Lilac

by Reid, B. B.

  With my arm up, I shielded my face as best I could from the strong gust the blades stirred. I guess they couldn’t be bothered to cut the goddamn engine. Maybe they weren’t staying.

  As if hearing my thoughts and purposely crushing my hopes, the engine died, and the blades slowed. One of the doors had barely opened before someone started screaming. There were no words of warning—just a long, piercing shrill.

  And then…pandemonium.

  The backstage crew, volunteers, groupies, and musicians blocked my view as they dropped what they were doing to rush for whatever had caused them all to lose their minds. Different smells and tastes assaulted me all at once until I was close to gagging. Whoever had stepped from that helicopter, I’d only managed to glimpse blond hair gelled to perfection. I didn’t even know if they were alone.

  The screams, shouts, and stampeding feet baffled me. There was no one on the lineup who could have sparked such an explosive reaction.

  I turned since I was still lingering by the gate, hoping to get answers from the guards, only to see they were occupied with keeping twenty thousand people on the other side of those gates. Word had managed to spread without ever reaching my ears. I wasn’t convinced ten guards could control a hysteric crowd that large. Even now, there were more barreling through to help them.

  Holy shit.

  I was standing in the middle of chaos and the only one without a goddamn clue. I was Mark Wahlberg in The Happening. Everyone around me had lost their minds, running toward danger instead of away from it.

  Not willing to be left that way, I moved toward the short metal stairs leading to the stage and climbed until I reached the top.

  It didn’t help.

  A moment later, I didn’t need it to.

  The screams heightened just before the last of the maniacs who were backstage were shoved aside by the hulking security guards, and then…

  My living nightmare walked through.

  A smorgasbord of smells and tastes fought for dominance as my emotions unleashed themselves. My stomach clenched tight. I felt like I would never breathe again.

  So I watched them instead.

  They moved as one in perfect symmetry.

  Houston Morrow was at the helm. Loren James was a step behind and flanking his left. The final piece, Jericho Noble, walked in perfect line with Loren on Houston’s right. Together, they formed a pyramid.

  Towering, impenetrable, and utterly beautiful.

  I wondered if they’d rehearsed it and for how long.

  Houston’s gorgeous brown hair was free to be caressed by the wind. He wore a T-shirt that read Not Someone Who Cares, distressed blue jeans, and a matching denim jacket.

  Loren looked succulent in his red dress shirt, which, as usual, was splayed open despite it being winter. Seriously, how had he never caught pneumonia? With each step Loren took, I could see his hard nipples peeking through the edges of his shirt and the silver medallion gleaming against his skin.

  Jericho, swaddled in a navy blue hoodie and toying with his lip ring as his dark hair pressed against his forehead and brushed his ears, brought back all the teenage angst that made my stomach ache and my toes curl.

  When I felt my feet itching to carry me forward, I wrapped my hands around the cold metal of the railing as if it were a life raft in the middle of the sea. I didn’t have much, but I still had my dignity, thank you. I wouldn’t run to them as everyone else had.

  Spotting me at once and seemingly hearing my thoughts, the guys stopped only a foot away from the stairs. I could see the command in their eyes for me to come to them. Loren wore his perpetual smirk while Jericho eyed me warily, and Houston scowled.

  What the hell were they doing here?

  “Pretty fucking rude of you not to invite us to your show,” Loren accused.

  The first chance I got, I’d find out why he always insisted on being the first to speak. Was it to fool everyone into thinking that he was the one in charge? My gaze drifted to Houston, the silent but undisputed alpha of the pack—oh, how it must have twisted Loren’s knickers. I filed that away for later, though I was sure Oni would disapprove. My mission was to salvage, not sabotage.

  So much for my actual mission. With each encounter, I began to wonder if succeeding was worth putting up with their crap.

  Of course, it is, Fawn. Keep it together.

  Houston, Loren, and Jericho were obstacles, and while they might seem impenetrable, I wouldn’t let them get in my way. Crossing my arms, I went for indifference. It was quickly becoming a familiar ruse.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?”

  The only questions were how and why. The only person who could have tipped them off was—

  Oni.

  Through vigorous effort, I moved my gaze away from the stunning trio and searched the eager crowd behind them. The festival’s security helped the ones Bound came with to keep them at bay, but it didn’t seem like it would be enough.

  Where is she?

  “Sridhar isn’t here,” Jericho informed me.

  I couldn’t tell if it was out of kindness or cruelty. It didn’t matter when I realized they were his first words to me and how easily I lost myself in his attention. The finest silver had nothing on the pureness and beauty of Jericho Noble’s gaze. But that wasn’t what called to me.

  It was the sadness.

  I willingly submerged myself.

  Just when I thought I might never find my way back to the surface, the commanding drawl of Houston’s voice yanked me out. It was no wonder he could captivate a crowd.

  “It’s not like Sridhar could help you if she were,” Morrow taunted in the blandest tone he could muster.

  With one threat, he’d reminded me that they, for now—or always—were my enemy. Getting lost in their beautiful gazes was unequivocally out of the question.

  “Bold of you to assume I’d need it,” I heard myself say. “It’s three against me, Moe, Curly, and Larry.”

  I delighted in the subtle shift of their eyes and the quiet agony over which Stooge I’d associated them with. They wouldn’t let themselves ask, and I wouldn’t enlighten them. Instead, I let them decide and hoped it destroyed them.

  “And when we get you alone?” Houston challenged. He started up the stairs, and I backed up a step before catching myself and staying put.

  They could crowd my space, but it would still belong to me. They could make my belly ache with want, but I’d still hold all the power.

  Their control was a fallacy.

  An image of them surrounding me, clothes discarded, and souls bared, invaded my thoughts in vivid fucking clarity—a warning of what would happen if they ever let go.

  Waiting for the taste of cherries to dissipate, I glanced at the crowd again, wondering how much they could hear. They hadn’t grown bored or lost their determination to reach the rock gods yet. Some women had resorted to lifting their shirts and baring their tits in the hope of capturing Bound’s attention. If the guys noticed, they didn’t let on.

  They were used to it.

  I didn’t linger on how much that annoyed me.

  “I’m curious,” I pondered out loud. “How did you plan on getting me alone when you’ve been running scared of little ole me for two weeks?”

  Before they could respond, the band I was supposed to replace on stage at that very moment pushed through the curtains.

  Shit.

  I looked around but didn’t see Liam, Mason, or Abe. I just hoped they were busy plugging in for the show and not one of the eager ones behind Bound straining to reach them. Our only saving grace was that the festival supplied a surprisingly good backline, so we didn’t have a ton of equipment we needed to prep for stage. The rolling riser we’d rented for Mason to set up his drums beforehand was a godsend.

  No one else seemed to notice that the festival had come to a halt. I didn’t doubt that every breath held out there was for Bound. No doubt, I’d be booed off stage simply for not being their idols.

  Crazed Nuts
—what a name choice—stood with their mouths agape and eyes wide as they realized who stood ten feet away from them. Once their shock cleared, they inched closer, eager for a chance to mingle with legends. The amateur band didn’t make it two steps before more security appeared from thin air and carted them toward the stairs, stage right. It was only then that it occurred to me—no one had bothered to shoo me away. It’s not as if the world knew that I was Bound’s newest addition, so why—

  My lips formed a curse since there was only one other explanation.

  Everyone thought I was their goddamn groupie.

  My gaze returned to Bound. The matching feral grins the trio wore told me they’d read my mind and came to the same conclusion.

  “Fuck you,” I blurted unapologetically.

  “You might as well,” Loren retorted with a shrug and a snort. “Everyone already thinks you are. Congratulations, groupie. Now you’re a part of the band.”

  My lids lowered until my eyes formed slits. “I’m going to offer you the same advice you gave me two weeks ago. Get out of my sight and get lost.”

  Jericho spoke first, and Loren followed up.

  “No can do.”

  “We came to enjoy the show.”

  Fuck.

  My stomach twisted, wringing free my tumultuous emotions. Bound watching me perform was even more nerve-wracking than twenty thousand pairs of eyes. I didn’t stand a chance. Not when the alternative was them.

  A light bulb went off before I could finish losing my shit.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” I announced with a confidence I didn’t feel. “Why don’t you go in my place? They’re all expecting you anyway, o’ great ones.”

  I mocked them with a curtsy.

  When I tried to push past the wall they’d formed with their bodies, Houston caught my wrist. The warmth of his skin and the strength behind his grip was not something I’d been prepared to face. He could easily break me in two with half the effort. Our height difference, even in my heels, was daunting enough. Loren matched his height, with Jericho standing a couple of inches shorter. All three dwarfed me, but that didn’t give them permission to make me feel small.

  “All that lip and you have the nerve to run and hide?” Houston spat.

  “No pun intended,” Loren added through a fake cough. I blinked in surprise before catching myself. Yes, I had full lips, but I didn’t think they’d noticed. Why would I, considering how they treated me.

  “I’m walking away from a situation that doesn’t interest me,” I corrected Houston. “If you’ll excuse me.” I tried to free my hand, but he tightened his hold. “Let go of me.”

  “Or what?”

  I’d never forgive myself if I let Houston know he was getting to me, so I steeled my spine and dug in my feet. “Do you really want your adoring fans seeing you get kicked in the balls? It’s not a pretty sight on anyone.”

  “Do you really think you’d make it through them if you tried?”

  No.

  Dammit, he was right. I wouldn’t.

  Some of the women looked ready to kill me just for allowing Houston to touch me. Some looked willing to lay on train tracks if he told them to. Only a few seemed envious but not entirely threatening.

  “You go, girl!” someone shouted, proving my theory. More shouting followed, each more alarming than the last.

  “Jericho, I love you!”

  “Can I please suck your dick, Houston?”

  “I’m having your baby, Loren. Call me!”

  My gaze darted to Loren, who didn’t even blink. I guess having babies pinned on him wasn’t anything new. I snorted, surprised I could find anything about this situation humorous.

  Ignoring the shouting, Houston held me tighter. “Get your ass on stage and play for me.”

  “So that’s why you’re here? To assert your dominance and put me in my place?”

  His lips curled as he leaned forward and something akin to a growl sent a shiver down my spine. “Don’t test me, Fawn. I’m much better at inserting my dominance.” He finally let me go, blatantly confident in the knowledge that I wasn’t going anywhere. I was too busy picturing him making good on his threat.

  He didn’t seem to notice as his gaze moved over my shoulder toward the curtain dividing a crowd of thousands and us before finding mine again. “You’re out of time. Stop stalling and show us what you’re made of.”

  “You aren’t ready for what I’m made of, Houston.” Liking the sound of his name on my lips a little too much, I let my attention wander to his cronies, standing closely behind him. “None of you are.”

  Jericho yawned, his gaze staying blank. Loren blew a large, blue bubble of the gum he was chewing in response. Houston’s only reaction was to stare down at me in silent contemplation. There was reluctant curiosity there—the insatiable need to test those waters and submerge himself within my depths.

  Why did that sound so deliciously debauched? I hadn’t meant it to sound that way.

  “If I do this, will you cut the macho bullshit and be professional?”

  Before he could answer, Loren spoke, his voice an ingratiating mumble, “We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

  Jericho snickered, and I realized with the daunting awareness of someone up shit creek without a paddle that I’d attached myself to silly boys parading as grown men.

  Ignoring the consequences, I centered myself between them. They didn’t miss a beat, surrounding me as if we’d done this before and many times.

  My most remarkable feat, while breathing the same air, was pretending the sensation of them pressing in close didn’t smell sweet and spicy like freshly-ground cinnamon. While I’ve been excited before, the feeling had never been quite this sharp. I couldn’t see anyone or anything but them. Even though they kept me on edge, I felt safer within the circle they created than I did out there. It felt like no one could touch me.

  Only them.

  “Come now, Loren. We both know I was talking to Houston.” I turned to face him, putting Houston and the wall of heat and menace he created behind me while Jericho stood just within my peripheral. I could feel that torturously beautiful gaze of his roving over every inch of me while he thought I was distracted. “He is the one calling the shots, right?”

  The sweet smile I gave Loren made his eyes flash with something dark and unreadable. Whatever it was, I secretly wanted in.

  “For now,” he admitted readily, blowing another bubble of his gum.

  My smile became genuine, hearing the warning growl from Houston behind me. I’d ventured into dangerous waters, and I was only getting started. Loren had blatantly challenged his authority, and Houston was ready to accept. The thrill of what they might do to one another tiptoed down my spine.

  Without thinking, I reached up and stabbed the bubble protruding between Loren’s sinful lips. The gum popped and deflated, leaving a sticky, blue mess. Those pools of ink he called eyes widened in shock even as the irises gleamed with retribution.

  The last thing I expected was for him to press forward, place his nose against my hair and inhale. He was smelling me and didn’t care if I noticed. I found myself doing the same, breathing in the mint on his breath and bergamot in his expensive cologne.

  Fuck me.

  “When you least expect it, baby fawn, you’re going to hurt for that.”

  Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

  I forced myself to step away before crossing my arms. I may have a great poker face, but the rest of me was a different story. Loren’s punishment, coming sooner than later, smelled like cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven. I sensed the thrill stirring in other places too. Apparently, I was a masochist, among other secret things.

  “Do you understand what a tautology is?” I waited for his answer, and he didn’t disappoint.

  “As unquestionably as your nipples are hard right now.”

  Fuck.

  I dropped my arms, but to his credit and my relief, Loren’s gaze didn’t stray from my face to co
nfirm.

  He knew.

  “It’s the middle of winter,” I found myself explaining.

  “Oh, is it?”

  A moment later, I heard the beginnings of a chant. With each second, the voices grew louder, the crowd’s demand clear.

  Bound.

  The crowd expected Houston, Loren, and Jericho to take the stage next, and they knew it. They were sending me to the slaughter. I wasn’t who the people wanted to set their souls on fire. It was three assholes entitled to nothing but given everything.

  I met each of their gazes—green, silver, and opaque.

  I wasn’t the only one hiding.

  If Bound expected me to beg for mercy, they were in for a rude awakening well overdue. Without another word, I turned on my heel and pushed through Jericho and Houston. I felt three pairs of eyes on me and squared my shoulders as I headed for the curtains. I should have been relieved to see Liam, Mason, and Abe waiting for me, but the questions in their eyes told me I had a long night ahead of me.

  “One of the crew said that Bound was here,” Mason spoke first. “He was shitting me, right?”

  “Afraid not.” Their frowns deepened at the apparent fact that I was unhappy about it. “I’ll explain later.”

  Gazing at the black curtain and now knowing Bound was on the other side, the guys were too star-struck to do more than nod. Liam eventually handed over my second-hand blue and white Fender Strat, tuned and ready to go.

  Why couldn’t they have something to prove? Why couldn’t they lie and claim they hated Bound’s music? At least then, I wouldn’t be subjected to the fanboying I knew would come later.

  I let the guys enter the stage ahead of me and cringed when they rounded the massive LED screen and were immediately greeted with a chorus of boos louder than anyone had been subjected to thus far.

  Great. Just…great.

  Gripping my guitar, I pushed through the curtain without a second thought. This was the hand dealt me, so I’d just have to bluff my way through. If I allowed myself to stop and think…my heart skipped a beat before falling and crashing into the pit of my stomach. No, I couldn’t allow that.