Savaged Dreams: Savaged Illusions Trilogy Book 1

by Jennifer Lyon

  Screams and applause exploded in the room.

  “Come on, guys, get up here. Everyone wants to see you.”

  Liza wove through the crowd and tables, getting shots as Screech introduced each man and they spoke a few words. Simon riled them up, Gray thanked them all for their support, River made them laugh, and Lynx tossed a few drum sticks out into the crowd. She backed up, trying to get a clear shot of people jostling to catch the sticks.

  “Liza?”

  Lowering her camera, she groaned at the familiar voice. Seriously? Here? Four men huddled around a table drinking, but she homed in on her former boyfriend. “Dillion.” The way he’d dumped her still stung.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” His dark gaze rolled over her and zeroed in on her breasts. “Looking like that.”

  She started to hunch her shoulders and caught herself. “Like what? Happy to be rid of you?” It took everything she had to resist dumping his beer over his head and walking away. He wasn’t worth the energy.

  She made it one step when he latched a hand around her biceps. Pivoting, she said, “Let go.”

  “Come on, Liza. I miss you.”

  “Then go cozy up with your fiancée.” The one that Daddy had lined up in the wings, and she’d known nothing about it.

  His fingers tightened on the flesh of her upper arm. “I didn’t have a choice. If you’d just been patient, maybe I could have—”

  “No. I’m no man’s dirty little secret.” Pulling her arm free, she walked away with her shoulders up and back straight. Refusing to let Dillion affect her night or how she did her job, she focused on the stage. Justice had finished up whatever he’d said and handed the mic back to Screech.

  The aging rocker said, “Technically Savaged Illusions isn’t supposed to perform as a band outside approved events while in the battle to win Court of Rock.”

  After the groans of disappointment receded, Screech went on, “But no one says they can’t participate individually in some of our fun later. So buy the boys some drinks and get them all loosened up. Right now, the house band is coming out to cover your favorite songs. Time to party!”

  The guys were immediately surrounded as they came down the stairs. Crowds pushed and edged Liza back as she got shots of the excited fans clustering around the band. Eventually the knot broke up as people streamed to the dance floor. River, Lynx and Simon headed out there, creating a sudden rush of women.

  Taking a break, Liza ordered a soda, carefully watching as it was served from the fountain. After that, she found a safe place by a table in the corner but stayed on her feet to watch the dance floor. Frantic energy radiated as the house band played a hard, edgy beat. Sexy girls swayed and gyrated. Deep in her stomach, longing spread.

  The song changed, and sentiment rushed her, dragging her back to her childhood. On a good day, when her mom hadn’t been drunk and desperate, they’d cranked up the tunes and danced. God, her mom had been beautiful then, her hair straighter and with more red than Liza’s, and she’d danced with total abandon. The sound of her laughter echoed in Liza’s head. An ache opened in her chest. She missed those happy times with her mom.

  “You didn’t give me a real chance.”

  Liza clamped her lips tight at the intruding voice. She faced Dillion. “I don’t have to give you anything.”

  “I never meant you to be a dirty little secret. I told you I’d work on my dad.”

  Annoyance washed over her. What was Dillion’s problem? They were done. She could have understood his reason for breaking up, but not what came after. “That’s the way it sounded when you made your offer.”

  He shoved his too-long hair—his one rebellion against his father—out of his face. “I was upset. Dance with me. I’ll explain.”

  Unable to resist, she asked, “In public? What if it gets back to your dad?” Yep, still pissed. Not about the breakup—she’d only dated him a couple months and hadn’t been in love with him. She’d liked him at first, thinking he was ambitious and interesting. But soon she realized his father’s ambition drove him, not his own.

  His smooth face darkened. “Don’t be a bitch. You’re the one who hid who you really are.”

  There was a smidge of truth in that. “You hid a fiancée.”

  “We weren’t engaged then.”

  “But you are now.” What was she doing? None of this mattered anymore. “You know what? I don’t care. I’m not interested in seeing you, talking to you or dancing with you.”

  “You heard her. Beat it now before I toss you out on your ass.” Justice loomed behind her ex, radiating menace.

  Dillion stepped to the side. “Hey, man, Liza and I go way back. We’re just talking.”

  “Now you’re just getting the fuck away from her.”

  Her ex gaped at her. “What is he, your new boyfriend? You’re dating a musician?” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “You slumming like your mom now?”

  A ripple went through Justice, and he visibly swelled with anger.

  Liza grabbed Justice’s arm. His muscles bulged rock hard beneath her hand. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.”

  More people moved in closer, including Lynx and Simon. Crap. All too aware of the band’s rep for getting into bar fights, she had to get control here. “Dillion, go back to your friends.”

  He shook his head. “My father was right about you.” He stalked off.

  Justice reached a hand up as if to touch her, then dropped it. “You okay?”

  Too many people stared at her. Simon, Gray, River, Screech, and others she didn’t know crowded in. Quiet, Liza. Don’t give them anything more to talk about. Ignore them. The words bounced and echoed, the memory of her aunt marching alongside of her, head down, shame and anger shrouding them as reporters shouted and cameras flashed.

  Justice’s hand squeezed hers, mooring her to the present.

  Raising her gaze to his, she answered, “Absolutely fine.”

  “Good, then let’s dance.” He tugged on her hand.

  “Wait, my camera.” She scooped the case off the table.

  “No problem.” Screech stepped up. “I’ll lock it in my office if you like.”

  Handing off the camera, she studied Justice’s profile and wondered, “You guys were all surrounded by fans a few minutes ago. What brought you over to my table?”

  A tic bounced in his jaw for a second before he answered, “You.”

  Her hand tingled from contact with his warm fingers. This wasn’t good. She couldn’t like him that way. The smart thing to do would be to call a cab and go home.

  Instead, almost a half hour later, her feet hurt, her throat was parched, and she was having so much fun. The house band was pretty good, covering kickass rock songs that beat deep in her blood. She danced with Justice, then Lynx snagged her, River, Simon and Gray. Their friends got in on it.

  Her head ached from laughing. Girls piled onto the floor, many of them friendly, teasing the guys, pulling Liza into a dance line with them as the band covered Beyoncé’s “Put a Ring on It.” It took her half the song to figure out the steps, but it was a blast. No one recognized her. She was just one of the crowd, a girl out having fun.

  The band switched to the power ballad “Lips of an Angel.”

  She turned to escape the dance floor and stumbled into Justice. Startled, she tried to shift back.

  His arms folded around her, hard bands of muscles easing her against his chest. He smelled like a freshly oiled guitar, a combination of vanilla and cedar, mixed with the earthier musk that was all Justice and much too sexy. The scents invoked memories of outdoor concerts on warm summer nights, and throngs of people on their feet and dancing. As a child, she’d lost herself in the music and joy, unbridled by the fears that haunted her now. But as she swayed with Justice, it wasn’t nostalgia that sparked the longing tugging at her insides, but the man holding her. This had to be a bad idea, yet she didn’t want to move.

  As the song wound down Justice tilted her head up, his eyes molten ben
eath the club lights.

  Her stomach shivered. With his arm around her back and their bodies pressed together, tension simmered between them. His gaze slid to her mouth.

  A thread of desire fluttered, delicate and tentative. It should scare her, worry her, but in this moment, Liza savored it, allowing herself to feel attraction without someone telling her it would lead to disaster. She wouldn’t act on it, but she could experience the pleasure without guilt.

  “There’s something about you, Liza Glasner.”

  His voice sank inside her, fanning the flickers of desire. “Like what?”

  He shook his head. “Not sure. Maybe it’s your hair.” He traced a finger over a wave. “Or your smart mouth. It conflicts with that tight-control thing you have going on. Which is the real you? It’s like you keep trying to hide part of yourself, but she’s fighting to get out.”

  He took her breath away, seeing so much more than anyone else. How? Why? “I’m not that interesting.”

  “Liar.”

  His voice dropped to a growl that rumbled through her nerve endings. She was saved from answering when the song died away and Screech took the mic.

  “Time to play a little Screech Stumper. No cheating. The first one who shouts out a title or lyrics buys a round of drinks for the members of Savaged Illusions. Now let’s get someone up here and see if he or she can sing the Screech Stumper.”

  Baffled, she asked Justice, “What’s that?”

  “The band plays a few notes of a song, and the volunteer has to start singing within the first eight seconds. If he can sing the first four lines of three songs in a row, he wins a free drink.”

  “Awesome.” She loved it.

  “Want to try?”

  “Me? No.” She huffed out a laugh. “I’m not a singer.”

  “Chicken.”

  The first person on stage managed to get a Green Day and a Foreigner song but was stumped on a Bob Dylan tune. As she came off the stage, some guy bought her a drink. Four or five volunteers later, River took the stage. He easily sang the lines of songs from Def Leppard, Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles. Then he challenged Gray, and he passed it off to Lynx and ultimately Justice.

  Liza clapped and shoved at his shoulder. “You’re up. Go, go, go.” She was having a blast and didn’t want it to end.

  He turned his gaze on her. “I’ll win. I always win.” Justice bounded up the steps and took the mic. “Hit it.”

  Screech and the band played the first notes of “Still the Same” by Bob Seger. Without missing a beat, Justice launched into the song.

  The crowd hushed.

  Liza stared at the man. In seconds, he’d transformed from the guy she’d had dinner with, laughed and danced with into…

  A star.

  His voice pealed out, covering the song with power and emotion that made her feel it so deep in her chest, she had to sway to it. There was no room for thinking, not when the music took up all her headspace. The house band kept playing past the first four lines, and Justice sang the entire song.

  The crowd clapped loud and enthusiastically. He sang two more songs, both harder metal rock, and he owned the stage, prowling and jumping as he powered into the lyrics.

  Beautiful energy flooded the room when Justice performed.

  Finally, he stopped and waited out the applause to say, “It’s great to be home. Thank you all for coming tonight.” Rotating, he faced the piano. “And thank you, Screech, for giving us our chance at this very club and for hosting this party tonight.” Returning his attention to the audience, he said, “Okay, guys, now help me all talk Screech into playing ‘Reaper’s Child.’”

  “Reaper! Reaper!” people shouted.

  The houselights dimmed, and a spotlight shone on Screech as he began playing the song that had rocketed his band to fame. The notes rang out with a haunting echo of death.

  Liza moved up closer to the stage, drawn by the memories. She’d tell her mom all about her experience of seeing Screech perform live the next time she visited. She watched intently, trying to memorize the way he leaned into the mic and sang with fiery anger as the song built to the rage against fate.

  Two arms settled around her from behind, and a drink appeared in front of her face. “Thought you might like a frozen margarita,” Justice said into her ear.

  Liza froze and looked down. A male hand wrapped around a glass unleashed a barrage of memories. Fear shot up her throat. A sense of helpless vulnerability attacked her. In seconds, a whirring noise in her brain drowned out the music. She was trapped.

  Cornered.

  Unable to escape with the man behind her, arms caging her, darkness closing in on her. Panic jacked her heart. Her pulsed pounded, adding to the noise in her head. Sweat prickled her back.

  No. Get control. Now. “No, thank you.” Her voice sounded thin and tinny. Far away.

  “Come on, taste it.”

  His cajoling tone rubbed like coarse sandpaper. “No.” The word rasped her throat as if it was coated in broken glass. She didn’t know how to escape. Where was the door? Was the room tilting?

  “It’s a virgin margarita. You haven’t drank alcohol all night, so I assumed you’d rather not. And since you’re underage, I don’t want to get Screech into trouble.”

  Her stare riveted on the drink. Lime colored, not strawberry pink, but she wouldn’t touch it. Couldn’t. Just the thought of it made her nauseated. Shaky and scared. So scared. She remembered feeling the darkness rolling in like a swarm, stealing her consciousness. Tears burned her eyes.

  Focus. You’re in a nightclub, not a bedroom.

  With a herculean effort, she turned and concentrated. “I said no.” Loud and firm. “I don’t take drinks from men. Not unless it’s in a sealed bottle or can.”

  Justice reared back, eyebrows arching in shock. “All right.” He took a step away and set the drink down. “Do you want me to get you a water or can of soda?”

  She shook her head and pivoted, gripping the edge of the stage. Leave, get out. She’d overreacted. Were people looking at her? Was he? Why couldn’t she just be normal?

  It all crushed down on her, a terrible weight pressing on her lungs. Justice had won the drink and got it for her. He was being nice, maybe flirting, and she’d lost her shit like a crazy chick. But the sight of the frozen concoction and his coaxing voice…

  Bitter, metallic fear filled her mouth again. She lowered her head, looking at the floor. Polished wood of some kind. Breathe, nice and slow. You’re in control. Listen to the music. Calm down.

  She concentrated on Screech’s playing and the rough timbre of his voice as he sang. Her heart rate lowered, and her stomach settled.

  Time to leave before Justice demanded to know what the hell her problem was.

  He moved up next to her, close enough that his rigid biceps pressed into her arm. “Was it that asshole bothering you earlier?”

  She jerked her head up. “What?”

  “The one who put something in your drink.” The knuckles of his fingers turned white. “Was it him?”

  She closed her eyes. “No.” What would he think if he knew the truth? The shame crowded in. She wanted to grab that drink, slam it against the stage until she held the jagged shard of glass, and shove that into her skin, deep enough to hurt. Over and over until the physical pain burned out the agony of her memories. She fought the impulse, struggled to—

  Justice’s warm hand covered hers for a second, then gently pried her fingers off the lip of the stage.

  Startled, she searched his face.

  “If you need someone to hold on to, I’m right here.” He tugged her to his front, tucking her between his arms.

  “Justice…”

  “This isn’t me flirting with you. Getting the drink for you, yeah that was.”

  “Then what’s this?” She really didn’t understand. And why had she felt trapped when he had held out that drink, but now his solid warmth soothed the fear? As if he protected her from all the harsh stares and judgments
that had been her world for years?

  He settled his chin on her head. “Being a friend.”

  She shouldn’t do this, but his warmth was a comfort she craved. All those nights she’d slept in a locked bathroom, lights blazing because the darkness scared the fuck out of her. A fear so overwhelming she sometimes cut her skin to escape. Being thrust back into the rock world had reopened old wounds. She’d known it would and that she could handle it.

  What she hadn’t expected was this.

  A friend.

  Chapter 4

  As Justice steered Liza from Screech’s office, where she’d picked up her camera bag, toward the front of the club, he tried to keep his eyes off her ass.

  She’d been drugged. Was it recently in a club like this? Damn it, he hated not knowing.

  Dragging his gaze from her, he caught Dillion watching them with a sullen expression. What a prick. He’d heard the guy say he hadn’t meant for Liza to be his dirty little secret, whatever the fuck that meant. Good thing Liza said it wasn’t him who spiked her drink or that asshole would be eating out of a tube for the rest of his life.

  Yeah, good plan, get arrested, then forfeit the win on Court of Rock for a girl you just met. Stellar, Cade. Just stellar.

  Right, bad plan. He’d gone through a streak of drinking in bars on tour and ending up in fights. In the last year, he’d cleaned up his act.

  They headed out into the cool night. He ushered Liza into the waiting taxi and gave the driver his address.

  “You didn’t have to leave with me,” Liza said.

  “Wrong. I saw the way you were casing my house earlier tonight. I’m not letting you steal those flowered plates and chicken decorations while I’m groping groupies.” No way would he let her get in a taxi by herself at one a.m. Especially now, after he’d seen her reaction to that drink.

  The dim lighting caught the barest tilt of her lips. “Damn, busted.”