Play nice, now, y’hear?” She lifted the rope blocking the stairs from access, and when I glanced back halfway up the narrow passage, she had all but vanished, melting into the shadows to keep undo attention off the private area.
Making money off curious humans was all well and fine, but there were some parts of our lives they were better off not knowing too much about.
There were a lot of good reasons we’d kept ourselves hidden from them for so long.
The bass thump of the music faded away the higher up we got, until it was replaced with a soft, melodic singing, accompanied by deep, rich string music. The melody was eerie and haunting, something that defied definition.
Siren song.
I bristled, not liking such an underhanded ploy. Sure, the music was recorded and not live, dulling some of its power, but all the same it was a manipulation. Supes weren’t immune to it. They would spend more money, stay at the bar longer, let their guards down around prospective mates. Siren song was more dangerous than drugs and alcohol. If Cain had had one singing live, the place would have devolved into an all-out orgy.
The literal kind.
As it was, the lights were dimmed, and most of the room was lit by candles. Couples were draped across each other, many of them touching each other in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a public space, while others kissed in a slow, passionate manner that suggested a total disregard for their surroundings.
Since the space was open concept, it was easy to spot Cain right away. He was seated on a large black leather couch along the back wall. His lady love, Delphine, rested against his side, her fingers grasping his thigh. She spotted me before he did.
I’d known Delphine when she was still legally called David, a name she didn’t so much hide from now, more like she dismissed it as a forgotten acquaintance. And in all honesty, that’s what David had been to her. An uncomfortable roommate she’d had to live with until she’d been able to blossom into who she really was.
Now, two years since her transition, she was Delphine, and David was gone, it was as simple as that.
To me she’d always been Delphine because I couldn’t imagine her as anything other than the striking, intoxicating, wonderful woman she was. Del had introduced me to Cain and shown me where the real voodoo shops in town were.
She squeezed Cain’s leg and got to her feet with the liquid grace of a predatory animal. In her heels she towered over Wilder and me, almost six-six. Stooping elegantly, she kissed both my cheeks, then did the same to Wilder without the slightest introduction. When she stepped back, he wore a naked, awestruck expression on his face for a moment before he realized he was gawking at her.
I couldn’t blame him. If I had to put a photo in the dictionary next to Amazon, I’d have submitted Delphine as the perfect candidate. She was lean and muscular, like a swimmer, her dark hair a furious cloud of curls around her head that rivaled Diana Ross’s in her prime. Her dark, flawless skin made her teeth look so white they were practically jewels in her mouth.
I was helpless in her orbit, caught up like a lowly comet on a direct path into the sun. That was the awesome power Delphine had on those around her. And that magic was all her, nothing supernatural about her except how much everyone loved her after just one meeting.
“Eugenia McQueen, as I live and breathe.”
She was also one of the only people in my life I let call me by my full name. Coming from her, Eugenia sounded like a compliment not a tease.
“Del, it’s really not fair, you coming here looking this good. The other girls don’t stand a chance.”
She winked at me and slipped Wilder a cheeky smirk. “I don’t want the other girls to stand a chance. Now, who’s this thick slice of handsome you’ve brought me?”
Wilder flushed but couldn’t hide his smile. I knew what he was feeling. Between the siren song and the attention of a beautiful woman, his ego was roughly the size of Antarctica right now. He’d come down as soon as we left, but I’d let him enjoy himself for a few minutes. At least he wasn’t brooding and thinking about Hank. Maybe his happiness was artificial, but there was rarely any other kind to be found in a