Dark Horses: (Blood Brothers #5)

by Manda Mellett

  I wonder whether it’s a girl band. Fuck, others like her on stage? Making a mental note to find out where they’re playing, and balancing the phone between my ear and my shoulder, I jot the group’s name down on a writing pad. And then I think of another possible reason for her call.

  “Sorry, Janna, we don’t have live bands playing here.” We couldn’t afford to. Taped music doesn’t have eyes and ears that could see or hear all the wrong things and threaten our members’ anonymity.

  “No, I’m not asking for that. Jasim, the guys I play with have asked me to contact you. It’s a bloody cheek as I barely… I don’t know you at all, really.”

  Guys. There goes my fantasy of an all-girl band. Then I have to suppress a growl at her use of the word play, and then remind herself she’s not using it the same way I do.

  “Go on, Janna,” I encourage her. “Just spit it out.”

  “We’re planning to make a video, to coincide with the release of our next album.”

  “You can’t film in the club.” I’m adamant about that. Not even when it’s closed.

  “No, no. Look, I’m making a hash of this, but I’m embarrassed to ask.” Her frustration and self-consciousness make me want to put her at her ease.

  “Janna, you’ve slept in my bed.” And why did I have to remind myself of that? “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Just come straight out and say whatever it is you want to ask me. I’ll either say yes or no.” And no will probably be the answer. Placing the heel of my hand hard to the base of my cock, I try to will it to go down.

  “Your brother’s harem.” Her voice has dropped to a whisper.

  Her mention of that surprises me. My first thought is that it’s not Kadar’s special place any longer, he’s rescinded his ancient rights to the place. In fact, his wife, Zoe and Cara have renovated it and are offering the place as a destination for hen parties, of all things. It’s only just getting off the ground, but they’ve taken a few bookings so far, and from what I heard, it’s already showing signs of being a success. Then my brain catches up. Shit.

  “You want to have your hen party there?” Is she going to get married? Was there a man waiting in the wings, even while she was lying beside me? The memory of her giving no indication of that serves to deflate my cock. I don’t like cheaters.

  “No, no. Definitely not.” Her hasty denial elicits a sigh of relief, but leaves me annoyed that the thought bothered me at all. “The thing is, Jasim, the guys have seen pictures of the harem, and think it would make the perfect backdrop to the video we want to make for our next album. And other locations nearby, we could go out into the desert or film at a souk.” Her voice sounds excited, and I picture her envisioning the exotic locations.

  Choking back my immediate dismissal, and the thought of the horror I’d see on my older brother’s face were I to suggest it, I take a minute to think before replying. Unexpectedly, Kadar had agreed to the outlandish idea of hen parties, and one of his main aims is to attract tourists to Amahad. In view of what I believed was a rather odd change of use for the harem, I can’t summarily discount that he might welcome the publicity. I slip on my businessman’s hat.

  “What kind of following do you have? I’m afraid I haven’t heard of…” I consult the writing pad, “Anarchy Rules.” Kadar wouldn’t go for it if they were just starting out. However much I might want to help the girl I’d treated as a medic.

  “Okay. That’s fair. I’ll tell you something about us. We’ve been around a few years. I joined them seven years ago.”

  “Shit, you must have been young!”

  “Fifteen.” She laughs down the line. “A child prodigy they’d have you believe, but I think a precocious brat is probably nearer the truth.” And the thought of her being a brat starts my cock throbbing again.

  Ignoring my body’s unwanted reaction, I urge, “Go on.”

  “Well, we started off like everyone else, playing in local pubs. But we’ve become somewhat known. Now we’ve moved onto clubs and bigger venues. We’ve got quite a large following, and make just enough to support us. There’s six in the band in all, four of us are original members, two, the twins Rory and Liam, joined three years ago. Rory replaced one of our original members. Sorry, I’m rambling. You don’t need to know that.” She pauses, presumably to get her thoughts together. “We’ve done music vids before, the last one got over a hundred thousand hits on YouTube. But it was amateurish, and we want to do this one right. We’ve got a film crew in mind, and have been searching to find the right location.”

  A hundred thousand visits for one video not well produced. It’s easy to understand how, done right, they could improve on that. The idea intrigues me, and I begin thinking how I could sell it to Kadar. He’ll want more information, I open my mouth to start to ask her to send me a few tracks so I can judge for myself, or the link to the video, but different words come out of my mouth.

  “Have you got any gigs lined up? I’d like to come and watch you play before I make any decision about forwarding your proposal to the emir.” Fuck, why did I suggest that? My idea of fun is not being in the midst of a heaving throng of rockers headbanging the night away. I must have been at Uni the last time I did that. Not that I have anything against rock music, I’m just too old to go to a live gig. Which reminds me, too old for the likes of her. And it will probably be far more gentle than the gigs I used to go to, and would bore me to death.

  “Oh, Jasim. That would be wonderful. We’re actually playing tomorrow, if that’s not too soon?” And the enthusiasm in her voice tells me I can’t disappoint her.

  I ask her for details of when and where, and write them down. Perhaps I could send one of my younger friends instead? Preferably a happily married one. And why should their marital status concern me?

  But I would like to see her again. To watch her in her element, doing what she obviously loves. A vision comes to me of her in a beautiful white virginal dress, strumming along at the back of the band, the other members tolerating her as she adds a bit of eye candy for the men. If I see her like that, among youngsters of her own age, surely that would put some sense in my head and squash this unwanted attraction?

  Then I think of the band. Is she sufficiently protected? Do they take care of her?

  And do the members take care of all her needs?

  I suppress my growl at the thought, and temper my voice so I’m able to respond politely. “I’ll be there. And I’ll look forward to it.”

  Ending the call, I sit back in my chair, my cock hard as iron. What is it about this girl/woman? And why does she affect me? And why do I, a Dom, seem to be unable to control myself even at just at the sound of her voice?

  Chapter 6

  Janna

  My hand is shaking as I press the key cutting me off from Jasim’s deep commanding voice, having to squeeze my thighs together to ease an unfamiliar tingling, almost like an itch I’m desperate to scratch to get some relief. My underwear is damp, purely from the short conversation. I might be inexperienced, but I recognise the symptoms. He’s turned me on. And he’s not even in the room.

  Nobody’s ever had this effect on me. I’ve read some books, seen the words describing things I’d love to try for myself that have evoked similar reactions, but no actual man has interested me enough to excite my body this way. Is it that I know he’s a Dominant? He must be, he owns a bloody sex club for a start. My eyes fall on my Kindle, loaded on there and hidden from prying eyes is my secret obsession, hundreds of romance books featuring Doms and their subs.

  How would I have felt if I’d known that when I’d met him? Would I have called for a cab and come home? Or would I have found the nerve to offer myself to him? I’d told one more lie when I said I wasn’t interested in his club. In truth, I’m intrigued.

  I’d insisted on privacy for this call, and had escaped to my room, luckily, as my face feels hot and flushed. Now I’m standing, my phone held to my lips, realising how crazy I am. Merely his voice has made me wet. And how darn
embarrassing is that? This smouldering candle I hold for him is an impossible dream, but oh, so difficult to extinguish. I try to think sensibly. He’s a frigging sheikh after all, a prince in his own land. And so sexually experienced as to be totally out of my league. I’d thought I’d turned him on. I must have been wrong. When I felt his hard dick press into me, he must have been thinking about someone else. His sub, perhaps. My heart skips a beat when I think of him with another woman, dominating her, commanding her…

  I’d thought I’d never see him again. And now I’m going to. Tomorrow night. Shit.

  A knock on my door. “Yeah, what is it?”

  “Everything okay, babes?”

  “Hi, Sunny. Yeah. It’s fine. Come in.” She’s still my best friend, even though we’re going to have to have a difficult discussion soon. The way she’s been acting recently has become increasingly worrying. But now’s not the right time.

  I give her a smile as she comes in and jumps on my bed, the elderly springs creaking. She looks down in disgust, “Don’t know why you don’t replace this, Jan. It can’t be comfortable to sleep on.”

  “I like it just fine,” I say, absently, “It’s moulded to my body shape.”

  “Thank fuck you don’t have a man.”

  Well, yes, there is that.

  “Did you get through?” She pulls herself up until she’s kneeling, her eyes bright and alive. “What did he say?”

  “Janna? You speak to the sheikh?” It’s Mickey’s voice yelling up the stairs.

  Sunny rolls her eyes at her brother’s impatience, making my lips curl as she doesn’t seem to recognise she’s just as bad. “You coming down?”

  “Yeah,” I smile at her, “I’ll tell everyone together.”

  I follow her downstairs where the others have congregated, waiting to hear whether I’ve had any success with the call. I flop myself down on my usual seat, reaching forward to nab a piece of pizza that they must have had delivered. I take a bite.

  “Well?” Rory looks impatient. “Did he say no?”

  Chewing and swallowing, I must admit the look on my face isn’t encouraging. I’m still trying to work through why Jasim affects me in such hitherto unknown ways. Fidgeting to get myself comfortable, I abandon the pizza slice, lean forward with my clasped hands on my knees, and let them out of their misery. “He didn’t say no.”

  At their combined and varied exclamations of pleasure, I raise my hand, “He didn’t say yes, either. He wants to come and hear us play. See whether we’re good enough, I expect. He’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Mickey’s arm snakes out around me, and he places a kiss on the top of my head, “Babe, you did fucking well there, even to get him to agree to that. And that’s a great gig for him to come to. It’s a good venue, it’ll be packed to the hilt. We’ll just have to play at our best.”

  “Yeah, that crowd’s easy to get wound up. Janna, you’ll just have to do your thing and impress him.” Thanks, Ben, put it all on me, why don’t you?

  Joe also sits forward, “We get a good mix there. I’ll encourage the girls and get them screaming for more.” As our front man, most of how we play the crowd is down to him. Especially when there are a lot of women in the audience. He’s an arrogant bugger, but girls seem to go for his type. And he’s a good-looking son of a bitch too. Part of the reason for us going more visual, none of the band would get kicked out of many beds.

  I glance at Mickey beside me, his long straight dark brown hair has a tinge of natural red highlights when seen under the lights, and as our drummer, his muscular body, covered by a sheen of light body sweat, is accentuated by the sleeveless vests that he wears and normally discards at some point during the show. Rory and Liam, bassist and saxophonist, are always a draw while, Sunny sits on the sidelines, knowing she’s the one who’ll be taking one of them home. Which reminds me of that necessary conversation. And Ben, well, Ben’s our token blonde, and plays guitar too, usually sticking to rhythm, though he’s well able to take over lead. He just leaves that to me, it’s what I do best.

  “Do we need to alter the playlist?”

  “How old’s this sheikh?” It’s Ben who’s answered Li’s question with one of his own.

  They all look at me. “Early thirties, I think.”

  Mickey tuts, “We play like normal. Our new stuff interspersed with covers of oldies. He doesn’t like it? That’s up to him. What’s more important is that he sees the reaction of the fans. And if we alter want we do, we’ll change the dynamics of that.”

  “I agree.” I don’t want to shake it up, some of my best solos are already part of the set.

  “Right. Any re-stringing done tonight, guys.” I roll my eyes at Mickey’s unwanted suggestion. My guitars couldn’t be better maintained, but he started the band, so he likes to boss us around.

  “Got enough spare sticks, man?” Rory teases him, not letting him get away with it. Mickey tends to give it his all, and it’s not uncommon for a drumstick to go flying off into the crowd.

  “Fuck off!”

  “Hey, fellas,” Sunny stands and stretches, “You treat this like it’s something out of the ordinary and you’ll cock it up. You guys are all great, you deserve your success. Play as you normally do and you’ll have all the panties you need thrown at you.”

  I make a face.

  “Or boxers.” She points toward me, not wanting to leave me out. I cringe, yup, that’s happened. And proposals of marriage. Or other more unsavoury offers.

  On that note, and as it’s late, I decide to go to bed. Sunny follows me out. She hovers just in the doorway to my room.

  “Janna, we’ve been friends a long time. I’ve done something to upset you. I can tell.”

  I really don’t want to get into this now, but when will be the right time? “It’s none of my business what you get up to.” I try to sound dismissive.

  She invites herself in, closing the door behind her, and sits down. “It’s Rory and Liam, isn’t it?”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t with both of them together if you’re worried about that.”

  Rolling my eyes, I tell her, “I wouldn’t care if you did. But something’s going on, Sunny. And don’t try to deny it.” I pause, trying to find the right words, “They might be difficult for most people to tell apart,” I know they style their hair alike on purpose, “But I can see the difference. And you must certainly be able to too.”

  She pouts and repeats, “I’ve not been with them together at once.”

  It’s a partial admission, “The other night you were with Liam. I saw you take him into your room.”

  Now she looks down at her hands, “I’d hoped you’d missed that,” she mumbles. “Look, Liam found a girl, Rory fancied her. Liam brought me home.”

  “And took you to bed. Fuck, Sunny! Have they got identical cocks so you can’t tell the difference?” I tuck my hair behind my ears to give my hands something to do. When she simply smirks at my question, I guess she’s not going to answer it.

  “Are you and Rory finished?” I worry about the effect on the band and the complicated relationships within it. She’s the drummer’s sister, and if Mickey was to find out what’s going on I don’t give much for Rory and Liam’s chances. “Look, if you’re ending it with Rory, either commit to Liam, or leave them both. You can’t play them against each other.”

  “They don’t mind.”

  “Sunny!” It comes out more sharply than I intended. “We’re just about to launch a new album, we could make the big time. Apart from the effect it must be having on you… You’re my best friend, my sister. We’ve lived together for seven years. I worry about you, babes. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  She looks thoughtful, “Honestly? You’re saying nothing I haven’t already thought of. The last thing I want to do is to be responsible for breaking up the band.”

  “I thought you loved Rory.”

  “I do.” She protests.

  Closing my eyes, I shake my head, how can you love someone a
nd go off with his brother? Whatever she thinks, it’s never going to work.

  “It’s not cheating, they know.”

  “They’re taking advantage. What, so Liam is your consolation prize when Rory wants to get his dick wet elsewhere?”

  “That’s harsh.”

  It’s the truth.

  I’ve said my piece. I’m not going to say anymore. As I turn away, I hear the door opening and closing. Rolling my head back on my shoulders I let out a sigh. Bloody relationships. Perhaps I’m lucky I don’t have to worry about them. I’d never want a man who couldn’t commit to me, and only me. Christ, what a mess. And if anyone else spots what’s going on, I only hope I’m not around for the fallout.

  I drop onto my bed, thoughts aplenty going around my head, not the least what will I do if Anarchy Rules falls apart? For the first time in my adult life, I start to think about other options might be open to me. To be honest, I’m lucky the band’s stayed together this long. What would it be like to do something different? While previously that thought would have horrified me, now I find it a challenge. What else could I do?

  Determined to put my altercation with Sunny out of my mind, knowing it’s up to her to decide where her relationships are going, I make no further comment when I see her the following morning. The day passes like any other except for that flicker of excitement inside me when I think about seeing the handsome sheikh again. Helping to push my friend’s issues to the back of my mind are thoughts of Jasim which intrude as I go through the routine of boring household tasks and doing my washing—pointedly leaving out the few shirts and pair of jeans Mickey’s tried to sneak in to my wash. Mickey, Sunny, and I actually live here, it just seems that the others do too, often crashing when we’ve all come back from a gig. But while I’m always happy to put Sunny’s clothes in with mine, as she does the same for me, I made a point early on that I might have boobs and no cock, but that doesn’t mean I’m uniquely qualified to do the laundry. Or vacuum. Or dust. To give him his due, Sunny and I have got Mickey fairly well trained in that respect.