'd take a vacation there after I finished the job.

  And now I was sitting across from Declan. First Banning and now the Alexandrite king. Maybe the Universe was trying to tell me something.

  “So are you over the beastly King Torin yet?” Declan asked, right on cue.

  “I think so,” I lied.

  I wasn't over Torin, but I did think I was at the point where I could perhaps date someone without it being a rebound. I probably should have considered Banning first, but I still wasn't feeling an attraction for him. I liked him more and more every time we talked. Yet there was no spark. I never felt the urge to take things further. Not even a twinge of the excitement Declan was currently inspiring.

  “How long are you in Venice for?” I asked.

  “However long you want me to be, Elaria.” He smiled slowly. “Shall we start with dinner? That's traditional here, isn't it?”

  “In Venice?” I smirked.

  “
In the human world.” He chuckled.

  “Dinner works”-I nodded-“but we're already having drinks together. You might as well stay.”

  “I might as well,” Declan agreed. He looked around as if he were seeing the scenery for the first time. “I can't believe I chased you here.”

  “It's flattering,” I said.

  “I don't believe I've ever put such effort into wooing a woman,” he said. “But you have my eyes.”

  “Is that it then?” I asked. “You know, there have actually been studies done by humans that show that people are most attracted to those who resemble themselves. But with you, I think it's plain old narcissism.”

  “Oh, how you wound me.” He held a hand to his chest dramatically. “That's not at all what I meant. You must know how rare this particular shade is.” He waved his hand out from his chest to indicate my eyes. “When I first saw you, it startled me. I have never seen the color on anyone else. It was like a sign from the stones. As if they were drawing us together like they do with matching monarchs. Then I spoke with you, and I knew it for a certainty.”

  “You were so flippant at first.” I frowned. “I didn't think you were truly interested in me until after the war.”

  “Well, you were always so entrenched with Torin,” he shrugged. “If I had made my desires known, I think I would have received a polite, but stinging, rebuff.”

  “Valid,” I said, then blinked my way through a realization. “Is that why I never saw you partaking in the . . . entertainments?”

  “I fail to see how fornicating with Oonagh in front of you would be romantic,” he smirked.

  “I would have been disappointed in you,” I agreed.

  “Disappointed? And you noticed my absence.” Declan tapped his wine-glass. “At least that's something.”

  “I noticed you,” I admitted. “Of course I did. You know you're a beautiful man, and you're also funny. I like that. Torin could be so serious” I cut myself off with a groan. “Sorry, that just came out. I shouldn't have mentioned him.”