They all could hear the thump of the bass from outside in the parking lot. Gen raised her brow and looked over at Melody. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“Yes, why do you ask?” The muse frowned back over the top of the car. “Look the sign says the Crimson Kings are here.” She pointed and sure enough the marquee showed the name of the band she’d seen the advertisement for in the Daily Pestle.
“I don’t know Mel, could it be the fact that we could hear that from two miles off?” Diana plugged her ears with her fingers. “I’m too old for this shit.”
“You’re not, come on, let’s go and see.” Lilly bounced once, ignoring Faelen’s scowl. “I hear he’s hot.” She hissed at Katia.
This made her husband scowl harder. “Hey! No speaking of another man’s hotness!” He called.
“You may as well give it up, they’re teeny boppers again.” Dougal watched fondly as Charise followed the other women into the bar. You could tell from the size of the place that it had been converted at some point from an old warehouse. Now, however, the windows were blacked out and a neon sign out front proclaimed it The Pitt, in large red letters that dripped blood.
“Oh, it’s just so classy.” Hugh sighed. "Why am I here again?”
“Because you are big and scary looking.” Faelen replied absently. He watched his wife and the other women disappear into the door with no trouble at all.
However, when he and the two men tried to do the same the beefy doorman stopped them. “We’re all full.” He growled, folding arms that were larger than Faelen’s thighs.
This didn’t prevent Faelen from snarling back. “Look, ye bloody twit, my wife is in there so I’m going in too.” He started forward but an arm the size of a tree trunk blocked his way.
***
“Sir, please allow us to enter. Our wives are inside; surely you can see where we’d want to watch out for them.” Dougal, no fool, tried logic. He wasn’t tussling with the man. He looked like he worked out with tanks as weights.
Hugh could have cared less. “Get the hell out of our way or I will reacquaint your head with your ass.” He growled and shoved the large man’s head against the wall.
Faelen looked at the fallen bouncer then back at Hugh. He shook his head and paid their cover by throwing the money into the box. He wasn’t so nice as to avoid stepping on the man on his way inside, in fact, he twisted the heel of his boot into the muscled thigh of their erstwhile nemesis.
“You are one sadistic bastard, Faelen.” Hugh rumbled after they stepped into the darkness of the club.
“I’m not the one that rammed his head into the wall now am I?” The other man yelled to be heard over the loud music.
Dougal listened with a frown of concentration on his face. “That music is strange.”
“Well, duh. It’s the new stuff I am a classical man myself.” Faelen elbowed his way through the crowds to get to his wife. Diana, Gen and Charise were visible by virtue of their lighter hair; however Melody, Katia and Lilly were not. Then he caught sight of the bright red dress his wife had on and strode purposefully in her direction. She and the others were right at the stage staring up at the lead singer with expressions of lust on their faces.
“Wait, damn it!” Hugh called, clearing a path as well. Dougal just followed in the big man’s wake.
****
The six women were indeed watching the lead singer. He was lust worthy too, if you liked that sort of thing, tall dark and dangerous. Of course, they all did, it was programmed into their genetic code or something.
“Oh shit.” Dougal breathed when the man reached down and pulled Gen onto the stage.
Her long hair swung in an arc of gold highlighted by the spotlight now trained on the couple. The singer slid his hand down to her waist and pulled her close to his body for a long slow shift of hips that screamed sex. She gyrated against him, her body moving gracefully in time to the slow soft beat of the drum.
Dougal heard his wife’s voice calling encouragement. “Go on with your bad self, Genevieve!”
Faelen chanced a look back and his eyes widened at the expression on Hugh’s face, miserable anger was the term he’d use. “Look, man, you can’t kill him. It’s all for show.”
“What if he’d pulled Lilly up there?” Hugh asked. He had no claim on Gen, that didn’t prevent him from dreaming though.
“He’d be singing soprano.” The other man answered with a growl. He finally snagged his wife, pulling her back against him. “What are you doing? He isn’t even a Beatle.”
“Shh.” Lilly nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “He’s good. He looks familiar too.”
“Of course he does, you’ve seen him in all those flyers that have been showing up for the past few months.” Faelen breathed a sigh of relief when Gen slid back into the audience. She smiled and waved back up at him before she turned to the other women and squealed with excitement.
****
Nobody noticed Melody staring up at the man as if enraptured. She tilted her head this way and that as if she were attempting to hear the music from different angles. But that was her job. She was a muse, one who inspired music. Not just classical, although she had in her time inspired great works from the so-called masters. She was more plebeian in her tastes, at least the other muses thought so. Not Melody, she loved all kinds of music. The best description of her inspirational leanings would be eclectic and that was taking a liberal view.
It didn’t matter, rock, soul, rap, pop, she sent out all different vibes to all sorts of people. She enjoyed all music, and would tell you quickly if she was responsible for a certain tune, or sometimes just a chorus. This man didn’t seem to have been in contact with any muses she recognized. This music was different, but she liked it nonetheless.
She’d laughed with the others when he pulled Gen up on the stage, but she noted his dark look at her and wondered at it. He seemed to be afraid of her, she unsure why. They were in the human realm tonight. All were keeping their >otherness= under wraps. This man liked the differences between himself and others. He played them up in fact.
He stood tall and lean behind the microphone, his guitar slung low on his hips as he strummed it with a fervor that was almost sexual. She shivered as she watched his fingers play across the strings wondering how those same calloused digits would feel on her skin.
He raked his dark blonde hair away from his face and leaned toward the mic, his black eyes closed as he began to sing. On the first note from his deep voice the whole room stilled, at least the females did.
His voice wasn’t perfect, he almost wailed along with the riff of the guitar. His band mates all grinned and began to play. The drum beat heavily in tattoo the uneven rhythm, like a heartbeat. One that was about to beat its last if the words of the song were anything to go by. Oooh, she liked him.
Dragon's Lady
