Revel

by Shey Stahl

  “You make me lose my mind, Red,” he breathes, twirling a lonely red curl on my shoulder around his finger. He swallows hard, trying to find a steady breathing pattern, but his dominating blues, they find mine in what seems like slow motion.

  I reach up, touch the tainted pink of his cheeks. “Why do you call me Red? My hair is more orange than red.”

  Picking up a strand of my hair, he twirls it around his finger. “Pretty as you are, be wise. Wolves lurk in every guise.”

  Okay. Do you know what he means? He’s quoting Little Red Riding Hood. And then it hits me, a punch to the chest. He’s the wolf in this story. The one preying on the innocent young girl.

  YOU SHOULD WALK AWAY

  REVEL

  When all my blood is finally going to my brain again, I can think clearly. Or, as clearly as someone who’s drunk 90 percent of the time can think.

  I shouldn’t have kissed her, I know. Does it really matter?

  Only it does because I know where this is heading. The kiss wasn’t enough. I need more, and had I not kissed her, I wouldn’t have known this empty feeling settling in. She’s more than a feeling, something you can’t understand until you’ve experienced it. I told her she makes me lose my mind, and it’s the fucking truth. Nothing compares to how it really feels drowning in the intoxicating being that’s her. If I lose my mind now, it’s because I’ve lied to myself trying to believe I’m not sinking.

  “I gotta say, T, that was incredible,” Cruz shouts. “Who fucking knew you could rap like that, even for a ginger.”

  “I’m pretty amazing once you get to know me,” she tells them, eyes finding mine.

  My jaw clenches. I say nothing. The idea of anyone talking to her sets me off, and I hate that I’m suddenly protective to the point of destructive.

  We’re on our bus in the parking lot outside the stadium. Do you notice Red on my lap? No? That’s because she’s not on my lap. She’s sitting next to Hardin across from me.

  I allow it. For the time being when everything inside me screams otherwise. I don’t move.

  I contemplate.

  I obsess. It’s in my nature.

  All I can come up with, judging by the tightness in my chest, jaw, and my clouded judgment is that I should walk away from her. I’m in too deep, and before I take what’s not mine for the taking, I need to sever ties. But still, I can’t make myself react just like I can’t make myself sober most days.

  A week ago, you couldn’t have gotten me in the same room as her. Now I crave breathing the same air as her if it means we’re closer.

  “You’re so hot! Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m on Revel Slade’s tour bus!” A blonde tells me, sitting on my lap like I invited her there. “I love your music so much.”

  “Seriously?” My glare drags to hers. “Shut the fuck up. I don’t care.”

  “Sorry.” She looks wounded, but I don’t care. “I’m just excited.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Just stop talking.” I push her off my lap. “Go bother Deacon.”

  I know I’m being an ass, but there’s a good fucking reason for it. Do you notice the girl on the stripper pole? Well, if you don’t recognize the hair, it’s Red, and she’s dancing to “Low” by Flo Rida. I watch, but so does everyone else when she drops it low. For years that ass has been a fantasy of mine, but it’s only mine. I’ll kill any motherfucker here who thinks otherwise. I don’t move. Remember when I said fear the calmest person in the room? Now is a good indication of what that means. Just wait.

  When the song’s finished, Red crawls to the couch where she resumes her place next to Hardin. “Looks like you have many talents.”

  Red grins at him and raises her fists, balling them. “I have redheaded ninja skills. They’re called ginja, bitches.”

  The guys laugh.

  I don’t.

  “Oh, I have another joke!” she squeals, slapping Hardin’s thigh. “How do you handle a red-head’s temper?”

  Hardin smiles lazily. “What?”

  “Gingerly.” She laughs again, the sound carrying whimsically through the bus.

  Hardin whispers in Red’s ear, and my vision blurs. Something’s off about her eyes. They’re darker, alert, sure, but the black is swallowing the green. A waft of anger hits my chest, a spark, a kick-start of what’s to come.

  I don’t know, correct me if I’m wrong here, but I thought I’d made it clear to Hardin that Red was not to be touched? Maybe I should have added don’t fucking talk to her either?

  Making my annoyance known, I reach for the cigarettes, light one, then clear my throat. Hardin’s eyes find mine. He smiles.

  Go ahead, motherfucker. I hope you like the taste of blood.

  That’s when Hardin hands her a beer. Her hands shake when she reaches for it, a fit of laughter escaping her lips. And that’s when I lose my shit on my bandmate.

  I flip the table over and send the beer in Red’s hand smashing against the side of the bus. It shatters, women scream, and Hardin locks eyes on me.

  He knows.

  “Cool it,” he mumbles, blitzed out of his mind. He’s moments away from passing out.

  Cool it? I slide my eyes to Red. Blackness suffocates green. She looks at me, but she’s gone inside.

  I can barely breathe, but you know what, I fucking smile at him. He’s not stupid. He sees the “fuck you” in my smile.

  My body shakes, my blood growling in my ears. These guys, Hardin, Cruz, Deacon, they’re my boys. I have their back no matter what. I tolerate their shit, but this, this I won’t.

  “What did you give her?”

  With a heavy sigh, Hardin licks his lips, completely relaxed when he says, “Molly.”

  I blink.

  He can’t be serious.

  I wait for the just kidding, but it never comes. Hardin’s done a lot of fucked-up shit in the past to women, but this? He wouldn’t, would he?

  I look to Red, her eyes, the slumped position of her body.

  Molly? Fucking Molly? I guarantee you Red hasn’t even smoked a joint let alone played Russian roulette with ecstasy. I flip and kick up the dramatics. Be honest, you know he deserves it.

  I reach for him, ready to kill him when suddenly I’m held back by Cruz, Deacon, and Patrick. “You motherfucker!” I scream back at him, everyone in our vicinity stone silent. “I should break your fucking neck, you piece of shit!”

  Those around, they keep their distance because they know there’s no stopping me once I’ve turned. Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck. He gave that shit to Hensley all the time. But it’s her, and now, now I give a fuck. I’ve never had someone burn themselves into my mind like this girl so yeah, I care. Lazy-lidded and smirking, Hardin’s eyes drift to mine.

  He says nothing, at first.

  Nothing.

  Until. . . .

  “Fuck, man, here we go again.” He tries to stand and fails miserably. “Relax, Rev. She’s fine. If anything, I relaxed her enough to tolerate your bullshit. You spent years raggin’ on that chick and now all of a sudden you give a shit?”

  “You don’t do shit like that. You don’t fuck a girl unless she’s willing and you don’t give them drugs without them knowing. It’s common fucking sense, dipshit.”

  Fuck this. No way am I letting her stay on this bus.

  I shrug off Patrick’s grip on me. “Lay off,” I tell him, reaching around them for Red’s hand.

  She takes it.

  She stands, clinging to my side. Avoiding the questioning stares around us, I lead her off the bus, laughter fading in the distance.

  “Where’s your bus?”

  She points, or tries to. “Wow.” She brings her hand an inch from her face. “My hand is so heavy.”

  “Red.” I shake her shoulders, keeping a good grip on her. “Where’s your bus?”

  “Parked in the east parking lot. Why?”

  I open the door to the bus and help her down the steps. “Anyone on it?”

  “No, they’re on yours, silly.” She
lunges for me, full-on fucking leaps from the top step to me. Luckily, I catch her and then carefully set her on her feet. At least I try to. She clings to me like a spider monkey. “You’re so pretty,” she coos, taking my face between her hands and smooshing my cheeks together. “I wish I could have your eyelashes.” And then she tries to rip them off my eyelids. “Give them to me.”

  “They’re attached,” I pry her hands off my face, nearly drop her on the pavement in the process, but prop her against the side of my bus. “Don’t move.”

  Ha. Like that’s going to happen. When I was on it, I couldn’t stop moving.

  She nods, trying to focus on me and grinning like I’ve never seen before. “Okay, I won’t.” Before I can stop her, she flips around and licks the water beading on the side of the bus. “I’m so thirsty.” Licks the fucking side of the bus.

  Oh, shit. What’s even more disturbing about this? For a moment, I watch her because it’s kinda hot watching her lick it. And then my brain catches up and with the lack of blood flow, and I realize the complications with this.

  She’s licking a bus.

  And then, because he has the worst timing, her security guard surfaces, walking toward us with a menacing glare. Though I’m pleased to see he rarely leaves her alone, I’m not excited to see him now given her condition. “Just be cool,” I tell Red, trying to get her to stand up straight and away from the bus.

  Without moving her mouth from the bus, she waves her hand around, smacking me in the ear. “Puh-lease, boy. I’m the coolest person here,” she says, never missing a lick.

  I fight off a smile.

  Ben eyes me carefully, then her licking the bus and he knows. He gives me that “you’re dead, motherfucker” look I’m familiar with from pretty much every authority figure.

  Red stumbles, notices her bodyguard and then smiles, clapping her hands together and rushing toward him. “Benny Boop!”

  He catches her by her elbows, steading her. He takes one look at her flushed cheeks, black eyes, and goofy grins and his glare snaps to mine. “What’s she on?”

  Wondering if he has a gun or Taser on him, I bury my hands in my pockets. “I’ll handle it,” I tell him. Red twists in his arms and then returns to my side. I keep her there, wrapping my arm around her waist only to have her stick her finger in my ear.

  “Wet willy!” she cackles like it’s the funniest fucking thing ever.

  Goddamn. It’s gonna be a long night.

  “What did you give her?”

  You knew it was coming.

  I let go of Red and despite the obvious difference in our size—him being big as fuck—I get in Ben’s face. “I didn’t give her a goddamn thing. What I can do is make you disappear. So if you want to keep your job, I suggest you stop fucking around and show me where her bus is at.”

  Bella chooses then to pop her head out the door, concern plastered all over her face. “Is Tay okay?”

  I don’t move my eyes from Ben’s. “She’s fine!” I don’t know if she is. I know when I took that shit, I wasn’t fine. When I was under the influence, there was this guy, I don’t know who he was, but I ended up taking each one of his dreadlocks on his head and tying them together. It took him two full days the get that shit untied.

  “Go away,” I tell her assistant, adamant I can handle this.

  Against everyone’s opinions, I manage to get Red back on her bus, lock everyone else out, and put her in bed. Only she’s not tired. I don’t have plans on touching her, let alone having sex with her in her current state, but Princess, she has other ideas. “Now that you have me alone. . . .”

  Sure, I kiss her again, but when she’s trying to unbutton my jeans, I put a stop to it. “We can’t,” I tell her, my breathing shaky, my control slipping.

  “Why not?” she practically yells in my face.

  “Because you’re high.”

  “High on life!” That’s when she grabs my junk. “Is it fun to have a penis?”

  I attempt to put some distance between us, but it doesn’t work.

  “Does it feel weird with something flopping around between your legs?” It’s then she realizes I’m hard and starts trying to stroke me through my jeans. “Oh, cool. Can I see it?”

  Jesus Christ. Just fucking pass out already.

  I push her hand away and set it on her lap. “No.”

  Her brow scrunches in anger, a scowl settling over her. “Why not?”

  “Because. It’s mine. Stop talking. Aren’t you tired?”

  “No. I think my freckles are dancing.” Her eyes cross like she’s trying to look at her nose and then she smiles. “Are my ears still attached? They feel hot, and I’m wondering if they’ve fallen off.”

  I’m going to fucking murder Hardin. “They’re still attached.” Drawing in a heavy breath, I pry her off me again. “I’ll get you a cold rag and some water. You’re just hot from the drugs. It raises your blood pressure.”

  “Drugs?” she shouts, flopping herself back on the bed. “I took drugs?”

  This is the fourth time we’ve had this conversation tonight.

  After rummaging around in the freezer, I find an ice pack. When I return to the bed, she’s naked. Fucking naked from head to toe telling me, “My clothes were burning my skin.”

  Blood rushes to my cock. There’s no bigger turn on than having a naked woman sprawled out on a bed, legs spread. Is it hot in here? My breath catches and I hand her a blanket from beside her bed. “You should cover up.”

  Refusing the blanket, she twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. “I want you to fuck me, Rev,” she breathes, arching her back into the sea of white pillows and blankets underneath her.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  She’s never called me Rev before. I hate how much I love the way my nickname sounds coming from her. It makes me feel inferior, and that’s not something easily achieved any longer. Fueled by the dirty word on her lips, I step forward. I would have had she not been on drugs, but I can’t. Not to her. She’s pure and innocent, and I’m not going to taint her with my demons.

  I shake my head, my jaw clenching.

  She bends her knees, bringing her heels to her ass and spreading her legs. The change in her position gives me a clear view of her tight wet pussy. “Please,” she begs, sliding her hands to the undersides of her breasts, running her thumbs along her hard nipples.

  God, what I wouldn’t give to fuck her right now.

  Then her fingers go to her clit and she starts getting herself off. I’m transfixed. Completely fucking mesmerized. I go from hard to harder than fuck, faster than I can comprehend. I imagined how wet she is. How tight she’d feel with me sliding in and out of her. My legs can barely support the sagging weight of my body against the doorframe to her room. I can barely breathe as arousal rips through me.

  And then her hips buck, her eyes finding mine. “Do you want me?”

  I have morals.

  Bullshit.

  I can’t do this.

  Yes, you can. No one would know.

  I won’t.

  Pussy.

  Fuck. You.

  I nod, unable to speak, desperate to shove my hand inside my jeans, take my cock out and spread my seed all over her fucking face for teasing me like this.

  “Then take me.”

  I process her words. No. I won’t. Not like this. My jaw is too tight to answer at first, my stare focused on her pink clitoris, plump and needy, waiting for me. I can almost taste her arousal flooding through me, burning my brain like I’m locked inside a car on a hot day.

  She pumps her fingers inside herself, over and over again, moaning for me to take her.

  “I can’t,” I mumble, my voice hoarse and broken. This isn’t fucking happening. Look away.

  I don’t.

  I can’t.

  I press my face into the dark wood beside my head. It’s cool to the touch, a stark difference from the heat coursing through me. I force myself to take a step back and stand stock still. I t
hink about the way my cum would look dripping from her mouth.

  At that moment, at the peak of her climax and the greedy triumph in her eyes, it has me nearly coming in my pants. Our eyes lock. I can barely breathe. I can smell her, and she smells like heaven, the scent every man hungers for. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to not pin her to the mattress and show her what fucking Revel Slade would be like. Right here, right now.

  I can see every tremble, every shake, every breath and goose bump on her body, from her biting her bottom lip to the way she stops breathing completely the second the orgasm hits. And I watch with hunger that’s so beyond palpable it’s damn near oppressive.

  She shivers, her voice low when she whispers, “Do you have any idea how badly I want you inside me?”

  “I have an idea,” my voice low and crackly. I swallow over the dryness in my throat, ready to collapse at her feet and give her anything in the world as long as it involves me balls deep in her pussy.

  I can’t breathe.

  I’m not entirely sure how I manage to lock myself in her bathroom, but I do and take care of a much-needed problem. Afraid of what I might find when I exit the bathroom, I’m surprised to find Red still on the bed, on her stomach, wearing my shirt I don’t remember taking off and her hands propped under her chin.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, noticing how flushed her cheeks are. Probably about as tinted as mine are.

  “Did you know ancient Greeks thought redheads turned into vampires when they die?”

  The fuck? “Uh, no.” I move forward, sitting on the edge of her bed. I think about lying back, but I know I’ll be met with her bare ass and that’s not an option.

  “They also said redheads are like the unicorns of the world.”