by Cherrie Lynn
The sound grew into a roar.
“You motherfuckers are too quiet. I said right?” The last word boomed and echoed, and was met with the deafening thunder of answering cheers. Goose bumps rose on Rowan’s arms. As much as she dreaded seeing Ava share the stage with Zane, she wanted to hear the damn song.
“Thing is,” he went on, “we couldn’t do it by ourselves. Just couldn’t do it.”
A wave of confusion came from the audience. Rowan had to smile at the way he commanded every eye in the place, the way every person in the place hung on his every word. The dark monarch addressing his feverish, faithful disciples.
He shook his head and lifted the mic again, pacing the stage as he spoke. “So . . . we got a little help. And I’m gonna need a little help out here tonight. Are you ready for some new shit?”
Cheers.
“I SAID ARE YOU READYYYYY?”
Absolute fucking pandemonium ensued. Zane stared them down, breathing heavily, sweating, so unbelievably hot she wanted to rush the stage and tackle him. Even during the break between songs, yellow-shirted security guards between the stage and the audience were fishing crowd-surfers out and setting them on their feet. Cell phone camera flashes were popping all over. Even more phones were up in the air, turned sideways, videoing. Rowan wondered if she might catch the tiniest glimpse of herself on YouTube tomorrow.
Deke began the intro as Zane set his mic back on the stand, sensual lips pursed, nodding along to the riff. Rowan found herself doing the same, it was heavy and powerful. But she began to practically feel the surge of evil behind her. Ava Marks, waiting on her cue to enter.
Zane began to sing.
One thing about being side stage that she didn’t like was that the sound was muddy. The speakers were out front, so the audience got the clearer sound. Over here, the lyrics he sang were nigh on unintelligible. She would have to get him to play the track for her later.
The awesomeness of being able to even think that was not lost on her.
Just as the first verse came to a close, however, that surge of evil rushed past Rowan in a flutter of black leather and lace as Ava sauntered out on the stage, one arm outstretched as she greeted the audience and her voice soared up to the sky. Rowan grumbled a little to herself at the crowd’s reaction. She could just make out some of the front-row faces. They were in pure ecstasy, mouths wide open, eyes huge. More cameras than ever were in the air.
Even worse, despite the murky sound, she could tell they sounded amazing together. His rich, deep masculine power and her high, soaring siren call melded into an incredible harmony.
The crowd worshiped her as much as they did him. Why wouldn’t they? Despite her demonic tendencies, she was angelically beautiful, her white-blond hair spiraling in loose curls all the way to her waist, her figure lithe and slender as a reed. Rowan especially seethed when she and Zane sang their parts face-to-face, so she tore her gaze away and stared down at her hands.
“Ava Marks of Decider!” Zane called out once the song ended. The crowd cheered its appreciation. Rowan dared a glance up again, but she shouldn’t have. Before Ava left the stage, she and Zane shared a hug, but then she grasped him by the chin and kissed him full on the lips.
A fast kiss, no more than a half second long. But there. As Ava exited stage right, where Rowan sat, she looked her dead in the eye, a tiny smile curving the shapely pillow lips that had just touched Zane’s. Rowan didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
“What a wretched cunt,” Nikki observed.
Rowan laughed, resolving to enjoy the rest of the show, but it wasn’t entirely possible. Zane was incredible as usual, but the sick feeling in the pit of Rowan’s stomach wouldn’t go away. His earlier words about nothing happening between him and Ava . . . she believed that wholeheartedly. The entire situation simply drove home the fact that she might not be cut out to navigate these waters. Already, she was questioning the motives of everyone around her, and she’d only met a handful of people. This was going to drive her insane. She liked being liked. It was a thing. The idea that anyone might hate her for no good reason made her feel as if she’d taken a gut shot.
She’d told him she would put off that decision until tomorrow. But they definitely needed to have that talk.
Chapter Twelve
There was a fucking puzzle for the fans to mull over, Zane thought as he left the stage after waving his goodbyes to the crowd. Ava kissing him dead on the mouth right in front of the audience while a pregnant woman had been seen getting on and off his bus.
Shit. He was glad that was over. Never again. It had felt like kissing a fucking snake.
Jase tossed a towel around his neck. Zane extended his arm to Rowan and she grabbed at his hand as if it were a life preserver. He couldn’t believe she’d had to sit and watch that.
“We shouldn’t have fucking done it,” he growled as they headed to the dressing room. “Should have cut that goddamned motherfucker of a song from the set list.”
“What?” Deke asked from behind him. “It was stellar, man. Did we fuck it up?”
“No. She fucked it up.” He refused to elaborate further. If they couldn’t figure it out, they were a bunch of dumbasses.
“It’s okay,” Rowan said softly, and he realized he needed to slow his rapid pace. She was small and her legs were shorter; she was struggling to keep up with him. He also relaxed his iron grip on her hand.
“It’s not fucking okay,” he snapped, more harshly than he’d meant. “Springing that shit on me like that.”
She fell silent, most likely taking a cue from everyone else who knew to shut up, leave him alone, and let him brood.
Entering his dressing room with Rowan, he slammed the door behind them and headed straight for the shower while she perched on the couch, looking after him with wide, stricken eyes. He would apologize for biting her head off, but first he had to get his own head straight.
Ava was a performer too. She knew better than to pull shit like that, she fucking knew. The hot spray from the shower on his naked skin did nothing to ease the tension thrumming beneath his skin. Now, when he was supposed to be tired but mellow, triumphant, euphoric as an addict who’d just gotten his fix, those feelings were nowhere to be found.
It’s done, it’s over, he told himself. But he almost hated that their new song, which he did love, featured the voice of such a manipulative person.
By the time he emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips and nothing else, he only felt slightly better, but the way Rowan’s eyes roamed over his body helped. It helped a lot. “Well,” he said at last, unable to keep the sarcastic dejection from his voice, “did you enjoy the show?”
“Like ninety-nine-point-nine percent of it,” she said.
He had to laugh. “Yeah. Me too.”
“It’s over,” she said after a brief pause. “No need to let it ruin the night.”
“I know. Easier said than done.”
“The song sounded great, from what I could tell. I would love to hear the studio version.”
He nodded, digging around in his bag for something comfortable to put on. “Of course you can.” Retrieving a T-shirt and some track pants, he also grabbed his phone from the side pocket. Amid the hundreds of messages he usually had waiting was an entire slew of outraged scoldings from Mike, like he was fucking fifteen years old again. Ordinarily he wouldn’t even bother reading them, but one of them caught his eye.
“What happened between you and your mother-in-law?” he asked, looking up to catch her reaction.
There was a swift shifting of gears behind her eyes, and he knew he’d only taken her mind off one problem to place it thoroughly on another. “You mean Tommy’s mother?” she asked bitterly. “Because I don’t consider her my anything.”
Still wearing only his towel, he walked over to sit by her on the couch. “Tell me.”
“Another fight. A big one. I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“And that’s wh
y you’re here.”
“It’s not why I’m here.”
“Well . . . it was the deciding factor I was curious about.”
“Yeah. When I called you, it had happened not five minutes before.”
He sighed and sat back. She remained sitting forward with her elbows on her knees. “I don’t get it. How in the hell can she hassle you at a time like this?”
“She can hassle anyone, anytime. She doesn’t discriminate. I even went to her stupid ‘get-together’ for Tommy’s birthday. It would’ve been his thirtieth, you know? And I kept thinking about what he and I would’ve been doing, and how much fun we would’ve had, and she had to go and be an awful bitch to me in front of everyone just because I was tired and wanted to go home.”
He put the flat of his hand against her back, rubbing gently. “Tell me what she said. I’d rather get your version than Savannah’s through Mike. It’s like a fucking game of telephone.”
“Thing is, you won’t get Savannah’s version, because she walked away. She only knew it was getting ugly, and she left.”
“Instead of standing up for you.”
Rowan scoffed. “Why would she do that? She’s on her mother’s side.”
“Is she really? Maybe there aren’t sides for her, but she can’t stand to see you two fight.”
“I don’t want to fight. I don’t know what to do, Zane. I know running away wasn’t the answer, but I was about to go out of my fucking mind.”
“First thing to do is come here.” As soon as he said it, she turned and practically flung herself against his chest. He let his arms go around her, letting all the anger over Ava go. It didn’t matter. There were bigger things. Rowan’s shoulders rose and fell with her easy breathing, and he was glad to see that at least she wasn’t crying.
“I’m sorry for everything you’re going through,” he told her, turning his lips to her forehead. “I wish I could fix it. But you know I’m only making it worse. Rowan, if you want to clear your head, this isn’t the place.”
She looked up at him with burning green eyes. “You’re saying I should go.”
“I’m not telling you what to do. I want you here as long as you’ll stay, but that’s the selfish bastard in me talking.” Her nearness, the firmness of her belly juxtaposed against the softness of her breasts pressed against him, was having an effect that would soon render his towel useless as a tool of modesty.
And he shouldn’t be trying to make this any more difficult for her than it already was. God help him, though, those lips . . . he couldn’t look away from them. They drove him crazy. He couldn’t stand seeing them frown. “Let me get dressed,” he said, “and we’ll talk on the bus. Jase should be outside, he’ll take you.”
“Okay.” She slipped quietly away from him. He watched her go, wondering how in the fuck this had happened, how this woman had crawled inside his heart so deeply he didn’t think he would ever be able to tear her out.
He’d loved having her out there watching. He’d driven himself to his physical limits for her, not for the audience. It wasn’t supposed to be that way.
Once the door was safely closed behind him, he leaned his head back on the couch, rubbing his face hard with both hands.
What she needed was a night of fun. He was so tired he might collapse, but in that moment, he was determined to give it to her.
* * *
Rowan heard Zane’s footsteps come up the bus steps, and she lifted her head from the pillow when he walked in the bedroom. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”
“What?”
“I promised you fun, right?” He smacked her lightly on the ass and she yelped without meaning to, but it was so unexpected. “All you can handle. Come on, baby. We’re sneaking out, like a couple of naughty teenagers.” His grin was crooked, and wicked as hell. Exhaustion lapped at her very bones, but curiosity was the greater force. Slowly, she sat up.
“Aren’t we leaving soon?”
“We’ll pull out around three. Tomorrow’s an off day. So come on.”
They ended up at, of all places, a hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar. But it was amazing, and Rowan laughed harder than she could remember laughing in forever, even though she couldn’t drink a drop. Zane went with his hair tucked up under a cap, but he was so delighted to discover the bar had an older August on Fire song that he got up on the stage and performed it. Rowan didn’t think anyone in the room realized the actual singer of the song was among them, but he got a standing ovation—the longest and the loudest from her.
“You’re insane!” she yelled at him as he came back, grinning like the cat who’d had the cream.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he admitted, grabbing her in his arms. “And now it’s your turn.”
Absolute terror lanced through her. “Huh?”
“Get your beautiful ass up there and show me what you got.”
“Zane, I can’t sing a note. Please do not make me do that. And I’m kinda trying not to draw attention to the fact that I’m pregnant in a bar.”
“Oh, who gives an actual fuck. You’re not drinking.”
“Still, though—”
“It’s you!” A female voice split the air between them like a knife. “Oh my God! I knew it was you! I was just at Hammerdown!”
Jesus. This place was so small—and they’d chosen it for that reason—what were the odds? Zane dropped his arms from around Rowan’s waist as the girl thrust her cell phone at her friend. “Will you take a picture with me? Pleeeeease?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, posing with her and flashing the metal horns. Rowan took her seat, watching as the other friend stepped up for her turn. He sent her an apologetic look as the girls scampered giddily away, and reclaimed his seat.
“That was nice of you,” she told him, remembering what he’d told her on their first date about fans interrupting him when he was out and about.
“Yeah, well, it might have been different if I hadn’t made a spectacle of myself just now. Jase is going to kill me.”
Heavy is the head that wears the crown, she thought out of nowhere.
“It was fun, though, right?” Hell, he’d looked so hot and at ease up there, she might have asked for his autograph without knowing who he was.
“I might’ve had more fun just now than I had in front of all those people tonight,” he said. “I miss club shows. The energy was unbelievable. Huge crowds are great, but there’s an intimacy that’s lost when there are that many people. Everyone is so faceless that I could almost pretend no one is out there at all.”
“Wow,” she said, thinking she could listen to him talk all night. Sing all night. As long as she could hear his voice, she had hope.
Back in the bus, in the bedroom, in the bed, he pulled her close and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe, her body so on fire with lust she could feel her last grip on resolve loosening dangerously. She remembered everything about the fantasy he’d wanted to give her, everything he’d promised her on the phone that night. Everything he’d done this morning, which felt like a lifetime ago.
“Rowan,” he rasped against her ear, so that the warmth of his breath sent a shiver through her. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad.”
“I can’t,” she said, even as her fingers clutched him harder, even as her arms tightened around him, even as her body relished the feel of him next to her. “Please, Tom—”
She caught the slip almost before she made it, but she made it all the same. Her hands flew to her mouth. It hadn’t been the first time, but now . . .
“Shh, it’s okay.” Zane only pulled her closer. “He must be thinking about you.”
Thinking about her, and she was in another man’s arms.
She extricated herself from Zane’s embrace even as her body screamed to stay close. He sighed, taking it in stride, but she saw the hurt as he gazed at her. “Then don’t let me near you. Don’t let me touch you. For fuck’s sake, don’t let me kiss you. It only makes me need you more, and if I need you any m
ore than this, it’ll kill me.”
Her heart ached, but she had to look into his burning dark eyes and shake her head. “It can’t be me. I wish it could. But it can’t. Not right now.”
“Then I’ll wait. I’ll wait until it can, however long it takes. I already told you.”
What if it was never? A few months from now, her life was going to change utterly and completely. There would be no time to see him. He would be touring the world, and she would be at home. How long would he wait for her when those thousands of women he professed to not caring about were throwing themselves at him while she was changing diapers and cleaning spit-up?
“I thought I could come here and do this, but I’m so . . .”
“What, baby?” So gently she scarcely felt it, he stroked her hair, searching her eyes.
“Scared. So scared. I’ve lost everything.”
“You haven’t lost everything. If you had, you wouldn’t be scared. That’s when you know you’re on your fucking knees, when all is lost, because you don’t care anymore. When there’s nothing to be scared of because nothing can hurt worse than where you are right now. That’s when you head down that path of self-destruction. You’re not there, and I hope to God you never will be.”
He spoke from experience. She saw the haunted memories in his eyes, saw him looking right through her at something only he could see. “What happened to you?” she whispered.
“My mother,” he said evenly, even if she could see the effort it cost him to maintain that steadiness. “I lost my mother when I was sixteen. I never had a father to lose, but that was its own wound. When I was little, I used to think that he would find out about me somehow and suddenly show up, take me away, give me a better home away from her. It was a dream I had. When she died . . . I didn’t give a shit anymore. I lost all my dreams.”
“I was fifteen when my mother died. Cancer. It was fast. And seventeen when my father died in a car accident. I think I might have reached that point of having nothing to lose. It’s sort of all a blur now. I met Tommy, and he was always there for me, but now he’s gone too. Everyone leaves me, it seems.”