Taking the Stage

Chapter Thirteen

Anthony wasted no time when she’d conceded to taking the bands off. He scooped up the half-forgotten key from the stone table and used it to remove the shackles on her wrists and the collar from her throat. They both stared at the items as though expecting them to spark and explode, but they did neither. They disappeared in a shimmer of golden light as though they’d never been.

Good riddance.

Hours later, entangled together in the sheets, Anthony watched her slumbering face. A slender alarm beeped on his phone.

Sunrise.

He held his breath. Her lashes fluttered open, revealing new flecks of gold amongst the field of her hazel eyes.

“Boo.”

He grinned, relieved. They spent the day making love, sleeping and eating but she was never out of his arm’s reach. The three stripes on her arm remained, the scars still pink. He liked those almost as much as the single stripe she’d given him.

Heidi waited for them on the theatre stage when they arrived for rehearsal, the tigers trailing Anthony and Roseâtre like a guard of honor. Her amused expression swept over them, from Anthony’s arm around Roseâtre’s back to the lift of her chin.

Anthony tensed, ready for anything.

The stage manager laughed, clapping her hands together in solitary applause. “Well done, Mr. diNapoli. Well done. I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t have it in you.”

“You knew?” Roseâtre gaped, shocked.

“Of course, I did.” Heidi’s smug expression gentled. “And it’s about time too. We just have to decide what to do about the show.”

Anthony made a cutting gesture. “Roseâtre performs, regardless of the damn bands. We’ll honor our commitments.”

“I thought as much.” Heidi nodded, satisfied. “Well, you should get to work. The show opens soon, and we still haven’t done a complete run-through. No more stage nookie for the two of you.”

Roseâtre’s strangled laughter was music to his ears.

A few days before opening night, Anthony found a few moments to use the phone. Roseâtre swam lazily in the pool, playing with Nalini. In just two short weeks, his princess had undergone quite the transformation. She no longer looked askance at the cats, but had drawn the line at letting them pile onto the bed with them.

The ring in his ear died as someone answered the other end of the line.

“Hello?” The earthy voice was low, husky and distinctly female.

“Mother?”

“Anthony!”

Warmth shook him. In the decades since his uncle handed him his ass in battle and ordered him to submit or leave, he hadn’t had the courage to face his mother. She’d wept openly when he’d chosen to walk away.

“Yes, Mama, it’s Anthony.”

“Are you finally ready to come home?”

He wrestled with himself. He’d explained his shame to Roseâtre and instead of disappointment or disgust, she’d merely slugged him in the arm and told him to grow a pair. Leadership wasn’t about winning. It was about doing what was best for the tribe or Pride. She’d sacrificed her freedom, her sense of self to protect a tribe member that didn’t even remember her. Could he do any less?

“Yes.” The word was short, a breath. But as his gaze slid over the pool, he met Roseâtre’s—no, Ruthie’s—grin. She gave him a thumb’s up. They would return to his Pride. He would bow to his uncle. He wasn’t all that interested in the burden of leadership, but she promised to back him every step of the way if he wanted to take it back.

“All the better to watch your ass,” she’d teased.

“Mama, I have a mate and I want to bring her home to meet all of you.” He held his breath during the long silence greeting his statement.

Finally, his mother’s soft sigh drifted musically through the phone. “It’s about time…”

Cerveau’s reaction was nothing like he expected. It took several days of rehearsal to get all the girls comfortable. Not even the vampire, Kiki, took her role as seriously as Ruthie, but they managed. Together, they adjusted the storyline, tweaking the turning points, the dark moment and the ending.

“So you’ll stay with the show for the seventy-five shows the diNapoli tigers are scheduled to perform.” Cerveau sat next to Ruthie at the stage edge. Anthony stood on the theatre floor, watching them. The quiet agony in Ruthie’s eyes slashed at his soul. No matter how much they discussed the issue, he knew that leaving would hurt her. But if her shield-sister was as loyal as she, the princess’s absence might motivate Jaimela to come out again, to fight to be at her sister’s side.

“Maybe longer. But I don’t know for sure.” Ruthie cast a glance at him and he nodded. Unquestioningly. Even if they left the Arcana Royale they wouldn’t give up on Jaimela. So if that meant putting on a cat and pony show every night, they would do it.

“It’s a selfish decision, but you deserve it.” Cerveau nodded. “Even if he’s a bit of a fun burglar to steal you away.” Yes, the woman smelled of Amazon, but she didn’t smell right and the painted emptiness in her features reminded Anthony forcefully of Roseâtre’s turn into a porcelain doll. Only in Cerveau’s case, the animation seemed wrong somehow, hollow.

“Jaimela…” Ruthie began, but the woman’s smile evaporated and her expression went completely cold. She drew away from Ruthie and stood.

“We have rehearsals and if your time here is that short, then you should make the most of it.”

Pain rippled through his mate, but she buried it. He caught her hand in his, resisting the urge to rub it against his cheek. She needed comforting, but she wouldn’t appreciate it in front of their audience.

“Why are you people sitting on your asses? We have a show to perfect. Move, move, move!” Heidi shooed them back to work. Ruthie squeezed his hand once before letting go and then followed her sister back to the stage, but Anthony paused, studying the stage manager.

“Honey, I’m way too much woman for you.” Heidi tweaked his nose. If anyone else tried that, he’d have taken their hand off, but there was something distinctly maternal about this Heidi and the crazy, little demon that raced around her heels, constantly chattering. The minion was even now creeping up on Nalini, the white tiger’s gaze bored with the childish tricks.

They wouldn’t hurt each other, but Ruthie scooped the minion up, tail first to tease her.

“You going to stand there looking all broody and edible or get back to work?” Heidi still watched him.

“I have a question for you.” He grinned. The woman said the most outrageous things at the oddest time. He liked that about her.

“Just one? I must be losing my touch.”

“Yes. Why did you ask me to come to the Arcana Royale? When you called me, I had a lucrative offer in Monaco, the first in months, but you nearly doubled what they offered me. So why did you want me here?”

Heidi smiled, the humor glinting in her eyes. “You are a smart one, Anthony. Stubborn, hotheaded and a little foolish at times, but a smart one nonetheless. I brought you here for two reasons.” She ticked them off with her fingers. “Because the show needed the help and this performance is the best we’ve managed since we lost Pandora. It will be exquisite and a sellout, more than covering your ridiculously high fee as well as that hedonistic suite you requested.”

Anthony laughed. He couldn’t argue. The rainforest suite was the second best part of the job. The first was Ruthie.

“I’m sure you can guess the second.”

“I can. But how did you know?”

“Now, that would be telling.” Heidi snapped her fingers. Anthony blinked. She’d disappeared, just like that.

Maddening woman.

“Yo, Anthony!” Ruthie bellowed from the stage, and he forgot about the stage manager, her enigmatic smiles and her mysterious words. She’d brought him here to meet Ruthie. He’d send her roses every year on the anniversary of their first rehearsal and it didn’t matter why.

Opening night, the backstage area was a riot of colorful chaos. The dancers flitted about half-naked. Anthony leaned against Roseâtre’s makeup table, a bemused expression on his face. It was insane and fun. Breasts bobbed as costumes were shuffled. The air was ripe with the scent of hairspray and deodorant.

Kiki oo’ed and aah’ed over a pair of crystalline-and-gold pumps that Ruthie—he just couldn’t think of her as Roseâtre anymore—dropped on her table as he and his mate walked through. The girls squealed, hugged and danced and then were off again.

“Will you miss this?” he asked quietly, the one question he hadn’t dare ask before.

“Yes.” Her face was a riot of makeup. She’d layered it heavily, explaining that the stage makeup had to be visible to people in the back row. But her eyelashes fascinated him. She’d fringed them with silver, and the striping of white on black illuminated the streak in her hair. “But we have time yet. Time to help Cerveau and we could be here for years if we’re a hit. Do you mind that?”

No. His home was where Ruthie was whether it was some pleasure-drenched casino in the middle of a North American desert or roaming free in the mountains of his homeland or, the gods help him, the corporate headquarters of her tribe’s businesses in Dubai. “Your oaths are mine.”

She caught his hands, fingers interlacing together. “And yours are mine.”

Anthony bent down and thoroughly smudged her lipstick, the deep kiss just enough to pacify the tiger that wanted to sweep her up and take her right there, so no one would have any doubt who she belonged to or who he belonged to for that matter.

A chorus of oooohs broke through the lazy passion, and he lifted his head to meet Ruthie’s amused eyes. But the dancers were already fluttering back to work.

“Anthony. Roseâtre.” Stan stood at the edge of the chaos and beckoned them over. Anthony pulled out Ruthie’s chair.

Stan glanced at the other dancers, a hard stare until they got back to work. “The Overseers want to see you both. Right now.”

Roseâtre’s hand turned to ice against his palm. He didn’t let her pull away. “I take it they’re down here?”

“Heidi’s office. You need to be fast. We’re going to have a full house.” Stan waved them on their way and walked up the concrete stairs to the stage area rather than escort them.

“Anthony…” Anxiety quavered in her voice.

“We’re not going to keep them waiting.” He guided her toward the stage manager’s office.

“You don’t understand what they’re like.” Her scent sharpened, hints of snow biting through the musk.

He paused and studied her. She was upset, and while fear edged through her, she wasn’t afraid. No, not afraid at all. Anger flowed through her. Anger and protectiveness. “You have my back?”

“Of course.” Her fierce response gave him another reason to smile.

“I have yours. Stay close to me.”

“Switch hands.” She let go of him and circled around, taking his right hand in her left. She wanted her sword arm free even if she didn’t have a sword.

He could appreciate that.

The door opened before he could knock.

Five figures occupied Heidi’s bookshelf-enclosed office, each shrouded in a gray cloak. Anthony could read no expression on their hidden faces, but their scents—those he could taste. Foreign, alien, cold, fur and death. Ruthie stayed firm at his side, her head up and shoulders back. He could almost see the crown that should rest on her brow. A thousand rumors about the Overseers circulated throughout the world. Intimidating. All-powerful. Mysterious.

Their identities were secret. The one Overseer he’d ever heard of being revealed died within a day of the news breaking. That fact spawned new rumors. But every rumor agreed on one facet. The Overseers were dangerous.

Anthony considered these faceless men and women. He could scent both genders. Am I supposed to bow? The fur in his soul bristled at the very concept.

“You need not bow nor speak, Mr. diNapoli. You are here merely as a courtesy. Our business is with Princess Ruth Ann.” The laconic words came from the faceless figure closest to them. He smelled of vampire.

Ruthie squeezed his hand and he heeded her warning, even if he didn’t like it. “Yes, your graces?” His princess didn’t bow either.

“You have ended your contract with the Midnight Mystery Lounge.” It wasn’t a question. The same figure spoke, but Anthony didn’t make the mistake of ignoring the other four.

“From a certain point of view, your graces, yes, I have.”

Her wording caught his attention and theirs.

“Explain,” was the droll response from the gray-sheathed vampire.

“Through no fault of anyone but my own, my punishment was given unto Anthony diNapoli. He chose not to punish me, but to allow me to earn my freedom through single combat.”

Anthony tensed. It wasn’t a lie, precisely, but it also didn’t scent of the complete story.

“That is not entirely the truth.” Dammit, the vampire noticed as well.

“No, but it was a direct result of that combat that I chose to take the freedom that has always existed in my contract with you.” Ruthie didn’t back down from the story and when the gray figure took a step in her direction, Anthony curled his toes against the carpet and settled his weight onto the balls of his feet.

Vampire or not, he could take it out before it took another step if necessary.

“Intriguing,” a feminine voice whispered from the back of the room.

“Very,” a third gender-neutral voice agreed.

“Hardly. I told you he would defend the princess,” a bored fourth intruded. “And unless you wish to provoke his claws into your throat, you should remember that.”

Anthony switched his attention to the fourth speaker. The male smelled of fur, but not cat and not wolf. Bear perhaps? He couldn’t be certain and didn’t feel the need for closer inspection.

The first figure waved a hand for silence and the four fell quiet. “You understand that the terms of your employment were based upon your acquiescence to the bands?”

“I do.” Her nails dug into his hand and he held firm.

“Then you will not be performing this evening?”

“Her term with the Midnight Mystery Lounge may have ended, but she is a member of the diNapoli tigers and must perform or we will have no show.” He didn’t doubt that he was the subject of their regard, because no surprise rippled through the collected at his statement. “I’ll also put you on notice that we intend to free the Amazon, Jaimela.”

Her hand convulsed around his. He surprised her. Again.

A small smile curled his lips. He liked surprising her.

“The Amazon Jaimela serves out her term as decried by this council when she stole from the Arcana Royale until such time as she returns that which was stolen.” The laconic voice hardened. “Your petition to have the Princess Ruth Ann added to your group is approved but only for the seventy-five shows in your contract.”

“And when the run ends?” He pushed his luck.

“Prove successful and discuss it with the stage manager.” The indolent reply offered a decent compromise. He would keep his mate as close to her sister as circumstances would allow.

As one the figures turned away and Ruthie pulled free of his hand to take a step forward. “That’s it?”

They paused.

“You were never the one we took issue with, Princess. You struck the bargain, petitioned us for the right, whether you stay or go has always been up to you,” the female answered.

Anthony wrapped his hand around her arm to pull her back lest she aggravate them further.

“I would ask a question.”

He sighed.

The figures turned to face her, one at a time. The vampire motioned her to speak.

“If Jaimela took something from your Sphinx, why can you not take it back?”

As questions went, it was a fair one.

The five figures remained silent so long Anthony feared they would not answer.

“To answer that question, you must understand what your shield-sister sought at the behest of Athena. Discover that answer and you will know what needs be done.”

The five disappeared between one blink of an eye and the next. Ruthie fell back a step and bumped into him. He wrapped an arm around her midsection and cradled her against his chest.

“I take it they never said that to you before,” he murmured against her hair.

“No.”

“Do you know what she sought?”

Ruthie shook her head slowly. “She never told me and I never asked.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“It was her quest.” She turned in his arms and tipped her head back to look at him. “Have the gods ever talked to you?”

He shook his head once.

“Me either.” But instead of pulling away in frustration as he feared she might, she burrowed closer to him. “When these shows are over—I may have to petition a goddess.”

Anthony thought about that. “Greece is lovely this time of year.”

“It could take years.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care. I know this is new to you. I know mating is new to you, but where you go, I go. If it takes us the rest of our lives to discover the secret to Jaimela’s freedom, I won’t abandon you or your quest.”

Ruthie jolted at that turn of my phrase.

“My quest?”

“Yes, princess. Your quest.” He nibbled a kiss to her earlobe and then gave her bottom a light swat. “We’ll make our plans for that later. We’re due onstage.”

She laughed, sliding her fingers into his hair and pulling him down for a harder, lengthier kiss. “I’ll get you back for that swat later.”

“I look forward to it.”

An hour later, he stalked onto the stage, sliding through the jets of stage mist to prowl around Ruthie dancing nude at the imaginary bathing pool, a glittering wash of light spilling down to mimic the falls.

His nose twitched.

Weres were close.

Weretigers.

And worse.

The heavy, metallic sting of bronze clogged his nose.

Amazons.

He paused, his flat eyes gazing out into the darkness. His Pride and her Tribe were in the audience. He lifted his head, a rumble of sound vibrating his chest, clashing with the music.

A roar that cried watch and learn.