Right. She had to remember that. During the last few weeks, she hadn’t felt quite like herself. Her body had seemed more sensitive, and she’d attributed it to the building anxiety of Gavin’s return. Nobody had ever made her feel the way he had during those hot nights at her place.
She maneuvered through patrons and squeezed into a narrow space between two men at the bar. After ordering a vodka and cranberry juice, she found a seat at an empty table set back from the stage. No need to come off as too eager.
Just because Gavin had invited her to return, there was no guarantee that he wanted to see her again. In the six weeks that had gone by, he’d likely had numerous distractions to entertain him. When Fiona had searched for the band online, she had to close the browser. Too many references to Gavin and different female companions coated her with an icky feeling. Was she foolish to have been one of them?
No, she was an independent woman in the 21st century, damn it. She could sleep with whomever she wanted, and she refused to feel shameful about it. After all, it had been quite a dry spell since she’d last had a lover—or even a good friend. She’d moved to Inverness four months ago but hadn’t developed any close connections.
When the opening band came out, she listened while being half-distracted by her thoughts. They played a rock set with a few covers of popular songs. She nursed her drink while stealing glances at the exit.
She’d told Gavin she might return after their previous encounter and, since then, she’d been wavering with her decision. Sure, she’d had the best sex of her life with him—perhaps any would have been after her stint without it—but this wasn’t like her. She typically didn’t go off with men she’d just met, especially those with reputations as womanizing rock stars.
The guitarist launched into a solo. As she watched him, she couldn’t help but compare him to Gavin. This man didn’t have the same stage presence captivating those who listened. Gavin had something—a spark, a magnetism—she wasn’t sure what to call it, but he had a way with charming people. Despite covering her fascination with a cool veneer when they’d first met, she’d been as enraptured as everyone else. How else could she explain inviting him to her place? He’d practically charmed the pants off her! Not that she’d had any complaints. He returned for the next two nights as well, which baffled her. Wouldn’t a notorious womanizer sleep with a different conquest each night?
A few songs later, the opening band finished and left the stage. With the sudden absence of loud music, Fiona became attuned to the surrounding conversations. One at the table her right caught her attention.
“I heard they put on a wild show on one of the islands,” a brunette said.
“How so?” her blonde friend asked.
“It sounds impossible, but apparently, they’d start the shows with statues and torches on the stage. And somehow, the statues appeared to move.”
Which show were they talking about? The band that had played or the upcoming one with Gavin? Or another one? Fiona listened in as her curiosity rose. She couldn’t help it. It was an advantage in her career as a journalist—and a flaw that had landed her in trouble more than a few times. She was surprised she hadn’t ended up as dead as the so-called curious cat.
She sipped her drink and pretended to pay attention to her phone, so as not to reveal her eavesdropping.
“Like the statues are coming to life?” the blonde asked.
“Aye. And it looks like they come from the statues. Like they transform from them or something. Then they look like men—you know, hot and bare chested in kilts like we usually see them. They pick up their instruments and start to play.”
They had to be discussing the Knights of Stone. They performed in little more than their blue kilts, showing off every muscular plane of their fine physiques. The previous band consisted of skinny runts in comparison.
“It must be a trick,” the blonde dismissed. “Illusionists can make you swear you see things that aren’t there.”
“Could be,” the brunette said. “But, the last part was quite impressive. Giant wings unfurl behind them and they flew from the stage.”
Fiona sucked in a sharp breath. Creatures with wings? The sudden reminder of a terrifying encounter when she was younger made her straighten. She shifted in her seat. That’s when she noticed a man on the other side of the females. He caught her eye and didn’t break the stare for three uncomfortable heartbeats.
“What if everyone was on drugs?” the blonde said with a laugh. “And they shared a mass hallucination.”
“That could be it.”
Fiona debated her next move. It could be a wild story exaggerated as one person told another, but with her fixation on uncovering what had happened in the past, she couldn’t let it go—especially since it involved a man she’d come to meet tonight.
She walked a few steps closer to the women. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
The brunette studied Fiona with a disdainful look.
“Where was this concert you mentioned?” Fiona added.
“Excuse me?” The brunette replied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She then stood and told her friend, “Come on.”
As they walked away, Fiona barely heard the brunette say, “My cousin told me to swear not to tell anyone, or I’d ruin it.”
Oddly enough, the man who’d she’d made eye contact with followed in the direction of the women. An unsettling shiver crept up Fiona’s spine.
Some part of her thought he might harass them, but why? She waited a few seconds and followed to see where they were going.
A man stepped on stage and grabbed the mic, drawing her attention. “This next band needs no introduction. Back by popular demand—especially by our vocal female crowd—the Knights of Stone!”
Fiona took a deep breath and waited to see Gavin once again.
The crowd cheered, and she clapped along with them. When the two women she’d overheard moved into the crowd, and the man remained back near the bar, Fiona exhaled with a shaky laugh. What was wrong with her? He was probably only trying to hit on one of them. After all, he was a man alone in a pub ogling women. It shouldn’t have been that hard to put together.
Massive men in blue kilts strode across the stage. They appeared ready to compete in the Highland Games rather than head to the instruments before them. She kept attuned for one. When he emerged last, after his four brothers, her breath quickened. His cinnamon-colored hair fell in shaggy waves as if they refused to be tamed. His eyes had that dark gleam that hinted at mischief and sensuality. Her heart pounded louder than the bass had reverberated during the last set. He was as striking as ever.
Gavin stopped before his guitar and picked it up. The women nearest the stage hollered their appreciation. He acknowledged them with a devilish smile before playing a riff, which increased their level of shrieking.
They played a song she remembered from the last time she’d seen them perform—one about ancient battles in the Highlands. The driving drum beat sounded like a call to war. Calum’s battle cry stirred the crowd. He jumped and howled on stage like he fed off the audience’s attention. His energy was boundless. Gavin garnered his fair share of interest as well, but it was captured in a far different manner. He played guitar like he played the audience—he seduced them. Or, that might have been her interpretation of his performance, as it was especially potent on her.
After that song ended, Calum announced, “We’re the Knights of Stone.” He peered at the crowd with a mischievous glint. “If you’ve heard any stories about us, I can assure you—all the rumors are true.”
Shouts and a few laughs erupted from the crowd.
“Ha ha, I jest.” Calum chortled to punctuate his point. “We’ve heard some going around that were very creative. Amazing what people come up with. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next report I hear is that we’re aliens who beam down to the earth on spaceships each night.”
Gavin strode over. “Aye, our spaceships aw
ait on the roof to return us to our home planet.” After he shook his head, he chuckled with a disbelieving sound. “Did you hear the one about the wolves?”
“The one where we keep wolves for pets?” Calum asked.
“No, I haven’t heard that exactly. I did hear one about wolves at our shows.” Gavin raised his hand to his forehead and searched the crowd. “Any of them prowling here tonight?”
Calum replied, “Now that would be something to see.”
Gavin said, “Not a wolf in sight, but I do see many fine lassies.” He bent forward and beckoned them. “Come closer, my dearies.” With a wolfish grin, he added, “The better to see you with.”
An unexpected tightness of breath struck Fiona. She grimaced and shoved aside the jealously. She had no claims on him.
As one song shifted to the next, she couldn’t tear her gaze from him. The spotlights reflected in the sheen on his skin. She yearned to run her fingers through the sweat, over the hard contours of his body.
During a slow song, Captured, Fiona swooned under the haunting promise in the music. The expression on his face conveyed his passion. Spellbound by his performance, the rest of the world slipped away. It wasn’t until the crowd expressed their appreciation with raucous applause that she snapped out of it.
Gavin thanked the crowd by raising his hands and bowing. When he stood upright, he scanned the crowd. After a thorough appraisal from one end to the other, he broadened his search to the back. And then he pinned her with his gaze.
Her heartbeat jolted, but he couldn’t see her, though, could he? She was at the back of the club, hidden in the shadows. He was on the stage. He must have been blinded by those spotlights. When he winked at her, it left no doubt he’d seen her. Her insides turned to electrified mush.
It was impossible for anyone to see at this distance in the dark.
Right?
Fiona stared at Gavin. An urge to run gripped her.
You’re just spooked from the stories.
Aye. She’d come here tonight for one reason. Although she’d told herself that it was just sex, with his one simple gesture—merely a movement of his eyelid—he’d threatened to undo her carefully constructed rationalization. She acknowledged him with a smile and a slight nod.
He’d rocked her normal world off its axis, and now it didn’t seem right without him in it. She could never let him know that. It would be an invitation for him to break her heart. She’d be just another conquest in his trail of shedding panties across Europe.
Just sex.
But, still, something wasn’t quite right. She furrowed her brows. What was with all those rumors about the Knights of Stone? Many of them had a supernatural tone. She’d been fascinated—or obsessed, rather—with the supernatural since the incident when she was nine. Nobody had believed her, except her grandmother. They claimed Fiona must have seen an animal, but she knew what she’d seen. She just didn’t know what it was that she’d seen. And she’d been trying to find out ever since.
Chapter 3
Mission accomplished. Gavin shook off the anxious sensation after he and Calum had tackled the speculation. Plant doubt. Acknowledge what people say rather than deny it, but scoff at the incredulity of it all. What people described would be unbelievable as it was. It would be easy to build on the skepticism. The more outlandish stories they spun, the better to counter the truth before it came back to haunt him.
Once that troublesome situation had been addressed, Gavin embarked on his latest ritual—searching for Fiona. He’d sought her near the stage when he’d called out to see if any wolves were in the audience. When he hadn’t spotted her there, his stomach caved.
Why did it feel like he’d lost something? He’d never had her.
Gavin forced himself to play through the set, determined to shove Fiona from his mind. He retreated into the music, seeking solace in the sound to distract himself from the disappointment of her absence. It wasn’t until several songs later after he’d acknowledged the crowd’s applause that he spotted her.
She’d returned.
His heart sang. The thunderous movement in his chest echoed in his ears louder than Bryce’s drums vibrating off the walls. She stared back at him and the crowd seemed to vanish.
Mason communicated telepathically, Gavin, get yer head out of yer arse and join us.
Shite. Gavin had missed the cue to start their next song. He broke eye contact with Fiona and stared at his guitar to get back in check. Only when he was confident that he was back on track with the song, did he dare to look at her again.
He winked at her, acknowledging her presence. And in his own mind, he had hinted at where he wanted the night to lead—to be with her.
At first, she’d appeared surprised. Then, she gave him a slight nod with a decadent twinkle in her eye, as if she sensed his unspoken invitation.
The set couldn’t end quickly enough.
He fixated on the night ahead, recalling the sounds she’d made when they’d been in her bed. The way she’d touched him had been seared onto his brain, tormenting him with an urge to fly from the isle to find her. He longed to inhale her scent again, let it wrap around him in that comforting way that had calmed his beast.
Knowing she watched him, Gavin upped his performance, the way he had the first time he had spotted her at this club. He relished the memory of that moment now imprinted in his mind.
* * *
She’d been sitting at the bar alone on a stool drinking from a straw. The way her cheeks had hollowed had blown his concentration and he’d fumbled with the guitar strings. She hadn’t been paying attention to him, to his chagrin, and instead, had glanced around the room, studying the crowd like she was a spy.
She hadn’t made it easy. A damn bloke strode over to her, and Gavin growled. Who was this fucker interfering with his plans? If he hadn’t been in the middle of a set, he’d head over. As it was, he could hardly toss aside his guitar and jump off the stage, even if it was what his inner beast encouraged him to do.
With a polite smile, she’d brushed him off and the bloke had walked away. Gavin had almost pounded his fist in the air like it was a victory. He had to work the seduction from the stage. And why not? He’d done it dozens of times. The first step had been getting her attention.
Gavin had approached the front of the stage. He’d leaned down as he performed, but not close enough to touch. The women had cheered as they’d reached for him. He’d repeated this a few more times, each time a little closer, building the crescendo with the climax of the song. The women had hooted and hollered, and he’d encouraged them with a devilish smile.
The last time, he’d bent low enough that a couple of women stroked their fingers through the perspiration on his bare chest. When he’d moved back, he glanced at the red-headed lass. She’d eyed him with a curious expression. Interest.
Bingo. Attention garnered.
After the show, he’d attempted to flirt with her, but she’d had other plans in mind. She was a journalist writing a piece about bands in town. He’d almost backed off, wary of reporters. He’d evaded personal questions, and eventually she’d succumbed to his charms. She’d invited him back to her place.
Once he’d read the article in the local news, he’d relaxed. As she’d said, it was a short article about music. Nothing too in-depth—or too close for his kind’s comfort.
* * *
This evening, Gavin wanted a repeat invitation to her flat. If he could start his seduction from the stage, then he’d work his magic that way. When they launched into the opening of The Hunt, Gavin fixed a predatory stare on Fiona.
Tonight, he’d perform for her alone—both on stage and off.
Fiona was surprised she hadn’t melted into a sweltering puddle of liquid heat by the end of the set. She tried to slow her breath after the band left the stage.
It’s how Gavin is, she warned herself. All that raw sensuality oozes from him on stage to his chosen target of the evening.
Nevertheless, she wa
s happy to play that role, at least for the night. After having been spoiled by his talents, she fantasized how another encounter could play out.
She sipped her drink and then pushed it away. He’d already unglued her from a distance, and she didn’t need anything else hampering her judgment.
Minutes later, she sensed Gavin step behind her. Something about his presence was so commanding.
He snaked an arm around her waist and murmured, “I’m glad you came, Fiona.” His low rumbling burr sent hot shivers traveling over her skin.
Perspiration tinged his masculine scent. She inhaled it more deeply and resisted purring in response.
“Me, too,” she replied after a ragged breath.
The domineering presence of his large hand warmed her belly with a protective sensation. Strange how comforting it was. She always strove to be independent, but every cell in her body yearned to lean back against his chest and let him take care of her.
Screw it, she gave in to the calling and was rewarded by the hard length of him pressed against her. Her entire body was engulfed with an awareness of him—every spot where they touched, the rise and fall of his chest. Could he be as affected by her as she was?
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”
His rich brogue rumbled inside her veins like whiskey heating her blood. He pressed his lips against the vulnerable junction where her neck met her shoulder. His kiss felt like he was marking her. And for a fleeting moment, she fought the urge to beg him to take her backstage.
She struggled to clear the lust clouding her thoughts. There were things she’d heard tonight, questions she wanted answered before they went any further.
Fiona turned to face him. When she caught the smolder in his chestnut eyes, her lips parted. What the hell was she going to ask him about? It was difficult to concentrate with him staring at her with an intensity that left her unsteady.
Knights of Stone: Gavin: A gargoyle shifter rockstar romance Page 2