by Jane Godman
As Violet met his eyes and smiled, Nate decided finding pleasure in being with her wasn’t going to be a hardship. On the contrary, he had a feeling Violet’s company might prove to be addictive.
* * *
Since their arrival in London a few hours earlier, Violet felt like she had been plunged into a whirlwind of light and sound and movement. A car and driver had met them at the airport and driven them through busy streets to Nate’s luxurious apartment long enough for him to prepare for the tour. He had shown Violet to a guest room, where she had showered and selected an expensive outfit from one of her new suitcases. The unknown person who had been sent by Nate’s manager to shop for her had done an impeccable job.
“How did they know my size?” she asked Nate as she turned to study the fit of the tight black jeans in a full-length mirror in the hall.
“I sent Ged some details.” The look in his eyes as they traveled up her legs and skimmed her ass left her feeling slightly breathless. “I guess I must be better at describing the female form than I thought.”
His hair was still damp from the shower, and his chest and feet were bare. He wore hip-skimming jeans and had a towel slung around his neck. Violet was suddenly very aware of his potent masculinity. Of his upper body that was a masterpiece of well-defined, taut chest muscles and superchiseled abs that cried out to be touched. The thought made her cheeks flame, even though she couldn’t drag her eyes away.
As he lifted the towel to his hair, his sharp-edged biceps and sculpted stomach tightened. His hips were so well defined that the sharp V line of his muscles drew her eye downward. Her imagination ran wild as she pictured running her hands over that broad chest, exploring those ridges of muscle, sliding lower... Raw, untamed need pulsed through her. Every cell in her body was achingly aware of him and, even though her memory was gone, Violet knew she had never felt like this before.
Aware of Nate’s eyes on her face, she forced her thoughts away from such dangerous territory and back to practical matters. “What happens now?”
He grimaced. “People imagine that life on tour is glamorous. But it isn’t. It’s hard, boring work. In fact, it feels like Groundhog Day.” He frowned. “That doctor said you needed to take things easy. Even though we’ll be traveling, I intend to make sure you do that.”
Violet shook her head, a slight smile trembling on her lips. “Whatever brought me to those woods on that night, it didn’t just bring me an encounter with a werewolf. It also brought me a meeting with you, so I can’t regret it.”
His expression was slightly bemused as he smiled down at her. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t understand it myself. I just don’t think I’ve ever had this feeling before, of someone looking out for me the way you do.”
Nate laughed. “Having lost your memory, maybe you wouldn’t know that?”
“Maybe.” Violet didn’t know where to begin. How could she explain that the loss of her memory appeared to have also enhanced her senses? Or was it Nate’s nearness that was having that effect on her? When she was with him, her awareness was on high alert. Was he the trigger that sent her senses into overdrive? Or had this heightened perception been caused by the bump on her head? All she knew was everything felt more. As though adrenaline was pumping out of control through her body, causing colors to be overly bright, scents to be overly strong, sounds to be overly loud.
She didn’t know if it had occurred to Nate to wonder, as she had, why she was in those woods. The most likely explanation was that she had been at that party. Certainly the man called Roko had recognized her. And he was a werewolf. All of the people at that party had been werewolves. Does that mean I’m a werewolf? She believed it was likely. More than likely. Why else would she have been at that party?
But what did it feel like to be a werewolf? Ever since she had stood in the shadows and witnessed the fight, Violet had tried to reach inside herself and answer that question. So far the only response she had received had been silence. If Violet did have an inner wolf, she was in hiding, cowering deep inside and refusing to show herself.
“Ready?” Nathan was pulling a white T-shirt over his head, drawing her back to the here and now.
His expression seemed to ask another question, as though he was attempting to delve into her thoughts. But how could she confide in Nate—a man who killed werewolves in a brutal way—her fear that she might be a werewolf? Ever since she had opened her eyes in the forest and found him leaning over her, she seemed to be living through a dream sequence. Reality had taken a back seat. Except, of course, she had no idea what her reality looked like. It was only when she looked into Nate’s dark eyes that she got any sense of reassurance or well-being. He was what was keeping her going, putting one foot in front of the other, taking that next breath. Without him, she might just give up and crumple into a heap.
Placing her hand in his felt natural. “As I’ll ever be.”
Chapter 5
A heavy, thumping beat filled the cramped space while on the screen the camera panned around to capture the ten-thousand-strong audience. Excitement, anticipation and exultation showed on the waiting faces. The person who had made the recording they were watching had perfectly captured the energy pulsing through the crowd. Thick, theatrical smoke rolled like fog from the stage and out into the waiting audience and, within it, colored strobe lights danced in time with the music.
Through the haze, Violet caught occasional glimpses of the giant LED screens at the rear of the stage. Alternating images of fire, close-ups of snarling animals and a stylized symbol that looked like three entwined number sixes flashed up on the screens. At the side of the stage, random explosions went off, shooting orange flames into the air.
As the camera panned the crowd again, Violet noticed the three-sixes symbol on people’s clothing. “What does that mean?” She managed to turn her attention briefly from the mesmerizing images on the screen to Nate.
It was Ged Taverner, lounging in a seat behind her, who answered. “666. The Sign of the Beast.” Violet glanced over her shoulder to see him putting his fingers on either side of his head to make devil horns. His grin exuded confidence. “It’s the band’s logo.”
Violet took a moment to digest that information as she cast a sidelong glance in Nate’s direction. The sign of the beast? Okay, so this band he’s in is not exactly the sweet, wholesome boy band I pictured. As if in response to her thoughts, on screen, the tension built further as the crowd sensed something was about to happen. The lighting shifted, becoming focused on a podium at the rear of the stage that supported a vast, gleaming circular wall of drums. Even above the music, the roar of the crowd filled the air as a lithe, muscled man ran on from the side of the stage and leaped into his seat behind the drums. His chest was bare and his tattooed biceps bulged as he pounded out a furious beat, his blue-black hair flopping forward to cover his face. He exuded raw, brooding vitality, and something more. Even through the screen, Violet could feel it. It was suppressed menace.
“That’s Diablo,” Nathan said. “The best drummer in the world. That’s what he’ll tell you when you meet him. If he speaks to you.”
“Why wouldn’t he speak to me?” Violet couldn’t take her eyes from the artistic thunderstorm Diablo was unleashing before her eyes.
“It will depend on his mood.”
Before she could unpick that cryptic reply, the cameras panned upward, spotlights picking up two men being lowered on twin platforms at either side of the stage. Their fingers flew in a symphony over their respective guitars as they focused intently on their playing.
“On the right, you have Torque. He’s lead guitar. Dev, on the left, is rhythm guitar.”
“Fire and ice.” Ged spoke up again.
Violet saw immediately what he meant. Red-haired Torque was all burning drama and flickering movement. The air around him glowed with life, and he punctuated the
sweeping arc of his hand on his guitar so that it was perfectly in time with the explosions at the side of the stage. In contrast, Dev held his body statue still, the movement of his flying fingers the only sign of life. His white-blond hair and pale skin added to the illusion that he was carved from ice.
She watched as Nate, taking up a position slightly to the left of center, and behind Dev, joined the group. She turned questioning eyes to him.
“Bass guitar,” he said, replying to her unanswered question. “Only one person to come.”
With those words, the screen erupted into life. The crowd was in a frenzy as the lead singer strutted onto the stage. Owned the stage. Violet saw the devil horn gesture that Ged had made repeated over and over within the audience as the man on the stage grabbed the fixed microphone stand and rubbed it suggestively against his groin. When he started to sing, his voice ranged from husky crooning to wild screaming. No matter what sound those perfect lips made, he was mesmerizing. Throwing back his red-gold mane of hair, he strutted, crouched and jumped around the stage in skin-tight black leather pants and a flowing white shirt open to the waist.
“Khan.” Nate said the single word as though it explained everything.
There was no doubt about it. Beast delivered a spine-tingling performance. As the number reached its end, Diablo pounded out a crescendo and Nate slid his palm over the neck of his guitar, fingers caressing the frets, the instrument dropping down between his muscular thighs as he lunged. Torque and Dev played back-to-back in the center of the stage, and Khan howled out the final chorus while lying on his back and dry-humping the air.
As the final chords died away and the crowd went demented, Khan leaped to his feet. Tilting his head back and holding his arms wide, he half yelled, half growled, “Guten Abend, Berlin!”
If it was possible, the noise from the audience grew even wilder until Nate pointed the remote control at the TV set and muted it. Shifting in his seat, he viewed Violet’s face. “And that’s Beast.”
“Wow.” She was stunned by what she had just seen. By what he was a part of.
They were seated in a small room off the larger living area of the band’s tour bus. In addition, Violet had seen a kitchen, shower room, two restrooms and a long narrow hall lined with bunks. Nate had explained that they used hotels when they could, but the bus was their home away from home when they were on the road. While they were waiting for the others to arrive, Ged had suggested showing her the film of the band.
“I wanted you to watch this before you met them. Beast is not like any other band,” he explained now. There was a note in his voice that troubled her.
Violet turned her black leather chair to face Ged. She wasn’t sure what she thought of the band’s manager. Ged Taverner was a huge, dark, brooding figure with eyes that seemed to see right inside her soul. “I see what you mean.”
He stared at her for a long silent moment. “I’m not sure you do...but you will.”
* * *
Nate kept one eye on Violet as the men who had saved his sanity climbed—or, in the case of Khan, erupted—onto the tour bus. All at once, the vast, glossy space was filled with noise and virility. It was always like this when the five of them were together. Not so much a competition, more an unconscious demonstration of strength. The band members were such a closely knit group that they had developed their own brand of masculine pride. With five huge competing egos, it sometimes looked like machismo gone wild. Only they knew the truth. Only they knew the real story. And Ged knew it all, of course. He was the man who had brought them together. The man who had saved them.
When the backslapping and calculated insults were over, Nate spoke up, his voice cutting across the clamor. “Guys, this is Violet. She’s joining us for the tour.”
Four pairs of eyes turned to study Violet. Diablo’s were gold with haunted shadows in their depths, Torque’s gray with multicolored moonstone flecks; Dev’s were like chips of ice and Khan’s a brilliant, unrelenting amber. He could feel Violet’s unease as she was caught in their combined beams. Nate knew what the others were thinking. Saw it in Khan’s altered stance and the way he licked his lips. A flash of anger ripped through him. No way.
“She’s with me.” He kept his voice level, but his eyes challenged them. Don’t even think about it.
Slowly, the others relaxed. The coiled tension unwound. The macho posturing gave way to casual welcome. Nate had staked a claim to Violet that the others would respect. None of them had ever brought a girl on tour before. Oh, there had been plenty of women sharing those bunks. Plenty of wild nights and crazy days. But no one had ever started out by introducing someone to the band, announcing that she would be accompanying them. It was a new dynamic. He knew Ged was watching closely, observing how it would work out.
“Welcome to the zoo, Violet.” Torque’s brilliant smile flashed. He brushed back his long, flame-red hair, his movements quick-fire. Torque didn’t know how to be still. “Beast. Zoo. Get it?” Violet smiled, and Nate could see some of the tension draining out of her. Torque wandered away to stow his belongings under his bunk.
“Has Nate made coffee yet?” It was Dev’s drawling voice.
“No.” Violet looked wary. Dev’s uncanny stillness and watchfulness always had that effect when people met him for the first time.
“Good. Nate’s an Englishman. He can’t make coffee for shit.” Cool as ever, Dev strolled off in the direction of the kitchen.
Watching him, Violet was taken by surprise as Khan grasped her hand and pressed his lips to it. “Nate should have introduced you to the most important person first, beautiful Violet. I am Khan.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Violet said, casting a helpless glance up at Nate.
“Naturally. Everybody is.” Khan’s voice was a purr as he went to his bunk. Nate knew from experience he would curl up and be asleep in seconds, leaving his luggage strewn in everyone else’s way.
Diablo was always the unpredictable one. In the end, he muttered something that could have been a welcome, but might just as easily have been a curse, as he went to join Dev in the kitchen.
Nate drew Violet down to sit on one of the large, squashy sofas that lined the living area. “These are the people you will have to live in close proximity with over the coming weeks, maybe months.” He didn’t mention that the tour was scheduled to last just over a year. Surely her memory would have returned by then. “What do you think?”
“I think I need another blow to the head.” She gave a shaky smile. “Seriously? I think I’ve totally disrupted your life...and theirs. Are you certain you want me along?”
The question shook him. Gazing at her, Nate tried to analyze what he was feeling. This wasn’t about his sense of responsibility toward her. It wasn’t because she needed him to come to her rescue and care for her. Are you certain you want me along? He wanted her. It was that simple. And that complicated.
“After a few hours cooped up with us, you may wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. Torque’s zoo comment wasn’t far wide of the mark.” He stretched his long legs in front of him. “The schedule is punishing. We’re crossing the Channel to France tonight and starting the European leg in Paris. Things will get really frantic in a month or two when the US tour begins.”
“How many of you are American?”
He should have foreseen she would want to know more about them. Questions about their backgrounds weren’t easy to answer, but they had come up with a biography that suited them. Over the years, they had honed it so it satisfied even the most pressing journalist. Even so, he didn’t feel comfortable telling Violet a series of half-truths. “I’m English, as you know. Diablo is Native American. Khan is from India and Dev comes from Nepal.”
Violet accepted his explanation without further comment. “And Torque?”
Ah, Torque. The hardest one of all to explain. “He’s well traveled.”
As he spoke, the engines rumbled into life and the gigantic bus rolled out into the traffic.
* * *
The band was going to spend the afternoon at the stadium engaged in rehearsals. Nate explained the way it worked. Their entire stage, video and lighting rig was in duplicate, so while one stage was being erected in one city, the other one was on its way to the next venue ready to be set up there.
“It’s a luxury not many bands can afford. A huge crew of professionals travels ahead of us to set everything up, so all we have to do is turn up and perform. All part of the mystery that is Ged Taverner and his billions.”
Violet was bemused at the way he spoke of Ged. It was as though he was indebted to, but barely knew, the man who was responsible for the band’s success. “How did you meet Ged?”
They were eating lunch on the tiny balcony of their Parisian hotel suite. It overlooked the River Seine, and the brilliant sunlight, blue skies and iconic buildings made it a picture-perfect scene.
A slight shadow crossed his features. “It was six years ago. I had been through a difficult time. I’d been ill following an attack—” his eyes were on the river, so she couldn’t read his expression “—it’s not something I care to remember, let alone talk about. I was a music student and I’d been in a band. Not Beast.” He turned back to look at Violet, and the shadows were gone. “I’d never come across anything quite like Beast. Ged turned up at my apartment one day. He said he’d seen me play—God alone knows how, because I hadn’t done anything for a while—and he was putting together a rock band. He was looking for a bass guitarist, if I wanted to audition. At first I wasn’t interested, but he left me his card. I don’t know what it was, but something about the encounter, something about Ged, kept tugging at my mind. Anyway, I got in touch, did the audition and haven’t looked back since.”
