Spell Bound (Darkly Enchanted) Read Online Free

just play it, but make it sing. Percussion, guitar, bass, violin. Anything he could hit or had a string. He had some trouble with wind instruments but she was pretty sure that had to do more with lung capacity than talent. Give him a few years and he’d master those, too.
If he had a few years.
No, none of that now.
If she was going DownBelow, she needed to change. The jeans and t-shirts she’d worn to work weren’t gonna cut it. Not if she didn’t want to stand out.
And she really didn’t want to stand out.
“Hey, Vi. You got anything I can wear? I wasn’t exactly planning to go tonight.”
Vi gestured with the bright red lipstick she was applying. “Not really. Look in the closet, babe. Something’ll jump out at you.”
Hell, why hadn’t she thought of that? Probably because she had too damn much on her mind.
The club had been built as headquarters for a beneficial society in the early 1800s, but in later life had been home to the Reading Communist Party, the Daughters of the American Revolution and, for a time in the 1920s, a burlesque theater.
Only the red velvet curtains over the stage and windows remained in view from those days, but the heart of that old theater lived in this closet. Along with clothes from just about every decade since.
Leo loved to hunt in the trunks for treasure like plastic swords and funny hats. He was too young to realize the treasure was the clothes. Growing up as she had, clothes had never been much of a concern. Jeans, t-shirts, sweaters.
But now…well, now she knew the difference between a basque and a corset. Black velvet on her skin made her shiver with lust. Leather molded to her body like a lover and the sheen of satin against her olive-toned skin and dark hair made her glow.
Ah, there it was, the cream satin basque, hanging from the pole on the side wall. She pushed aside two Victorian gowns to reach it then turned to one of several old steamer trunks on the other side of the room. She’d seen a whole trunk of black leather… Yeah, this was it.
She pulled out a couple of skirts that looked like they might fit her then headed back into the dressing room.
Vibia would need to help her with the basque and then she was going DownBelow.
There, at least for an hour or so, she could forget that the man she needed to save her brother was drinking himself into a coma.
* * *
“Hey, Harry. What’s happening DownBelow?”
From behind the huge mahogany bar that dominated the north wall of the club, Harry gave him a once-over as he tapped a beer for a waitress.
Gabriel figured he didn’t look too good, not after three steady days of drinking.
Fuck it. Tonight at ritual, he’d sober up fast.
“Since you’ve been drowning yourself in tequila for the past three nights, I guess you didn’t have any luck?” Harry asked.
He met Harry’s gaze head on. He’d managed to avoid this conversation until now. “Nothing there.”
Harry nodded once and a brief flash of sympathy passed through his eyes. Anyone else, Gabriel would’ve told them off. He didn’t need their sympathy.
But Harry was the only person Gabriel trusted with this part of his life. Harry wanted Dario dead, though he’d never explained why.
And Gabriel didn’t really care. They wanted the same thing.
“Band’s in,” Harry said finally. “Gonna be full. You know the drill.”
Yeah, he knew the drill. And no one, if they wanted to be allowed back into The Spyder or DownBelow, ignored Harry’s drill. No weapons, no fighting. No excuses. You fucked up and you were banned. Forever.
Looking at the guy, you wouldn’t think he was such a badass. Five-ten, short brown hair, brown eyes, average looks, the kind that would get him passed over in a lineup even if he was guilty.
But looks, as they so often were, were deceiving mothers.
Gabriel had been in Harry’s office a few times, long enough to look at the photos on the walls. They chronicled the building’s history from the time of its construction in the early 1800s