Spirit Song Page 3

  He froze, reaching out to stop his jabbering companion in mid-step, and mid-flirt, as his eyes caught the silhouette of an angel in black silk. Her pale, ivory skin glowed under the overhead spot, feathery dark crescents kissed the tops of her high cheekbones as she serenaded the sparsely scattered patrons. An overly large platinum blonde hairpiece sat atop her head, the color a complete mismatch for her porcelain complexion and dark eyelashes. The vintage black sequined sheath slit to mid-thigh revealed long and shapely legs, tapering down to ankle-breaking spike heels. Narrowing his eyes, he pulled his gaze appreciatively up, past the lush hips, the defined waistline and straight to the pert breasts nicely filling out the one shoulder bodice. The clinging fabric shimmered with each deep breath she took, the air pouring out creating pure magic.

  Magic that was sadly wasted on the dullards currently drinking themselves numb in the smoke filled dark. His eyes continued to drink in the sight of the songstress, her delicate hands cradling the mic as the last lines of Charlie Chaplin’s famous ballad, “Smile.” Yet, sadness sat in sharp contrast to the song’s message and it bled from each beautiful note.

  He was still deep in the trance of the siren’s voice, his mouth agape, when a tug on his shirtsleeve dragged him back to his body. Shaking his head as he joined in the smattering of applause, he spoke to his friend, his gaze never leaving the stage as the enchanting singer gave a simple thanks, her eyes still downcast.

  “Buon Dio, who is she?”

  Viktor laughed at his uncharacteristic slack-jawed stupor. In all his years as a Guardian, it had always been duty first, his single-minded determination to battle the Rogues his only purpose in his long years. Women had never been anything more than playthings. At best, they were pleasant company with whom to scratch an itch. At worst, they were a distraction, becoming clingy and confusing sex with love. The last female that serviced his needs was still a thorn in his side even after he sent her on her way after their short hours tumbling in the sack. She had been nice enough to look on, but he could go no further on her other qualities.

  Yet the longer he stood basking the glow of the soulful singer, the more he began to rethink his earlier conclusion. A sharp jab in his ribs drew a snarl from his lips as he leveled his eyes to meet Viktor’s smirking mug. With a smug grin, his friend’s head jerked back toward the stage. As he followed the pointing chin, he saw the object of his interest turning to speak to the older man behind the piano, the other musicians leaning in to join in the conference.

  And he discovered the view from this angle to be just as captivating as the front.

  “Told you you’d like the place. You gonna trust me next time?”

  His restless gaze locked on the tempting line of her neck before her heart shaped face spun back to the room, her full red lips moving enticingly as she announced the next song. A frustrated growl crept from between his lips, his impatience winning the battle of wills.

  “See me.”

  The whispered words traveled fast, carried by the force of his Insistence. He waited a heartbeat until in the midst of the opening phrase of her song, her eyes climbed up from the floor of the small raised stage and locked onto his. Eyes of the clearest blue fringed in lashes of deep black took his breath away.

  Could she be the one?

  Miranda mumbled a weak and polite thank you in response to the weak and polite applause. Her latest vocal rendition further dampened her ever-dwindling mood. It was only through sheer will power that she kept her shoulders up as she turned to Gary.

  “Can this night be over yet?”

  Her piano man chuckled as he tickled the ivories, giving his head a sad shake. “Two more sets, kiddo. And with the boss man here…”

  She waved off the rest of that statement. She knew how that sentiment ended, as did the rest of the band, evident by the group groan. “I know, I know. All right, let’s try something different. Did you get the sheet music for the new song?”

  The blue eyes behind the black baby grand flicked nervously into the shadowy corners of the stage. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, it’s a good song, but you heard what the boss said. You need to mix things up a little more.”

  “And I will, I promise. Please. The next set will have more. I just…I just need this one.”

  Reverting to the oldest trick in her arsenal, she batted her augmented eyelashes at him, adding a shy smile to the pot. Eddie tossed back in his head, laughing as Gary shook his head, his fingers dancing across the keys.

  “Girlie, you sure know how to fix a bet.”

  Miranda’s smile drooped, the playful words cutting deep to the heart of the truth about her employment. “Wish that trick ran in the family.” A quick shake of her head, banishing those dark thoughts, and she was ready to wow the apathetic gathering with a new number, the modern medley sounding surprisingly like the torch songs her boss coveted.

  She returned to her place at the stand-up mic, preparing to pour her soul into the smooth and sad words. “We have a new song for you tonight, folks. It’s called ‘Adieu’ and I hope you like it.” Her eyelids fluttered down as she lost herself in her music. Hidden in the veiled darkness, the lyrics tripped off her tongue. Yet, a whispered voice brushed along her skin. Curious, she lifted her chin.

  The remaining words of the line vanished. A pair of topaz eyes, set in the tawny face of hard lines and pure masculine sensuality, captured her. He stood tall in the center of the room, his gaze stripping her bare and branding her soul. Those pale amber orbs devoured her whole. Strong jaw with a rugged shadow of a day’s growth, chiseled cheekbones cut shadows into his face. Heat inched over her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. The mysterious predator continued to drink her in, his eyes reflecting a desirous hunger unlike any she had ever imagined. The spotlight in her eyes blotted out most of the room, but his gaze sizzled and burned straight into her soul. A trickle of sweat trailed down her back, the cooling drip walking the length of her spine. Her heart quickened.

  She gulped down short gasps of air to reengage her brain.

  A soft cough behind set her voice to working once again and the mid-lyric break had ended.

  Then he smiled and she was lost. His full mouth lifted at one corner in a smoldering smirk, giving her a hint of the straight white teeth. One hand raised to drag his long fingers through his straight, dark brown hair that fell across his forehead.

  Her words continued to flow, but she was unable to hide the wistful grin that warmed her face nor the bashful blush that pinked her cheeks.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mine.

  The single word echoed in Bastian’s mind as he followed his chuckling friend to the padded red leather booth in the center of the room, close enough to the stage for him to keep his gaze glued to the beauty during the entire journey. Her smile lit up the dim room, and her voice was pure heaven.

  No sooner had they settled into the comfortable bench seat when a waitress spilling out of her thin white cotton blouse sashayed over. Flashing a bit more skin, she leaned in to take their orders. His brow furrowed as he dismissively ordered a bourbon and a beer, his focused gaze on the captivating songstress. Her song told of a sad parting and an aching heart. At that moment, he wanted to tear apart whatever asshole dared to harm the beauty standing behind the slender metal pole. Her eyes drifted down, depriving him of her sapphire eyes, but the lingering smile on her plump red lips and the corresponding pale pink color on her high cheeks could not be hidden from him.

  The longer he watched her, a mounting tightness increased in the woolen trousers he had slipped on, his groin growing interested in more than the words of her song. The sleek dress added to the mystique of her true curves. Silvery shimmers created shapely shadows with each breath and ensuing chord. His mouth watered in hungry anticipation of peeling her out of the clingy fabric, his mind spinning erotic scenarios of that impending moment, either slow and sensuous or fast and furious. Both would be sheer perfection as far as his body was concerned, his shaft pushing a
gainst the zipper teeth in agreement.

  A gruff voice off to his left dragged him away from his object of obsession.

  “Earth to Sebastian.”

  Snapping fingers exploded in front of his nose, riding on the wake of amused laughter. “I take it you approve of the place.”

  Bastian turned to look at his smirking friend, narrowing his gaze as pinned him with an inquisitorial stare. “How long have you known of this place, Vik?”

  Viktor barked out a laugh as the waitress returned with their drinks, giving him a wanton wink while trailing her fingertips along Bastian’s shoulder before stepping away. “It’s been here forever, my friend. You know, if you ever stepped outside of your cave for more than just business, you might actually find some nice places in the world, too.”

  Bastian lifted the rock glass to his lips, the amber liquid swirling around the chunks of ice before hitting his tongue. The cooling effect did nothing to extinguish the fires of desire which grew and built the longer he listened to the melodic music from the stage.

  “How long has she been here?”

  His friend leaned over, eyebrows drawn together in astonishment. “Not long, I think. Hey, are you all right? I’ve never seen you this obsessed with a female before. Can it be possible that someone has cracked that armor of yours?”

  Not taking his eyes off the hypnotic vision on the stage, he gave his friend a one-fingered salute and was about to add a more colorful comment when the short, and rather stacked, bottle blonde bounced over to their table.

  “There you are!” Her ample curves filled her black and white uniform as she jumped onto Viktor’s lap, peppering kisses on his face while her arms wrapped around his neck. “I was afraid you got a better offer.”

  Bastian arched an eyebrow at the affectionate greeting from this new waitress and tilted away from the springing platinum locks threatening to tickle his nose. He turned his attention back to the stunning woman on the stage, his mouth curved behind his drink as he took another sip, imagining the touch of her lips instead of the cold glass. Her deep blue gaze locked with his again. His grin grew as her voice warmed in tone, heated by the blossoms of pink on her porcelain cheeks.

  Viktor chuckled, his hands cupping the face of the excited bundle in his lap. “Ah, Leslie, my dear. You wound me.” Giving her a tender kiss on the tip of her nose to settle her down, he wrapped his arms around her middle. “Say, what can you tell me about the girl singing tonight?”

  Leslie rolled her eyes, scoffing as she shook her head. “Miranda? You mean the boss’s latest plaything?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Bastian’s head whipped around fast, snarling his harsh and accusatory question. The trio on stage played a soulful interlude, pulling his gaze away from the quaking blonde to find his enchantress whispering with the piano player. He caught a glimpse of her breath-taking blue eyes as they slid toward his table. And just as quick, they vanished in a swish of blonde hair.

  “Uhhhh…I just mean Sal don’t let her out of his sight. Kinda feel sorry for the poor girl.” She paused until two sets of persistent eyes encouraged her to continue her story. “She started singing her about five or six months ago. Could be a little longer, but not much more. Suddenly, the Boys had a singer and that was all we knew.”

  Viktor frowned, his gaze ping-ponging between the bewildered blonde in his lap, the slender singer and Bastian. “Hold up. She’s got pipes that should be in a much better place than this, no offense. How the hell did Slick Sal get her to sing here?”

  Leslie’s brown eyes flicked nervously, gnawing on her bottom lip. Bastian’s insistent stare kicked her tongue into gear, her voice tumbling out in rapid waves. “I don’t know, for sure. I heard a rumor about some bad bets she was covering, but she don’t seem the type who gambles. I did hear something about a brother, but that’s all I know.” She jerked her head toward Viktor, hoping to find a friendly port in the storm of ice emanating from his dark and brooding drinking companion, her plump cheeks paling to compliment her bleached tresses. “Honest, sweetie. I don’t know any more than that.”

  “Take a breath, brother. She has given you all she can.” Viktor flashed an admonishing glare in his friend’s direction before brushing his knuckles against the trembling lips of his lap’s occupant. He smiled, making sure the gesture reached up to his eyes, drawing on his soothing skills as Channeler to calm her racing heart. “You’ve done great, my dear. My friend was raised by wolves.” The eyes blinking up at him innocently dilated a hair before she shook her head with a tinny laugh.

  “Oh, honey. You don’t have to worry about that. She’s pretty, if that’s what you like in a girl, I suppose.” With a wink, she gave her shoulder a suggestive roll, planting a peck on Viktor’s cheek as she crawled out of the booth’s confines, straightening her shirt. “All right, back to work for me. Promise not to disappear, lover?”

  She turned on her heel without an answer, her hips swishing side to side as she ambled off. Once again alone, Viktor gave his head a slow shake, leaning back to rest an elbow on the back of the bench seat. “You really do need to get out more, Bastian. Then you wouldn’t go feral on the first female you see.” He grabbed his beer, taking a long drink before he realized he was talking to the back of Bastian’s head.

  Civil applause broke out as the last note came to a close. Bastian joined in, his gaze never leaving the shy smile lightening the bluest eyes in the world. The corners of his lips tilted upward in reply.

  The soulful words tugged at his heart, the sadness tempered by the earth-shattering smile on her angelic face. God, she was exquisite, from staggering sapphire eyes to the tips of her leather-encased toes. The hair on her head was wrong, and he found himself itching to unpin it, eager to see the truth of her veiled beauty. As for the scant fabric sheath that hid her skin from him, well, maybe the dress might remain in one piece if he was careful with it. But that would entirely depend on the zipper. His shrinking jeans had their own opinions, and they didn’t give a rat’s ass about the metal teeth on that sparkling sequined scrap.

  Her song ended, her gaze rising up from the floor to lock with his, a pleading silent cry for help in her stormy depth. Joining in to the pathetic golf clap response, more enthusiastically than the others, he dipped his chin a fraction, hoping his gaze gave her the answer his mind voiced. Only say the word, tesorina.

  In that single moment, he realized he would move the heavens and the earth to see nothing but a smile on her face. And he truly meant nothing; not a stitch of clothing on her body. The booth trembled and shook, drawing a perturbed smirk as he continued his appreciative applause.

  “Piss off, fratello.” He ignored the laughter to his right, lost in his connection with an angel.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Miranda felt something she had not felt since she set foot inside Francciolli’s.

  She felt joy.

  The lyrics she sang were buoyed up by a lightness she had only experienced while her father was still alive and she was singing for herself. Whoever her mysterious stranger was, he gave her back her love of her craft.

  Not to mention a shiver than had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His dangerous topaz eyes touched off tiny fires wherever they landed on her skin. Even though he was half way across the open lounge area from her, she felt their caress just the same.

  Although she was no stranger to the lascivious leers from the drunkards who frequented the nightclub, this was different. He was different.

  OK, so the fact that he looks like a fashion model doesn’t hurt.

  The stray sentiment curved her lips into a broader smile, her heavy lidded eyes focusing on the only person in the room intent on her performance. The gleaming amber orbs crinkled along the edges as his lips brushed provocatively against the rock glass, the swirling liquid inside matching his eyes in both heat and color. She dropped her eyes as her mind spun images of her lips replacing his drink. His five o’clock shadow would be rough and pur
e male, tantalizing her body as he moved along the line of her jaw.

  She was grateful when she reached the instrumental break. Her brain, as well as her body, was spinning in so many different directions, she needed a momentary reprieve from his powerful and predatory gaze. Turning her back to the room, she found three stunned faces blinking at her, eyes wide with concern and confusion.

  “Who is that?” whispered Eddie, leaning his stand-up bass closer, eager to hear her reply. Bobby Ray moved as much as his drum kit would allow, his head bobbing up and down as he added his signature, “Yeah.”

  “I have no idea.” Her heated and hushed answer garnered one smirk and two scoffs. “I’m serious. I’ve never seen him before in my life.” Daring a look over her shoulder, she quickly pivoted back to face the band. The source of their conversation was currently grinning devilishly at his view of her backside, his fair companion smiling with the handful of waitress riding sidesaddle on his lap.

  “Be careful, girlie. Men like that are trouble you don’t need.” Gary’s fatherly advice fell on deaf ears as the heat of his gaze nearly burned through her flimsy dress. “And if the boss sees him looking at you like that?” He shook his head as the short interlude wrapped up.

  Miranda sighed heavily. The truth of her sage pianist’s words was a bucket of cold water on her sensually charged thoughts. He was right. She recalled the last smiling guy who bought her a drink, as well as the broken and mangled mess dragged out the club later that night, never to return or hear her sing again. She remembered the wild look in Sal’s eyes as he spit angry words at her in her dressing room. “You don’t belong to them out there. You ain’t singing for no one, but me. Got it?”

  But as she turned back to finish her song, the warm whiskey gaze gave her a timid hope she only dared to believe. There was strength and power in his eyes. His broad shoulders filled the booth with a barely checked lethal grace. His predatory gaze followed her every move with the skill of a hunter. Sal might own her contract, but he didn’t own her soul. She had told him so that very night, yet her fear of his violent repercussions on any other kind-hearted man had cooled her passions.