Diminished (Winter's Wrath Book 2)

by Bianca Sommerland

He retreated, shutting the door behind him.

  Malakai handed Shiori a glass of clear, bubbling liquid. He grinned when she glanced up at him. “It’s white rum and diet sprite. One of Danica’s new favorites. I thought you might enjoy it.”

  “Thank you.” Shiori took a small sip, savoring the hint of spicy rum mixed with the subtly citrusy soda. “Mmm, Danica has good taste.”

  “That she does.” Malakai picked up the other glasses, both filled with dark soda, likely whiskey and Coke. He held one out to Brave. “Stop glaring at me. I won’t fight with you over this. You will give her space to decide what she wants from us.”

  How could he say ‘us’ so casually? Her brow creased as she took another sip, trying to maintain her composure. “This has to be the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Malakai smiled at her over the rim of his glass. “If it helps, the conversation is over. For now.” He sat on the sofa beside Shiori, reclining and resting his ankle on his knee. “Brave’s finally made some progress. Ask nicely and maybe he’ll sing for you.”

  She turned to Brave, Malakai’s calm putting her at ease. No decisions had to be made right this instant. And Brave had to focus on the music.

  Fluttering her eyelashes, she gave him her sweetest smile. “Please?”

  Rubbing his jaw, Brave met her eyes with a wry grin. “Damn, karma works fast. All right, little moon. I’ll give you an exclusive preview. Maybe you can help us figure out what’s missing.”

  He rose from the sofa, took a swig of his drink, then cleared his throat. His whole bearing shifted, as if the music had taken hold, bringing him somewhere just out of reach. The same way he looked on stage, surrounded by thousands under blinding lights.

  His voice held the same power as he sang.

  Another hit could kill me,

  Seeping in my veins,

  Warping me into the unknown.

  I still let you in.

  Feel your fangs slip deep,

  Give me some fucking more.

  Delicious poison is all I’ll ever need.

  A heart that could die for you,

  Grows lifeless and cold.

  Another offering to make you mine,

  Sweet venom in my blood,

  Smiling as you rip me apart,

  This is the death that they call love.

  Her pulse slowed, following the hypnotic rhythm, as though she couldn’t breathe unless he did. This song wasn’t like any she’d ever heard from the band. There was a movie she’d seen once with music of the same haunting quality. A chill skittered down her spine. She shivered as goosebumps spread over her arms.

  Brave’s voice affected her in a way she couldn’t understand. Whether deep and seductive, a luring whisper, or a gritty battle cry, he had a talent for trapping any who listened to him in the emotion he conveyed.

  This song held a twisted undercurrent of lust. Irresistible. Alluring. The chill evaporated as heat pooled in her core and she clenched her thighs as he finished the final verse.

  His wicked grin proved he knew exactly what he’d done to her. He took another sip of his drink and licked his lips. “Not bad?”

  “I don’t think your ego needs any more stroking.” Her cheeks flamed at his sultry look. Why had she used the word ‘stroke’? There was no way it could be innocent between them. She quickly changed the subject. “Different from your usual style, but I love it.” She tugged at her bottom lip, searching for the name of the movie it reminded her of. “Did you ever see that Anne Rice movie? With the vampire who plays the violin?”

  “Queen of the Damned?” Brave’s brow furrowed at her nod. “I haven’t seen that in a long time. It’s not too much like that music, is it?”

  “I know what she’s talking about. Korn does some of the songs I think, but we’ve got a different sound.” Malakai tilted his head to one side. “We might switch up fangs for syringe, though. The song has an interesting double meaning. Could be about addiction to love or drugs.”

  “Fangs are sexier.” Brave sat sideways on the sofa, facing both her and Malakai. “The rest can be implied without spelling it out.”

  Malakai’s lips thinned. “Or you’ll have people thinking it’s about a vampire.”

  Shiori bit back a smile as the two went back and forth, debating lyrics, whether Alder should sing the chorus, and lastly, whether they should do an acoustic version first. They weren’t exactly arguing, but their passion was contagious. She wished she could add something useful to the discussion, but she was happy just being here to witness art in the making.

  A much messier process than she’d ever imagined.

  Finally, Brave turned to her. “What do you think?”

  Her eyes widened. Of which topic? They’d been jumping from one to the other so fast she had whiplash. “Well…fangs are sexier than syringes. And there are always new vampire movies. Maybe they’ll use you for the soundtrack.”

  “That would be fucking cool.” Brave polished off his drink. “What do you say, Grimm? Shall we tempt producers with our sexy new song?”

  Shaking his head, Malakai laughed. “No objections here. But unless you’re doing it acapella, we need to get some notes down.”

  Brave gestured to Malakai’s guitar, resting against the sofa. “You’re up, stud. Show her what you’ve got.”

  Slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder, Malakai adjusted his guitar, strumming it once before glancing over at her. “This is the raw core of the melody, but it will give you a good idea of how it will sound with the pieces in place.”

  Knees drawn to her chest, she nodded. Her gaze followed his fingers moving over the strings as every note vibrated through her. Malakai’s expression was intense, but he handled the guitar effortlessly, as though it was part of him.

  Time breezed by as she listened to him, then both men together, go over the song again and again. The repetition never got boring. Every miniscule change, their explanations of how it made the song better, fascinated her.

  But being with them did something to her she hadn’t expected.

  Sex and relationships weren’t brought up again. They were all simply together, enjoying each other’s company like this was where they belonged. All that had been so scary before seemed easy. They weren’t being too reckless or too careful. This wasn’t an insane world where she didn’t fit in. She had her place.

  What they all wanted was within her reach.

  All she had to do was take it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Almost two full days on the bus and Malakai was torn between relief that they’d finally gotten to New York, and the strangest urge to tell Jesse to keep driving for another twenty hours. Or more.

  He usually got so tired of being around the band after a long drive he’d ghost the second the bus parked. Spending all his time with Shiori and Brave had been different.

  Testing his willpower, giving him blue balls, kinda of crazy-making, but so much more. He already missed claiming the back lounge for hours, watching Brave write lyrics while Shiori snuggled up next to him. Or cleaning his guitar while Shiori read one of the books Brave had gotten her into—they both enjoyed high fantasy, how about that?

  Shiori’s head on Brave’s lap, Brave stroking her hair between turning the pages of his own book…

  Watching them brought a sense of longing and tenderness and protectiveness Malakai had never felt all at once. More and more he craved what seemed so natural. The three of them fit perfectly.

  Shiori had been right to point out that this wasn’t how relationships usually worked, but they weren’t in a usual situation. Besides, they didn’t have to look far to see how three people could share a stronger love than most couples ever knew.

  Alder, Danica, and Jesse faced challenges, but they’d found a balance. They weren’t exactly hiding, and yet, they managed to keep their relationship from becoming a focus of the media.

  Not that difficult, actually. Malakai knew famous singers whose fans tho
ught they were single, even though the guy had two kids and a wife of ten years, or the chick was engaged to her manager. Sure, when shit hit the fan the tabloids dug up every bit of dirt they could find, but the spotlight didn’t own their entire lives.

  On the bus, exposure was limited. Shiori had relaxed, taking silly selfies with him and Brave—and the other members of the band—and opening up about her hopes and dreams. She’d started with a sort of hero-worship for Danica, wanting to follow in her footsteps, but recently started talking about her role in the band in a different way. She had ideas for music videos that were really cool, and showed them pictures on DeviantArt that would make for wicked album covers. She laughed every time she made a suggestion, like she had no faith in her abilities, but her confidence was growing.

  The point was, she was invested in the band’s success. She wanted to continue working with them, in any way she could be useful. Even if he wasn’t falling for her, he’d have been excited to see what she had to offer.

  Still sitting in the back lounge, Malakai sighed as he picked up his guitar and carefully laid it in the black velvet lined case. Accepting his feelings for her made the trip ending even harder. He hated uncertainty. Couldn’t stand losing control over the next step he’d have to make.

  But back in the real world, he couldn’t keep Shiori close. Even Brave had realized no matter how sweet and seductive he was, she had to decide if being with them was worth the risk.

  Because, like it or not, there was a risk. One they didn’t have to face.

  The door to the back lounge opened. Jesse slipped in, a knowing smile on his lips.

  “Figured I’d find you in here.” Jesse folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame. “Everyone’s heading to the hotel. We’ll be here for a few days—we’re doing three shows in the area—so rooms are covered. Reese haggled for a nicer hotel, but we only have four rooms.”

  Malakai frowned, doing the math. “You’re obviously staying with Alder and Danica.”

  “Yes. And I stuck Tate with Connor. Which should be fun.” Jesse’s lips quirked. “I put you and Brave together. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I don’t.” Malakai’s frown deepened. “So Shiori’s alone?”

  “Officially, she’s sharing with Danica, but it’s in her contract that she never has to share a room at all. Reese was grumbling this morning about Sophie demanding a separate room for both Shiori and Danica, and how ‘the woman’ knows Danica doesn’t need one.” Jesse smirked. “The details are boring, but the suites Reese is putting us in? Fucking awesome. Two executive suites. You guys have junior ones, but they’re still nice.”

  “Better than the bus.” He didn’t really mean that. Leaning against the side of Shiori’s bunk, speaking softly to her as she fell asleep, was worth crawling into a rectangular box and sleeping on a thin mattress.

  Fine, they’d be on the road again at the end of the week, but it was going to be a very long fucking week.

  “Mmhmm.” Jesse smirked, looking him over. “And I thought you’d be happy, having Brave to yourself.”

  Malakai chuckled darkly. “Sure. Keeping him trapped in our room will be the highlight of my life.”

  “True. And I don’t envy you.” Jesse shrugged and pushed away from the doorframe. “But you might not have to. Either way, time to pack your shit and get in the van.”

  Within ten minutes, Malakai was hauling his guitar and luggage off the bus and into the van. The roadies had already taken off, staying in a nearby motel. The band made sure they were comfortable, and got some time to wind down. Not all bands could afford to get their roadies rooms, but over the years Winter’s Wrath had worked it into the budget.

  Skull and Ballz would stay on the bus, but that was their choice. Ever since Brave had bought the new one, they spent all their free time doing maintenance. With Skull he kinda got it. The man made Malakai’s protective urges seem negligent. He wanted the bus running perfectly. Needed to control who came close to the vehicle where the band spent most of their time.

  Ballz was still an unknown. Shrink and bodyguard by day, mechanic when he could be doing other shit?

  As if Malakai’s thoughts had called him, Ballz approached before he could climb into the backseat of the van.

  “How’s that homework I gave you going?”

  Malakai cringed. He wouldn’t lie. He hadn’t followed through enough to get passing grades. “My brother is dead. I’m having a hard time finding anything I did making a damn difference.”

  Inclining his head, Ballz smiled. “Good.”

  “Good?” Malakai blinked and shook his head. “How the fuck is that ‘good’?”

  “You haven’t spent as much time going over what happened as I’d like, but your response tells me it’s been on your mind. Even subconsciously is progress.” Ballz’s shoulders lifted dismissively. “Nothing I say will bring him back. But how you perceive your relationship, your guilt, might change.”

  The man was too smart for his own good. And for Malakai’s peace of mind. He sighed and leaned against the van. “The guilt is what’s fucking with me.”

  Ballz’s lips quirked. “Like I said. Progress.”

  Those words stuck with Malakai long after he squeezed into the backseat beside Tate, trying to give the kid his full attention while the drummer bounced in place, shifting from topic to topic so fast Malakai couldn’t keep up. Tate didn’t do well on long road trips. He got twitchy and needed to be set loose ASAP. Which always freaked Malakai out.

  Best case scenario, Tate would find a hot older woman to entertain. Sometimes he found a good one who rocked his world and didn’t leave him feeling used. Not that Tate would ever admit he felt like a piece of meat. He just got moody and went on the prowl for the next hookup. Like each new one could erase the last.

  In a way, Tate had stepped into the shoes of Malakai’s brother, but watching over him was a form of torture. He couldn’t stop Tate from getting hurt. He could only be there to put the pieces back together.

  But there were pieces left to put together. And in the end, that was all Malakai could ask for.

  The van pulled into the underground parking of the hotel and everyone got out. Except Brave and Alder. Brave latched onto Malakai’s arm, going still when Alder sat there, watching them.

  Brave cleared his throat. “I didn’t hear everything you said to Ballz, but I caught a bit. About your brother.”

  Jaw clenched, Malakai looked down at Brave’s hand. They were intimate enough the restraint shouldn’t bother him, but with this subject on the table? He needed the option to leave.

  Air came a little easier when Brave released him. Malakai folded his arms over his chest. “What of it?”

  Brave sat back and sighed. “When shit got really bad, I brought up your brother. Said you could have mine. That was fucking low.”

  “I never told you my brother was dead.”

  “You didn’t have to. I knew he’d been on drugs. That something bad happened. Knew enough to get why you’re so protective of Tate.” Brave lowered his gaze, pressing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Malakai caught Alder’s eye, returning his slight nod. There was a reason Alder had stuck around. He needed to hear this. “Just do better.”

  He climbed out of the van, grabbing his guitar and suitcase, trying to get out of there fast so the brothers could talk.

  But he couldn’t avoid hearing Alder’s heavy sigh. Or the way his voice broke when he finally spoke up.

  “Brave, I-I need to tell you something.” Alder sounded on the edge of falling apart. Like he needed his brother, but wasn’t sure he should. “Can we leave our stuff here and take a walk?”

  The urge to stay sliced through Malakai with every step he took away from the van, but he forced himself to keep moving. Alder wasn’t his brother, any more than Tate was. He couldn’t fix the mistakes he’d made by hovering over the two youngest band members. Being protective was one thing, but he couldn�
��t attack anyone who upset them. Who hurt them.

  Especially not Brave.

  The man was trying to be there for his brother. He wasn’t perfect, but he had the chance to ‘do better’. Which was the only advice Malakai could give him.

  He wanted to keep Brave from fucking up. From damaging the bond he’d finally built with Alder. He wanted to show him how to earn his brother’s trust. And keep it.

  Because once he lost it, he might not get another chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  New York had a pulse unlike anywhere Alder had ever been. Those who lived there carried the rapid beat, always having somewhere they needed to be right that second. One glance and the tourists stuck out, off from the allegretto pace, wide-eyed and out of rhythm. He’d heard it took years to come off as a ‘real’ New Yorker.

  Alder loved the city, and he’d been here often enough to walk down a street without getting dirty looks for slowing people down, but he still didn’t fit in.

  Which was becoming the norm for him. Some days he didn’t feel like he fit in his own skin. But being here gave him a good distraction from the quicksand of memories inside his skull.

  Brave, being the new Brave, walked by his side silently. Once he would have filled the silence with cutting remarks if he’d agreed to come at all. When they’d started mending their relationship, he’d done a complete 180, always careful, always asking how Alder was. What could he do for him? Was there anything he needed—anything at all?

  Neither the man Brave had been, nor the one he’d tried to become, were his brother. Alder hadn’t known how to be around that man.

  But this guy right here? This one he could live with. He joked around with Alder like he wasn’t fucking fragile. The rare times things got serious, he really listened. He didn’t show concern out of misplaced guilt. He actually cared.

  Turning a corner off the main street with the thinning crowds, Alder slowed. He shoved his hands in the pockets of the thick, black wool jacket all the guys—except Brave—teased him about. Hell, he’d gotten it free after doing a Kenneth Cole ad. And it was fucking sharp.