by Jane Godman
“Is that how Ged found the others?” Violet sipped her water. The elegant menu had dismayed her, and she had ordered a rare steak with a salad instead of any of the dainty French dishes. “He scouted them?”
“I suppose so,” Nate said.
Violet sensed he was being deliberately vague. Beast had been together for six years, so he had to know the details of how every one of the members joined the band. Violet thought about Ged Taverner. On the surface, he was charming, but there was something about him that troubled her. It was a watchfulness, a stillness, that was outside of her experience. He was the puppet master, the Svengali, and he reveled in the role. Maybe that was what she felt from him. That sense of needing to be in control. Whatever it was, it worked. The band clearly owed their success to him.
“Is this okay?” Nate indicated the suite behind them. They had arrived in Paris just over an hour ago and checked into this grand, old hotel that cried out “money.” There were two adjoining bedrooms with a sitting room in between. “This way, the others in the band won’t get any ideas that you might be available.” His face darkened as he said the words.
She reached across the table and clasped his hand. “This is perfect.”
Could she tell him she’d be happy to share one room—and a bed—with him? Could she find the words to tell him that her fantasies about getting him into bed, any bed, were getting wilder by the minute? She didn’t know if this longing was something she’d experienced before; all she knew was it was raging out of control. How would Nate feel about that? About her wanting him, but also about her possible inexperience? She guessed he wouldn’t want to take advantage of her memory loss. No matter how much I might want him to.
She wondered if something of her thoughts showed in her face, because Nate’s eyes flashed and his grip on her hand tightened. Just as he leaned across the table toward her, there was a wild pounding on the door.
“Nate?” It was Torque. “Get decent, man. We’re leaving in five.”
Nate groaned. “I have to go. You can either come and watch—but I warn you it will be boring—or you can explore the city and meet me at the stadium in a few hours.”
“I choose the nonboring option.” Even though it means being apart from you.
“Very wise.” He rose to his feet, paused and then, as though unable to help himself, stooped and kissed her lightly on the lips before striding out without a backward glance.
Violet sat very still for a few seconds, then slowly raised her fingertips to touch her lips. It had been the briefest of kisses. Barely a kiss at all. So why did her lips feel like they were on fire? Why was she trembling all over? Why did she want to run after him and beg him to kiss her again? Because this attraction was growing like wildfire, consuming her to the exclusion of everything else.
The thought jerked her up from her seat like a lightning flash. No. This couldn’t have happened. She was confusing gratitude with something deeper. She was still suffering the effects of that blow to her head. I could have a husband, or a lover, waiting for me somewhere. He could be frantically searching for me even now. I may not be free to have these feelings for another man.
She didn’t think that was the case—and Nate’s frequent internet searches that turned up no trace of anyone looking for her, no newspaper reports of her as a missing person, backed up her hunch—but she clung to the thought anyway. Because the alternative was that she had tumbled headlong into this intense attraction toward Nate with no real idea of who he was. Worse than that, she still had no idea of who she was. But she had a suspicion that she was a werewolf, and she knew he was a werewolf killer. It was hardly a match made in heaven.
Restlessly, she decided to push her thoughts aside, reasoning that her damaged head wasn’t capable of straight thinking. After being confined on that bus with all the raw energy that was Beast for the best part of a day, she needed activity. Among her expensive new clothing, she had noticed some kick-ass running gear. Changing hurriedly into three-quarter-length leggings, a tight T-shirt and running shoes, she made her way down to the lobby and out onto the street.
The wide pavements alongside the river were busy, but there were other joggers taking advantage of the pleasant weather. Violet ran at a steady pace, enjoying the fresh air and the sunlight on her face, even though she craved more. What more was, she didn’t know. When she tried to reach within herself to find out, it eluded her. All she got was a sense of needing bigger, freer, wilder. Frustration kicked in and she paused, leaning over a wall to view the river as she caught her breath.
That was when it hit her. A memory. The first she’d had since that blow to her head. Brief and faint, it flashed into her mind for a second or two. A man, strong, tall and powerful. He was angry. His voice was raised. She got a sense of her own anger firing back at him before the image faded. Although she tried to catch it, to hold on to it, it was gone.
Even though she had felt the confrontational mood of the flashback, she had felt something else more strongly. It was there again. That feeling of otherness. Wherever she had been when she and that man faced each other with rage quivering between them, it had been...different.
Where am I from? Where do I call home? That man cared enough to be angry at me, yet he doesn’t seem to be searching for me. The mystery of her identity appeared to be tied into the mystery of where she belonged. A slight headache was forming behind her eyes, and instead of jogging back to the hotel she walked slowly, her feet dragging. Her thoughts kept returning to the only thing that mattered.
Nate. She picked up the pace. I need to be with Nate.
Chapter 6
Nate tried to drag his focus back onto the forthcoming gig. Around him, everything was the usual organized chaos, but he hardly noticed. His mind was on Violet. Face it, he told himself. His mind had been on Violet since the moment he met her. But she’d been unnaturally quiet ever since she’d turned up at the rehearsal. In the whirlwind of preparation, he’d barely had time to speak to her.
Typically, before a performance, the big personalities in the band would take up most of his time. Nate was the peacekeeper. He wasn’t the showman. He was a classically trained musician and, just as his guitar playing brought the music together, it was his temperament that held the team in place. He was the one who didn’t need his own ego massaged. There was a definite pecking order, starting with Khan. The closer they got to the start time of the gig, the more outrageous the lead singer’s behavior became. Khan was so high maintenance, he was off the scale. By the time they went onstage, he was often lucky to still be alive.
Diablo would generally become even more moody, often disappearing off on his own. There would sometimes be a preshow panic as a search party was raised to find him. Torque became more talkative, his jokes and gibes stoking everyone else’s nerves. Dev, meanwhile, was so laid-back he was almost horizontal and getting him to do anything became a Herculean effort. Tempers frayed as they clashed among themselves. Because Ged would be busy organizing and liaising, it usually fell to Nate to keep the band members calm and make sure they all got to where they should be on time and in one piece.
On this particular night, he left them to it. Armageddon would probably break out backstage, but to hell with them. He needed to see Violet. Getting her here had been a logistical nightmare. Their first concert on the European leg of the tour was a sellout. Paris had welcomed them with something approaching a frenzy. It was the same story for the rest of the sold-out tour. The world was going wild for Beast.
Outside the stadium, chaos had reigned for hours. Lines of people queued behind metal barriers from one end of the street to the other, waiting to get inside the stadium. The surrounding area was cordoned off and police patrolled the roads around the venue. The press was out in force, their trucks lining one side of the street. A group of screaming fans had congregated at the rear of the stadium, convinced that they had seen Khan sneaking in that way. Se
curity faced them in a black-clad, mirror-shade-wearing wall.
Nate had arranged for Violet to be brought by cab from the hotel and escorted through the crowd by security. She was waiting for him in one of the executive boxes that perched high above the stadium floor, its height affording her a bird’s-eye view of the stage. From her stunned expression, he guessed that she was only now getting a sense of just how big the band was. Below them, roadies bustled about like worker ants. Wearing wired headsets to communicate, they moved equipment, did final lighting and sound checks and ensured that the band’s instructions were followed to the letter.
“My God, Nate. I thought those people outside were going to attack the cab in case you were in it.”
He drew her into his arms, the gesture as natural as breathing, and dropped a kiss onto her hair. “You seem quiet today.”
“While I was out running I remembered something.” Her face was troubled as she raised it to his. “Almost remembered something. It was too fleeting to call it a real memory.” Violet frowned as though straining to recapture the image. “It was a man and he was angry.”
“Husband? Boyfriend?” Nate’s chest tightened painfully as he questioned her.
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think so. But I felt he was someone close to me. Maybe my father? Possibly my boss. There just wasn’t enough for me to make any sort of connection. I’m sorry.”
Sorry? How could he explain that he didn’t want her memory to come back because that would mean she would leave him? How selfish did that make him? “Will you be okay up here?”
“Okay?” She tilted her head back, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t wait to see this concert.”
“It should be a good one. Khan is on fine form. When he’s in this skyrocketing mood anything could happen.”
“I won’t be watching Khan. I’ll be looking at you.” There was a husky note in Violet’s voice.
And, because he couldn’t help himself, Nate bent his head and kissed her. Fire spread through him as soon as his lips connected with hers, so hot he thought he might burn up with it. Her lips were soft and sweet beneath his. When his tongue stroked the seam of her lips, they parted readily for him and he probed the honeyed warmth of her mouth. Violet’s hands bunched in the material of his T-shirt as though she was using him to stay upright. He groaned, kissing her harder, and she trembled, returning the caresses of his tongue eagerly. She tasted sweeter than ice cream or strawberries. She tasted like everything he had ever wanted and never knew he needed until now.
On the floor of the stadium, the doors were opening, the crowds, carefully controlled by security, beginning to fill the vast space. Nate raised his head, gazing into Violet’s glowing eyes. God, he could lose himself forever in their depths.
“I have to get back down there.” He kept his arms around her.
“In that case, maybe you should let me go?” There was a hint of shy mischief in her smile. The smile that shook him right to his soul.
“I said I have to. I didn’t say I want to.”
She laughed. “Go. I don’t want to be the reason all those people riot.”
He moved reluctantly away. As he reached the door, he turned back. Closing the space between them again, he pulled her quickly back into his arms and kissed her once more. Long and lingering.
“What was that for?” Violet asked, when she was able to speak again.
“Because that’s what I want you to think about while you watch me onstage.”
She blushed. “I’ll let you in on a secret. That’s what I would have been thinking about anyway.”
* * *
Violet knew she was witnessing something truly amazing. The band had grown so much since the film she had seen on the tour bus had been made. Beast’s music was incredible. The way the band played together was creative and intuitive. Each member was individually talented, but as a whole they came together and made so much more. From Khan’s raw yipping, screeching tones, through Diablo’s wild drumming to Nate’s haunting basslines, their unique sound pulsed with primal energy.
They were also visually stunning. She wondered if that was mere serendipity, or if Ged had deliberately recruited them for the way their looks complemented each other. She decided he could have searched forever and not found five men who were such perfect specimens of masculinity. Perfect, yet such a contrast to each other. It occurred to her only now, as she watched them own the stage, just how different they were. There was Khan, with his strutting, purring egomania. Diablo, so solitary, stealthy and quick tempered. Torque with his quick-fire restlessness and Dev, in contrast, so cool and aloof. And Nate. Her eyes were drawn constantly to him, just as she had promised him they would be. Even on that stage, with the explosion of life and sound going on around him, he seemed slightly apart. Detached. Yet, even across the distance that separated them, she could feel his coiled strength, sense the latent power in that lean, muscular body. As a cast of characters, the band came together with a presence that couldn’t be manufactured. They were one of a kind. They were Beast.
Behind them, the LED screens were like a giant art installation showing their signature three-sixes logo, roaring flames and the snarling jaws of various wild beasts. The frenzied crowd was dutifully demonstrating the horned sign of the beast by pointing their fingers at the sides of their heads.
But even the performance below her couldn’t keep Violet’s mind away from that devastating kiss for long. Her lips still tingled with the memory, and her fingers strayed to touch them. Her whole world, already off balance, felt as if it was spinning wildly. The only thing she knew for sure was she wanted more of those kisses. It sounded like madness, but if someone offered her a trade, right here right now, her memory or Nate, she would take Nate. What does that mean? She bit back the panicky laugh that rose in her throat. I think it means you are in trouble.
Trouble because she didn’t know what her future held. Didn’t even know what her past contained. How can I be considering my feelings for another person when I don’t know how I feel about myself? It didn’t matter what she told herself, how much she tried to rein in her out-of-control reactions. She wanted Nate with a fierceness that common sense couldn’t overcome. It was about raw, primeval longing. She couldn’t halt it any more than she could stop herself from taking her next breath.
The concert ended on a wild finale with Khan climbing the lighting rig at the side of the stage, hanging precariously in an upside-down position as he howled out the final number. Violet waited patiently until a member of security came to collect her. Nate had explained that the after-party was a necessary part of the tour.
“It can get a little wild,” he had warned her. “But don’t worry. I’ll be there.”
She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now she was starting to wonder exactly what he meant. Just how wild could Beast get? Having seen them onstage and spent time up close with them, it didn’t take much imagination to figure out the answer to that question. Beast could get feral.
The security guy who came to escort her backstage was the same one who had brought her to the stadium from the hotel. His name was Rick and he was shaped like a barrel, a huge, no-nonsense man with a surprisingly soft-spoken manner. He held the door open for Violet to precede him.
“Looks like Khan is keen to get the party started. The green room is already full.”
“What does that mean?” Violet asked as she accompanied him along a series of corridors.
Rick shook his head. “I guess you’ll see for yourself when you get there. Just keep an open mind, okay?”
Rick led her to a large room. A bar occupied most of one wall, and there were low-level sofas, beanbags and coffee tables clustered together in groups to create distinct seating areas. The lighting was subdued, and a bank of screens on the wall opposite the bar showed a series of images of the band. Beast’s music played in the background. This, Violet dec
ided, must be the infamous green room. There were a number of people gathered there already, most of them women, many of them scantily clad. Frosty glances were sent her way as Rick escorted Violet to the bar. She felt decidedly overdressed in her jeans, heels and off-the-shoulder white lace gypsy blouse.
“Where’s Nate?” She cast a nervous glance around the room.
“Ged needed to talk to him. He’ll be here soon.” Rick beckoned the bartender over. “What do you want?”
“Just soda, please.”
The bartender looked at her as if she was from another planet. Perhaps I am. That would explain the otherworldly feelings I get. Maybe I was dropped naked from a spaceship just before that werewolf attacked me. Hysteria was setting in, she decided. It must be a side effect of the amnesia. After all, she was hardly following doctor’s orders and taking things easy.
Accepting her drink from the bartender, she turned to view the room. Khan was already lounging on a beanbag in one corner with three barely dressed girls at his feet. One of them had her hand on his thigh, and Violet looked away as her fingertips inched higher, brushing the enormous bulge in his groin.
“Who are all these women?” She turned to Rick, who had remained at her side, no doubt on Nate’s orders.
“Groupies.” In response to her raised brows, he looked slightly bemused, as though she couldn’t possibly have never heard the term. “Girls who follow celebrities around hoping to have sex with them.”
“You mean all these women are here because they want to have sex with one of the band members?”