Diminished (Winter's Wrath Book 2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  Soft hands pulled his shirt away. He was naked, but not cold. A warm body pressed against him. Soft material covered him. A muscular chest pressed against his other side.

  For months, everything after the knife flashed before his eyes was a blank. Almost like his mind filtered out the memory to protect him.

  Once a week he’d get a little glimpse. Then more and more until every terrifying moment played on repeat in the silence. Darkness brought the blade into focus, making him blind to everything else. He couldn’t even will his way back to the present. The pain paralyzed him.

  The pain wasn’t real. The scars were still faded. But when the terror swallowed him, the stabbing pain sliced deep. He felt the knife. Sliding into him slower than it really had. And blood flowed all around, deep enough to drown in.

  Danica and Jesse thought he had nightmares. They were worried about his lack of sleep, but didn’t pressure him because he snapped every time they showed concern. He’d drawn away from them, a little more every day, because he couldn’t share this. He wouldn’t let his horror infect them too.

  But not telling them made the situation worse. Without knowing, all they could do was guess.

  He swallowed hard, pushing up to sit against the headboard. Their eyes followed him. Jesse took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Danica wrapped her arms around his sheet covered thigh.

  Both waiting. Both needing the truth.

  So he told them.

  “I remember. The night I was stabbed. I remember it all.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Malakai surveyed the unruly crowd clogging up the snow slicked Walmart parking lot. The mild weather had the members of all five bands outside, enjoying the fresh air. Some had lawn chairs out and were hanging in groups, drinking.

  The rest found ways to entertain themselves.

  Roadies, security, and a few people with press passes gathered as random fights broke out between band members. Mostly harmless scuffling, but a few got pretty rough. And the attention of the crowd spurred them on.

  On arrival last night everyone either crashed or disappeared to do their own thing. Apparently, this afternoon was dedicated to relieving tension that had built up during the long drive.

  Not a huge deal in itself. Malakai had seen all kinds of drama during his years in the metal scene. Everything from who was fucking who to drug deals gone bad. Conflicts happened. He’d thrown a few punches when he’d been a dumb newb, but avoided getting into fights because shit went bad when he got violent. Besides, a guitarist didn’t need to be fucking up his hands. Only an idiot would put their career on the line in a juvenile, masculine display like this.

  He groaned as Connor stepped into the open space at the center of the crowd.

  And we’ve found our next idiot.

  Connor held up his favorite guitar, grinning as the crowd quieted down. He winked at a big breasted groupie who’d been hanging onto the lead singer of Gear-Core. Dude had a weird, made-up name he claimed was German.

  Malakai was pretty sure his real name was Earl.

  For the past hour, Earl had been placing bets. Anyone who beat him got the girl. Buy in was five-hundred dollars.

  Connor’s guitar was worth a hell of a lot more than that.

  What the hell is he doing?

  “This sweet thing asked if I’d fight for her.” Connor jerked his chin toward Earl. “I don’t have the money, but I’ve got this. What do you say?”

  “Mk11 Warlock? You’re putting up a 2k guitar for some pussy?” Earl looked stunned. “Are you fucking high?”

  “Naw. It’s called confidence, man.” Connor stroked the mahogany body of the guitar, a crooked smile on his lips. “We got a deal?”

  “Damn right we do.”

  Malakai shook his head as Connor handed his guitar to one of Gear-Core’s roadies. He had a feeling this wasn’t about getting laid. Connor was bored.

  Judging him was easy, but Malakai recalled when he himself would take any challenge for the rush of adrenaline. He’d fought for as long as he could remember. Trained hard to hone skills he’d needed as a child and kept developing long after because he craved the control it gave him over his body. Over his life.

  Discipline took longer to learn, but he’d finally reached a point where the rage that once overwhelmed him lay dormant for the most part. He ignored insults and posturing. He had nothing to prove.

  To Connor’s credit, the fight didn’t last long. Earl matched him in size, but Connor ducked his wild swings, taking him down like a wrestler in slick move that had the man pinned beneath him, arm twisted at an awkward angle. Crying out, Earl tapped the pavement frantically. He refused Connor’s offer of a hand up.

  Shrugging, Connor strode up to the girl, claiming her lips in a deep kiss that had the crowd laughing and cheering.

  Earl lunged forward, shoving the girl aside. He cracked Connor in the jaw before the guitarist could react.

  For fuck’s sake. Malakai moved closer to Connor, sure the man could handle himself, but not liking how the rest of Gear-Core circled him. They were some of the few bulked up meatheads in the industry, exercising obsessively and popping steroids which made them look more like body builders than musicians. When they went at Connor all at once, Malakai moved fast, cutting one off mid-punch.

  Whipping the man around to face him, Malakai delivered a swift uppercut that sent him flying. One man down.

  Four to go.

  Two big ones restrained Connor. Another laid into him. And the crowd cheered them on.

  Fucking savages. Red flashed across Malakai’s vision as he lunged forward and elbowed one guy in the throat, stunning him long enough to tear another off Connor. The crunch of bone under his fist as he cracked the second man in the jaw gave him shallow satisfaction. He checked to make sure Connor was still in one piece. The man was family. Fucked up family that drove him crazy, but still his to protect.

  And the dummy needed protection. He managed to get a few punches in, but he was shit at blocking them. A punch to the gut leveled him. Connor recovered quickly, but his opponent had grabbed a fucking pipe.

  He swung it at Connor’s head. Malakai threw himself forward, tackling the man. They grappled over the pipe. A familiar face cut through the blinding red haze holding Malakai, shouting words he couldn’t hear beyond his deafening pulse. Someone trying to break up the fight. The man under Malakai twisted free. Punched up, missing Malakai.

  And connecting with whoever was behind him.

  “Son of a bitch!” Tate’s voice. Malakai blinked as he spotted the drummer on the ground. One hand over his eye.

  Growling, Malakai wrenched the pipe free.

  Tate shouldn’t be here.

  Didn’t matter. No one got to hurt him.

  Not if they wanted to live.

  Frantic voices came at him. Meaningless. He lifted the pipe. Hands closed on his arms. He wasn’t sure how many were coming at him, but he had to defend himself. And Connor. And Tate. Fuck, there were so many people he couldn’t even see the kid anymore.

  He snarled, swinging back blindly with the length of metal. He struck someone and they let him go.

  More hands, dragging him back. He struggled to get loose. His back slammed into a bus tire and a hand framed his jaw.

  Jesse snarled in his face. “Snap out of it or I’m gonna knock you the fuck out, Malakai.”

  “Where’s Tate?” Malakai tried to shove Jesse, but the man had his full weight on him. He was a big man. Strong and skilled. He hadn’t survived prison by being a pushover.

  “Danica got him out of here. They’re with Tank and Skull. The other guys are taking care of Connor.” Jesse’s tone took on a hard edge. “You just fucking busted Brave’s face open. I’m tempted to cut you out of the band. This shit can’t happen.”

  Brave? Malakai took a deep breath, slumping against the tire. “Please tell me he didn’t get hit with the fucking pipe?”

  “I didn’t see what the fuck you hit him with.”

&nb
sp; Malakai’s heart stuttered. How could he have let himself lose control like this? “Is he all right?”

  “He better be.” Jesse pushed Malakai’s shoulder into the tire and straightened. “I thought I could count on you. Thanks for proving me wrong.”

  What have I done? Malakai’s stomach twisted as he looked down at his arm, at the streaks of blood on his skin.

  Some of that blood was Brave’s.

  Jesse moved suddenly, cutting Alder off as he lunged at Malakai. “Alder, don’t!”

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Alder slammed into Jesse, who barred an arm across his chest, holding him back. “He was trying to help!”

  Skull grabbed Alder, restraining him and patting his shoulder at the same time. “It’s over, boy. Come on, let’s not leave the girls to deal with the blood.”

  The old man got through to Alder with a few simple words. And left Malakai to Jesse.

  Who spared him one last disgusted look before walking away.

  Still sitting on the ground, Malakai covered his face in his hands and groaned. He could still remember the last time he’d slipped over the edge. Back when he and Brave had been friends, they caught a few guys slipping something into a girl’s drink. Called the guys out. Beat the shit out of them in the alley. Should have been enough, but one got back up. Attacked Brave from behind.

  Malakai almost killed the man. Might have if Brave hadn’t stopped him.

  They might not be close anymore, but Brave knew him. Knew when he’d surrendered to the darkness. When he’d gone so far he couldn’t pull back.

  Which was why he didn’t fight anymore. It was too easy to end up there.

  How the fuck had he let this happen?

  Connor was outnumbered.

  The band was here. A few seconds and they would have stepped in.

  I didn’t know.

  He’d lost it. And he shouldn’t have.

  And that’s all that matters.

  Someone moved close to him, carefully, shading him from the light glaring off the scattered patches of snow. He glanced up, then groaned. “Sweetie, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Probably not.” Shiori knelt by his side. She took one of his hands in hers and pressed the bottom of her shirt against busted knuckles he hadn’t noticed. “But you stuck up for me when you had no idea who I was. If nothing else, I owe you.”

  “I’m fucked up, slugger. I’m not good to be around.”

  “Tell me what happened.” She dabbed at his knuckles with her shirt, not lifting her head. “I don’t see you just grabbing a guy to beat on.”

  “I hit Brave with a fucking pipe.”

  “On purpose?” She met his eyes this time, inhaling slowly when he shook his head. “I didn’t think so. What happened?”

  For some reason, he couldn’t put her off any longer. He told her, not sure the bare facts justified anything he’d done, but at least she was listening. He doubted anyone else would.

  Fuck, for all he knew this might be the end for him. The band wasn’t in a place where they could ignore his issues. Issues he’d tried to overcome.

  And clearly failed.

  “Let me get this straight. Connor was outnumbered. You stuck up for him.” Her tiny nose wrinkled. “How is any of this your fault?”

  “I don’t…stop.” He wasn’t sure how to explain how the violent rage took over. How badly he could hurt people. “When Connor was surrounded, I just had his back. But then Tate went down. There were too many people. I snapped.”

  “You protected a friend. You were scared.” She compressed his bloody knuckles with her shirt, her tone firm. “I might not be as strong as you, but I don’t think I’d hold back if someone I loved was in danger.”

  Why was she trying to make this okay? It wasn’t. He’d gone too far.

  But she was sweet and innocent and saw something in him that wasn’t there.

  He let out a cold laugh. “I don’t love Connor. Actually, I’m tempted to hit him too.”

  “If you want to go after him, I won’t stop you.”

  “Being ganged up on was enough.”

  “You say that like it absolves him of any blame.” She continued tending to the cuts on his knuckles. “It doesn’t. He started the fight. You ended it. And you’re both still breathing. I’d call that a win.”

  “Not for me. I don’t do well with violence, Shiori. The man I become isn’t who I want to be. I’m good at fighting. Too good to let myself lose control like that.” He needed her to understand. He’d broken his own vows. “If the band is done with me, I’ve given them plenty of reasons.”

  “Not today you haven’t.” She increased the pressure on his hand, glaring at him like he was being stubborn and she was tired of it. “Stand up for yourself like you stood up for him. The band is stressed. They’re always stressed and today it’s your fault. Only, it isn’t. And they have to know.”

  Almost made sense, from an outsider’s perspective, but she didn’t know the band. They wouldn’t be so understanding.

  Having someone in his corner was nice, though.

  “Thanks, slugger.” He eased his hand free and rose to his feet, looking around to see most of the crowd had cleared. “We should head to the bus.”

  She frowned at him. “Already? Shouldn’t we give them some time to cool down?”

  He shook his head. “Won’t happen. And we have to hash this shit out before we hit the stage.”

  She stopped mid-step, bringing a hand to her throat. “I have to—”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to go on stage.” She rubbed her arms. “Damn, I just… This is real now. With everything going on I hadn’t really thought about actually being up there. I’m a little terrified.”

  Looping his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her to his side. She was too fucking precious. Her first performance and rather than getting ready, she was here, comforting him.

  He enjoyed having her near. Fitting perfectly against him, relaxing as though his touch steadied her. As they walked her shivering eased off and her rapid little breaths slowed.

  He watched her from the corner of his eye, smiling as the fear faded and determination took its place. He could tell her she’d be fine, but he’d known she’d figure that out herself.

  All she’d really needed was to say she was scared out loud to someone who wouldn’t judge her. Not that the band would. Or Danica.

  But Danica represented all Shiori wanted to accomplish. Going to the other woman would be hard.

  He had absolutely no problem being her shoulder to lean on.

  Slanted smile on his lips, he squeezed her arm lightly. “How was the drive?”

  Glancing up at him, she gave him a curious look. “You’re not going to give me any advice? Tell me I can do this?”

  “You know you can.” He grinned at her. “And I’m a shitty dancer, so I’ve got no advice to offer.”

  Laughing, she spun away from him, walking backward. “You forget I’ve seen you on stage. You’ve got moves.”

  “Grinding against my guitar isn’t ‘moves’.”

  “No, but it’s hot.”

  Hell, she needs to not say shit like that. The teasing glimmer in her eyes, the way her glossy pink lips slanted, tested the seal on the ‘out-of-bounds’ box he’d put her in from day one. She was simply being playful, but he liked it. He liked how easy she was to talk to. How, despite her innocence, she displayed a kind of fearlessness he admired.

  Yes, she was afraid. But he didn’t doubt for a second she’d succeed. Her kind of fearlessness wasn’t reckless. It came from a core of strength. From an awareness of her own weaknesses. From seeing all possible scenarios, but not letting the worst of them hold her back.

  He’d gotten his first glimpse when she’d been criticized by Reese after kissing Brave. That couldn’t have been easy. Sure, he and Brave had helped her. Mostly Brave.

  Still, she could have walked away then.

  But she hadn’t.

 
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She patted his arm as they reached the bus. “You ready?”

  Ready? He looked at the bus and groaned. Shit, how could he have forgotten, even for a moment? He’d fucked up. He was here to convince the band not to cut him loose. He didn’t have the first clue what to say to them.

  The sweet little thing by his side was very distracting.

  And not for you. Don’t forget that.

  He wouldn’t. He’d fucked things up enough for himself. No way would he drag her down with him.

  The door opened. Malakai expected Jesse, but it was Brave who stepped out, a towel pressed to his cheek.

  “Wanna give us a minute, little moon?” Brave smiled at Shiori, something in his eyes Malakai didn’t like. A mix of tenderness and lust.

  One she returned before brushing past him and hurrying up the steps onto the bus.

  Maybe the son-of-a-bitch—and Malakai meant that literally—deserved that punch after all. He gnashed his teeth as Brave shut the door and faced him.

  “What did you do, Brave?” Malakai clenched his fists at his sides. His mind was clear enough to keep him from lashing out, but just barely. “What the fuck did you do?”

  Brave arched a brow. “Not the apology I expected.”

  “You knew better than to fucking grab me.” Malakai growled, cutting across the distance between them. “The band wants to get rid of me for this shit? Maybe I deserve it. But she deserves better than whatever game you’re playing.”

  “I’m not playing any fucking games. Cool it.” Brave moved away from the bus. “This isn’t about her.”

  “It is now.” Malakai pressed his eyes shut. “Did you listen to a word Reese said? To a word I said after?”

  “Yes, I fucking listened.” Brave sucked in a rough breath. “I got it.”

  “That’s not what it looked like. One wrong move and she’s gone. Don’t do that to her.”

  “What makes you think I would?”

  “Jesse.”

  Brave sucked his teeth. “That was a long time ago.”

  “A long time…” Malakai let out a cold laugh, not sure why he bothered. “You’re too fucking much. You played head games with the man your brother was—and is—in love with. You give yourself a free pass for that already?”