Page 49 of Poet & Protector

I raised an eyebrow. “As if you’re less intimidating than Ren.”

“What?” she replied. “I can be nice.”

“Uh huh.” I laughed quietly. “I think it’s safer for you to be nice from a distance. I’ve got this.”

“All right,” Sabine said. “But I’ll be disappointed if you don’t make him squirm a little. Ambushes aren’t very polite.”

“They aren’t.” I jumped down from the stage.

Mason’s eyes stayed on me as I walked through the bar. He sat very still, while beside him Ansel was fidgeting like crazy.

When I reached their table, I looked him up and down, then frowned.

“What are you wearing?”

I didn’t mean for those words to be the first out of my mouth, but Mason looked so different, I couldn’t stop myself.

He didn’t look bad. At all. But I’d become so accustomed to his uniform of perfectly fitted shirts and vests that seeing him dressed…well…kind of like me was jarring to say the least. I had to admit his leather jacket was a thing of beauty. If we were friends, I’d ask to borrow it.

“Hello to you, too,” Mason muttered. He straightened in his chair, arms crossing his chest defensively.

“Hey, Nev,” Ansel chirped. “Sorry for crashing your show.”

Mason aimed a reproving glare at Ansel. I didn’t fail to note Mason had told his younger packmate about my nickname. Interesting.

“What?” Ansel asked, returning Mason’s glare with an impudent look.

Mason sighed, then said to me, “We can leave before the next set if you want.”

I didn’t want him to leave. I liked that he was here. I was playing some new songs I had written in the next set, and I wanted Mason to hear them. I wanted to know what he thought of the show, if he’d come and see me play again.

There was no way in hell I would tell him any of that.

“No difference to me either way,” I said. “If you’re enjoying yourselves, I don’t have a problem with you being here.”

“You’re really good,” Ansel piped up. “The guitar and the singing. Your voice is so unique, it suits the style of the music.”

I pulled my eyes off Mason to look at Ansel. The Nightshade pup had one of the most earnest faces I’d ever seen. He was kind of adorable. He also seemed to have missed the memo that his pack and mine weren’t supposed to get along.

“Appreciate it.”

“These songs don’t sound like covers,” Ansel continued. “Are they originals?”

And he was observant.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” He grinned at me. “So, you write your own songs?”

Too observant. I nodded.

“Wait.” Mason leaned forward. “You wrote those songs? And you play them?”

I gave him a flat look. “What do you think I’ve been doing the last hour?”

“I didn’t know they were your songs,” he snapped at me. “How was I supposed to know that?”

I shrugged. He rolled his eyes.