Midnight Sins (Midnight 2)

Michael’s father, his own eyes rimmed red, had wrapped his arms tight around the woman’s frail shoulders, his gentle hold belying the rage Todd so easily read on his face.

A good family. One that had loved their son.

Todd hadn’t belonged in a family like that since—aw, hell, he’d never been in a family like that. He was pretty much alone in the world now, and really, that was fine.

He didn’t want the kind of pain he’d seen in the Houses’s eyes.

Cara shook her head. “But if you already know I’m clear,” her husky voice wrapped around him and banished the image of the family’s grief, “then what are you doing here?”

Looking for her. He shrugged. “Can’t a guy go to a bar to unwind after work?” Seemed a simple enough explanation to him.

“Not to this bar,” she said instantly. “Not if the guy is you.”

What did she mean by that?

“I don’t really think this is…ah…quite your usual scene,” she continued. “Maybe you should leave.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?” Was the lady trying to kick him out?

The band stopped playing then as the music faded into silence.

“Hell, I’m on.” Worry flickered across her face. “Are you going to leave?”

Not a chance. Especially if Cara was about to perform. “I want to watch you.” The words came out as more of a demand than he’d intended.

“I-I’m not very good. Average, really. You won’t be missing anything if you leave—”

“I’m staying.” Yeah, the club wasn’t his usual style, and he could feel most of the patrons glaring daggers at him, but Cara was there, he wanted her, and he wasn’t f**king leaving.

“Fine.” She shoved her index finger into his chest. “Just don’t start anything, okay? Stay at the bar—and…stay out of trouble, you understand me?”

Then she was gone, pushing through the crowd as she headed for the small stage. He watched her for a moment, admiring the soft sway of her hips as she moved. The lady really had an incredible ass. One that he would love to get his hands on.

She climbed up onto the stage. A faint light flickered over her head, making her blond hair shine.

Todd eased back, grabbed a bar stool and prepared to watch. There was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, “What—”

“Whiskey.” The bartender—a young guy, probably in his early twenties—pushed his favorite drink across the gleaming bar top.

Todd’s fingers curled over the glass. “Thanks.”

“Compliments of the house.”

The warning bells that had rung before in his head were suddenly back—ringing so loud they were nearly deafening. “Niol’s here?”

Was the bastard somewhere watching him?

A slow shake of the bartender’s dark head. “Got standing orders to have drinks available to you and the other cop.”

“Gyth?”

“Yeah.” A brief smile curled the guy’s lips. It wasn’t a friendly smile. More like a dog showing his fangs to an intruder who’d wandered into his yard. “Though if I had my way, neither of you bastards would be at my bar.”

Well, he was making friends left and right tonight. Todd lifted the drink in a small salute and wondered vaguely if the guy had poisoned him. “Good to know.”

The bartender’s eyes narrowed to beady green points. “Watch yourself, cop. You’ll find a lot of enemies here.”

Yeah, he already had.

Todd drained the whiskey in one long gulp and felt the burn of the alcohol slide straight down his throat.

Then he heard her. The first light whispers of her song spread through the bar.

The voices and the laughter died almost instantly when she began to sing.

He spun around, his gaze zeroing in on her. The band played behind her. No more grating guitar cries. Instead, the band members poured out dark, bluesy music on their instruments.

Her fingers curled around a microphone. Her voice trembled faintly as she sang, and her eyes met his.

He couldn’t have looked away then if the bartender had put a gun to his head.

Caught.

Oh, yeah, the lady had most definitely snared him.

Her voice grew stronger then. She didn’t belt out the lyrics or croon or any damn thing like that. She just…sang, with a deep, husky voice that made his body tighten.

The song was a bit wild, the lyrics lusty and free as she sang about loving a man not meant to be. Her body moved slowly, the sway of her hips gentle and easy. Her left hand lifted, brushing against the air, and he could swear he felt that touch on his skin.

She wasn’t the best singer he’d ever heard. It took him two and a half minutes to realize that. Her voice wasn’t perfect on the notes. But she had something. A fire. A power that wrapped around the words and made even the freaks back in the corner stop to listen.

When the song ended, a taunting smile curved her lips. The room seemed to tremble as everyone watched her, and for a second, the light above her flickered and Cara actually seemed to glow.

He blinked, trying to clear his eyes, and in that moment, the illusion faded.

Cara stepped into the shadows, went to whisper to one of the band members.

Again. The order whispered through his mind. He wanted to hear her voice again. Needed to hear her. When she finally stepped back to the center of the stage, his shoulders slumped in relief. Then she began to sing again, spinning her web and rousing the hunger within him.

He didn’t go to her when she finished her set. Todd just waited at the bar, watching her every move.

His stare had been locked on her since she’d taken the stage, and when she’d sang, Cara realized that she’d been singing for him.

Power floated all around her in the room. It filled her, teased her flesh. She sang to take that power. To build the tension in the bar and to feed off the waves of energy given by the supernaturals.

Since she hadn’t been indulging in the pleasures of the flesh lately, singing was her only release. Niol knew that. He’d offered her the chance to sing at Paradise Found so that she could keep up her strength. Feeding from the crowd had actually been his idea.

An experiment at first. One that had worked surprisingly well—well enough for her to decide to abstain from sex.

“Take a little from them all,” he’d told her, his eyes as black as night. “They’ll never know.”

And even if they did know, what would they do? She didn’t take enough power to hurt any of the patrons. She used her voice, injecting just the right amount of sex appeal and desire into her lyrics, and she let the crowd respond.