Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

by Dannika Dark

  They heard Jake making the intro.

  “Come on, boys. We’re up. Let’s sell the shit out of this music, and then we won’t have to perform as much. It’ll sell itself online.” Jericho rose to his feet nervously.

  Yeah, nervously.

  He’d been in front of an audience a thousand times, but this night was different. This night was special. Minutes before, Jericho had been watching Isabelle from the back of the room. She looked abso-mazing, even with her hair a little shorter. It drew attention to the lovely features of her face. When his heart began to race with desire, he’d disappeared backstage and hung out there for the rest of the evening.

  No one knew Heat was about to make their debut. A new sound, new bassist, and their songs would be made available online. It was a great way for them to earn extra money without having to book as many shows. Jericho knew some of the audience might recognize his voice, but the way he was going to perform the first song would throw them off. He planned on singing with his back to the crowd, hair covering his face, with a sultry voice like he’d never used.

  But that’s not why his palms were sweating and his mouth was dry.

  Isabelle’s diamond ring rested at the end of a long silver chain tucked beneath his cutoff shirt. He had only removed the ring once since putting it on the necklace, and that was when he killed the Shifter who’d tried to drown Isabelle. Tonight, every note, every syllable, and every beat of his heart would be hers. Maybe he should have called her after that night in the motel, but he’d been so inspired by her that the band had been working day and night to write new music. He was going to let his music do all the talking, and it was something he’d been planning since the night he bought the ring.

  The band made their way onstage as the lights cut off in the back. The stage lights behind them shone toward the crowd, creating a silhouette effect until an overhead blue light switched on above Jericho’s microphone. He turned his back to the crowd, and Joker tapped his sticks and kicked off the beat.

  Jericho took the pick out of his mouth and sang the opening lines as Joker followed with a slow and steady rhythm. The bass rolled in next, and then Ren hit the chords. He peered over his shoulder and smiled when he caught a glimpse of Isabelle at the bar.

  He’d die for that woman. Jericho proudly wore scars on his shoulder and leg. A bear claw hung on the outside of his shirt as a token of his kill. He’d taken it right after he and Wheeler dumped the Shifter on Isabelle’s car as an offering. They’d tried to get the carcass up the stairs but failed miserably.

  It was a Shifter thing.

  Trevor was killing it onstage. The audience ate up their performance like sweet cake, devouring Trevor’s sexy moves with his bass, and Ren worked the crowd on Jericho’s right. Even Joker was in rare form, playing at a level of magnificence they’d rarely seen. Human or not, that guy attacked his drums, and some of the girls were biting their knuckles as they watched him play.

  Mid-song, Trevor fell to his knees and thrust his hips upward, creating a ripple of screams in the crowd. When he rose up and provided backup vocals, Jericho knew that Heat finally had a new audience. He had co-written a couple of songs with Trevor and planned to pass him the mic for a song or two. Trevor probably wouldn’t stick with them for long; the kid was awesome, but he wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle. So why not give him a few songs and let him in on their first recorded album? What an awesome memento. Their job required traveling, odd hours, no routine, lots of warm-ups, and the monotony of repeating the same act again and again, which wore out a lot of musicians. Still, he’d let Trevor enjoy it for as long as he wanted.

  With impeccable timing, they went silent on the last note of the song. The crowd roared, and a thong flew over his shoulder and landed on Joker’s drums. There was always at least one in every crowd, especially the Shifter bars. Man, the buzz of energy swelled in the room, and Jericho had never felt more alive. Just knowing Isabelle was in the sea of faces—watching and listening—made this so damn worth it.

  A woman suddenly rushed the stage, hobbling clumsily in heels, and planted a kiss on Trevor. Joker burst out laughing when the woman ripped off her wig, revealing she was a man.

  Dammit, Joker. He’d taken his practical joke too far, not knowing Trevor was gay.

  The crowd whistled and a few people laughed. So much for Trevor’s life in the spotlight.

  But the joke was on them.

  Trevor suddenly stepped forward and kissed the man hard, biting the guy’s lower lip in the most erotic way. To Jericho’s surprise, the women in the crowd were cheering—all for it.

  In a Shifter bar, of all places. Shifters were one of the few Breeds who could have offspring, so they didn’t take it lightly when one of their own turned their nose up at it. Maybe they accepted it more readily because the band was putting on a performance, but in any case, Trevor got all the acceptance he needed. He pushed the guy away and started up a bass line, walking the stage like he owned it. And he did.

  Joker turned beet red.

  Jericho revealed himself to the crowd, slowly turning to prepare for the next song. A wave of surprise spread across their faces when some of them recognized they were staring at Jericho Sexton Cole.

  But he didn’t see them. All he saw was the empty space where Isabelle had once been standing at the back of the bar.

  Chapter 28

  “Come on, come on, come on. Hurry up,” I chanted at the red light illuminating my windshield.

  The moment Jericho hit the stage, I’d known right then and there that I loved him something fierce. I’d always known it, but that moment solidified everything I’d ever felt for him and everything I wanted to feel for the rest of my life.

  There was only one thing left to do, and that was run.

  Run home to get that damn Pink Floyd shirt and put it on!

  Hell’s bells, I hoped Jericho hadn’t seen me running out, although I doubted with all the luscious women in the front row that he’d noticed me in the shadows.

  Blink. The light turned green and I hit the gas, sailing down the street like a racecar driver. I’d left in such a hurry that I’d forgotten my purse.

  I couldn’t stop grinning as I approached the bar. My vintage T-shirt was a little big and came to the ends of my shorts, but it still smelled like Jericho, even though it had been in my apartment for over a week. It’s like every breath of him was in that fabric—every breath of us. A story of our past, present, and future—woven into the fibers of a threadbare T-shirt.

  My heart pounded against my chest and I cursed, unable to find a parking space anywhere near the bar.

  “Dammit!” I shrieked.

  Word must have spread about their performance because people were parking across the street and jogging toward the door. I couldn’t take it. After circling twice, I double-parked and hopped out of the car.

  “Hey, you can’t do that!” someone shouted from behind. I turned to look while running toward the bar and stumbled, twisting my ankle.

  Pain lanced through my foot and I hissed, pulling up my leg and debating on whether or not to shift in the street to heal myself or suck it up like a big girl.

  I sucked it up.

  Hobbling on one leg toward your true love isn’t the most graceful way to find your happily-ever-after, but that’s exactly what I did. I provided a few laughs for some onlookers, hopping like a lame kangaroo as I made my way to the front door.

  Thankfully, I still heard Jericho’s voice, calling to me like a siren.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Denver shouted over the music.

  “Honey, is your foot bothering you?” Rosie said, coming up on my left.

  “Get out of my way!” I shouted, hopping through the crowd. I got pushed left and right as people wanted to get as close to the stage as possible.

  I screamed his name like a silly fangirl, so naturally he didn’t look in my direction. I squeezed my head between two large men, hoping maybe Jericho would see my bright hair and loo
k my way.

  “Over here!” I shouted.

  My heart stopped when he looked right at me. But then I saw it. That look. The one that told me he was pissed off. The one that said maybe he didn’t care about me like I had hoped. The one that said there were a million other girls out there, and I was nothing special.

  His eyes dragged back to the front row of girls as he sang to them.

  Them. Those big-breasted blondes with tattoos. The ones he always fell for.

  My lips tightened in anger, and I spun around, running into Wheeler.

  I snatched his shirt and balled it up in my fist. “You owe me one.”

  He lowered his head to the left. “Yeah. And?”

  “Put me on your shoulders.”

  His eyes widened with disbelief. “You want what?”

  “I want you to put your head between my legs and lift me up.”

  Someone patted him on the shoulder and laughed. “If you don’t take her up on that offer, I will. I’d love to put my head between her—”

  Wheeler knocked the guy in the jaw and then spun around. I nervously gripped his hair as he lifted me off the ground. Damn, Wheeler was strong, and his shoulders and arms felt like granite. He handled me as if I weighed nothing.

  There I was—the one and only thing that Jericho couldn’t possibly ignore. My red hair was illuminated beneath a low spotlight directly overhead.

  Jericho abruptly stopped singing, but the music kept going. His eyes slid from my red hair down to the Pink Floyd shirt.

  The one that said “I love you” by simply being on my body. The one he’d asked me to wear when I was ready to tell him what he meant to me.

  I held my breath and vaguely heard Wheeler complaining about how tightly I was fisting his hair.

  Hell’s bells, Jericho looked lickable. Smoldering eyes pulled me in like magnets. Strands of his long hair had lighter shades of brown, just enough to make you notice him a little bit more. He had on his smoky eyeliner, not that I went for guys who wore makeup, but it had always been part of his act. He said onstage it worked to a man’s advantage to draw attention to his eyes when they were light in color. My brows knitted when he turned away and dragged the microphone stand to Trevor, patting him on the shoulder. The tempo changed to a different song, and Trevor took over, singing a slower ballad in a hungry voice that made a few women gasp.

  Jericho leapt off the stage and sliced through the crowd as he moved in my direction. I got the shivers just watching his swagger and the animalistic way in which his eyes devoured me. I remembered his heated kiss, the way he made me laugh, and the way he loved me. I remembered a guy who sat next to me on a rainy day at a bus stop and held a magazine over my head in a failed attempt to keep me dry, who invited me for donuts and coffee until the rain stopped. It had gone on for three days, and it seemed like that’s how long we stayed in that shop together, talking and realizing the friendship between us was effortless. Jericho made me a stronger woman, and I wanted to make him a stronger man. I wanted to see him succeed in life and have everything he’d ever wanted.

  But right now, it looked like he only wanted one thing.

  “Isabelle, is there something you want to tell me?”

  I looked down at him with a foolish grin, his brother between my legs, flanked by his pack who’d begun to close in on us. In front of everyone who mattered and others who didn’t, I told him what I’d been holding back for decades.

  “Jericho Sexton Cole, I love you to pieces. I love the man you were, the man you’ve become, and most of all I love the way you love me.”

  His shoulders sagged as if he’d been holding his breath. “Come down here.”

  Wheeler set me down, and my stomach knotted when I saw that Jericho wasn’t smiling. He didn’t kiss me, twirl me, lift me into his arms, or do any of the silly romantic things that I thought might happen after giving him my declaration of love.

  “Are you mad?” I asked.

  His mouth formed a grim line, and he shook his head. “You bailed on me tonight during the first song.”

  “Are you serious?” I said, my voice raising an octave. “I had to drive all the way home in hellacious traffic. I hit almost every red light, I almost hit a cat, and all so I could put on this shirt!” I said, tugging at the fabric. “Are you seriously upset that I didn’t hear you sing?”

  “Yeah, I kind of am.” He stepped forward and tilted his head to the side. “I had plans.”

  “Did I miss the striptease act?”

  “Baby, there’s only one thing I want to take off for you.”

  He reached beneath his shirt and lifted a long silver chain from his neck. My knees weakened when a smile tugged at his mouth and he fell to one knee, holding my left hand.

  “Isabelle Marie Monroe, will you be my life mate?”

  A ring slid on my left ring finger, and it sparkled like nothing I’d ever seen before—like a supernova. The chain still hung from it, and my hands trembled. Jericho’s cheeks flushed, beads of sweat appearing on his brow as he looked at me expectantly.

  Nervously.

  Uncertain.

  “But we don’t do rings,” I protested.

  “If your wolf loses it, I’ll buy you another, but that ring is going to sparkle on your pretty hand. So don’t be a stubborn wolf; give me your answer.”

  I leaned down and cupped his cheeks, placing a soft kiss on his mouth. “Yes, sweetheart. I’ll be your mate, your friend, and maybe a pain in the ass, but I’m here for good. No more running unless it’s into your arms.”

  Then his tongue entered my mouth. Heat slid down to my core, and our bodies married as he rose up and we fell into a lover’s kiss. A few claps erupted around us, and Austin patted his shoulder, walking off with Lexi. I loved that despite it all, his brother supported his decisions.

  “I’m sorry I missed your show,” I whispered.

  “That’s okay, baby. You get the encore.” Jericho smiled wide and snared my arm. “Let’s go. Time to do some consummating.”

  I hopped on one foot with eagerness.

  “What’s wrong with your leg?” He glanced down at my swollen, shoeless foot. I had left it somewhere in the parking lot between the street and fire hydrant.

  Ignoring him, I touched the bear claw hanging from his neck. “What’s this?” Then my eyes roamed to the puncture marks on his left arm, and I pulled his shirt back, noticing more on his chest. “And what are these?” I exclaimed, horror sweeping over me.

  “A souvenir. No one messes with my girl,” he said, stroking my soft hair with his dexterous fingers.

  Then I knew. The man who tried to drown me must have been a Shifter. A bear. The one that was left on my car as an offering. Jericho had challenged him for my honor and had chosen not to heal all the way, as is custom. A Shifter who fought for his mate’s life wore his battle scars proudly.

  I stroked my finger over the puncture wound closest to his tattoo and kissed it. “Jericho, you didn’t need to get me a ring. You’re my diamond. Strong, resilient, and one of a kind.” I traced my finger around the scar.

  In a swift movement, he bent down and swept me off my feet. “Are you trying to win my heart?”

  “So what if I am?”

  “Baby, you already had me with the shirt. Hell, you had me the day we met in the rain when you told me to get lost.”

  I laughed against his neck. “Well, you were a persistent pain in the ass. Not to mention you used a porn magazine to cover my head.”

  He chuckled. “The centerfold made for extra coverage.”

  “Are you really going to carry me out of here An Officer and a Gentleman style?”

  He kissed my cheek and belted out a few words to the song at the top of his lungs. I slapped my hand over his mouth and laughed. “Don’t you dare embarrass me while sweeping me off my feet. You have an image to protect. You know—the badass image. Singing a sappy song from last century? No, sir.”

  “I’m not going to lie to you, baby. I’m staying with th
e band. Austin’s offer to work in the shop isn’t what I’m about. This is who I am. Late nights, rehearsals, zoning out at dinner and scribbling lyrics on a napkin—that comes with the package. I’m sorry if I can’t wrap it up in a neat bow.”

  I placed the palm of my hand on his chest and nestled my head against his shoulder. “I’m all right with it. The stage is where your heart is, and you should always follow your heart.”

  I squeaked when Jericho set me on top of the bar and eased between my legs. Someone’s drink tipped over and rolled on the floor, but he ignored the complaints and kissed my forehead.

  “Baby, you’re my heart. You’re the only girl I’ve written music for. The only girl I want to wake up next to and make blueberry pancakes and bacon for. The only girl I want to kiss on the neck, love with my mouth, eat donuts with at two in the morning, and go on road trips with. Music is how I express myself, but I could never love anything more than what I’ve got right here,” he said, softly kissing my mouth.

  I leaned back a little. “There are a million other girls out there. You sure about this?”

  His hands splayed across my thighs. “You’re stuck with me. I’ll love you no matter what we go through together, because that’s what a good mate does. And we’re gonna have unbelievable sex together,” he said, waggling his brows. “I think we both know that’s a fact and not an assumption. Speaking of, I’m going to make good on that promise starting in the next twenty minutes.”

  I gripped the bear claw in a tight fist and looked at him tenderly, still in disbelief. “What makes you so sure you want to be my life mate?”

  Hell’s bells, the grin that appeared on his face made me realize why I’d gotten butterflies the first time I laid eyes on him.

  “Because, Isabelle, you’re more than just the girl who stole my heart—you’re my sexy little redhead.”