Backlash (Winter's Wrath #1)

by Bianca Sommerland

  The fire spread, then exploded with a deep thrust that spread fuel over the hungry blaze. All the oxygen around her fed into the inferno and her core undulated around him until she couldn’t hold back her screams. She clenched down as he pulled almost out of her, then he slammed in hard.

  Her whole body jerked as she felt him pulsing within and she clung to him as her oversensitive center hit another sharp climax.

  Heart pounding, she rested her head on his shoulder, hoping he’d hold her for just a little longer. Her whole body was shaking and she wasn’t sure if she could stand yet. He had one hand braced against the wall above her head, and he was breathing hard, but his arm around her waist was strong and steady. She willed her pulse to slow, trying to remember how to breathe normally.

  As the heated rush gradually diminished, the air cooled her damp flesh. She kissed his shoulder, tasting the salt on his slick skin, smiling as he lifted his head.

  “I think my legs might work now.” She bit her bottom lip when he pushed away from the wall, wrapping his other arm around her. She could still feel him inside her, growing soft. Her tender body was comfortable holding him, but he must be tired from holding her so long? “You can put me down if you want.”

  Or keep holding me. I’m not sure I’m ready for you to let me go.

  He shook his head as though he’d read her thoughts. “You feel good, right here in my arms. If you’ll let me, I’ll keep you here all night.”

  They were standing a few feet away from the door.

  She looked over at it and grinned. “Not here?”

  He chuckled. “No, not here.”

  Easing out of her, he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest.

  Then he kissed her cheek. “Right here.”

  She was partially aware of him carrying her to the bed, but after that, all she knew was warmth in his embrace. Halfway through the night she opened her eyes, having kicked the blanket off in her attempt to remove the one sock that was still on her foot. He’d taken her remaining shoe and her jeans off at one point, but had missed that little, beige ankle sock.

  Before she even had to get up to pull the damn thing off, he was leaning over, slipping it off her foot and tossing it over the side of the bed.

  Then he adjusted the blankets over her and laid her head on his shoulder.

  “Better?”

  “Mmm.” She flatted her hand on the center of his bare chest, eyes closed, wondering what higher power she had to thank for finally giving her something wonderful that she hadn’t had to earn through years of hard work. “Much.”

  Alder was almost too perfect. He was a good man, an amazing lover, and all she could have ever wanted. What she might have with him had come almost too easy, and if she wasn’t so worn out, she might try to analyze it. To figure out what she had to do to make it last.

  But tonight was good. And maybe perfect couldn’t be real, but she could accept good.

  Looking her gift horse in the mouth could wait until tomorrow.

  Chapter Ten

  The manager hadn’t been kidding about providing anything they might need. Alder smiled as he looked over the breakfast spread he’d laid out on the table with the man from room service. He’d tried to pay with his credit card when he’d called, so Danica’s agent wouldn’t get the charge, but apparently there was a note in the room’s file that had all charges covered, complementary of the hotel.

  He’d kept in mind both his and Danica’s diets, so there was a lot of fruit, but the lady at the front desk had laughed when he’d struggled to order and told him Sophie had everything handled. The receptionist had given him a list of options and agreed that one of everything would be fine between the two of them.

  There were scrambled egg whites, rye bread, buttermilk pancakes, and even some bacon. A fresh fruit salad bowl sat in the middle of the table with a silver ladle. Three other bowls held different kinds of berries. There was a bottle of champagne and orange juice, and a carafe of coffee.

  Healthy, but not boring. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  With the table all set up, Alder padded across the room in his socked feet, wearing the plain, black pajama pants he’d packed in case the night had ended differently. He hadn’t planned to rush things, if Danica hadn’t been ready. Granted, they’d both been at the breaking point by the time they stepped into the room, but he hadn’t assumed anything when he’d grabbed his stuff.

  Which had worked out, since he wasn’t ready to get dressed yet, but didn’t want to have breakfast in his boxers.

  He grabbed one of the white bathrobes from the bedroom closet before approaching the bed. Danica looked so peaceful, sleeping with the pillow he’d used held against her chest, he hated to wake her up, but they both had to meet with the band in a few hours. Another band meeting, then the last rehearsal before the show tomorrow night.

  The meeting was at 11:00am. Which meant she had two hours to have something to eat, get dressed, and get her head in the game.

  Her long, sleek black-brown hair spilled over the white sheets, covering the side of the bed she’d abandoned as she’d curled up right in the center. She looked so beautiful and vulnerable with her features all softened in sleep. Her long black lashes rested on her golden cheeks, her eyelids stirring slightly, as though she was dreaming.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting until she sighed and hugged the pillow a little tighter. Hopefully she’d been having a good dream. And it was over now. She probably didn’t get to sleep in often, and he wasn’t sure if 9:00am counted—it didn’t for him—but he really wanted the day to start off pleasant for her.

  He had no idea what the rest of the day would hold.

  Brushing his hand down her arm, he spoke softly. “Hey, beautiful. You ready to get up?”

  She wrinkled her nose, flopping onto her back with her eyes still closed. “Do you have coffee?”

  I’m an idiot.

  He let out a quiet laugh. “I can bring you some?”

  “Oh, would you? That will make you even more perfect. Which is scary, but coffee makes everything okay.”

  “This is true.”

  Scary? He wasn’t sure how to take that. Maybe he should ease off a bit.

  Or, better yet, he should prove she didn’t have anything to be afraid of.

  He pushed off the bed, heading to the breakfast spread to fix her a cup of coffee. He added just enough cream to make it the color he’d seen it when she’d fixed her own at the diner. When he returned to the bedroom, she was sitting up with the sheet pulled over her breasts.

  And the way she smiled at him when he held out the coffee sent a spill of warmth from his chest straight down to his groin.

  She took a sip and pressed her eyes shut with a sigh of pleasure. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been this spoiled. When I’m home, I make sure the coffee is ready before Grandpa gets up. He’s grumpy in the morning, but I learned when I was little that a cup of coffee and a cigar gets him to stop grumbling. He used to work late at the casino, but he always wanted to be up with me before I headed off to school.”

  “Then why did he grumble?” Alder tried to picture Danica, a sweet little kid rushing to fix coffee every morning with an old man scowling and cursing under his breath. But Danica didn’t sound upset when she talked about her grandfather, so maybe he had it all wrong.

  His father had always been gone before he got up for school. His mother was still asleep, because she’d worked late nights for most of his childhood as a photojournalist. Sometimes she traveled for work and was gone for weeks at a time.

  Valor and Brave had made sure he had his lunch packed and had breakfast for as long as he could remember. His eldest brother, Valor, had always been sharp with him, but back then, Brave seemed to like him. They’d had a fun little routine of Alder forgetting to grab a piece of fruit for his lunch. Brave would yell ‘Heads up!’ before tossing an apple or an orange to him on his way out.

  Danica touched the back of his hand
. “Okay, I don’t know what mornings were like for you, but maybe I said that wrong. My grandfather would get up before me, he’d tap on my door to make sure I was up, and he’d go make my lunch. He’s old, so he’d have the odd ache in his back and mutter about it bugging him. When I fixed his coffee he’d sit down to enjoy it while I ate my cereal. Now that I’m older, I try to take care of him like he used to take care of me. I make sure he doesn’t have to do anything before he has his coffee.”

  The picture he’d painted in his head shifted, and he smiled. He liked the idea of Danica having a good childhood. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume the worst. From what you’ve told me about your grandfather, he sounds like a good guy.”

  “But there’s a reason you assumed the worst. You don’t talk about your parents. What were they like?”

  His smile slipped. He dropped his gaze as she took another sip of coffee. “Umm…well, they both worked a lot? My father was a mechanic. He owns his own shop and I think he hoped at least one of his sons would take on the family business. He took over for his father.”

  “But you all got into music.”

  “Yeah…well, Valor did. Me playing the guitar wasn’t a big deal, because Brave is good with cars and while Valor was learning the piano and the guitar and singing, at least he had one son doing something productive. I was too young for anyone to worry about.”

  Neither of his parents had known about his music teachers thinking he had a worthy talent. He’d begged them not to say a word. He’d seen his father and Valor fighting too often to even dare letting his parents know he dreamed of being like all the guitarist he’d worshiped since he was old enough to pick a CD out of his father’s collection and play along with the classic rock songs.

  Valor had refused to pick up a single tool. When he was sixteen and their father had pressured him to learn to drive, he’d laughed and said he’d be so rich and famous, he’d never have to drive himself anywhere.

  Alder had been about seven at the time. Brave was eleven. And while their father was cursing Valor out, telling him he’d end up playing on a street corner for loose change, Brave had been picking up all the tools both had thrown around the garage, trying to distract Dad by asking about an old engine their father was restoring.

  Years later, when Valor started LOST, and Brave proved to be an even better singer than he was and joined the band…well, Alder was pretty sure his father gave up on the lot of them.

  “So…did your father even ask you if you wanted to take over? I mean, did you ever work on cars?” Danica took his hand, stroking his knuckles with her thumb, watching his face with concern in her eyes, as though she’d seen something that had her worried about his place in his family.

  He forced a smile and shrugged. “I think when Brave put down his tools and picked up a mic, my father gave up. He mentored this kid straight out of trade school and he trained him to help him manage the shop. By the time I was old enough to learn, he’d seen me with a guitar.”

  “And he wasn’t proud of you?”

  “Valor and Brave had a band that was doing well. And he never went to see them once. So no, he didn’t think much of me following in their footsteps.” Not that Alder really blamed him. Alder had started off his own career playing with local cover bands in bars. He’d gone to university part time for a while, planning to teach music for a living, but his dream had been to start a band like his brothers.

  If Valor had lived, he’d still be playing at weddings for young couples, and small outdoor summer events that couldn’t afford a ‘real’ band. Maybe he’d be teaching, but he’d never have let go of the dream that had been impossible until Brave had let LOST fall apart and started over.

  Danica’s brow furrowed. She didn’t seem to understand his twisted family dynamics. Not that he could blame her. Her grandfather had supported her pursuing modeling and acting. His dream probably didn’t seem outrageous to her.

  “What about your mother?”

  He let out a bitter laugh. “Those photographers that followed us the other night? Well, my mother would have been one of them back then. Now, she covers bigger stories, but before she made a name for herself, she was always chasing the next big thing. I think she saw LOST once. She sold pictures of her own son doing coke. Mom of the year right there.”

  “Brave?”

  “No. Brave’s never done anything real hard-core, as far as I know. But Valor lived the lifestyle to the fullest. She never submitted the photos under her real name, but I found copies a few years ago.” Bile flooded his throat as he remembered Valor tearing up the tabloid magazines with his pictures, cursing whatever ‘bitch’ he’d given a backstage pass to that had taken advantage of him. He’d died without knowing it had been his own mother.

  Danica shook her head. “Damn it, Alder, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dig, but with how worried you were…I figured that had to come from somewhere. Neither you or Brave had it easy.”

  Frowning, he looked up at her. “Or Valor. I mean, I didn’t know him well. He was nine years older than me, but I still remember him having it out with my dad all the time. And whenever my mom was home, he’d do nice things for her. He’d play her songs and sit there and listen to her talk about her latest big story. He loved her so much.”

  “And you loved them both.” She shook her head and took another sip of coffee. “Your parents sound like they were—and are—very ambitious people. It’s clear they passed that down to you and Brave.”

  “I guess they did.” He hated how bitter he felt talking about his parents. When he went back home, things were pleasant, and he’d developed a better relationship with them as an adult then he’d had as a child or a teen. Which was the side of his parents the rest of the band knew from the handful of times Winter’s Wrath had played back home in Detroit.

  But Danica asking him about his parents was different. He wanted to be completely honest with her; he knew she wouldn’t accept anything less.

  But this wasn’t how he wanted to start their day. Their food was getting cold. “You up to leaving the bed? I have a Sophie approved breakfast waiting for you.”

  “Should I be afraid?”

  “Nope. There’s real food.”

  “And you were surprised.” She giggled as she slipped from the bed naked, holding out her arms as he glanced down at the robe in his hands.

  Damn, being all sweet kinda sucked sometimes. She was fucking gorgeous and he hadn’t gotten much time to admire her sleek, sexy body. He wanted to run his hands over her curves. Lick and suck every soft inch of her while she writhed under him, begging him to take her.

  “I’m gonna jump you if you keep giving me that look.” Danica brought her hands up to his shoulders, moving closer to lace her fingers behind his neck. “Will you feel totally used if I do?”

  This woman is an angel. A naughty, sexy, fucking perfect angel.

  He grinned and dropped the robe somewhere to his left. “Not at all.”

  A wicked smile spread across her lips as she put her hands on the center of his chest and shoved him onto the bed, straddling him and kissing him as though she was starving.

  Maybe a cold breakfast wasn’t so bad after all.

  An hour later and Danica sat on Alder’s knee, wearing the robe he’d brought her, snacking on berries while checking her messages on her phone. She had one long email from Sophie, which she’d put off until she’d finished another cup of coffee, but when she finally got to it, her faith in her agent was restored.

  Reading it over again, she snickered and glanced over at Alder.

  Who was scowling at his own phone.

  “Uh oh. What’s wrong?” She’d let him give her the bad news first, then cheer him up with Sophie’s latest plan.

  Alder shook his head. “I get that me and Brave aren’t close, but I’m hearing about him getting another message from some sicko in a mass text from Cole. Apparently everyone else knows about it, and Cole would like to discuss the new security measures Jesse’s suggested.” />
  “Did this happen last night?”

  “No, back in Vegas. I’m not surprised Brave didn’t say anything to me, and the rest of the band stays out of shit between me and him.” He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “But Jesse… I guess I didn’t expect things to change so much with me and him. I should have.”

  “Or…maybe I’ve just been stealing you away too often. You’re still friends, Alder.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, studying his irritated expression. “Is that enough for you?”

  “Yes, but I just wish…” He dropped his phone onto the table and pulled her closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “I wish things between me and Brave were different. I’m gonna try to talk to him—shit, this is dangerous and I’m allowed to fucking care.”

  She inclined her head. They both knew Brave might not react well, especially after the way she’d confronted him yesterday, but no matter how pissy the lead singer got, he’d appreciate his brother’s concern.

  She refused to believe he wouldn’t feel the same if it was Alder’s life at risk. They’d both lost a brother already. But maybe something good would come out of Brave having to constantly look over his shoulder.

  Maybe he’d finally accept that his brother had his back.

  Looking over the breakfast they’d only just started lazily munching at, Danica considered her options. Her whole body was aching in all the right places and she really wanted to savor the last bit of time she had alone with Alder before they went back to their responsibilities with the band. But she’d have him tonight. The big show wasn’t until tomorrow, so really, all they had today was another meeting and a rehearsal.

  If they left now, Alder would have some time to talk to his brother. And she might have a few minutes to make peace with Brave herself.

  “You want to head over to the warehouse early? Is that where we’re meeting again?”

  Alder cocked his head, his brow lifted. “Yeah, we’re meeting there, but I figured you wouldn’t be in a hurry to be around our lovely Madame Croissant.”