Nicole shot him a surprised look. It took her a moment to realise he was talking about Kyan.
‘Watch him, tonight,’ Callum warned.
She frowned. They’d gone over the plan multiple times. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, now that you’re together and your bond is … solidifying.’
Heat seared her cheeks.
‘He may get vicious, especially where you and danger are concerned.’Callum’s gaze raked over her expression with a wicked smile. ‘You think he has morals? Where you are concerned, dear Nicole, he has none. He will hunt, he will kill, he will eviscerate rules and regulations. He’s nothing but a snarling beast driven by the most essential instinct: protect. You have given him something to fight for, and he will kill anyone that gets in the way. You don’t get between an Empyreal and their mate.’
‘So, it’s the mate bond—’
‘No,’ Callum interrupted, smoothly walking around humans. ‘He’s this way because it’syou, not because of the tether between you, or something as base as a biological compatibility. That’s an added layer, but not the only reason. I think you know the real reason.’
Her throat went tight, and her heart …
Callum leaned closer, his energy gentle, his eyes creasing with understanding. ‘I’ve been around for longer than I’ll ever admit, and there’s one thing you need to know about mates, Nicole. You cannot reason them away. They’re biological, physical. And in a way, magical. But they are also fuelled by emotion and connection.
‘Your soulmate is not something to ponder and put in a box. You cannot interpret it, you cannot write an essay about it, you don’t need to resist it like you have everything else. You feel it, and welcome it. It’s rare,’ he said, more softly, as if he knew; as if the mere idea broke his heart.
Her surprise at the emotion in his eyes was tempered by the fact he’d hit a chord with his academic jab.
She’d tried to take a step back and be logical. She’d tried to do it since she’dmetKyan. But it was beginning to feel like leashing herself the way she had in Estwood. Her feelings for him were intense and physical, while also calm. Calm as a still ocean, as a warm place to sleep, as if being wrapped in his arms against the hot protection of his chest was the safest place in the world besides her family.
The place she felt athome.
She blinked hard.
She was scared of how much she felt; of how her body could transform her like this, and yet she wanted to embrace it so desperately.Which was why she’d stopped by a local pharmacy and grabbed some protection while Remi pretended to look at nail-polish to alleviate her nerves about the possibility of singing again tonight.
Because if Nicole let herself feel these building emotions fully, if she admitted them, what then? Their world was blood, secrets, and a supernatural organisation eager to tear them to pieces. She couldn’t. She’d wait until they were all safe. As much as other people found it easy to feel this much, it scared the life out of her. She couldn’t risk anything happening to him because of her feelings.
Or what he might do if she admitted them.
Callum smiled softly. ‘Stop thinking so hard … Nikki.’
His use of her family’s nickname blinked her out of the knot of her thoughts.
His nose crinkled. ‘Too much?’
Nicole laughed, earning a curious look over Dylan’s shoulder. It seemed, beneath Callum’s mysterious, sensual exterior, there was an infinity of wisdom and layers of sensitivity. She just hoped he let Dylan see it.
‘There’s one thing you didn’t mention,’ Nicole said, as they came to the back of the bar and headed up a set of stairs. ‘I’d do the same for him.’
He smiled. ‘Oh, I know. You’re just as protective as your mother.’
Nicole turned her attention to the painting at the top of the stairs. The life-size replica ofOrpheusby Franz von Stuck from 1891 had a flat, shimmering background of gold leaf. Orpheus had his back partially to the viewer, naked and shadowed from behind, holding a string instrument in a bold red. Surrounding the musician were animals of all different types, as if all of these creatures had come to hear the gods-gifted poet.
It was the perfect image for a secret Siren Speakeasy.
Remi knocked on the door and a slot opened to reveal little but darkness.
‘Philharmonic,’ she said.
The slot slammed shut for long enough that Nicole shifted uneasily in her heels, glancing up at Dylan, who had come to stand at her right, his smart black jacket over a shirt of pale grey-blue.
Then the painting swung inward to reveal a small, dark ante-room and reinforced door.
