“Seriously?” I ask, brows sky high. He nods.No way, huh?
He turns his gaze to me, his eyes narrowing. “That’s another thing I wanted to tell you. Sometimes the fae council tasks us to investigate fae-related crimes.”
“And you think what? That one of the Voracious Maw boys is killing fans?”
He doesn’t say anything, his gaze going back to where Pisces has long since disappeared.
“You think Pisces Penrose is killing fans?” I ask incredulously.
“I didn’t say that. But there are definitely reasons for you to stay away from him.”
“Like what?”
He grimaces and stands up, helping me to my feet. “There are things I can’t tell you, but please just be careful around them, alright?”
My thoughts don’t stop racing the whole walk back to the townhome. It’s pretty clear that Grim suspects someone tied to Voracious Maw in the death of Stephanie—the blonde girl with the blue streaks. He hasn’t outright accused them, but warning me to stay away from Pisces seems to indicate he thinks Pisces might be involved. I’m already having enough trouble trying to match Pisces, the sometimes asshole, to the guy who can writeand sing such beautiful lyrics. What would Grim say if I told him about meeting Wrath in the garden the first night of the festival?
I turn and walk down the row of townhomes. Just a few porches before mine, I see a group of guys sitting on the steps. “Bliss!” one calls, and I see Simon get up and head down the steps to greet me.
“Hey,” I say, as he comes to a stop in front of me and gives me a quick hug. Pisces and Evan sit on opposite sides of the porch, their long legs stretched out in front of them. Benny sits a step below Evan, leaning his head back on Evan’s thigh. Evan idly runs his hand through Benny’s brown waves and the vampire seems to vibrate with joy.
“All the paperwork for the tour should be sent over,” Simon says, looking at me hopefully. “We’re still on, right? No one changed their minds?”
“Nope, we’re still all set.” I look over at Evan, who watches me carefully. I pitch my voice a bit lower, knowing the rest of the guys can still probably overhear me, but that’s okay. “I think Amelia was just a bit caught off guard.”
Simon nods understandably. “Same for Evan,” he says, but a snort from Evan makes me think Simon’s just being polite.
Maybe this tour is a huge mistake, but we actually already signed the contracts this morning before we could second guess it.
“Anyways, I should probably go. Got to get ready for the shows tonight,” I say, trying to hurry away from them. I see Pisces shift in my periphery.
“Hey wait,” he says, his voice so much deeper than I keep thinking it will be. It slides over me in a gentle but firm caress that makes my insides turn to mush. Now that I know he’s Wrath, his voice sounds so familiar, exactly how I’d expect Wrath’s speaking voice to sound. He walks slowly down thesteps and comes and stands next to me. Simon gives us some room, going to chat with the others.
“Yeah?” I ask, wanting to turn and flee, a little bit from awkwardness and also a little bit from Grim’s warning, even though I can’t get myself to believe it.
He pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to me, unable to look me in the eye. White ribbons fall into my hand. Two completely spotless white ribbons.
“Where did you get these?” I can’t help but smile up at him.
“They’re the ones you were wearing before. I, uh, cleaned them.”
“They’re spotless,” I say, trying to look him in the eye, but he keeps staring down at his shoes.
“I’ve a lot of experience in magically cleaning blood out of things.”
“Oh right,” I say. “Aren’t you a vampire?” I almost laugh, but then the memory of his tongue makes me pause. Taser certainly has never used thatneattrick on me.
Pisces cocks his head to the side. “Erm, no.”
“Oh, sorry, I just assumed. You said blood and…” I trail off, feeling stupid. He doesn’t have the sharp canines all vamps have, but I also could have sworn I saw him as Wrath use his vampire speed at that masquerade party. Maybe I’d just had too much to drink already by that point.
I inhale, trying to pick up his scent, and I feel even more dumb for thinking he’s a vampire. It’s not the same slightly metallic, slightly earthy scent. It’s something softer. Sea salt and something musky and warm but not overpowering.
“Are you smelling me?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.
A blush creeps into my cheeks, and now I’m the one looking at my shoes. “Yes, sorry, I was trying to place your scent, and I realize I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“I’m a siren. Very rare, I’m told,” he responds, grimacing.
