Page 9 of The Demon's Sinful Serenade
"Did you check under the bed for monsters, too?" The sarcasm in her voice didn't quite mask the genuine relief in her eyes.
"No monsters." I handed back her keys. "Just a laughably shitty lock on the back door and a window that might as well be propped open with an engraved invitation."
She followed me up the porch steps, close enough that her scent wrapped around me with every breath. My skin prickled with awareness. Every instinct urged me to pull her closer, to wrap myself around her until nothing could reach her. I forced myself to maintain distance, to remember she was a client who had no idea what we were to each other.
Your flames will burn brightest in the shadow of death.
I needed her alive. I needed to focus on keeping her alive.
"Bring your things to the living room," I said as we entered. "Suitcase, guitar case, purse, phone, anything you brought with you."
River stared at me as if I'd asked her to strip naked. "Why? What are you looking for?"
"Trackers. Bugs. Anything that shouldn't be there." I dropped my duffel and started unpacking. Compact motion sensors. Miniature cameras. Scanners. Nothing that would damage the property, but the tradeoff meant not as easily hidden. "Your stalker's finding you somehow."
She hesitated, clutching her guitar case to her chest like a shield. "The police checked my car twice. My former manager hired a security consultant who went through all my equipment."
"They were not me." Or Malak, but I'd picked up enough over the years to handle the basics. Plus, I woke his ass up for a long-distance checklist of equipment. He'd coughed up the informationandpromised to send Rava home early so I'd have some backup.
Something in my expression must have convinced her. She nodded once, then carefully laid her guitar case on the coffee table. Her hands lingered on the worn leather for a moment before she stepped back.
"I'll be careful," I promised.
I swept the scanner over the case's exterior first, then had her open it. The guitar inside was beautiful polished wood with subtle inlays along the neck. Moving methodically, I checked every inch of the instrument, every tuning peg, every strap connection I could reach. Nothing.
"This is nice," I said, carefully lifting it out. "How long have you been playing?"
"Since I was twelve." Her fingers twitched like she wanted to snatch it back. "My dad taught me the basics, and I just... never stopped." At my urging, she held it aloft, running her fingers over the guitar's worn finish as I scanned the sides and back. "This was his, actually. He gave it to me when I started doing open mic nights at One Hop Stop at sixteen."
"You've been playing there that long?"
"It was my first proper stage. I was terrified the first time, and definitely puked in the bathroom before going on." She let off a self-deprecating laugh. "But once I started playing, everything else just... faded away. It was just me and the music."
I nodded, understanding the attachment to a reliable weapon. I had blades like that, ones that had saved my life so many times they felt like extensions of my body.
Now, they would be put to use protectingher. My mate.
I swept a hand over the motion sensors like a dealer showing off at a card game. "I'll install these while you get the rest of your stuff. We'll know if anyone sneaks in while you're performing."
"You make it sound so easy." She set the guitar back in its case. "Like this is just another Tuesday for you."
"It's Thursday." I positioned a sensor near the front window. "And yeah, this is basic. If I had Rava and Malak, we'd have the place locked down tight in thirty minutes with thermal imaging and a detection grid that could spot a ghost fart."
She snorted from the bedroom. "Ghost fart?"
"You know what I mean." I moved to the back door, eyeing up angles for a temporary camera. "Rava's got this trick with magical trip wires. Malak can hack anything with a chip in it. Between the three of us, we've got most bases covered."
"And your boss? Kaz, right?"
I eyed her, fairly certain I hadn't mentioned Kaz by name…
"You're not the only one capable of operating a search engine," she said primly as she dumped a suitcase, purse, and backpack in the center of the living room. "Do you mind if I practice a bit? I need to obsess over my set list, and ultimately change nothing, before tonight."
"Front row at a free show? Go right ahead." I turned my attention back to installing a motion sensor above the kitchen window. "Just… don't wander off. Stay where I can see you."
River settled back on the couch, guitar in her lap, and began tuning it by ear. The simple exercises gradually shifted into melodies, fragments of songs that teased at the edge of my recognition. I found myself slowing my work, ears straining to catch each note.
Occasionally she'd pause, hum something to herself, then try a different progression. Without seeming to think about it, she started making up lyrics about the cottage.
