Page 44 of Poet & Protector

“Steel toes,” Ansel corrected. “Their boots definitely have steel toes. Where should we sit?”

I glanced around. “Over there.”

We went to a table in the far corner where most of the already dim lights in the bar didn’t reach. When we sat down, Ansel gave me a measured look.

“You don’t want him to know you’re here, huh?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, curtly. “Be quiet. We came to listen to the music.”

Ansel quirked his lips but didn’t press the issue. I pointedly turned toward the stage and focused on the band.

The song ended and there was a smattering of applause. Most of it came from tables closer to the stage. The people sidling at the bar or hanging around the pool tables didn’t seem to care much about the band. Their loss. Even from the little bit I’d heard, Nev and the others were talented.

After a short pause the musicians began to rearrange themselves. Nev traded his electric guitar for a twelve-string acoustic.

That’s the scent. Nev’s scent. The steel I couldn’t place. Guitar strings.

The lights shifted, illuminating more of the stage and the faces of the audience closest to the band.

Ansel sucked in a breath. “Mason, is that Sabine on stage?”

I’d been watching Nev tune his guitar. “What?”

“Look!” Ansel pointed.

I smacked his hand down but searched the stage. It was Sabine.

“Did you know she was in the band?” Ansel asked.

“No,” I told him. “I only knew about Nev, Caleb the bassist, and Tom the drummer. I don’t know why Sabine is up there.”

I also didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but Ansel’s gaze was jumping around the bar.

He suddenly grabbed my jacket and tugged me toward him, whispering frantically. “All the Banes are here.”

He didn’t point this time, but it was easy to follow his horrified stare.

Oh shit.

Ren, Dax, and Cosette were gathered at a table up front. The young wolves were relaxed, laughing and chatting among themselves.

I don’t know why I assumed Nev’s moonlighting as a dive bar guitarist was something he kept to himself, but it hadn’t even crossed my mind that he would have invited his packmates to the show.

God, I am stupid.

“We need to go,” Ansel urged. “If they see us⁠—”

“They won’t see us,” I said, despite having no way of guaranteeing that. “We’re all the way back here and they came to watch Nev and Sabine, who are up there.”

“But what if⁠—”

“We don’t have to stay very long.” I cut him off again. “Let’s listen to a couple of songs. Then, if you want, we can go.”

I was being reckless. Ansel was right: if the Banes spotted us, it would only lead to bad things. But I didn’t want to leave. At all. I couldn’t explain why I needed to stay, but I did.

Ansel bit the inside of his cheek, looking at me, then at the Banes, then the stage.

“I guess,” he said, slumping in his chair. “If you really think it will be okay.”