Page 6 of Song Bird Hearts

“Did I miss the masquerade memo?” I ask, watching him carefully.

He smirks. His mask hides half of his face, but it doesn’t hide his salt and pepper hair, or the very clearly fit body his suit is perfectly tailored to. I can tell he’s bearded, the short salt and pepper beard as perfectly trimmed as his hair is styled.

“No memo,” he answers, and I have to visibly force myself not to react. His voice is deep and sensual, naturally so. Who the fuck is this guy? “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Valerie Decatur.”

I take a sip of my beer. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” he reassures me. “But you will.”

I study him. “That seems an awfully big threat for a man hiding behind a mask.”

His chuckle is as warm as his voice, like the most expensive whiskey burning down your throat. Slowly, he reaches for his mask and pulls it from his face, somehow avoiding messing up his hair. The face he reveals is just as fucking attractive as the rest of him. I can’t peg how old he is. While his hair is salt and pepper, he looks like he’s in his early forties maybe at most. And that’s a stretch. The richer you are, the harder it is to figure out age. I’ve learned that. Money buys you youth.

“Is this better?” he asks, his eyes tracing my face.

Something inside me coils and wants to strike. “You have such a handsome face, Seems a shame to hide it behind a mask,” I tease. “Does it get you everything you want?”

He smirks at me, and it makes that face even more ridiculously handsome. “Almost,” he replies, and there’s weight in that single word that makes my chest ache.

I take the last swig of my beer and set the empty bottle down on the bar, my eyes never leaving the man beside me. One time, when I was younger, I was out in the barn tending to one of the pigs due to give birth. I’d had my back turned to the barn doors, when a chill had trickled down my spine. Goosebumps had risen on my skin despite the warm spring air. I’d turned slowly, and met the eyes of a full-grown cougar. A tiny cub had been at her heels, its mother watching me with golden eyes that felt like I was being flayed alive. Everyone knows the danger of a feline mother. In the Green River Basin, you don’t piss off a cougar, and you certainly don’t run into one with a cub without the risk of death. Sitting in front of this man feels a lot like that. Like I’m in the presence of a predator. And I can’t tell if I like it or not. Which makes me the idiot and this man dangerous.

“I don’t believe you told me your name,” I say, watching him carefully.

“I didn’t,” he agrees. “You can call me Wolf.”

I snort. “Wolf. Alright. And what is it you think you know about me, Wolf?”

His eyes crinkle. “Oh, I’ve been following your career from the beginning, Valerie.” He tilts his head. “Your eyes used to sparkle more when you sang. These new songs they have you singing lack the pieces of your soul you thread into your lyrics.” My smile fades. “In fact, I’d wager the songs you sing now are the bullshit your label tells you that’ll sell.”

I gesture to the bartender for another IPA and he sets it down immediately. I take it gratefully and take a long swallow before looking back at Wolf. “Seems you’re not a fan.”

“Of you, yes. Of the label controlling you, no.” He reaches up and strokes a finger along my jawline. For some reason, I let him. “You’re the prettiest bouquet of dying flowers I have ever seen, Valerie Decatur.”

I flinch like he’d smacked me. His words are soft, gentle, but it feels anything but. He’d just reached into my chest and ripped out my heart with those words. Damn near poetry, or the lines to a song I suddenly yearn to write. I blink at him, knowing I’m doing a bad job of hiding my emotions when a smile curls his lips.

“There she is,” he whispers. “I wish you shone so bright on stage.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I growl, leaning away from him, suddenly unnerved by the predator before me. “What is it you want with me?”

He shrugs. “I told you my name.”

“I’m not asking your name,” I fire back, narrowing my eyes.

His eyes crinkle. “I know. But I have no other answer for you.”

My mind flickers with the rumors of the 27 Foundation, but the question doesn’t rise to my lips. I don’t really want to know, and honestly, it feels dangerous if I were to know. Instead, I glare at him. “And what is it that you want with me, Wolf?” I ask again.

He leans closer and I tense. “I want you to burn bright, little star. If you’re going to blink out, don’t let it be this way. Go down in flames, not in silence.”

I open my mouth and clamp it back shut, not knowing what to say to that. Turns out, I don’t have to say anything at all. A door opens to our right and loud, raucous laughter comes spilling out. I turn my head toward the sound, but Wolf’s strong fingers grip my chin and turn me back to face him.

“You’re not ready for something like that, little star,” he murmurs. “Best not to spare your attention that way.”

I scowl. I didn’t have plans to join in, but curiosity still gets the better of me. “Who are you to tell me what I’m ready for?”

He smirks. “You’re welcome to walk into that room and pretend bravado. I’d thoroughly enjoy seeing you splayed out for this entire party to use, but you don’t seem into these people.”

I wince and look around at all the assholes I really don’t want anything to do with here. It has nothing to do with the act itself. It sounds like fun, but here? With these people I can barely stomach? No, thanks. There’s only one person here I would consider anything with and it would make me a fool to act on it.

---