Arnold had come to the bar, eyes on her, a mixture of feelings, possession, lust, arrogance, depression, determination. He signaled to Anya and was instantly annoyed when she didn’t immediately serve him. Brandon was on the dance floor, close to Shari and the women, dancing with them, a smug smirk on his handsome face each time he looked at Seychelle.
Seychelle had a pulse on everyone in the building and was aware when the Diamondbacks arrived. There was the continual sound of Harleys, trucks or cars in the parking lot or on the road, but the heightened awareness of the members of Torpedo Ink tipped her off that the Diamondback club had arrived.
Steele, the vice president of Torpedo Ink, escorted several men inside, all wearing Diamondback colors. Destroyer was with them. The moment they entered the bar, Seychelle felt a new strain introduced. Pain. Emotional pain. It was sharp and raw. Visceral. The pain of betrayal. That pain emanated from Alena.
Another thread twisted into Seychelle’s golden web. Regret. Guilt. Determination. Sadness. That came from the man that had to be Pierce. He walked beside the one in the vest with a patch declaring he was the president. That man too felt guilt, but also worry. He had a heavy burden resting on him.
With Pierce and the president of the chapter of Diamondbacks were five others Steele escorted down the hall toward the back room. Those men were leery. Destroyer took up the rear. Five other Diamondback club members stayed behind in the bar. Three sat at a table close to Lana and Lissa and the exit.
The other two Diamondbacks moved through the crowd to get to the front where the tables were. The one beside Alena and Scarlet was occupied by a couple, but they rose immediately, allowing the two Diamondbacks to sit down. One took out his phone and brought up a video, turning up the sound and leaning in to show his companion what he was playing. His companion glanced at Alena, his gaze moving over her body in an open leer.
Alena and Scarlet ignored the two men, but Seychelle could feel that pain of betrayal coming off Alena in waves. With it mixed anger. Seychelle’s expression didn’t change, but her level of pain increased until it was difficult for her to sing. The golden threads vibrated with a wealth of silver, sliding along the string straight to the small table, swirling like tiny crystals of shiny glitter.
The music changed to another upbeat rock song, clearly meant for pulling the crowd to their feet for dancing. Her voice joined those notes, wrapping around them, pushing a gentle urge, a need to rise up and have fun, to be happy, to want to dance. All the while as the music did so, she watched the silver glitter swirl around Alena, absorbing the twisted pain and anger, each little crystal filling up, draining off some of the pain, little by little, until the crystals were full.
Seychelle was fascinated. Shocked. While she was singing with an entire crowd around her, she was seeing how Savage’s gift worked. The silver crystals moved along her golden threads, finding their way back to him. The terrible emotional pain Alena had felt, that betrayal that went so deep, was still there, but Savage had siphoned the worst of it from her, taking the old pain and rage that mixed with the new, twisting it together until Alena didn’t know the difference. Until she felt she couldn’t bear the weight of one more betrayal. He’d lifted most of that from her and left her burden so much lighter.
Savage’s gift was such a thing of beauty, Seychelle couldn’t help but react to him with pride and respect, with joy at his abilities and sacrifice. The others didn’t know. They hadn’t seen. Alena still hurt, and the cut was deep, but she didn’t know Savage had saved her, allowing her to present her cool, aloof demeanor.
Seychelle loved Savage all the more for his sacrifice. He would take on Alena’s emotional pain. Shoulder it for her. Feel the deep wound cut right to his soul and allow it to build the rage in him until he had to find a way to rid himself of it. That was what he did for his brothers and sisters. For his club.
Because she had followed that chord back to him, she was even more aware of what he was doing than he was. He wasn’t giving his complete attention to Alena; he was giving it to the meeting taking place in the back room between the two clubs. He was doing his job, and she needed to keep her mind on doing hers.
As the band swung from one song to the next, she kept her focus tuned to the men in the back room with Czar and the others. Twice, the tension seemed to rise sharply, and both times she sent notes of peace and harmony drifting along the main radial threads leading to the back room. She directed the golden notes to those in the back room with the most anxiety and the building anger suddenly coiling deep.