The stage was still dark when the drummer came onstage and took his place at the drum set. He was followed by the bassist and guitar player, who waved to the crowd before walking up to their instruments. My heart pounded with anticipation as I waited to see who would come out next to stand in front of the mic.
Then a woman came out on the stage wearing a long black duster that hid her silhouette. Through the darkness on the stage, I could make out dark hair, but I couldn’t see her features. She walked up to the microphone stand and said, “Hello, Boston. It’s good to be back in this wicked town. Who’s ready to start this shit tonight with some good old Def Leppard?”
I knew that voice. It had cursed me, seduced me, called to me, warned me of danger, whispered to me while we made love, soothed me and haunted my dreams every night.
The crowd cheered and spotlights lit up the stage.
She was wearing chunky boots that gave her several more inches of height. She’d kept the more natural shade of brown hair as when we parted three weeks ago, save for a thick purple streak that graced one side. There was my girl standing on the stage.
My Layla.
She warmed the crowd with a smile, but it dazzled me so that I felt giddy. Had it only been three weeks since she left? The ache deep in my chest made it feel like months, if not years.
Layla sang Pour Some Sugar on Me, which instantly woke the crowd up. It sounded like everyone in the audience knew the lyrics, as you could hear them singing along, fists pumping in the air. Layla knew how to work them. She moved with subtle gestures at times, barely moving, but would then leap up into the air, screaming out lyrics and encouraging the crowd to join her. She knew exactly how to draw them in to have a good time. And I couldn’t help but smile. She was a natural charmer.
I remembered how she seduced me at my flat in an attempt to convince me to let her go. If I was a mortal man, I would have done whatever the hell she asked for; she could charm the pants off anyone. Or mesmerize them. Or whatever vamp power she had that could reduce men to jelly.
I was a fool to think I might not feel the same on seeing her again, that my feelings for her might have been magnified and made fonder by the time and distance between us. Because what I knew now after seeing her again was something I’d been suspecting for some time. I was in love with her.
For the first time in my life, I’d found a woman who I loved with all my soul. There was the slight problem with her being a vampire. My family might revolt initially at first, but perhaps if they knew how sincere my feelings were, they’d come to accept her. She would never age while I would, although shifters aged slower and lived longer than most mortals. But we faced all kinds of life-and-death obstacles already. And something inside me knew that I would do anything for this woman. Kill or die for her without question.
But I was getting ahead of myself here since Layla may have forgotten me by now.
At the end of the song, she whipped off the black duster, revealing a tight black catsuit. She wore a big silver necklace of a bat, dozens of silver bangles and a silver belt. My focus wasn’t on the outfit, it was on the curves it revealed beneath. I held my breath, remembering what pleasure our bodies gave each other.
Forget the vampire powers. She could get any man to do her bidding with just that body alone.
Since Layla had left England, I had been sulking around London, missing her. Her smile, her laugh, her scent, the sound of her voice. It was only in the darkest moments late at night when I focused on her touch. The way her hands ran down my body or clutched me when she was nearing her peak. How soft her skin felt under my fingers and how her body instantly responded to my touch as if waiting for me. How her lips tasted when we kissed, how the taste of her thrilled me beyond return. I’d force these thoughts out of my mind during the day because they were too overwhelming. They could consume me.
A longing reared itself in my mind, body and spirit right now. I wanted her, I loved her, I needed her. If she didn’t feel the same, I didn’t know how I’d recover.
Oh God, I was fucked.
Layla
Bloodlust Diamond played our most requested numbers that night, everything from fun crowd favorites like Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name and Mötley Crüe’s Girls, Girls, Girls, to darker stuff like Metallica’s For Whom the Bell Tolls and Black Sabbath’s War Pigs.
Joey and I decided to put the flirtatious banter we had onstage on hold, telling the other guys that we were going to leave out the theatrics and stick to the music tonight to see how the crowd responded. Joey and I knew the real reason was that the crowd might sense the tension between us. It might take a little while until we were comfortable around each other once again.
“Thank you for coming out tonight,” I said after the closing notes of one of the songs faded away. “We’re Bloodlust Diamond from good old Boston, Massachusetts, and it’s great to play at home tonight in this motherfucker! Now we’re going to slow things down a bit. Didn’t every metal band of the eighties have a signature ballad? It’s so hard to choose one of the many good—and not so good—ones. But tonight we’re playing one we haven’t played before. Most of you know this song and know most of the lyrics. So bring out your lighters like it’s 1989 and sing along as if you’re in high school again, thinking about the one who got away.”
I stood still in front of the microphone as I began with barely a whisper, singing The Scorpions’ Still Loving You.The lyrics told the story of two lovers falling apart, their distance exacerbated by pride, with the singer declaring how he still loved her.
A problem with pride definitely resonated with me as I sang, thinking about the roller coaster ride with Devon. Were there ever two more proud people clashing? I only hoped Joey wasn’t feeling any of this song for me. Maybe this wasn’t such a good choice after all, but he agreed to it in practice earlier this week. And as they say, the show must go on.
As I continued the song, I closed my eyes and pictured Devon. What was he doing now over in London? Had he moved on? Had he already forgotten me? Over the last three weeks, I’d tried to move on with my life back here in Boston, continuing with the band. I still wasn’t sure what I’d end up doing with the rest of my immortal life, but for now I was still the singer of this band.
When I reopened my eyes at the chorus, I swore I saw Devon in the crowd.
It’s not Devon. You were just thinking about him and have projected him onto some other guy in the club. It’s an effect of the stage lights and your mind. Same as a soldier in combat in the woods for too long—you start to see people who aren’t there. So snap out of it. Don’t get your hopes up, it’s ridiculous. Devon is in London. You’re in Boston. There’s an ocean separating you—in more ways than one.
I blinked a couple of times to see if there was someone standing there. Yes, there was definitely a man watching me from within the crowd. And he definitely looked like Devon.
But it couldn’t be him. There was no reason why Devon would fly over from London to be in a dive rock club I was singing at in Boston. There was just no way that was happening.
I tried not to focus on the mirage as I finished the song. When it was over, I spoke to the crowd. “Now to snap you out of wanting to drunk-dial your ex-girlfriend or ex-boyfriend and declare some undying love, we’re going to close out our set with a special treat. Don’t any of you think of calling the exes. You know it didn’t work out for a reason. And if I catch anyone outside on the phone after this set, I will personally kick your motherfucking ass. Got it?”
The crowd hooted and cheered their agreement.
“So here we go. Get all you frustrations out right now with a little Guns ‘n’ Roses. How about Welcome to the Jungle?”
After our set, I left the stage with the guys. We liked to mingle with our fans. Not hide out backstage like we were some untouchable rock stars.
Besides, we weren’tthat big yet. We were barely even known off the East Coast. We told ourselves we were keeping it real for when we hit the big tim
e.
After talking to as many people as I could, I escaped to the ladies’ room. When I came out, I heard a voice that stopped me midstep.
“Layla.”
I’d know that English accent anywhere.
“Oh sorry,” he whispered when he stepped closer beside me. “I forgot you’re Angelica over here.”
It was Devon’s voice. And only he would know me as Layla in Boston.
“Devon?” I said with uncertainty before turning to face him. “Is that you?” He wore a faded gray T-shirt that clung to him just enough to remind me of the muscles that lay beneath, ones that I could have explored infinitely had our time together not run out. When my eyes traveled up to his face, he looked at me with such warmth in his eyes I thought I had to be imagining this entire experience.
“I had to see you.”
“You did? Why?”
He looked around the crowded club. “Can we go somewhere else to talk about this? Somewhere private?”
As if on cue, a couple of guys interrupted us. One said, “Hey Angelica, great show. Can I get you a drink?”
“Thanks. I’m fine right now. Excuse me, please.”
I took Devon’s hand and turned to walk away, but ran straight into Joey.
“Joey.”
How long had he been there listening?
“The last time she went somewhere with you, she disappeared.”
When I turned to look, Joey was giving Devon the tough guy stare-down. Devon’s face revealed nothing, but I noticed his fists clenched at his sides.
“Joey, no!” I stood between them, trying to calm Joey down. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right, Angelica. I don’t. I don’t know what exactly happened last month, but I do know that your trouble started after you went to talk to this fucker.”
“I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him! You don’t get it. You could never understand what happened or what we are. Please don’t get involved!”
“‘What we are’? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just go away. Please.”
“No.” Joey crossed his arms. “I’m sorry, but I won’t sit by and let what happened last time happen again.”
“Goddamn it, Joey. You have to back off! I thought we’d settled everything the other night.”
“Maybe seeing this asshole again has stirred up some feelings.”
“I made it clear when I joined the band that I needed my privacy. No questions. That hasn’t changed. If you can’t give that to me, then we can’t have any sort of relationship. That means working together or being friends.”
Joey’s nostrils flared in and out several times before he answered. “If you want to leave with this piece of shit, I won’t stop you.”
Devon took a step closer to Joey and glared. “I’ve been patient as I’ve had to deal with your interference, but if you think I’ll let you talk to either of us this way, you will be quite sorry.”
“Oh yeah, by who? You?” Joey gave the impression that he wasn’t scared off by Devon, but if appearance alone was any indication, Devon’s muscular torso would flatten Joey’s leaner one without much of a challenge. Not to mention Devon’s inhuman strength.
I put a hand on Devon’s chest to try to stop this from escalating, not that it did much good.
“Yes. She has told you repeatedly what she wants. And if you don’t respect what she wants, I will be the one interfering in your life.”
Joey breathed in a few times before answering. “Whatever, dude. I said I wouldn’t stop you.”
“You wouldn’t be able to if you tried.”
I glared at Devon to knock it off. “Thank you, Joey,” I said sternly. “We’re leaving.” Then I took Devon’s hand as we left the club, aware that Joey was glaring at Devon the entire time.
Chapter Fourteen
We walked out into the spring night, down Commonwealth Ave. I looked back.
“I think we set him straight,” Devon said as if reading my mind. “I don’t think he’s following us.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I said.
“I don’t know how you stand that bloke. If he wasn’t your friend, I’d tear him apart right now after what he just called me.”
“Thank you for the restraint. He means well, but he just gets so—protective—when it comes to me.”
“He cares for you.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Nothing wrong with that. People should care about each other. Friends, lovers.”
“That’s the problem. He wants more. I don’t.”
“Why not?”
I didn’t answer at first. My relationship with him was strained at the moment and I hoped we could get past it. “Let’s not talk about Joey right now. It’s a beautiful night and I’d really like to continue our conversation.”
Devon examined our surroundings. “Let’s walk down this way and head into the Public Garden.”
“You know your way around Boston? I didn’t know you’d ever been here.”
“I haven’t, but I’ve been in the city for a few days just walking around and thinking.”
“Why did you come?”
The walk signal lit up so we walked across the crosswalk to reach the Boston Public Garden. Neither of us said a word, but we still held hands as we passed the gates to enter the garden area. The Public Garden was one of my favorite places in Boston. The paths were well-lit so I could admire the ever-changing variety of flowers even though I couldn’t experience them in daylight. The Swan Boats and ducklings as part of the Make Way for Ducklings statue were some of its unique residents.
We passed the George Washington Memorial of him majestically looking over the city while astride his horse. We then reached the footbridge crossing the pond. “So why are you here, Devon?”
“I was hoping it was obvious. I came for you.”
“You did? Why?”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you, Layla, Angelica, Catherine, whoever you are?”
“Layla. I prefer Layla. And say what?” I teased, hoping I knew exactly what he meant.
He stopped on the footbridge and looked around. Then he faced me, taking my other hand. “In a setting as picturesque as this, I can be excused for letting down my manly guard to make a romantic declaration.”
“Naturally. It could turn the hardest of men into jelly, could it not? But as of yet, I haven’t heard any romantic declarations.”
“I’m getting there, Layla. I’m not good with these kinds of words.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I crossed an ocean for you because I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you in my life. I need you near me. Since you left the UK, I’ve had an empty pit inside me just aching for you.”
I was trying to be aloof, but my attempt fell short as a huge smile spread across my face. “So you came to the US because you ache for me? Where—in your pants? Is it just a sexual thing?”
“It’s an everything thing. Want, need, love.”
“Love?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Yes, love. You’re going to make this hard for me, aren’t you?”
“Me, difficult? Never! You of all people should know that.”
“I’ve been the recipient of a few difficult jabs from you in my time.”
“What were you saying about love again?”
“I love you, Layla. Whatever your name is, whoever you are, whatever you are. I love you and want to be with you.”
A few pedestrians approached. I waited for them to pass before I whispered, “How could a vampire and a shifter ever make it work? We’re too different.”
“I think we found more similarities than differences while we were together, don’t you agree?”
I nodded. “True.” More people were crossing the bridge on this beautiful spring night in Boston. With the weather furiously windy one day and then oddly calm the next, Bostonians were used to taking every opportunity to get outside and embrace a milder spring day. “Let’s walk.
There are too many people on this bridge.”
We held hands again and walked off the footbridge. Once we had some space between us and the people around us, I said, “We’d face so many obstacles, Devon. I can’t go out during the day; life with me is under cover of darkness, in the shadows. Even in a place as magnificent as this, I can never experience the flowers reaching out to the sun, the rays reflecting off the ripples in the pond.”
“Then it’s a good thing the gardens are open at night. We can experience the quiet, graceful beauty under the moon and stars. And it’s a good thing that the animals I shift into have excellent night vision.”
I knew there were other obstacles we’d have to face to be together because I’d been dwelling on them since I left England. Every time I fantasized about us being together, I had to convince myself that it could never work and that I had to move on with my life.
But still, in the back of my mind, I entertained the hope. With Devon here with me that hope had bounded out of my body, threatening to engulf me with happiness. I had to point out the practical reasons to see if he’d considered how a life with me would actually work, and was one he’d be willing to take on.
“You know I won’t be able to bear your children?”
“Good, then we don’t have to worry about birth control.”
“Don’t you want to have children?”
“No, I decided long ago that I can’t have children in my line of work. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want to expose children to my lifestyle.”
“And later on? Maybe if you one day decide you don’t want to be a bounty hunter. What about then? Don’t you want to pass on your super-shifter genes to another generation?”
“There are enough shifters in the world, trust me. I can’t see myself being a father. I like kids, but I don’t want to father any. My sisters will have kids, I’m sure. So I’ll visit them and then go back to my own life.”
Well, at least he was okay with me not bearing a brood of his shifter children. But there were several more practical matters to consider.
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