She knew she was chattering because she was nervous. It was silly. Now that the others were in place, the tension had eased in them. In fact, it was so low, she wouldn’t have realized they expected trouble at all. She spotted Ink moving through the crowd, asking a girl to dance, taking her to the dance floor, but his attention wasn’t really on her, no matter how hard the woman tried to rub her body all over his.
The number ended, and Seychelle slid from the bar stool to make her way to the platform where the band was. It was really only a couple of feet from where she’d been sitting, but Shari and her friend Melinda were obviously waiting to ambush her. Fatei stepped easily between them, and somehow, that smoothly, Alena and Scarlet were there as well, creating a wall, blocking the two women before they could reach her.
Seychelle expected to feel Shari’s emotion at her loss of Savage, but instead, it was an intense hatred for Seychelle. The emotion was raw and passionate. Seychelle glanced down to see the woman’s hands curled into claws, her long nails like talons, ready to rip at her eyes. That was how visceral her feelings were against Seychelle.
No one had ever hated Seychelle before, and it shook her to think this woman, a total stranger, did so now. She kept her head up, ignoring the woman, smiling at Alena and Scarlet, murmuring hello to Scarlet as Alena introduced her.
“You okay?” Alena whispered. “I don’t know why she won’t leave him alone. I can throw her out.”
“She’s no threat to me. I actually feel sorry for her,” Seychelle said. “I’m good.” She was. Savage loved her, and she was secure in that knowledge. She nodded to Fatei, not wanting him to think she hadn’t noticed that he’d put his face on the line. Shari was capable of ripping his eyes out if she got angry enough. Seychelle did think the anger at her was strange. Especially as it was so strong. It didn’t make sense. Seychelle was all about puzzles, and she wanted a little time to figure out why Shari was so focused on her, even more so than she was on Savage.
Maestro and Player greeted her. Keys and Master flashed grins at her. She took the microphone and faced them for a brief moment. Maestro indicated she had better signal them if anything went wrong. She nodded and they immediately swung into a fast, upbeat song that had the crowd going instantly.
She poured her magic into it, sending golden notes climbing up the walls and building webs across the ceiling. She spread those golden notes throughout the bar, beyond Preacher and Anya, so they moved along the ceiling down the long hallway behind the bar as well as the one beside it. It didn’t matter that the door was closed; the notes found their way inside, climbing the walls and moving up the ceiling, an invisible golden net that was everywhere throughout the entire building by the time the last note of the song faded away.
The second song was slower, dreamier, but still with a dance beat, one that allowed her to sync with the crowd. It was so much easier to get a feeling for the emotions of individuals in the bar when she sang. If someone was very ill, that interfered, and then her ability to feel emotions would fade, but she’d already gone through the crowd, and no one had come in with an overwhelming disease that called to the healer in her. As she sang, she could touch on an individual and subtly change their mood.
Arnold had come to the bar, eyes on her, a mixture of feelings, possession, lust, arrogance, depression, determination. He signaled to Anya and was instantly annoyed when she didn’t immediately serve him. Brandon was on the dance floor, close to Shari and the women, dancing with them, a smug smirk on his handsome face each time he looked at Seychelle.
Seychelle had a pulse on everyone in the building and was aware when the Diamondbacks arrived. There was the continual sound of Harleys, trucks or cars in the parking lot or on the road, but the heightened awareness of the members of Torpedo Ink tipped her off that the Diamondback club had arrived.
Steele, the vice president of Torpedo Ink, escorted several men inside, all wearing Diamondback colors. Destroyer was with them. The moment they entered the bar, Seychelle felt a new strain introduced. Pain. Emotional pain. It was sharp and raw. Visceral. The pain of betrayal. That pain emanated from Alena.
Another thread twisted into Seychelle’s golden web. Regret. Guilt. Determination. Sadness. That came from the man that had to be Pierce. He walked beside the one in the vest with a patch declaring he was the president. That man too felt guilt, but also worry. He had a heavy burden resting on him.