A Muse for Mishka (Wiccan-Were-Bear #12) by R.E. Butler Page B

headed toward the chamber. “Why can’t the
local police make them pack up? They’re a terror.”
    “Because on the surface they hide behind
their religion and appear to be harmless – just humans who don’t
like vampires.”
    When they were inside the chamber, with the
door locked and the shower heating, she turned and leaned against
the counter. “I thought about stepping out and using my power to
help.”
    He dropped to one knee and lifted her foot,
undoing the thin strap of her heel.
    “How would singing to make them happy have
helped that situation?”
    She snorted. “Not the pure part of my power,
but the darker side.”
    When her other heel was in his hand, he
looked up at her, his golden gaze searching. “Dark side?”
    “Muse power, like most supernatural powers,
has both light and dark aspects. I can use my power to take away
negative emotions from people, so I can sing and clear out doubt
and fear and worry and sadness and allow happier emotions to take
their places. The dark side of that power would be to focus on the
negative emotions and amplify them. I could conceivably make a
person kill himself, or cause a person’s stress levels to go so
high from fear that he has a heart attack.”
    They stripped and climbed into the shower. As
he lathered a bar of soap in his hands and rubbed his soapy fingers
over her shoulders, he asked, “Why wouldn’t you want to do that?
Why wouldn’t you want to save yourself?”
    “It’s dangerous.”
    “How?”
    “The dark side of muse power is addictive. A
muse who taps into the darkness can get lost in it, unable to
control who falls under her power.”
    “You worry you’ll lose yourself?”
    “Or hurt someone I love.”
    He cupped her chin and tilted her face until
she was looking into his eyes. “I would never let you lose
yourself. I will always find you.”
    She settled her hands on his waist, rubbing
her thumbs along the front of his chiseled stomach. “I hope I never
have to even brush up against the darkness.”
    “Me too, my heart.”
     
    * * *
     
    On Thursday night, Harmony stood offstage
with Mishka, Vex, Rage, her guards, and her bandmates. Mishka wore
a pair of black leather trousers that fit him like a second skin
and a black, silk dress shirt open at the neck. His hair, like
always, was caught back at the nape of his neck. She reached for
his hair and slowly tugged the tie out, sliding her fingers through
the silky locks. “Will you stay up here while I sing?”
    “I’ll be back in time for your show,” he
said, lifting her hands to his lips to kiss them. “I have to check
in with the family upstairs.”
    He disappeared, along with Vex and Rage, and
she turned back to watch the crowd as they danced to music from the
sound system. Grabbing a lock of her hair, she inspected the
strands. The blue color was there, but it was fading. She’d sung to
Mishka days earlier, and it had kept her power well sated, but she
was looking forward to getting a boost from the crowd and helping
them to have a good night. Having a house band with a musical muse
as the lead singer would be a boon to the club and would draw
larger crowds as they realized what her powers could do.
    “Looks like a good crowd tonight,” Wyst
said.
    “I’m sure it will be great,” she said.
    Her gaze moved around the club, from the
entrance and coat check, to the multiple bars that served every
kind of drink imaginable, to the dance floor where people writhed
to the beat like they were possessed. She saw Mishka and his guards
ascend a flight of stairs to the area known as the family
room , which was a private, glass-enclosed room where the family gathered for drinks.
    The lights flickered twice and then went out
completely, causing the music to die and leaving the club in eerie
silence. A bright flash of light was followed by a loud explosion
near the stairs to the family room. She screamed as she
rushed forward, worry for Mishka overriding all else. She couldn’t
see