by Gaja J. Kos
Chin raised high, Aric sauntered back to the microphone.
“I clawed at the damp stones
Of your rotting soul.
Weighted down by shadows
And what I should have known.”
He tipped the mic stand forward and leaned over it, engulfed in red light reflecting so majestically off his greaser hair and seductive face, I couldn’t help but hope so fucking badly that someone had taken a photo.
“That you lied…”
He sliced the crowd with a slow sweep of his gaze.
“And spun a web…”
Pascal’s guitar whined, and Aric pushed away from the microphone. The music built up into one of the Whiskey Jet Preachers’ fucking amazing bridges that had my hips swaying and butt shaking. The climax rolled through me, then the whole damn club seemed to detonate when Aric scream-sang the final lines.
“You got me running on fumes.
Running on fumes.
I want to get better,
But it’s you I crave.
I don’t know how to
Pry you from under my skin,
Because you got me running on fumes
Of your deadly lovin’.”
Applause, whistles, and cheers boomed between the black-painted walls, and the band dove straight into “Backseat Boogie.” The contrast between “ROF’s” somber atmosphere and “BB’s” delectable mischief just plain fucking did it for me. And I wasn’t the only one. The audience rolled into a new state, and though a part of me now seriously regretted standing in the back, I couldn’t deny experiencing everything from this angle was beautiful in itself.
And, more importantly—I briefly closed my eyes just to be assaulted by Aric’s image imprinted on the back on my lids—I was safe from a particular vampire’s searing attention until I was ready to take that leap into the unknown.
When the song ended, light flooded the stage in a blinding sweep.
“Hello, everyone!” Aric boomed into the mic. “How are all of you doin’ on this fine evening?”
Waves of cheers and screamed answers undulated through the crowd.
Aric cracked a gorgeous smile. “Having fun, huh? You ready for more?”
The second wave surpassed the first by astronomic measures.
I chuckled as Aric grinned broadly. Gods, he was too damn gorgeous for his own good.
“I just wanted to say that it feels so good to be back on stage. We’re hoping to spend a lot more time in lovely clubs like the Drei Palmen right here during the winter months…” The spark in his eyes all but floored me. “Because after some unexpected delays, our new album is coming out on November 28th!”
I hollered along with everyone else. Fuck, my chest expanded and tightened at the same time, and a thrill rushed through me that split my lips into a grin. New music. New fucking music.
I’d known Aric and the guys had been working on new material—a very specific song I still wasn’t sure I was hoping would make an appearance today or not slithered through my mind—but there had been no news about the album. Damn. November 28th.
Aric laughed. “All right. I hope we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in six months or so. Maybe some of you even sooner on a couple of our let’s-not-get-rusty gigs. But until then…”
A roady walked up to him and handed him his signature Gretsch.
Aric slung the guitar over his shoulder. “Let’s fucking boogie.”
“Rev the Desire” poured from the speakers. I gave myself over to the song that seemed embedded in the very essence of who I was.
Why I ever even contemplated not showing up was way beyond me.
This was the fire that flowed in my veins. The drive that hit me like nothing else.
My personal relationship with Aric didn’t matter. Shouldn’t.
And yet, as the setlist rolled on, it became harder and harder to delude myself into thinking things were that straightforward.
Though the gig was everything a WJP concert should be, I couldn’t help but notice that some of the mischief and energy Aric usually delivered was absent. I hated myself for even considering the shift in his demeanor had anything to do with me not being right there in front of him, but the thought rose regardless.
When “The Moon’s in Your Blood” came on, and Aric’s delivery was so vastly different from what I’d experienced during their last gig, my sanity was holding on by a thread.
I wasn’t even sure how I managed to survive the song, but the relief I’d thought would alleviate the burden when those final notes rang out never came.
Instead, my wretched, backstabber of a brain kept insisting I played a massive role in the change. Aric was amazing. He was a charmer. But those smiles I’d come to know, cherished the way they seemed to warm the very air…
They never made an appearance.
When the band wrapped up the gig with an explosive rendition of “Shivers/Chills,” I knew all of my internal talk of change and embracing my venture into uncharted territory had been on point. Just as I knew coming here had been a massive but ultimately necessary mistake.
Though I clapped and cheered with everyone else when the band took their bow then disappeared off the stage, a shuddering cold slithered beneath my skin.
There was no way I could ever get Aric out of my system.
I was in love with him.
And I was a total ass for it.
Finn could say whatever the fuck he wanted, but Aric was still Aric. Maybe he was attracted to me, maybe he did feel infatuated, mistaking it for falling in love, but none of that meant anything in itself. Aside from nights like this when our paths intersected, Aric and I existed in two separate spheres. I downright hated the whole league mentality when it came to relationships, but it was kind of hard to deny that it was precisely the kind of dynamic in which we were trapped.
A fan lusting after a front man was nothing new.
Nor were singers dipping into some intimate, no-strings-attached good times with fans.
There was more than a good chance Aric had come to his senses while he’d been away. I should follow suit. Be grateful for what we’d had and not fucking let myself get sucked into a hole where I’d let him impact me as much as I had.
Why the fuck did I allow something that, by all accounts, was supposed to be a grand fucking time turn into torture?
Trapped in the vortex of my thoughts, I nearly drowned in the torrent of bodies when the crowd jostled me as they surged toward the single exit. I found my footing, then lifted myself on my toes to peer up ahead. Ah, shit, I really should have gotten out sooner. The bottleneck brought us down to a painfully slow crawl, with more and more people cramming in from the sides, beers in hand.
The space between me and the stage gaped wide open.
Unable to help myself, I glanced across the room. My gut clenched.
By the banister on the far right of the stage, a familiar face dressed in black security guard slacks and T-shirt scanned over the milling crowd. I averted my gaze, though it wasn’t enough to shush the gut feeling that if I went over to him now, he’d tell me he had my name on the afterparty list.
I chewed on my lip, more than mildly tempted by the idea.
But what if I was wrong? Could I handle being dismissed like that?
On the other hand, if I was on the list, what was I supposed to say to Aric if—when—we met?
I shuffled forward.
No, it was better to just get the fuck out of here until I set my mind straight. Conflicting thoughts never produced good outcomes. I didn’t need another reminder of that. I’d talk to Aric once I figured things out.
Wanting to put an end to the overthinking I probably should have dealt with a whole fucking lot sooner, I focused on the people around me and eavesdropped on their conversations as we neared the exit. The longer I listened, the more I relaxed. The infectious atmosphere slipped inside me, and my own memories of the gig played out along with the crowd’s words—unburdened, pure.
The door loomed within reach.
Not even sure why, I cast one last look at the guard. He turned his head in my direction—
Shit.
I ducked behind a broad, tall human and gave him a meek smile as if someone had simply shoved me from behind.
Lame, Gina. Really fucking lame.
But as a breath of fresh air caressed my skin and I tasted the freedom of the godsdamned night, I didn’t care how pathetic I’d just been. I was home free.
My ears rang in that pleasant “I’d been murdered by good, loud fucking music” way, but I couldn’t revel in a stroll under the stars just yet. I hurried down the street, weaving through the languid groups still riding that post-concert high I wanted nothing more than to tap into myself, then turned the corner to take the long, somewhat more solitary route to the U-Bahn station.
My phone buzzed in my purse. Finn, no doubt.
Carrying on down the street, I unzipped my purse and rummaged through it, cursing all the things I had jammed in there. Just as my fingers gripped the phone, a knife-sharp blur stirred the shadows and cut me off.
Chapter 6
I jerked to a halt the instant before I’d slam head-on into the looming figure. My lungs stilled when the scent of him hit me, and my phone slipped from my fingers, diving into the gaping maw of clutter within my purse.
Unable to fight my own body, I looked up into a pair of brown eyes framed by thick black lashes.
“Gina…”
Aric’s voice, his presence, every fucking thing the man was wrapped around me in ribbons that wound themselves tighter with every rampaging heartbeat I stood there, staring up at the vamp.
He was still wearing his stage clothes, and a hint of alluring sweat that coated his skin tinted the night. Gods, sweat? Really? I was fucking attracted to his sweat?
“Hello, Aric,” I said in a voice that was mine yet didn’t feel like I had any control over.
Nonetheless, weird as the sensation was, I was grateful it had kicked me out of muteness. Being ensconced in a bubble that seemed like an isolated fixed point in space and time with Aric while all else continued to flow was hard enough without an extra dose of thick silence thrumming between us.
“I didn’t think you came,” he said softly—the kind of softness that was more dangerous than anything else he could have done. “Then I picked up on your presence when I went outside for a smoke.”
Ah, fuck. In my dire need for some solitude to let the rollercoaster the evening had been run through me, I forgot about the ramped-off road snaking along the club to the back. I winced. I really should have just gone along with the crowd to mask myself… Or at least bypassed the area by heading in the other direction.
I grumbled inwardly. These were all things I should have taken into consideration. Things I was trained to take into consideration. Had I sabotaged myself on purpose without even being aware of it? Created an opening for Aric and I to meet?
Aric’s lean fingers skimmed my elbow. “Where were you?”
The question caught me off guard before I realized he was talking about the concert and my glaring absence in the front row.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t exactly say that I’d been hiding in the back to avoid precisely this fuckass scenario.
I swallowed, trying to buy myself some time, but the way Aric’s gaze drank me in made it clear time was not my friend in this situation. Shit, I wasn’t ready for this. I still had no idea where I stood when it came to Aric—except that whatever was going on between us, whatever was going on with me, couldn’t go on like it did.
I opened my mouth to spin the truth into something that wouldn’t expose me so horribly when rowdy voices and footsteps boomed from the main street.
Aric sliced a look past my shoulder, then grabbed me by my upper arms and maneuvered me into the dumpster-lined alley to my right. His assertive grip stripped me of my ability to stand my ground, my body pliant under his commanding energy.
A fuckload more than just pliant.
With zero resistance on my part, Aric steered us smoothly into the thickest shadows by the brick wall. As we ground to a halt, our forms nearly melding into one in the night, a spark of sense returned to my mind.
My lips parted to tell him off, but those voices from the street grew louder.
I snapped my mouth shut.
Fine, it was perfectly understandable why Aric didn’t want to run into fans right now. I, on the other hand, would have given everything for a godsdamned intervention, even if I had been on board with the plan at first.
Not being seen with Aric, great.
The heat of Aric’s body bleeding into mine, the way he was looking down at me with those bedroom eyes…
It was only a matter of time before I unraveled.
He had me trapped at the intersection of private and public, and the traitorous side of me fucking purred at how illicit it felt. The possibilities—
No, nope, I definitely was not waltzing into that particular den.
Someone slurred their excitement about the concert and several more voiced their agreement. I latched on to their thread, but no matter how much I wanted to, the spotlight of Aric’s attention made it hard to focus on what was being said.
So much for a distraction.
A corner of Aric’s mouth curved up as he studied my face, and that subtle parting of his lips did things to me no mere smile should. Unwillingly, I pressed my thighs together—which only made matters worse.
I needed to get out of here—
The voices stopped.
Not talking, no, they fucking stopped walking right at the mouth the alley.
Aric’s hands whisked down my arms. After he glanced in the group’s direction, those same damn hands somehow found their way to my hips.
With an even more delectable twist of his lips, he sank us deeper into the shadows by the wall. His body hovered so near, when I breathed a little harder, my boobs brushed against his chest.
And maybe I was imagining it, but wasn’t his mouth closer to mine than it had been a moment ago?
Shit, would it really be so bad to give in? To taste him again? To have him pin me against the wall and do whatever the fuck he wanted?
Wasn’t that part of what I’d said to myself during the concert—to just have a grand fucking time without overthinking everything?
When I felt his breath wash across my lips, all the arguments as to why I shouldn’t go down this road evaporated from my already flimsy grasp.
A drunken voice ricocheted off the alley’s walls.
I looked from Aric’s lips to his eyes. The deep, warm brown smoldered, and I knew it would take only the smallest of sparks to ignite the volatile mix of our hunger.
The voice trailed off, the footsteps fading. Aric drew back and released my hips.
His absence hit me like a truck.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
Talking was the last thing my Aric-dazed body had in mind, but thanks to some mercy I wasn’t sure why I was lucky enough to get, I hadn’t completely lost it, because a spear of reason pierced the surface.
“Sure.” I crossed my arms, ignoring how breathless I sounded. “Talk.”
Aric huffed a small laugh. “I meant at my place, not in an alley reeking of trash.”
My inner alarms rang their godsdamned heads off.
Going anywhere with Aric, let alone to his place, was a bad fucking idea. Just moments ago, I’d almost thrown everything out the window and kissed him like he hadn’t ghosted me for the past three months. The vampire was too fucking disarming.
But just as I wanted to tell him there was no way I’d voluntarily set foot in his apartment, Finn’s words knocked at the back of my mind and awareness flooded right in.
Immature was right.
I couldn’t keep reverting to old patterns. Shit, when did I get this messed up?
Whatever lay in our future, whether some no-strings fun, a relationship, or an end to what we’d barely started last spring, we
needed to work it out. Together. As much as the idea of running for the hills and mulling over everything myself appealed to my scared-shitless ass, this was the only way we’d actually get anywhere. I could fucking handle a damn conversation.
“All right.” I tipped my head toward the mouth of the alley. “Let’s go.”
We piled out onto the street, Aric a steady presence beside me. “I just have to grab my things. You okay with that?”
“Sure.” I nodded.
Thankfully, the crowd in front of the club had dispersed entirely, the only thing left behind a couple of empty plastic cups smelling of beer and some stubbed-out cigarettes peppered along the sidewalk. We turned left just before Drei Palmen, then skirted around the ramp. Aric nodded at the guard monitoring the parking lot packed to the brim with vans and cars.
A few of the crew’s voices stirred the night from behind an open van, but none made an appearance as Aric guided me through the back door and into the club.
The familiar chatter-and-music combo of the afterparty echoed down the empty corridor. For a moment, I regretted not being there, regretted missing out on one of those experiences I’d never get tired of, but, although Aric’s attention grazed my skin, I was glad he didn’t ask if I wanted to go.
Us talking—it was far more important. An afterparty would just sidetrack us.
Not to mention make it a fuckload easier to slip into a different set of old patterns.
“I just need a second,” Aric said when we reached the dressing room. “Come with me?”
Again, the words bad idea screeched in my head, but I nodded before I could think twice. Anything we might do in there could just as easily happen in his apartment.
Though, I wondered—my gaze raked down Aric’s back as he moved to open the door—did he plan on changing out of his stage clothes?
Before I could dip into the dressing room after him, what-ifs be damned, the door at the end of the corridor swung open and Pascal sauntered out.
