Page 39 of Bound By the Sleeper’s Harp

“Don’t worry about them, sugar. You learn how to deal with people in the supernatural world.”

“Well, now I know why you’re so rude. Because apparently that’s how you learned to deal with people, huh?”

He didn’t answer. I didn’t mind, because all of my attention shifted to the underground space that spread out beneath us. An industrial style design painted in dark colors, with muted lights and low, pulsing music. A giant vault was erected around the stage and DJ booth. There were piles of gold sitting out in plain sight, breaking up the perimeter of the dance floor, heaps of money on display. Not real, obviously, unless it was enchanted somehow, so that it couldn’t be stolen. As far as names went, this one certainly lived up to its namesake. Size wise, it was smaller and more intimate than Vortex. And one look told me it was filled with nothing but supernaturals.

Bastian pulled me toward the wide staircase that led into the club. I spotted the bar at the far end. We’d have to cross the entire space to get there, putting us in full view of the VIP lounge beside the dance floor.

My eyes flicked over to it. It was nearly empty. A few bouncers stood, arms crossed, barring the way forward. Like a king holding court, sprawled on one of the plush couches sat one of the most commanding fae I’d ever seen.

“Is that him?” I asked. “Aramis.”

The fae male’s shrewd gaze was fixed directly on us. On me, actually. I swallowed.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Bastian said, his lips brushing my ear. “Don’t worry. He won’t fuck with us tonight.” I huffed out a breath. I wasn’t so sure he should be making promises like that.

“Well, sugar? Let’s get this show on the road.” He gave me a gentle tug and pulled me down the stairs, straight into the heart of The Vault.

14

Bastian left Eleanor standing at the bar as he made his way to the VIP area. She followed his directions to a T, innocently sipping her cocktail without actually swallowing any of it. They’d only lingered for two minutes, pretending to make small talk, before he’d dismissed himself. It was harder than he realized, turning his back on her, but his magic held. He could feel it channeling through the gold ring like a conduit, a steady siphon of power.

No one would bother her.

His fist clenched and unclenched, restless. The irrational part of him was spun tight, ready to pounce on anyone who got too close. He needed to leash himself, remind himself that she wasn’t his. Aside from protecting her, everything else shouldn’t matter.

He approached the four bouncers guarding Aramis’s area.

“Boss’s expecting you,” Derek said, unclipping the red rope that acted as a barrier. He nodded, walking by. Through the conduit, he sent a flare of heat—Eleanor’s signal.

“Bastian,” Aramis growled, getting to his feet, greeting him like an old friend. He was several inches taller and built like a powerhouse. Most fae scorned half breeds, especially goblins, but Aramis had never been like that. Males like Aramis couldn’t afford to be like that, given who he was. “Almost expected you to ride in on your bike, like last time.” The fae strode forward and clapped him on the back. “Don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of you riding that thing down the stairs and scaring the shit out of my patrons.”

“I brought something better this time,” he said, returning the greeting.

“Oh? That pretty fae kitten you walked in with? Where is she? Afraid I might bite?”

“Something like that.”

Aramis motioned him forward and they took their seats.

“Come now, I certainly hope you won’t keep her hidden all night.”

“I have no intention of that. Surely you know me better, Aramis.” His gaze turned toward the dance floor. From where they sat, they had a direct line of sight. There she was, right on cue. The head of pink hair bobbed through the crowd, right toward the middle of the floor.

“What will you have to drink?” Aramis asked, not yet having noticed. He’d already downed his whiskey at the bar, so he requested another. Aramis gave the order to the server on call, who momentarily stepped away to fulfill it.

He hadn’t taken his eyes from Eleanor. Aramis finally noticed and chuckled. “Ah. Not hidden at all. Excellent.”

Eleanor started to dance. It happened gradually at first. The initial moments went unnoticed, but as she began to move, stretching and swaying, moving like a cat waking from a nap, a trance settled over those nearest to her. If he weren’t absolutely certain she was human, he’d wonder if she might have siren blood, or something of the sort, the way she captured attention. Beside him, Aramis was silent, shrewd eyes missing nothing.

Good.

The crowd pushed further away, giving her room. Some continued dancing, while others stopped simply to watch. Her movements came faster, timed to the rhythm of the beat, growing more erotic.

His cock twitched. He inhaled, using the breath to steady him. The server appeared with his drink. He took it without looking up.

“My, my,” Aramis purred. “Where have you been hiding her? Had I known, I’d have invited you back sooner.”

His lungs expanded, eyes pinned to Eleanor’s body. As he watched, everything else disappeared. She was magnificent.