Heavy Metal Heart: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance

by Fields,Annette

  GM: How long do you see yourself as a musician?

  TR: I always want to be making music. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever made love to a woman. I’ve always fucked. But to me, making music is the closest thing to making love. And I want to do that for as long as I’m able.

  Helena sighed and shut her laptop with a frustrated slam. Torsten’s arrogance came through on a webpage just as potently as in real life. That last bit about making love just ensured he was nothing but bad news.

  She stood, stretched, and rubbed her temples.

  That straight edge comment didn’t make any sense. It certainly didn’t match up with what Lars told her for years. And even if Torsten didn’t do illegal drugs himself, why would he get them just for the other band members.

  “If you look at what’s in front of you, I think you’ll see the truth,” he told her.

  Yeah right. He was just trying to win her over with his masculine charms and sex appeal. That sentence didn’t mean anything more than the kiss he gave her.

  For the hundredth time since last night, she cursed Torsten under her breath.

  I need some air. Maybe a walk will clear my thoughts.

  Stepping outside, she decided to check her mailbox on the corner. She sorted through junk mail and supermarket ads, shoving them under her arm for the recycling can later, and paused when she saw a thin, white envelope with just her name written in pen. No postage or return address.

  She tore it open carefully and her heart stopped at what she saw.

  It was a cheque for 2000 krone, which covered her rent and then some. A note attached to it read:

  Helena,

  Everything else aside, I’m a man of my word.

  -T

  Confusion wasn’t even half of what she felt. Why would he do this? Was he trying to show off his wealth and arrogance even more? Or was he actually trying to be… a decent person?

  As if through a fog, Helena walked slowly back to her apartment. Once inside, she stared at the note and cheque for what seemed like ages. Then with a quick flourish, she dumped the whole pile of mail in her recycling pin. Note, cheque, and envelope included.

  I don’t know what that was about, but I also keep my word. I work for what I do, and I don’t take handouts.

  The more she thought about the gesture, the angrier she became. He knew where she lived, so she wasn’t the only one snooping around. He enjoying messing with her in his hotel room and wanted to keep doing it.

  Too bad, Torsten. I’m not letting you get under my skin. I’m taking you down tonight.

  Tonight’s show gave no better opportunity to get to the bottom of this. This time, she wouldn’t leave until she had the information she needed or Torsten kicked her out. At the worst, she’d have a story about the lead guitarist getting violent with a small, female reporter.

  ***

  Helena made sure to arrive late to the show. She suspected Andre and his security team wouldn't hesitate to throw her out if they spotted her in the throng of concert attendees after what she did last night.

  However, the little black dress from last night did her plenty of favors, and she decided on a similar dress for this show: also black but a tight, clingy bodycon style. At least she would be fashionably late.

  Mjolnir played at least half their set by the time she arrived. She took care to keep out of the band's line of sight, hovering around the back edges of the ground floor crowd. Who knew if Torsten would also have her thrown out on sight.

  As she crept closer along the edge to their backstage area, the band appeared to take an intermission of some kind. Their song just ended and band members guzzled water, tuned and changed out instruments while Stig spoke to the crowd.

  "Today's a very special day in the world of rock music, in case you didn't know," he said into the microphone, still catching his breath. He paused while the crowd urged him to continue. "Today is the anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death."

  With another pause, the crowd buzzed with mixed reactions. Some cheered and yelled, "Rest in peace!" Others mumbled their condolences in hushed tones. Helena stayed frozen, unsure what to expect. Kurt Cobain had been her first celebrity crush. Nirvana was one of the first favorite bands that she had in common with Lars.

  "Kurt was taken too young and to honor his memory, we decided to cover a Nirvana song for you tonight," Stig continued. The crowd erupted in cheers. Helena remembered from one of Torsten's interviews that they never did covers.

  "If you can't create your own music, you're not truly musically talented," he said in the interview. She rolled her eyes at that, but there was no denying this cover song was a rare and special treat.

  "Now, you know grunge is not exactly our genre. Thankfully, one of our members is a part-time Kurt Cobain impersonator! Can you guess who it is?"

  Laughter floated up from the audience, on top of dozens of simultaneous conversations. Suddenly a chant began to sound louder and clearer with each repetition.

  "Tors-ten! Tors-ten! TORS-TEN!"

  The aforementioned, self-proclaimed God of Heavy Metal swaggered onstage holding an acoustic guitar. Helena gasped at the resemblance. She never noticed before, due to his shaggy blond hair usually pulled back in a short ponytail, but as he walked out, it cascaded to his shoulders in messy waves of gold. With his bright blue eyes to match, Torsten looked exactly like Kurt Cobain.

  Only he had more of a beard, his body looked carved from marble, and he was very much alive.

  Helena remembered the rush of sensations as he kissed and touched her last night, and her clit pulsed in response. Her body could not help but want him, even though her mind was completely against it.

  Torsten raised the guitar above his head as he approached the microphone and the crowd went wild. Muscles and veins wrapped like rope around his outstretched arm, his abs stretching along his torso. How completely unfair that his body was the archetype of the masculine ideal. No woman on earth could resist.

  Helena knew she should get moving to backstage but like last night, she felt rooted to the floor and couldn't remove her eyes from him. Is he actually going to sing? She had to see this.

  "I'm actually not a part-time Kurt Cobain impersonator," he said into the microphone, looking pointedly at Stig. "But if you like this, ladies, I may be open to the job."

  High-pitched squeals erupted so loudly, Helena felt her ears ring. She glared in Torsten's direction. He'd be attractive enough if he just kept damn mouth shut.

  The screams died once Torsten slung the guitar strap over his naked shoulder and positioned his hand on the neck. Everyone wanted to know what he would play.

  "This is my favorite Nirvana song." He paused and licked his lips before continuing. The anticipation hung so thickly in the air, it could be cut with a knife. "It's called Lake of Fire."

  The cheers that burst from the audience quieted quickly as Torsten jumped right into the familiar guitar riff. Once he opened his mouth to sing, Helena felt her breath get stolen away.

  "Where do bad folks go when they die, they don't go heaven where the angels fly..." His voice crackled similarly as Cobain's did, but the similarities ended there. He sang much lower and didn't radiate any of that vulnerability that Kurt did. Torsten's singing carried just as much confidence as his guitar playing.

  He was just as expressive as a singer too, tapping his foot and rocking his torso back and forth.

  Watching and listening to him was downright erotic.

  Helena's body flushed with warmth that she knew wasn't from all the bodies pressing around her. She only felt that once before, when that same man crooning onstage kissed her last night.

  At the very least, Torsten had the skill and dripping sex appeal to back up his arrogance. He earned his spot as band leader and stood there, serenading the crowd with a voice no one knew he had, because no other man could pull it off.

  He finished the song and Helena slinked through the crowd as fast as she could, her legs seeming more wobbly than they were moment
s ago.

  How could one man have such an intoxicating effect on her? His voice wafting across the room felt pleasant, comforting, and sexy to her. But fear gripped her. If he lured her in with his charms and seduction again, she would never escape.

  Chapter 8

  Torsten

  Raw, primal energy coursed through Torsten’s body like a predatory snake in his veins. He wanted to howl at the moon, kill something, fuck something, like a bloodthirsty animal running on pure instinct. A sold-out crowd in a large city always pumped him up like this.

  The energy from thousands of people gathered to watch Mjolnir crackled like an electric current in the air. It flowed through the slick bodies of he and his bandmates, powered the lights and speakers on the stage, and back out to fill the air of the packed arena via Stig's voice and their instruments.

  Every individual person morphed into something larger than themselves. The audience became a single body, ebbing and flowing rhythmically with thousands of hearts beating in unison, thousands of eyes glued to him onstage. Its thousands of mouth sang along with Stig in one voice that reverberated off the walls, ceilings, and, Torsten felt, off his very skin.

  This rush, this feeling of transcendence and power, was his reason for not only performing, but living. Nothing felt better than this, except possibly sex.

  As they neared the end of their set, Torsten's lean, shirtless body glistened with sweat, his heart beat furiously like a drum, and his breath came out heavy and ragged. His body felt fatigued but he never felt more energized.

  If Helena meant what she said, he knew she’d be here tonight, trying to find some kind of dirt to smear on him. That sweet honey taste of her lips lingered on his. If he ran into her again, he wouldn’t stop at a mere kiss.

  He needed to unleash the beast within him like he needed air to breathe.

  Torsten ripped out the last note on his guitar and the stage went dark. It was their last song, but the crowd would want an encore. He gathered with his bandmates in a small dressing room, just off to the side of the stage. A single light bulb on the wall barely illuminated the five sweaty, shirtless men struggling to catch their breaths. Torsten stood directly under it, the dim yellow light created a sculpted silhouette of his bare shoulders and arms. His three bandmates looked at him like a pack of wild animals waiting for a command from their alpha leader.

  "What do we play for them, Torsten?" asked Stig hoarsely. The walls of the small room did little to muffle the chants of more from the crowd.

  He looked over to Markus, the new drummer clearly eager to prove himself. He nailed the drumming for both shows, much to the relief of Torsten and the others. The guy showed serious promise and put on a hell of a show for the crowd.

  "You feel like drumming as fast as you fucking can?" Torsten asked him.

  "Fuck yeah I do!" he replied with a grin and flipped his drumsticks in the air.

  "Then we're playing Battle Roar," Torsten answered. Markus clapped his hands in excitement. It was one of their fastest-tempo songs, and an early single they didn't play often anymore. The longtime fans would go apeshit over it, and Markus would have his speed-drumming skills and stamina put to the test.

  The bandmates took a few more minutes to build anticipation for the crowd and cool themselves down, though Torsten's blood continued to boil. He hadn't felt this predatory and animalistic in years. He couldn’t get Helena out of his head all night and wondered if that was fueling him. No kiss and grope had ever driven his cock that crazy. Ever since that night, he wanted nothing more to find out what her pussy tasted like, how tightly it would clench around his cock.

  "Let's fuck it up out there!" Torsten roared.

  His band mates roared in agreement and stalked out onto the stage.

  If he didn’t feel like a savage animal already, playing Battle Roar sent Torsten deep into his lizard brain. All rational thought exited his body through his fingers and dissipated into the air through the cries of his guitar. Pure physical need controlled him.

  Ordinarily, he considered himself a man of self-control, a man of discipline. But not tonight. If Helena wasn’t around to fuck, he’d get in a fight. Maybe both.

  The crowd went wild as the final song rose into its crescendo, which was also his guitar solo. He watched his hands dance along the guitar's neck as if they were someone else's. He never needed to think about music, his body simply knew it. He could play this solo in his sleep if he had to.

  The screams of the audience washed over him, not like a crashing wave, but a gentle hum that carried him. Thousands of voices reverberated as one, single vibrating presence.

  And just like that, the song ended.

  His hands stopped and the stage went dark again. The single voice of the crowd became many individual voices again, cheering and crying at the raw, human artistry they just witnessed.

  Torsten set his guitar down and left the stage unceremoniously as he usually did. He went straight to the backstage lounge intending to find a cigarette to soften the razor-sharp edge of his mind. He burst through the door, not at all surprised to see a familiar gorgeous face with wide green eyes and wearing a skintight dress.

  Chapter 9

  Helena

  Helena jumped with a start when she heard the door crash open. She whipped around and there he stood. Torsten.

  If he looked intoxicating from hundreds of feet away on a stage, his presence absolutely overpowered her in the same room. His eyes burned with the intensity of a blue flame. The look on his face was absolutely savage. His breath came in heavy, ragged gasps from playing his final song not a minute earlier, making his sculpted, bare torso rise and fall with each breath. If she didn't know any better, he could have stepped out of a Norse saga as a legendary Viking warrior. His hair fell loose around his face and his skin was slick with sweat.

  “Not surprised to see you here,” he greeted as he strode toward her.

  “So what the fuck, Torsten?” Helena demanded, trying to sound assertive, but god damn those abs and those shoulders made her voice wobble.

  “What the fuck, what?” he stopped inches away from her face. Heat radiated from him and she could smell the saltiness of his skin.

  “The money in my mailbox. Why-,”

  Torsten cut her off by pressing his mouth onto hers. Catching her mid-word allowed him to sneak his tongue into her mouth and pull her tightly against him.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs like a drum as she realized what was happening, while her feet felt as if they floated on air. His tongue invaded her mouth and thrust against hers, demanding and yet so giving. Every sensation in her body from last night returned with a vengeance. Heat rushed to her core, which suddenly felt so achingly empty. It demanded to be filled.

  She found herself returning his kisses with the same hunger as him. Her own tongue crashed against his and she gasped when he took her lower lip in his teeth. As if controlled by someone else, her hands slid around his sides and up his lean, muscular back.

  Logic and reason didn’t exist here. Up was down and the sun rose in the west. All she knew was a world of heat and touch and intense, hungering lust.

  Torsten broke his kiss from her almost violently and she froze, afraid to speak or move and thereby breaking the spell.

  Is he just using me, like last night?

  “Helena, I fucking want you,” he growled, his hands pressed into her lower back. “You’re so fucking beautiful, but I know you’re sad.” His eyes burned into hers as he spoke inches away from her mouth. The movement of his lips hypnotized her.

  “Let’s forget everything else for tonight. Let me make you feel good.” He raised one hand to her face and traced his thumb across her lower lip, waiting for an answer.

  Helena blinked with the realization that both surprised her and kicked her hunger for him into overdrive.

  He wasn’t going to use her, or take anything from her. He asked for consent.

  She nodded slowly, while a small voice in the back of her brain
said, “What the fuck are you doing?!” But she was beyond the point of listening to that voice. She'd never such insatiable desire for anyone before. Her body, yearning for Torsten’s touch again, took over the controls, and her mind was powerless to resist.

  Torsten’s mouth pulled up into a brief smirk before lowering to hers again. As she closed her eyes to fully give in to his kiss, she felt her legs buckle beneath her. Torsten scooped her up in his arms instantly. His long, strong arms supported under her knees and across her back in a princess carry, never breaking the kiss for a second. Helena grew even hotter at the sweet gesture.

  Only when he laid her down gently on the couch, did he pull away and look at her.

  “Fucking hell, Helena. You’re gorgeous.”

  He looked ready to completely devour her, his eyes full of hunger and need. He could have been frightening, but she was not frightened at all. Strangely she felt safer here, in the arms and under the spell of a man she barely knew, than she ever felt in the years with her ex-husband.

  Torsten's hand traveled from around the back of her knee to the inside of her thigh. His fingertips dancing along her bare skin ignited her nerve endings like live wires. With a small growl, he broke eye contact with her and moved his mouth to her earlobe. He sucked and nibbled, teasing her mercilessly. The intensity sent her back arching against him, her clit throbbing like it connected directly to her ear. Helena's breath and heartbeat quickened as the reality set in of what they were doing. What they were about to do.

  “Torst-” she gasped as his hand disappeared under her little black dress and pressed against her soaking wet vulva.

  Chapter 10

  Torsten

  Torsten made a small sound that was half moan, half growl as he nipped her earlobe, then traveled his teeth down her neck.