Savaged Dreams: Savaged Illusions Trilogy Book 1

by Jennifer Lyon

  Ben raised his beer. “I was the shit.”

  Justice cracked up and couldn’t catch his breath. Finally he turned to find Liza shaking her head.

  “And here I was worried we would bore you.”

  He sobered. “Why?”

  Uncertainty slipped into her gaze. “Look around, Justice. This is it, our big night out. Em and I are college students on a tight budget. Ben spends his days in a hospital or classes, while you’re on a hit reality show and ready to go big.”

  Justice took her hand in his. “Right now, I’m not thinking about that. I just want to be here with you, Beth. On our date.” Would he ever be bored by her?

  Her smile nearly blinded him.

  “Beth?” Ben broke in.

  Justice froze, realizing he needed to be more careful. She’d hidden who she was for a reason. He opened his mouth to say something.

  But Liza jumped in. “Liza is short for Elizabeth.”

  “Oh. I never thought about it. You’re just Liza.” Ben dug into another bite of his tamale, clearly satisfied.

  “So you’re at the nickname stage,” Em said. “What do you call Justice?”

  Beth’s gaze stayed on him. The moment thickened. Usually she called him Rock Star, Rock Ego or some variation. What would she come up with this time?

  “Rooster.”

  He burst out laughing. Ben and Em joined in.

  “What?” His girl projected innocence. “He struts, he crows, he’s super cocky.” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “And he has a weird obsession with chickens. Seriously, they’re all over his kitchen.”

  She thought she’d bore him? He couldn’t take his gaze off her. Beth glowed from suppressed laughter. So damned beautiful, funny and real. When he was with her, the lonely ache that lived in his chest—the one that raked his insides with his own failures—vanished. Leaving a bright and shiny…what? What was this feeling? The one he really only got when he went onstage? Or back in the days when he walked into his grandmother’s diner after school. Or his dad came home from another deployment.

  Happiness.

  Beth made him happy, along with his music.

  Simon’s warning ghosted in his head. You can’t have it all. I know, I tried. But you can’t have two passions, two things you want and love. One always gets hurt. Or dead.

  No one was going to get hurt. Justice would make sure of it.

  * * *

  Liza came out of the restroom to find Justice waiting. Emily and Ben had left since Ben had to get up early for his shift at the hospital.

  “All set?” Justice asked.

  “Yep.”

  He took her hand, and they headed past the bar toward the front of the restaurant. Happiness danced in Liza’s stomach. Justice and Ben had cracked themselves up all through dinner and teased her and Emily. The whole night had been easy and fun.

  When they neared the door, Justice looked down at her. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

  “Me too.” She hesitated a beat, then said, “I have the same sleeping issues at my apartment, and there’s not an extra bedroom.”

  “Don’t stress.” He halted, tugging her to a stop with him. Longing glinted in his eyes as he laid his palm on her face. “I can leave or sleep on the couch. Or we can go to my house, if you like.”

  The way he touched and reassured her sank in. She’d never had this sense of being accepted with all her problems. “Let’s go to my apartment.” She wanted to give him a break too. Justice had told her what it was like for him when she wasn’t with him at his house.

  If you leave me, I’ll be alone in this house, haunted by guilt and anger. I’ll go looking, Beth. I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll be out on the streets, searching for the man who doesn’t want to see his son.

  Justice needed her too, and he hadn’t been afraid to tell her. They could kick back at her place and give him a break from being reminded of his dad. Then later, they could decide on sleeping arrangements. Although she was aware of people watching Justice and the whispers of recognition, she felt like the center of his world right now. Circling his wrist, feeling the power in him, she said softly, “I want to do wicked things to you in my apartment.”

  He opened his mouth—

  “Justice!” A burst of voices cut him off before he could speak. Several girls rushed up. The first one grabbed his arm. “It’s really you. Justice Cade from Savaged Illusions. I vote for you every week. And I go to UCSD. I’ve been hoping to meet you. Can I get a picture?” She shoved her phone at Liza. “Will you take it?”

  Justice stepped back from Liza as a charming grin slid into place. “Do you mind?”

  “Now?” She heard the disappointment in her voice and bit her lip in an attempt to stem the sharp wave of resentment. Yeah, they were on a date, but this was his job. If he wanted to win, he had to cultivate every vote he could. And it was her job to help him.

  “Liza?” He glanced at the growing crowd, then back to her.

  Forcing a smile, she said, “Sure,” and took the phone.

  Justice put his arm around the slender, dark-haired girl.

  Her stomach twisted with a pang of possessiveness at the sight, and something else—fear. Because this was going to be Justice’s life as a rock star. He’d always be surrounded by adoring fans, and if she was dating him, she’d always have to share him. Would she even be enough for him, or would the beautiful girls become too much of a temptation?

  Was that fear and insecurity part of what drove her mom to drink and do drugs?

  This wasn’t the time to think about that. Instead, Liza focused on the task. She had no reason to be jealous, and worse, she couldn’t let her feelings interfere with her job. Savaged Illusions winning Court of Rock was a win for her too since she’d get the internship.

  She’d barely taken one picture when another phone was thrust into her hand. “Take mine too.”

  She dutifully took every picture of all the girls with Justice. But her mind was on her emotions and the niggling of disquiet that had begun popping up. How many times had she seen her mom go apeshit with jealousy over some musician?

  I’m not my mom. She could handle this.

  This was no different than when they did Savage Shout-outs all over town. In fact, Liza should get her cell out, take a picture then post it with a tag to Wylie’s Cantina.

  She started to feel more in control of her emotions now that she was thinking like a publicist rather than a jealous chick. This was better.

  More girls pushed in, edging Liza back toward the bar area. There had to be fifteen fans squeezing in around him. Justice’s voice rose as he said something Liza didn’t catch, and laughter broke out.

  Another stab of annoyance flashed, and Liza gritted her teeth. Why was it getting to her tonight when she’d seen Justice mobbed by fans repeatedly? Why did she feel so damned raw and exposed?

  Because you’re falling for him.

  Another girl jostled to get in front of her, tipping Liza off balance.

  She tumbled sideways into a couple of men. Ice-cold liquid hit the front of her shirt, making her gasp. Jerking, she managed to stay on her feet, but lurched a few steps the other way until her back hit a wall. Her soaked shirt stuck to her skin, liquid dripping down her legs.

  “Shit, sorry.” A guy with dark hair, regretful eyes and an empty cup approached her.

  The other one laughed. “You got her nice and wet for us. Look at those tits. She could be a stripper.”

  Liza hunched and crossed her arms, sick anger rippling through her. They were blocking her against a wall. Around them, people talked and laughed. Fear chafed at her muscles.

  “Knock it off,” the first guy said.

  “Hold this.” The obnoxious man shoved his beer in the other one’s hand, then pulled out a cell phone. Grabbing one of her arms, he tried to take a picture of her boobs.

  Liza’s temper ignited, and self-preservation kicked in. What was she doing cowering? She wasn’t a scared k
id anymore. Straightening off the wall, she knocked his hand holding the phone aside and yanked on her arm. “Let go of me.” She used a loud, clear voice, exactly as she’d learned in her women’s self-defense class.

  The first guy said, “Jesus, Hans, get away from her. What are you doing?”

  Anger clouded his eyes. “Shut up,” the blond snarled and turned back to her. “You spilled my friend’s beer. You owe us at least a picture.” He squeezed her arm, his gaze tracking down her wet shirt.

  Oh she was done. She kicked him in the shin. Hard.

  “Ow! You bitch!” He released her and stumbled back.

  Liza rubbed her arm. “Back off,” she demanded. “You touch me again, I’ll do more than kick you.” She wouldn’t let anyone scare and intimidate her. And pictures? Hell no.

  The man’s eyes narrowed, and his face turned dark red. “You and who else?”

  “Me.”

  The man spun, coming face-to-face with a furious Justice.

  His eyes were cold steel, his shoulders straining his T-shirt. He stood loose and ready. More people gathered around.

  “What’s going on here?” Her boss, Wylie, broke through the growing crowd. He swept his gaze over the scene then landed on her. “Liza?”

  “She kicked me,” the blond man said. “And this prick is threatening me.”

  She quickly summed up falling into the two men, the first one being nice and the second a jackass.

  Wylie rubbed his forehead. “Do you want to press charges?”

  The last thing she wanted was to call more attention to herself. “No. I’m fine.”

  Wylie turned to Hans. “I want you out of my restaurant, and don’t return.”

  The man opened his mouth, glanced around at the throng of onlookers and stormed out.

  The first man paused in front of her. “I’m really sorry about this whole thing. I had no idea he was such a jerk when he drinks.”

  She forced a smile. “Thanks, but you don’t have anything to apologize for. I tripped and fell into you, and you were kind.” She appreciated that.

  He nodded and left.

  “Liza, can I get you anything?” her boss asked.

  “I’m okay, Wylie. Thanks.”

  The manager turned to shoo the rest of the spectators back to their drinks and meals.

  Justice loomed in front of her. “Are you really all right?” He touched a red mark on her arm.

  She looked down at her soaked shirt clinging obscenely to her breasts. Lifting her gaze, she saw all the people staring at her. Sick memories blazed across her mind. People closing in around her, whispering, shouting, having microphones in her face, some grabbing her arms or clothes. She hunched her shoulders, drawing back, trying to appear smaller. To avoid all that judgment piled on like condemning shovelfuls of dirt on an open grave. Answer him. But she couldn’t. Her throat felt as though a clump of soil was stuck in it, and buzzing rose in her ears.

  Liza used the tricks she’d learned, the ones her therapist helped her work on to testify in court. She blocked out everything but one face, the one that anchored her. Back then, it had been the prosecutor who questioned her.

  Tonight?

  It was Justice. She zeroed in on him. All she felt from him was concern, not judgment. He’d realized she was in trouble, and found her. The knot in her throat eased. “I want to leave.”

  He started to speak when a flash went off from someone taking pictures.

  Justice’s mouth tightened. Without a word, he pulled his shirt off and settled it over her head. He put his arm around her and led her out.

  “Thank you.”

  He bundled her into the seat of his car, and they took off. Once they were on the road, he reached for her hand. “Your apartment or my house? It doesn’t matter to me, Beth. I’m not leaving you. Tell me where.”

  “My place.” She had no trouble getting the words out now. It’d be easier to shower at home where she had all her stuff. As her shock, anger and sense of being stared at cleared, something new rooted in her chest. Pride. “I handled the guy.”

  After turning a corner, he looked over at her. “Damn right you did. I saw you kick him. Nice move. You can handle drunk jerks.”

  A grin tugged at her mouth. “Yes I can.”

  He laughed. “Feeling badass?”

  Using her other hand to tug the two layers of shirts from her chest, she answered, “A beer-smelling badass.”

  Justice squeezed her hand. “My favorite kind.”

  She was doing all kinds of new things, and the world wasn’t ending. Nope, she was rising to the challenge. So far, no one had recognized her, and nothing bad had happened.

  If she could handle everything else, then surely she could handle falling for Justice.

  Because she was falling for him. Hard.

  Chapter 11

  Justice ushered Beth into her apartment and dropped his keys on a table.

  Beth locked the door, then set her purse and phone down. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  He caught her hand. Tonight had to have scared her. She knew firsthand just how vulnerable someone, especially a woman, could be. “Let me help you. We’ll take one together.” It’d make him feel better.

  She shook her head. “You did enough tonight. I’ll be fine just knowing you’re here.” She glanced at the apartment door.

  He could almost smell the sharp scent of fear mixed in the stale beer clinging to her. “I told you, I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll be right here.”

  “Okay.” She walked away and turned into a small hallway on the left side of the apartment.

  Justice prowled around, edginess growing in him. He wanted to be in there helping Beth and taking care of her. She was bound to have a reaction now that the shock, and a bit of the elation at fighting back, had cleared.

  A chill went down his spine. Beth used to cut. Would she still do it? What if tonight caused her to relive the memories of being drugged and raped?

  A thunk from the bathroom whirled him around. Unable to help it, he strode into the small hallway and faced the closed door. He reached for the knob, then stopped.

  Think, man. She’d already been attacked tonight. He shouldn’t burst in the bathroom and traumatize her further. Justice knocked. “Beth, you okay?” Two agonizing heartbeats passed.

  Something muffled came out.

  He frowned, urgency riding his spine. “Beth?”

  “The door’s unlocked,” she called.

  Relieved, he strode in and stopped. Beth leaned out of the shower, one hand braced on the vanity, the other holding her watch. “I forgot I had my watch on and knocked off the lotion trying to set it down. Uh, I don’t have my glasses on and don’t want to drop it on the floor.”

  He attempted to focus on her words, but all he saw was her bent forward, her face free of makeup or glasses, wet hair hanging around her shoulders and rivulets of water trailing over her breasts. Don’t leer at her, not now.

  He zeroed in on her hand holding out the watch and saw her fingers tremble. That got his mind out of his pants. He took the watch and carefully set it aside. “You look a little shaky.”

  “Shh, I’m a badass, remember? Don’t tell anyone I might have weak moments.”

  He wrapped his hand around her quivering fingers. “A badass who left the door unlocked and pretended she couldn’t set her watch down on the counter to get me in here.” She wore that watch all the time, so taking it off before she showered would be automatic. As far as her vision, she could see well enough to function in her own bathroom. He leaned closer, relieved that she didn’t instantly deny it, and said, “Now a real badass would demand what she wanted from me.”

  Vulnerability shimmered in her eyes. “I don’t know. I want you in here with me, but I’m scared…”

  He flinched back. “Of me?”

  “Of us. Of what I feel. Tonight, I wasn’t even surprised when you were suddenly there behind that jerk threatening me. Do you know what that felt like? I mean I ha
d it handled—”

  He rubbed his thumb over her skin. “You did.” It was clearly important to her.

  “But I was relieved to see you. I knew I was safe then.”

  Oh he liked that a hell of a lot. She knew she was safe with him. “I’m coming in.” Justice shucked his shoes, socks and pants, and climbed into the tub-shower combo.

  Beth stood under the spray with her head tilted back and water running rivulets down her lush body. He ran his gaze over every visible inch. No marks or blood, aside from the redness on her arm where the asshole had grabbed her. She hadn’t cut.

  Her gaze slid to his engorged cock.

  Determined, he picked up a bottle and opened the cap. “Ignore my hard-on. My dick might not care that you were accosted tonight, but I do. I’m not in here for sex.” He squeezed some shampoo out and began working it into her hair. “Tell me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Do you have the urge to cut?”

  Her eyes widened. “No. I have some of the anxiety right now, but it hasn’t built up to the buzzing. You know when there’s a sound, like a low-pitched whistle that won’t stop?”

  “Yes.” He eased her back into the spray to rinse out the suds. Done with that, he poured out some conditioner and worked it into her strands. “Like feedback on speakers? That drives me out of my mind.” But the sound crews always fixed it, giving him relief. He began to get a sense of how powerless and aggravated Beth must feel when she couldn’t make the noise stop, and why she would resort to something self-destructive like cutting.

  “That’s a good example. Tonight wouldn’t trigger that reaction because I fought back. It’s when I feel powerless that the buzzing noise ramps up to an unbearable pitch in my head. Cutting stopped it, or at least disrupted it enough to make it bearable. Most of the time if it happens now, I can lose myself in writing and it stops.”

  “And other times?”

  “I fight through it. Snapping a rubber band on my wrist helps, but I rarely reach that level anymore.”

  He picked up a washcloth but couldn’t make himself use it. No fucking way. Another man had laid hands on his Beth. After dumping soap in his palm, he worked up a lather and began with her neck, over her shoulders and arms, then her breasts…