Ash gripped his chest like he were in pain. “Oh…God…you’re killing me here, Shea. I’ll gladly fill up your whole damned closet with shoes if it’ll stop you from this mad delusion.”
The entire time, Lyrik was squeezing my hand. Hard. A little hopeless. Like he didn’t know where this was going, either, but he couldn’t bear the thought of letting me go.
I squeezed back.
Don’t let me go. I need you. I want you. I love you.
Do you hear me?
He suddenly looked down at me. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to call it,” Lyrik said offhandedly to the rest of the guys, not waiting around for goodbyes.
He began to lead me back through the crowd. Just before ducking out of the room, Lyrik froze when a middle-aged guy stepped into his path.
He was bald and grinning and so obviously not welcome.
“Eric Banik…” Lyrik seemed to process his presence, before his jaw went rigid. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? This isn’t the time or place for your games.”
Eric Banik.
A thread of unease spun through me.
That was the name that had sent Lyrik into a tailspin the night he’d gotten into that fight with Ash. The night Lyrik had lost some of his control. When he’d used me like he’d needed me and not the other way around.
Eric grinned. “Just thought I’d drop by and see if you’d thought any more about my offer.”
“Told you a thousand times and not a thing has changed. But if you need a reminder, then fine—” Lyrik edged in closer to him. “Fuck off.”
A cold unlike anything I’d ever felt from Lyrik chilled the room. His dark eyes had gone black when he glanced behind him to the guys still talking by the bar.
“Now if I were you, I’d turn around and not ever come back. Pretty sure I gave you a warmer reception than the rest of my crew is going to give.”
He laughed as if Lyrik didn’t faze him. Not in the least. “Baz’s wife sure is pretty, isn’t she?”
In a flash, Lyrik had Eric Banik’s shirt in his fist, lifting him from the ground. “I’m warning you…turn around and walk out the fucking door. Don’t come back. This is me asking nicely. And I’m about five seconds from not feeling so friendly. You got me?”
Hands lifted in a placating gesture, Eric backed down. “Fine. Just know the offer’s not going to stand forever.”
“Real broken up about it,” Lyrik mumbled as he pushed around him, and I struggled to keep up as he dragged me out the entry and back down the dingy hall. Anger radiated from him.
And I didn’t quite get it. Why an offer would make him so upset. Sure, the guy was obviously a dick. But it wasn’t as if he had to accept it.
I was almost surprised Lyrik didn’t punch the poor scrawny kid who suddenly stepped out in front of him at the end of the hall. Like a target directly in Lyrik’s warpath.
“Lyrik West. Would it be okay if I asked you a couple questions?”
Lyrik just grumbled something about assholes beneath his breath, and I gave his hand a small tug. This guy seemed so much better than the paparazzi that had descended on us when we’d stepped from the Escalade when we first pulled up to the theater this afternoon, a swarm of them firing question after question. All of which had been ignored.
“It’s fine,” I encouraged him, and Lyrik sighed, raked a hand through his unruly hair, agitation still vibrating through his bones.
“Make it fast.”
The guy gave a timid, but grateful smile as he scrambled to pull out one of those old-fashioned notepads. “Thanks so much for answering my questions. Umm…”
Nervously, he scratched the side of his head. “We know the next Sunder album is slated for release this winter. Word is, Sebastian Stone’s new wife, Shea Stone, aka Delaney Rhoads, will be a part of that album. Can you confirm or deny?”
“No secret they’ve written some music together.”
“Um…okay…and will she be joining Sunder on tour?”
Lyrik huffed. “Doubtful. She’s got a family. And the road and family don’t exactly mix.”
His tone was bitter. I stood at his side, trying to make sense of where all the hostility was coming from, all the while trying to tamp down the frisson of panic that threatened when the reporter’s attention kept flicking toward me.
Brows drawn, he inclined his head, assessing. “You look really familiar.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’d been too wrapped up in Lyrik’s proposal that I’d never even considered someone might recognize me.
Slowly I shook my head and took a step back. That disquiet I’d felt in front of Eric Banik doubled. But I hadn’t perfected my mask for nothing. I forced a brilliant smile, all sex and distraction, pushed out an easy laugh. “Nope…I’m nobody. I’m sure you’ve never seen me before.”
He gave a slow nod and turned back to Lyrik. “We’ve also heard the next album will showcase a few more songs in the style of Sunday Gone, your voice as the lead. Is that any indication that Sebastian Stone may be taking a step back from the band?”
Lyrik seemed to itch, antsy on his feet. “Band’s in a transition period right now. Don’t have all the answers. But I can assure you we’ll be making music together. Nothing is gonna change that.”
He scribbled something on his notepad, but I could feel the flicker of his eyes as they peeked at me from the side. The curiosity that wouldn’t let him go. The awareness.
Almost in frustration, he turned his full attention on me. “Are you sure I don’t know you?”
Shaking my head again, I took another step back, slinking behind Lyrik, hating the way I wished his shadows would swallow me up and take me to a place where I could disappear.
Hide.
Hide. Hide. Hide.
I was so damned tired of hiding. Of running from everything that scared me, but I didn’t know how to handle this when I’d been running for so long. I didn’t know how to bear the brunt of it. How to stand up under the sudden recognition that lit on his face.
I was peeking out from behind Lyrik when the reporter suddenly shook his index finger my direction, the smile on this guy’s face making it clear he had no idea he’d knocked me from the precarious foundation I’d created.
Where I’d balanced on unstable ground.
Knowing one day, one side would eventually give out.
“Yeah…yeah…you’re that girl. Tamar Gibson. Madeline Shields…she was from here…L.A. That whole thing is about to go to trial in Arizona, right? Saw something about it come across the feed last week.”
He frowned as the full story seemed to dawn, sudden confusion setting in. “Are they still looking for you?”
And that was it.
The bottom finally crumbled out from under me.
Darkness pressed in as a horror of memories came crashing through my mind.
Madeline Shields.
Pain lanced through my being like the cut of a rusted, dulled blade.
Paralyzing.
My legs wobbled as my heart and knees went weak.
All functions gone.
“Blue.” Lyrik was suddenly there. Holding me up.
Protectively, he wound his arm around my waist, let me bury my face in his chest. “Think that’ll be enough questions for tonight.”
He began to guide me through the shadows and voices and bodies. He brought his free hand up to my cheek, pressing me closer, covering the part of my face still exposed.
Blocking.
Shielding and sheltering.
Lyrik squeezed me tighter, his voice an echo on the fringes of the world I’d disappeared to. “It’s okay, baby. Ten more feet. Just need to make it out this door. I’ve got you. Not gonna let you go. I’ve got you.”
My hands curled tighter into his shirt, and I could hear the hushed murmur of his voice mixed with another man’s, the scrape of a metal door as it was opened.
Fresh air breezed across my damp
, sticky flesh, wiping away the grime of the theater.
But there was no relief.
It was just another layer exposed.
Another sweep across the dirt.
Revealing my forgotten reality.
Madeline.
I hadn’t allowed her name to enter my thoughts in years. There was too much guilt. Too much shame.
Now I almost buckled beneath the weight of it.
Lyrik helped me into the backseat of the waiting SUV. The black leather was cold against my already clammy skin. Sliding in, he curled me back in his arms.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered at the top of my head.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled through the old grief. But I’d kept it in for far too long.
“Shh…don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Nothing. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
And I remembered that voice and those words.
Lyrik.
The night he’d first found me. When he’d first unearthed everything I’d buried like a cursed relic.
“Lyrik.” It was pain. Torment. Regret.
“Shh…baby…I’ve got you…I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he said.
The ride sped by in a blur of memories as I finally fully opened the door.
Opened it for everything to come rushing in.
Every fear.
Every hope.
Every memory.
I opened myself to every wound that had never healed.
I let every single one of them invade.
It was time. It was time. It was time.
I was so tired of being the girl I was not.
And I missed her. Tamar Gibson. The girl Cameron Lucan had tried to destroy.
Just like he’d destroyed Madeline Shields.
It seemed only seconds later when the SUV came to a stop. Lyrik opened the door, quick to slide out, hands careful as he helped me stand.
“Can you walk?”
Through bleary eyes, I nodded, and he wound his arm back around my waist, supported me as we started across the cobblestone drive.
With each step, I somehow felt stronger and stronger.
Braver and braver.
Unchecked, tears streaked down my face.
Once, I’d believed they made me weak.
But now. There was power in their presence.
And I felt a little crazed. Maybe a little insane. To feel so much turmoil and welcome it all the same.
Lyrik fumbled in his pocket and took out his keys. He opened the door to the massive house he called home. The expansive windows on the other side of the huge living area opened up to the pool and the sparkling city below.
He didn’t hesitate, just turned me to the right and led me upstairs and down the hall to his room.
I’d only been in it for a few minutes this afternoon before we’d had to leave for his parents’. But it felt so much like him. Dark and filled with mystery, the corners filled with shadows that ached to tell the same story he had written across his skin.
Releasing me, he quietly latched the door shut behind us.
Standing in the middle of his room, I turned to look at him.
For once, I was hiding nothing.
Open and free.
And it hurt and it hurt and it hurt.
And it felt so amazingly right.
He cradled my face.
Softly.
Gently.
“Tell me who you are.”
Unable to remain standing, I slowly sank to my knees.
Without releasing my face, Lyrik followed.
Tears clogged my throat. “All I ever wanted to do was forget. But I can’t do that anymore, Lyrik. I feel too real. Too much like me. Who I used to be.”
He nodded like he got it, a prod of encouragement.
I found my voice. “You remember I told you…that I escaped. When I escaped, I escaped from Cameron Lucan.”
I hadn’t voiced that name in so long.
Lyrik gritted his teeth, the sound an audible grind as he clenched and winced and fought the anger the utterance of it so clearly evoked.
Anger for me.
Was it wrong to love him more for it?
My tongue darted out to wet my lips. “Like I told you, when we first got together, it was good and then it got to where it wasn’t so bad. Looking back now, I realize he was acclimating me to his lifestyle. Desensitizing me. Convincing me his twisted desires were my own. Robbing me of all my confidence and self-preservation until I’d completely submitted to his will.”
I drew in a breath. “It didn’t take him long to persuade me to cut ties with my family. He told me they were only trying to keep us apart. I’d moved in with him before things had gone bad…back when I’d willingly let him use me, even though I knew in my gut something was wrong.”
I glanced to the floor, before letting myself look back on the severity of those eyes that had deepened to pitch. “It got so horrible, Lyrik, so bad so fast and I had no idea how to get out. I’d pray for death.”
The words had gone raspy. “For it all to end. He’d leave me tied up in this room in the dark where I’d be disoriented for days. Hungry. Not sure when he would return and when he did return if he’d come alone.”
Lyrik’s muscles twitched. A palpable rage skimmed just below the surface. It lifted and rose and shivered in the air.
Yet there remained a gentle softness to him that had never been there before.
This beautiful boy had always been both cautious and heedless when it came to me. His touch gentle in its aggressive demand.
But I felt the shift as I took him with me to that place where I’d never wanted to return.
Images flashed. I blinked, viewing them like old, faded snapshots I hadn’t known were taken yet somehow intimately recognized.
“I lost sense of time, but I would guess it had to have been about six months after he started holding me in that room upstairs when I woke up to him dragging another girl into it.”
Old horror circled and circled. I could barely speak. “I guess in the time he’d been isolating me, he’d started the same process with Madeline. Making her fall for him and his lies. Cutting ties with her family. Convincing her she was nothing without him. Making her wholly reliable upon him until he had her where he wanted her. No resources. No fight left to fight.”
I squared myself, the words suddenly strong as I looked up at his blistering expression. Anger restrained in agony. As if he both wanted to stand up right then and hunt Cameron down yet refused to leave my side.
I touched his cheek. “But he hadn’t broken all my fight, Lyrik. It was still there, buried deep. I watched and waited. Listened. Counted the knots in my ties. Memorized them until I could untie them in my head.”
I gulped. “In the corner, he’d…left a video camera on a stand for days. Taunting us.”
My skin crawled with the thought of it.
“I waited until I heard his motorcycle start up and drive away. It was so clear in my head. Untying myself. Untying Madeline. Running. Jumping. But she seemed so shocked when I was suddenly out of my bindings, and she screamed when I smashed the window with the camera.”
On the waves of the memory, the words broke in my throat and I looked at the bare wall over Lyrik’s shoulder as I forced out the confession.
“Madeline…she was too scared, Lyrik. Too scared to jump. Too scared to leave. She begged me to stay. Begged me not to leave her there alone. I’ll never forget the defeat in her eyes when I looked at her one last time, giving her one last chance, before I climbed out onto the eaves of the second-story roof.”
Everything rushed out. “But I was the coward, Lyrik. I was the coward because I just left her. Left her without a word and ran. I never looked back. Madeline had made her choice and I’d made mine. I never picked up the phone because that would mean I’d have to voice what Cameron had done. It was so much easier to pretend it’d
never happened. Easier to become someone I wasn’t. Someone no one could touch.”
No one until him.
Lyrik’s hold was fierce. Unyielding. Those eyes searched every inch of my face.
Sorrow shook my head. “I didn’t know they’d found her body until a year later. I…I was missing my mom so bad. I signed into my old Facebook account…just needing to see her face. There was an article I was tagged in linking all of us…one naming me as a missing person after they’d discovered her. They were looking for Cameron as a person of interest.”
Lyrik squeezed me tighter, voice as harsh as broken glass, disbelief and so much hate. “He killed her?”
I shook my head as more tears broke free, begging for him to understand. “No, Lyrik. She killed herself. He dumped her. Just left her like garbage. He was gone when the police showed up at his house. They finally caught up to him and arrested him. He’s…he’s getting ready to go on trial.”
The room swam, the decision dangling over me like a noose.
Run.
Or turn around.
“Jesus.” Everything about Lyrik softened with a thready caution. He dragged the back of his hand across the tears soaking my cheeks before he knitted his fingers through my hair.
“Blue. I want to destroy him. Never wanted to hurt someone the way I want to hurt him. Can’t fucking stand it…thinking about someone hurtin’ you. What can I do? Tell me what to do and I’ll fucking do it. Say it and it’s done.”
I gripped him by both wrists and rocked toward him. “Kiss me.”
Two months ago, he’d promised to erase Cameron Lucan from my body. To touch me and fill me until I knew nothing but his name.
But it was Lyrik who made me remember mine.
There was zero hesitation. Lyrik hauled me up against the warmth of that strong body. Mouth overwhelming.
But this kiss. This kiss was so excruciatingly slow.
Deliberate.
Measured.
From every wisp and tug of his lips over mine to every flick of his tongue.
An intentional dance.
Unhurried yet brimming with need.
Barely contained.
I felt dizzy on it.
“So brave. So fucking brave.”
And we spun and we spun and we spun.
Searching hands. Heedful touches.
Edging back, he dragged my shirt over my head, whispered, “Blue.”
Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3) Page 28
