Page 185 of Fallen Omega

Reaper cuts him a look. “Lizette?”

One of the topless waitresses walks by and I grab her and ask the one thing I never have before.

“Hi,” I say, “Can we speak to the manager? I want to know if I can sing.”

The lights are too bright and I’m glad but also frightened because they’re slightly lower at Pandora’s.

The crowd murmurs, restless, annoyed, probably because they aren’t getting to see the girl get naked and writhe up here. And I’m not taking anything off.

But the name Unholy Trinity, the names Dante and Reaper, have clout. And…I did my job because the immediate crowd of important management around us has effectively cut Jake off from coming near.

And me up here? He can’t touch me.

They have a small band that plays when the girls strip and dance and tease with their burlesque.

I feel so big and exposed, so tiny and weak at the same time. They know the song I want to sing. It’s an old sexy song, slowed, all about fever. One dad used to play on his phone when he wanted to liven the place, so I know it.

More importantly, it fits here.

I clutch the microphone. “H-hi. I’m Persephone, on loan from Pandora’s. I’m going to sing.”

“Take it all off!” someone yells.

But I turn, nod at the band, and it starts. It would be about now at the club that I’d take off small pieces, and it’s always, always awkward.

Thisis awkward, just standing like a lump. But then themagic happens. The music seeps into every part of me. The notes of the double bass are the beats of my heart. When the words come, I am the song.

The words of love and sex and longing fill me, the room, and all I can pick up is Reaper and Dante’s scents. I imagine Knight’s aroma there, too.

I move with the words and rhythm, slinking down, off the stage, the spotlight moving with me, to slip along the front of the first tables, avoiding them until I reach my quarry.

Dante.

I sing, writhing down him and then I shift to my next, Reaper. I slip my arm up his chest to stroke his face, along the scars, then I release him, going back to the stage, Dante close, helping me up. There I sing until the song swells in the entire room and steals breath for itself.

When it’s done the music stops and there’s utter silence.

Not even a chair shifts. Not a whisper.

I lower the microphone and look out, my eyes used to the light a little more. Through the haloes of glare, I see Reaper and Dante, and all the men in the audience with their attention pinned to me, mine to use.

The room explodes into applause and Dante picks me up, taking me down and handing me to Reaper.

I can hear Dante’s low voice talking in the microphone. Then feedback hits and I look. The damned man literally dropped the mic.

Of course, another round of applause bursts free and I see Jake try to get across to us, but too many people are in the way as the girl comes back on to dance.

There are people, though, men, who are surrounding us. Wanting to meet me. Reaper stands, an arm around my front.

He’s enough to make them keep a distance.

Dante glares. “Fuck, Liz.”

“You can’t kill someone in here,” I say. “What was I meant to do?”

“Let me kill the prick.”

“As I said,” Reaper says, “you can’t fucking kill him. Lizette was smart by singing, got us attention, but he can’t do a thing so don’t kill him.”

---