Van: “Thank you and goodnight!” I spread both arms wide and bowed.
After the show, I went through the usual interactions, thanking those who stuck around for coming. Then it was time to prowl.
I pretended not to see Maribelle and instead approached the pretty fae. The way her wings swayed, catching the light and shining iridescent colors, made my jaguar want to come out and play.
I sauntered up to her, making eye contact as she sized me with up with a slow, appreciative glance. Out of the corner of my eye, Maribelle did some weird circular movement with her arm. I ignored her. She was probably trying to wave me over.
“Hey there, beautiful,” I said. “Thanks for coming by tonight.”
The fae’s eyes sparkled with heat. “You put on quite the show.”
And I’m only getting started. I pictured where the night could go with this beauty. “Can I buy you a—YODEL-LAY-HEE-HOO!”
What in nine lives did I just do—yodel? Where did that come from?
She recoiled, her pointed ears twitching. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” I said with a laugh before trying again.
“HICKORY DICKORY DOCK—” I slammed my hand over my mouth. Where were these unexpected eruptions from my mouth coming from?
She shot me a disgusted look and skittered out of the Nocturnal Lounge.
I shook it off and blew out a rough breath. No worries. Everyone had to strike out sometime. A few minutes later, I set my sights on a gorgeous redhead. Straightening, I strode over to her.
She smiled at me. “You’ve got a great voice.”
I opened my mouth to reply—and croaked. Like a frog. It even sounded like ribbit.
What… I didn’t even try to explain but walked away, completely mystified.
A snicker from behind grew louder, that familiar laugh making my fur stand on end.
“Having trouble with your pickup lines, Van?” Maribelle sidled up beside me. “Funny how that happens when you ghost a witch.”
I turned to her. “You didn’t…” The satisfied smile on her face indicated she indeed did. “What did you do to mee-ee-ee?” My question ended with a sheep-like bleat that drew the attention of several nearby.
She twirled her cocktail straw with wicked delight. “Just teaching you a lesson.”
“This is ridiculous, Maribelle. We had one night together, and now you’re punishing me because it’s over.” She scowled, did something with her hand again, and I brayed like a donkey. I clapped both hands over my mouth, narrowing my eyes at her.
“The hex responds to intention,” she explained after cackling. “The more you try to flirt, the worse it gets.”
My heart pounded as her words settled over me. “You can’t do this to me.” I seethed, shooting eye daggers at her. “I’m a performer.” When that had zero effect in swaying her, I asked, “How long?”
“However long it takes to learn your lesson.” Maribelle patted my cheek. “Have a good night.”
She walked away and I wandered the ship, cursing how she could have done this to me. Sneaky witch. I stormed upstairs to head outdoors and paced along the dragon-scale pool, seeking a way out of my predicament.
As I paced beneath the stars, I glanced out to the sea. We’d recently repositioned to the Caribbean after a summer season in Alaska. The faint sound of music floated out from the Celestial Lounge. I headed that way, drawn to the music. When I stepped inside, Bria was singing, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” in a soft lament that paired well with the piano. Their gentler music contrasted with our lively rock songs. Different types for all tastes.
Kylie was tending bar. She was my guitarist Damien’s mate. I walked over to her to order a drink, but then my jaguar caught a scent and upended my world.
Mate!
I turned toward the enchanting fragrance—reminding me of gardens under moonlight—and spotted a stunning woman with long, sleek black hair and light blue eyes on a pale face. Sophisticated. Elegant.
Vampire.
She caught me staring. Gaping. She sniffed, tilted her head back. Her eyes sparkled as if challenging me to speak.
That was the problem. If I tried to do so, what would happen? Would I bleat like a sheep? Spout naughty limericks? Croak like a frog?
One side of her lip tilted up in a smile. “What’s the matter, jaguar?” she teased in a sultry French accent. “Cat got your tongue?”
