I moved to hand it to Jonas but he took a step back, making room for me to carry it to the table myself, like he was afraid he might drop it if he took it from me. I set it down next to the rest of the creations and took a moment to admire them now that they were finished. None of the guys had been secretive of their designs, and I’d seen them working on them on and off, but I hadn’t seen any of them completed until now. O’Shea’s was a surfboard that, according to Trey, matched the first surfboard O’Shea’s dad had ever built for him. Chase’s drum set looked exactly like the one he played every night, complete with Catalyst logo on the bass drum. Jonas had created a miniature mixing board with dials and knobs that seemed to legitimately match the one I’d seen in Ken’s studio, for example. Trey had created our tour bus, complete with wheels and a clear windshield. Although you couldn’t see inside of it, the brick versions of the guys on the outside of it were hilarious.
“That is seriously awesome,” Chase said as he stared at my stage. “Yours has my vote.”
“Thanks,” I said, patting his arm.
Jonas proceeded to snap pictures of all our creations and then uploaded them to the Fan Club for voting.
“Fifty bucks says mine gets more votes than yours,” O’Shea said to Trey, holding out his closed fist for Trey to bump.
“You’re on,” Trey said, hitting O’Shea’s fist lightly with his own.
“I mean, we’re both going to lose now that Aurora is involved,” O’Shea said, grinning, “But I’m still going to beat you.”
A few hours later the sound of Trey’s heart pounding in my ear woke me. I’d fallen asleep with my head on his chest in our bed after the show, but we had our own bus back, and with it came some much needed privacy. I could see through the window that the moon had already crossed half of the sky, which meant that it was the middle of the night. The bus hummed along, carrying us closer to the next town with every mile.
“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.
Trey hesitated. He hadn’t realized I was awake. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m good.”
But even without the super-hearing, I was positioned perfectly to hear his heart trip. “You’re a terrible liar.” He chuckled, a soft rumble that came from deep in his chest. I raised my head to look at him. His brown hair was messy, which was my favorite way of seeing it, but his blue eyes looked dark with a burden I didn’t understand. “Tell me,” I said. I pressed my lips to the center of his chest, feeling the lub-dub of his vampire heart against my mouth as I planted a soft kiss there.
“I just ... I dunno.” He sighed, and I slid up, laying my head in the crook of his shoulder. He brushed my hair away from my face with his fingers as I waited patiently for him to continue. “I fed on a fan before the show tonight,” he said, and suddenly I understood that tortured look in his eye.
“How did that go?” I asked.
“Fine, I guess,” he said. “I mean, she was only too happy to come with me for a ‘backstage tour’.” He drew sharp little air quotes with his free hand in frustration. “I don’t know which part bothers me more,” he added. “The fact that I took blood from a fan – which I swore I would never do – or the fact that it was so easy to pull off.”
“You can’t help how much your fans love you,” I said.
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I can sure as hell not take advantage of it.” His fingers, which had been drawing light circles and swirls on the bare skin of my shoulder, paused. His fist balled up, and I reached out, covering it with my own. “That’s what I did tonight,” he continued. “I took advantage of someone who just wanted to be close to me.”
“Like it or not, that’s part of the vampire gig,” I said softly, knowing he wasn’t going to like hearing it. “We’re beautiful, desirable, and charismatic. Humans are drawn to us for many reasons. Without those qualities, we’d have a much harder time surviving as a species. It’s part of a vampire’s genetic makeup. You just happen to have a sea of humans who were drawn to you before you were reborn as a creature of the night.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He sighed again, and I felt him plant a kiss on my hair. “I know you’re right.”
“I usually am,” I said, hoping to at least get a smile out of him.
He snorted. Mission accomplished. “You know what the worst part about tonight is?” he asked. “The girl – Jes was her name – she’s a huge fan of the band. She was cool, too. Not at all crazy and stalker-like. But after what I did to her tonight, she’s going to develop the aversion. She’ll probably never see another one of our shows again. As far as that goes, she might not be able to stand the sound of my voice, let alone want to be in the same building as me. I don’t care how great of a show we put on, I didn’t like being on stage and knowing that was the last time she’d come out to see us. Ever. And that’s all on me. I did that to her. And if that’s not enough, I have this sinking feeling in my stomach, like I’m betraying the guys at the same time. It was such a hard road, trying to get our music out there for people to hear. Now we’ve finally got a solid fan base, and I’m scaring them off with these?” He unsheathed his fangs with dramatic flair. “It’s no wonder I’m not sleeping.”
I sat up, propping myself up on one elbow. “You’re not going to eat your way through your fan base,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re still new at this, and not nearly good enough to pull that off.” He smiled in spite of himself, and let out a deep sigh, his chest heaving and falling. “You know what you’re problem is?” I said.
“Hmm?”
“You were too good at the whole being human thing.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“No,” I countered. “It’s a Trey thing. It just makes the vampire thing harder to get used to.”
He thought on that for a moment, and I wondered if I was any help at all, but then he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “There are parts of this ‘vampire thing’ that I’m really getting used to,” he offered.
I tilted my chin so I could look at him. “Oh yeah? Like?”
“The night vision, for one.” His sat up, and his icy blue eyes drilled right into me, causing a ball of fire to ignite in my chest. I responded instantly by allowing my own eyes to take on their supernatural luminescence and my fangs to slide into position. Everything about him came into clear focus. I gazed at him unabashedly, following the lines of his hard muscles as he stretched his frame and leaned over me, his hand pinning mine above my head. My lips parted in tortured anticipation as his face inched slowly toward me. He brushed my mouth ever so softly with his, but only in passing. He moved on, trailing soft kisses along my collarbone. I closed my eyes as every one of my nerve endings awoke at his simple touch, causing me to shiver.
He sat up then, releasing my hand, and I opened my eyes to find myself caught in his cool, blue gaze. He seemed to be enjoying the night vision, but so was I. I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted to. The smile that stretched across his face now was cocky, satisfied. He glanced down briefly, and then his gaze came back up to meet mine again. He pushed my tank top up a few inches and lowered himself to place a slow, tender kiss on my belly button. I twisted my fingers into his hair, and when he leaned forward again his lips came crashing down on mine. I ran my hands up and down his chest and along the grooves in his abdomen as he gently nipped at my bottom lip. Trey’s kiss was explosive, and with it I experienced a range of emotions, but none of the shame and guilt that had plagued him just moments before. He was already letting go of it all, and I was proud of him for it.
Chapter 21
Aurora
TREY GAVE ME A cocky smile as he leaned back in the white chaise lounge, his lean, muscular frame stretched out before me. I took a step forward, lifting my foot up to rest one high heel on the leather next to him. He watched intently as I bent forward, slowly sweeping the bristles of the long paint brush I was holding down the skin of his exposed chest, leaving a thick trail of paint that matched th
e color of the blue guitar propped up nearby.
“Perfect,” the photographer called out from behind the giant lens he was shooting us with. “Tip the angle of the palette you’re holding a little toward me, Aurora,” he directed. I did as he asked, trying to incorporate everything he’d asked me to do for this pose, all while forcing myself to breathe for appearances sake.
Hey, Trey called to me in my thoughts. My eyes locked with his. Keep your eyes right here, he encouraged.
That’s the easy part, I thought back, giving him a coy smile. And it was.
Forget about them, he added. Guitars and painting is kind of our thing. It’s just you and me. He turned it up a notch just then, and the smoldering intensity in his gaze made it easier to pretend we were the only ones in the room. One by one, all the people behind the scenes who were scrutinizing our every move disappeared, including the photographer and the incessant clicking of his camera.
I love this dress on you, Trey thought. I felt the heat of his gaze as he looked me up and down. I wonder if they’d let you keep it. The dress he spoke of was black chiffon, running to the floor and parting where a single slit ran up my left leg. Do you remember the last time you smeared paint all over me? he silently added. I hadn’t forgotten. I pulled the memory of Trey’s first painting lesson to the surface easily enough and projected it back to him. I hadn’t known it at the time, but that was the night everything would change. The power Trey’s kiss held over me had been new, exciting, and confusing all at once. I bit my lip at the thought of it, at how those things still hadn’t changed.
“We got the shot,” the photographer called out, pulling my focus back from the memory. Trey blinked a few times to clear his head, and I straightened, putting both feet on the ground. “Someone get Trey a towel to wash that paint off with,” the photographer said to a group of his assistants nearby. Then he turned his attention back to Trey and I. “Great work, you two,” he said. “Let’s get you back into hair and makeup, and I’ll have the crew set up for the next shot.”
I handed the paintbrush and palette I’d been holding to the first person who approached me while Trey wiped the blue paint from his chest.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” one of the assistants asked Trey.
“No, thank you,” he said, silently adding, I doubt you have what I’m craving. I smiled at his internal dialogue and also politely turned down the offer.
We were whisked away to change our clothes and I spent only a few minutes in the hair and makeup chair having a touch-up. I was relieved to find that I would be allowed to don a simple white tank top and some designer jeans for the next shot. The heels were even taller than the last pair, but I loved the metal studs on them. The setup for this shot was very true to life, which I hoped meant it would be easy. The photographer hung a lanyard with a backstage pass around my neck and directed me to stand in front of an easel that held a blank canvas. Everything around me was designed to look like a typical backstage lounge at a venue. There was a couch, a coffee table, and a huge flat screen TV on the wall.
“We’ll digitally add Trey to that TV screen for the final print,” the photographer explained as he handed me a paintbrush. “Our readers are really intrigued by your story and how you spend your time on the road supporting Trey, and still manage to create pieces of art. All you have to do is appear to be painting backstage while Trey is performing.”
“Easy enough,” I replied. It was a little tricky figuring out how to stand so that it looked like I was focused on the canvas, but not hiding behind it. After a few shots, the director asked one of his assistants to come and add some paint to my white tank top to make it all a little messier. “I could have done that,” I said with a grin as a woman in her early thirties strategically added a little smear of paint to my cheek and one arm just below the shoulder. “I never paint without making a mess.”
“Got it,” she said, stepping back to admire me. “You just stand there and look beautiful.”
“Much better,” the photographer called out as he stepped closer and began shooting again. “Lift your chin a little. Perfect.”
I felt Trey’s presence when he entered the room, finding a place to watch from the back. I bit my lip and painted the word Catalyst horizontally across the canvas just to give myself something to do while the lights flashed.
“The camera loves you.” The photographer paused long enough to study the screen on the back of his camera briefly before announcing that I was finished. Trey was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, grinning like a handsome idiot, when I approached.
“What are you looking so snide about?” I asked while assistants scurried around nearby, hauling props away. He was looking good in a dark gray button-up shirt and jeans.
“Nothing,” he said, straightening. I raised an accusing eyebrow at him and he shrugged. “It’s just that I bet you never thought you’d be doing a photo shoot for Rolling Stone,” he stated. “A few months ago you were nervous about walking the red carpet at the VMA’s with me. Now ... well, look at you.”
“Yeah, well, I guess it’s the price I pay for being with my rock star husband.”
“You’ve always been a rock star in your own right,” he said, taking my hand in his. “Now the rest of the world might just get a glimpse of what I see in you.”
“I’d kiss you right now, but I’m pretty sure lipstick on your face isn’t part of the plan for your next photo.”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice lined with that rough edge that drives me crazy. “A kiss would be worth another round in the makeup chair.”
“Over here guys,” someone called from behind, and I glanced over my shoulder to see the photographer waving us over.
Trey waved back in acknowledgement and frowned at me. “Rain check?”
I nodded and walked with him to the next room where a mock stage had been created, or at least the lighting of one.
“You’re up,” the photographer told him.
I found a spot to stand behind the monitor where the images would appear as the camera captured them. Trey strapped on Liza and stepped up to the mic that was strategically placed on a stand for him.
“I know this isn’t your first rodeo,” the photographer said to him. “We’re going to use the lights behind you to emulate a live show effect. Remember to stay off the mic enough that we can see your face. Other than that, just be natural.”
“I can do that,” Trey said, raising and dropping his shoulders a few times to loosen up. “But I’m going to need some tunes.”
“Got it,” an assistant to my right responded with impressive speed for a human. She pulled out her phone and attached a pair of speakers to it.
“Just give me something with a guitar and a great beat,” Trey said to her.
The girl frantically scrolled through her music, silently debating about whether or not to play Trey some of his own music before saying, “I have some Jimmy Eat World?” She phrased it as a question, hesitantly awaiting Trey’s response.
“Crank it up,” he said, giving her a victorious smile that made her heart shift gears. He bobbed his head slightly with the beat as the music blasted, and then it was all business as he pulled his guitar to the left and tipped the mic stand forward, leaning toward the camera and singing along. I shook my head, grinning as he practically oozed charm all over the fake stage. The photographer snapped away, not wanting to miss a single beat of Trey’s performance. I glanced around, seeing how impressed the rest of the crew was as the lights flashed. I’d seen Trey do a magazine shoot before, but it was easier to appreciate just how simple he made it seem now that I’d been on that side of the camera myself. I knew that being a vampire gave me a certain kind of grace and magnetism that people were drawn to, but Trey had never needed it to command the attention of everyone around him. Armed only with his favorite guitar, he churned out an alarmingly high number of useable shots in a variety of poses during the duration of the song.
When the last note
rang out the photographer stood up from the crouching position he’d taken and said, “Can’t ask for more than that.” Trey slid the guitar to his back and came around to where I stood to get a better look at the monitor. “We definitely got the shot,” the photographer assured Trey as we glanced through the stills quickly. Trey nodded, apparently satisfied.
“That’s a wrap, people!” the photographer announced, and he led everyone in a round of applause for Trey and I before shaking Trey’s hand and kissing my cheek.
“Thanks everyone,” Trey said, and I echoed the sentiment. We changed our clothes and then took our time leaving so Trey could sign a few autographs and take a few pictures with some of the assistants. For at least three of them, it clearly made their day. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Trey asked me as we climbed into the waiting car outside.
“You make it look easy,” I told him.
“Today was easy,” he stated. “Taking pictures with my smoking hot wife isn’t exactly what I’d call a grueling day at work.”
I smiled, and he touched my cheek softly, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I’ll take that kiss now,” he said. Without hesitating, his lips came down on mine, bringing with them a flurry of emotions. I did the equivalent of mentally taking a deep breath, letting go completely as his emotions spun around inside of me. He was still coming down from the adrenaline of his last shoot. I even caught pieces of the lyrics from the song still swirling around in his thoughts if I listened. He smelled amazing, and he tasted even better. His fingers were in my hair, and I found myself gripping the collar of his leather jacket to anchor myself to him during the rush.
“Where are we headed?” the driver of the car asked us, somehow managing to keep a straight face after glancing at the backseat.
Trey and I pulled apart briefly and he gazed at me, searching for the answer.
“Whatever hotel we’re staying at tonight,” I stated. Trey’s grin was completely genuine as I leaned into him again and kissed his mouth.
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