Devil horns up, every member of the crowd began chanting.
“Slut, slut, slut!”
This song was one of his favorites. He actually got the idea when a groupie named Olivia, who’d hung around with the band for a few stops on their first tour was jeered at by some girls standing in line. They called her all kinds of names.
She held her tears back until they got inside.
He hugged her and whispered in her ear. “They say that word like it’s an insult, but you know what?”
Her tear reddened eyes met his. “What?”
“Slut stands for something. It’s more than sex—though the sex is awesome.” He winked at her and she blushed. “We don’t let many people hang out with us. We trust you.” He stopped walking. “Fuck, I need to write this down. Give me your hand.”
Without pause, she held out her hand. He grabbed a pen from the pocket of his jacket and wrote the words. Sex. Love. Understanding. Trust.
Then he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “That’s what it means, from now on. And don’t you ever forget it.”
Olivia had fallen in love with the drummer of another band not long after and had a couple kids with him, but she still kept in touch. And she’d never exposed anything she’d done with Winter’s Wrath to the press, even when they’d offered her some good money.
Their trust in her hadn’t been misplaced. And he remembered her, and others like her, every time he sang this song. Groupies were a special breed. Not opportunist like many believed. They loved the music, the lifestyle. The good ones had fed his muse over the years. When the guys were tired of him struggling with lyrics, the groupies were always ready to listen. Looking up at him with big eyes as though witnessing magic in the making.
They made him believe in the magic. That what he created with the band would last. The music was immortal.
As always, Danica came out during the chorus, wearing an outfit that had critics calling her a traitor to her gender. Women who dressed in shorts skirts and shirts that barely covered their breasts were shameless. Objectifying themselves.
Whenever she stepped on stage, Danica proved a woman could be powerful, no matter what she wore. She was sexy, had a presence none could ignore. And she gave all the haters a great big ‘Fuck you’ with a simple smile. She knew they were watching. And couldn’t stop her.
Brave didn’t watch Danica on stage anymore. Not like he used to. He was aware of her, shared the energy she pulled from the crowd, but his body didn’t react like she was temptation on heels.
Which was odd.
Sure, her being with his brother should have set those limits a long time ago, but he’d always indulged himself. Always took what he wanted without a thought to the consequences. Showing the woman the respect she’d earned meant facing what a total asshole he was.
Had been.
Still am.
He wasn’t ready to let himself off the hook. He still pulled some dick moves. But being able to see Danica strut around the stage and feel only admiration was cool. She was family. Would be his sister one day.
And she’d chosen a good man. Alder might be a little messed up, but he’d work things out. He had two people who loved him. Two Brave would have tried to steal away once just to see if he could.
His messed up way of showing he cared. If he could take them, they were no good for his brother. That Alder would have hated him had been icing on the cake.
Loving someone because they were blood was stupid. Brave had learned as much from Valor. A lesson he’d tried to teach Alder, without causing too much damage.
If Alder didn’t love Brave, Brave couldn’t hurt him.
But the stubborn fucker loved him anyway. More than Brave deserved.
Thank fucking god, because without Alder the band would have been torn apart when Brave tried to self-destruct.
Instead, they were here. A thousand eyes on them, unaware of how close Winter’s Wrath had come to being nothing but a memory. Just like LOST.
A steady hand settled on his shoulder and his voice became husky. He hadn’t seen Malakai move, but he sensed him there, at his back. There was a pause in the lyrics for Alder’s provocative solo. Danica had the crowd in the palm of her hand. His brother kept them moving with the sensual draw of the melody, notes mimicking a pulse picking up as lust took over.
Just like Brave’s was. He sucked in a breath as Malakai’s hand slick down his chest. An excited murmur flowed in an undercurrent from the crowd, but he hardly noticed them as Malakai latched onto the front of Brave’s jacket and twisted him around to face him.
This was an act. A diversion.
He had to remember that.
Guitar slung behind him, Malakai flashed an evil smile, tugging Brave’s jacket straps while grinding against his thigh. He brought his lips close to Brave’s ear, careful to keep clear of the mic.
“You look fucking terrified, Draven.” Malakai lightly bit his earlobe, letting out a rough laugh. “Relax.”
Relax? Is he fucking serious?
Malakai was always serious. And he was right. Brave had to be the slick player the fans knew or this little performance wouldn’t work. Which he could have done with almost anyone but Malakai. Malakai had been a friend when he’d been too fucked up to be one back. An enemy when Brave needed someone to challenge his every move.
And now he was… Fuck, when had the man learned to move like that? Brave stared into Malakai’s eyes, which always seemed to lack any color at all but black and white. But this close he could see a hint of blue, like the ocean at night when the water was almost completely still, but the slightest breeze revealed more. A quick glance and there was only darkness, but the faintest light bared the deep, rich shade.
Ever since he’d know Malakai, he’d been aware of only two sides to him. The calm and the rage. He’d learned to deal with each extreme, but what he saw now was something in between.
Something he hadn’t built up a defense for. Malakai completely in control was cold and level. His anger like being shoved into an artic pool, so icy it burned to the touch.
Right now he was a bonfire in the middle of a frozen tundra, drawing Brave close to the edge, but warning him not to get too close. Those flames were dangerous. Unpredictable.
Brave could become hypnotized, simply watching them, but he’d forgotten his place, his purpose, long enough. He wouldn’t be seeing this side of Malakai at all if Shiori didn’t need them to shift focus away from her. They had to give the vultures something else to circle.
He curved his hand around the back of Malakai’s neck, bringing their lips so close he could taste the other man’s breath on his lips. A hint of the beer he’d drank while teasing Brave. The mint underneath.
The song was almost over. Time to end this.
Flicking his tongue over Malakai’s bottom lip, Brave eased back enough to turn to the mic and whispered. “Slut.”
Unlike most of their shows, the crowd didn’t immediately cheer. Uncertainty rolled around them in the silence. Then it got loud.
Really fucking loud. Cat calls, some grumbling, but mostly the fans sharing a moment of intimacy they didn’t know how to absorb.
He couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t sure how to take it in himself. The second he released Malakai, the man returned to his place on stage, starting the next song with Alder, Connor, and Tate like nothing had happened.
Because nothing had happened. They’d done what they’d planned. Given the media something to talk about. An interesting story. A short clip of them touching, and dancing, and speaking softly. Tons to speculate about.
Not reality. Sure, it felt real to Brave, but he refused to let the moment sink in. Even though he wasn’t close to Malakai anymore, he understood how his mind worked. Shiori needed saving. He’d saved her, no matter the cost.
Even if it meant feigning interest in a man he hated.
The next song was Center Mass. Which had a political slant, but was mostly a pragmatic look at the military, at police. At
how, when threatened, their goal was to take down the enemy.
Both Danica and Shiori came out, thrusting their fists in the air. Danica had quickly changed into a tiny camo shirt and skirt, which was skin tight and provocative, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Shiori.
Her legs looked like they went on forever with the skirt of her dress hitting mid-thigh. There was a strength to her every move. She looked like she was wearing the uniform from Top Gun, only sexier. A one-piece dress with a zipper down the front, parted slightly between her pert breasts, with no bra in sight.
Holy fuck, she was hot. He forgot to breathe and had to fight not to suck in air until the next break. Her black hair was sleeked back, bound in a neat little bun, and the length of her bare neck made his mouth water. Which was weird, because necks weren’t usually his thing. He loved tits and ass. Hers were nice and round and he struggled not to stare, but he wanted to taste that smooth flesh. Graze his teeth along her throat and watch her shudder beneath him like she had when they’d played that stupid game.
A game he’d laughed at, but wasn’t so funny anymore. He’d gotten to savor her, to hold her close. Gotten that one night he’d promised would be enough.
He’d lied.
As the chorus began Shiori tipped her head back, pulling her hair free of the bun in a smooth motion. She whipped her hair forward, dropping to her knees and dipping back. Running one hand down the center of her chest she toyed with the zipper.
It didn’t move.
Brave let out a soft groan, which the rapid military beat Tate pounded out covered, but the sound in his own earpiece warned him he was too distracted from the song. If he fucked up now no one would care about Shiori’s performance. They’d be focused on him.
This was her moment to shine. To prove she belong up here, with the band. She reflected everything Danica had been showing for so long.
The very image behind every word he’d written. Every one he sang.
He wanted her closer. Repeating his own lyrics in his face. Giving them substance. But this wasn’t about him. As she leaped to her feet, clutching her chest as the drums mimicked gunshots, he could tell she was exactly where she belonged. Echoing the emotions of the fans. Making them feel like they were part of the music, like her dance mirrored all they wanted to say, without words.
She’d been told to earn her place, to make her presence known without him, or Danica, or anyone else holding her hand. Sure, she’d gotten some tips. She knew they had her back—or at least he hoped she did.
Her job was to entertain the crowd.
They were entertained.
A huge fucking win. One she’d accomplished on her own.
He’d lusted after a lot of women. And men. Even cared a little about some of them. Not enough to consider keeping them around, but he didn’t see them to the door before the sheets were cool. He liked them.
But he’d never respected them. And it hadn’t mattered, because the feeling was mutual.
Shiori was different, in so many ways. He spent more time thinking about her than he’d ever thought about anything or anyone. The only thing on his mind more than her was making music.
Not anymore. You’ve got writer’s block, dumbass.
True.
Still, he didn’t know what to do with how important she’d become. With how often he looked for her. How often she slipped into his thoughts. If he was just fucking horny he’d find a way to scratch the itch, but it wasn’t that simple.
He cared about her. Respected her. Wanted to cheer her on from the sidelines.
Tonight, he was damn proud of her.
And nothing mattered more at that moment than letting her know.
Chapter Fifteen
I did it!
Shiori tried to contain her excitement as she stripped off her borrowed dress, carefully hanging it in the trunk closet with all Danica’s costumes. Standing there in her bra and panties, she caught Danica grinning at her from the vanity where she was removing her dramatic eye makeup.
Screw it! Shiori squealed and did a little dance.
Danica laughed, tossing the makeup remover cloth aside as she rose, some black smeared around her eyes. But she was still so beautiful and her smile made Shiori feel all warm inside. Accepted.
“You were amazing out there!” The silk of Danica’s black robe was cool against Shiori’s bare skin as they hugged. “I was worried Center Mass might not give you enough to work with, but you owned it. I couldn’t even keep up!”
Biting her bottom lip, Shiori drew back to meet Danica’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to upstage you.”
“Take that back. If you performed that well without trying, I need to up my game.” Danica winked at her, then returned to the vanity to finish cleaning her face. “Every city we visit needs the best we have to offer. The band works hard to make sure they give their all, no matter how often they’ve sung the same songs. We have to do the same. Make sure all those people know they’re important to us. Our fans are everything.”
“I know, but I’m not trying to replace you.”
“Yes, you are.” Danica shook her head. “I was pissed that Sophie forced my hand, but I signed those contracts. Because my career hasn’t plateaued, even though I almost let it.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I wanted to feel like I was essential to the band. Being with them means I don’t have to leave Alder or Jesse. But…I began touring with them because I wanted a fresh platform. An image that wouldn’t be overlooked. I want my accomplishments to mean something, to show others they can do anything if they keep aiming higher.”
“You’ve done that.” Shiori approached Danica, not self-conscious standing around half naked while the other woman emotionally bared so much more. She put her hand on Danica’s shoulder. “You did that for me.”
Danica’s eyes teared. She blinked fast, putting her hand over Shiori’s. “Thank you. But I don’t think you needed much of a push to reach for your goals. You’re fierce. Sweet, but unstoppable.”
“I try.” Shiori ducked her head and shrugged. “I was terrified to get up there. I thought I’d trip over my own feet and make a fool of myself. What you’re doing is scarier. Your stage is the whole world.”
Lifting her chin, Danica nodded. “It is.”
“And Jesse and Alder will be fine. They’re tough.” Shiori smirked and wrapped her arms around Danica’s shoulders. “I’ll let you know if they cry themselves to sleep every night.”
Snorting in a very un-model-like fashion, Danica swiped one last time under her eyes, giving Shiori’s arms a squeeze before she stood. “If you can, record it. I’d like to see that.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You want to know they’ll be okay.”
“I really do.”
“They will be. They have a badass metal band to lean on. And you can call every night.” Shiori pulled her phone from her purse on the back of the vanity chair and checked the time. She usually called Hiro in the afternoon, but today had been crazy.
It was almost ten. He’d be sleeping now.
Her throat tightened.
“Shiori?” Danica rubbed her arms, bending down a little to catch her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Shiori sighed and put her phone back in her purse. “I didn’t call my nephew today. He’s only five and I’ve helped raise him. He was excited about me traveling with the band, but he always tells me about his day. When the fight and everything went down with Malakai…well, that’s when I normally call.”
“Is he with someone you trust? Someone who will keep him distracted?”
“Yes. My stepfather’s girlfriend. He loves her.” She smiled as she remembered who else would be with him. “My best friend, Wendy, was taking him out to a movie today.”
“Do you think she’ll still be up?” Danica patted her cheek when she nodded. “Then call her. She’ll tell you how much fun he had and you’ll feel better.”
Shiori wasn’t sure why it took a suggestion from Danica, but she grabbed her phone and quickly ca
lled Wendy. They didn’t talk every day because Wendy worked full time and took art courses at night, but she should have considered giving her a shout after Wendy’s text yesterday about taking him out.
The band’s schedule was hard to work around. She didn’t want to give them a bad impression by being on the phone while she was supposed to be learning their routines. But she’d find a way to keep in touch with the people she loved.
Wendy answered on the second ring. “Girl, I have been dying to hear from you! Are you alone? Do you have time to talk? Tell me everything!”
Snickering, Shiori thanked Danica softly when the other woman handed over her clothes, then took a deep breath. “I miss you! I’m with Danica.”
“Oh wow!” Wendy paused. “Please tell me she’s not a total bitch.”
“She’s awesome.” Shiori giggled when Danica arched a brow at her. Wendy was loud, Danica had probably heard her. “I’ve got to get ready for the afterparty, but I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“You know I’m fine. And to get to the real reason for your call, Hiro is right here, fast asleep.” Wendy lowered her voice as though she’d suddenly realized that the little boy was sleeping. “I think your stepmother needed a break. She was all excited when I suggested him staying with me tonight. He loved the movie. And he’s so good! I thought he’d talk through the whole thing, but he just sat there, eating way too much popcorn and candy, sniffling every time the dog died.”
“He’s too little for that movie!” Shiori couldn’t remember what the movie was called, but she had an idea what it was about. “Wendy, why didn’t you take him to see a cartoon?”
“Oh stop. He loved it.” Wendy snickered. “There were a lot of kids his age there. They were annoying as fuck.”
“Nice.”
“Hey, I suffered through it for our little guy,” Wendy said, fondly. “Seriously, he’s doing good. We watched a couple Winter’s Wrath videos and he pointed at Danica, telling me ‘That’s what auntie’s doing’. He’s happy for you. I think you’re his new hero. He said you’re cooler than Spiderman.”
Diminished (Winter's Wrath Book 2) Page 16
