Reflex

by Madelynne Ellis

  What she felt for Spook went way beyond the level of infatuation.

  “Maybe I can work some Ronnie magic and score you a hook-up.”

  “If that’s not a reason not to spill, I don’t know what is.” She had to strain upwards and yell, for there were excited voices all around them. Ronnie tended to be very forthright—surprise tickets excepted—he’d probably march up to Spook and tell him from a distance of two inches that she wanted to snog him senseless and have his babies. “Who’s the support act?”

  Ronnie shook his head. “There isn’t one. Tonight, it’s just them, up close and personal. Come on, tell your uncle Ronnie who it is you’re wetting yourself to see? You know I need all the inside information.”

  “Uncle,” she blustered. “You’re what, five years younger than me? And my knickers aren’t damp, thank you very much.”

  Lies. They totally were. For Spook. Always.

  Only, there were so many what ifs about all of this. It would kill her if he wasn’t every bit as ecstatic to see her as she was to see him.

  A wise woman would mentally prep herself for that possibility. After all, she had no idea what had happened last night, or what Spook’s continued silence meant, or if their almost-not-quite relationship had a hope in hell’s chance of becoming something more.

  “They’re a top rock band, everyone in this room can name the member they’d most like to go down on, so spill, missus.”

  “You spill,” she challenged. “If everyone in the room fancies at least one of them, then name your number one.”

  “Xane,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. “I reckon he’d be up for some wild fun. Not that I’ve any desire to bend over for him.”

  “That’s cause you’re mister super mega straight.”

  Ronnie gave her an intriguingly hard stare. God, that mouth of his, those smiles, they were obnoxiously infectious. “Hovering at sixty-six per cent, I think. And probably aromantic. But I’m always up for a good time, and you never know where the flow might take you. Now, you?”

  The lights dimmed, saving her, except for the streamers of fairy lights strung around the windows. The sun was sliding out of view outside. A single spotlight illuminated the centre of the stage. Xane Geist purred his opening vocals into the mic, and the atmosphere in the room exploded. She and Ronnie barely exchanged a word for the rest of the set, though they both sang along to every word.

  “You do know he’s a monk, don’t cha?” Ronnie hollered into her ringing ears when the lights finally rose at the end of the gig.

  “Who is?”

  “Spook Mortensen. That’s who your mega-crush is on.”

  How the hell he’d worked that out she’d never know. Alle was on the cusp of denying it when Ronnie seized hold of her hand and tugged. “Let’s go and say ‘Hi’ to him then, shall we?” It wasn’t really a question. He was already leading the way.

  -14-

  Ronnie Bush had a gift. That’s the only explanation Alle had for how easily they strolled into the backstage area. Sure, they had VIP passes, but the guy guarding the route barely passed an eye over them before he’d opened the door and waved them through like he’d been anticipating their arrival. She attributed it to Ronnie’s presence. He seemed like he ought to be here.

  “End door down there.”

  “It always surprises me how much bustle and noise there is backstage,” Ronnie remarked. He was strolling along a step or two in front of her in his long-legged, rolling way that tonight contained just a hint of a swagger. He fit right into this curious, largely unseen, backstage world as if he’d been born to be here, just as he’d been so obviously born to shine on a stage.

  They happened upon Ash Gore first, along with a woman Alle took to be his fiancée, Ginny. Spook had told her heaps about them, so it was odd to exchange polite introductory hand-shakes. Ronnie dived into an animated discussion about Ash’s new instrument and the best type of pick-ups, which gave Alle the opportunity to glide away. She couldn’t see Spook at first, despite raking her gaze over every inch of the crowded room. When she finally spotted a blond, she went loping towards the figure, only to realise she was stalking Black Halo’s drummer, fellow Swede, Luthor Albrecht. Where was he? Where was Spook?

  Xane wasn’t present either, she realised after another minute or so of frantic searching. Did that mean they were somewhere else together? It probably did. They were off doing whatever it was that rock stars did backstage, post-performance. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what that was. Spook had never said a whole lot about it, other than his life involved a whole lot of sitting around and endless travelling. She also knew that, despite the popular myth, touring wasn’t all drinks, parties, and shagging groupies. It was a damned hard slog, and this was the last show after months on the road. They were probably all exhausted.

  “Excuse me, do you know where Spook is?” she eventually asked a petite, dark-haired woman wearing enormous shades.

  “About somewhere,” she replied politely, while flashing a nervous grin. “I think he and Xane were having a private word. They’ll be along in a moment, I’m sure.”

  Hopefully, he’d arrive before Ronnie noticed she’d wandered off and came to find her.

  A ripple went through the room only a minute or two later. It was hard to pinpoint the exact sensation. The buzz of voices never quietened, but there was an extra electrifying zing to the air, which could surely only be sparked by Xane’s arrival. Sure enough, when she turned her head, there he was, striding across the room, black hair fanned around his shoulders, and a pair of shades perched across his nose despite the dim lighting. Spook trailed in his wake, about a foot to Xane’s rear. It certainly didn’t look as if whatever they’d been talking about had been particularly joyous. Xane’s easy mouth was set in a humourless line, and Spook, her beloved Spook… Alle’s heart near stopped as she properly took in his appearance. On stage, the shadows and the lighting had hidden what was impossible not to notice at closer quarters. Someone had done a serious number on him. There was a thick cut in his lip, and dark angry black-and-purple mottling around his eye. The sight of the lid, partially swollen, made her want to weep. Another scrape ran across his eyebrow, and dark blotches ringed his throat too.

  Xane Geist was a goddamned liar. Everything was not all right. It was very clearly not all right. Her man looked like he’d gone a dozen rounds with a boxer. She started pushing towards him.

  “Spook,” she called out.

  If she thought he looked dreadful already, then it was nothing compared to the devastation writ into the lines of his face when his gaze landed on her. He froze like a rabbit in the headlights of a ten ton truck on course to flatten it.

  “No,” he mouthed.

  With that single syllable, he stabbed her right through the heart.

  “No,” he said again, this time turning away. He began walking quickly towards the door through which he’d just arrived.

  No? What did that mean? She wasn’t letting him stalk off without an explanation.

  “Spook.” She passed through the door, following him into the harsh lighting of yet another corridor. He stopped several yards on. Even though he had his back to her, she knew he had his hand raised to his head, like he had a migraine brewing.

  “Spook,” she said again, pausing a few yards away from him. Slowly, he turned around.

  His troll’s cross was missing, she noticed immediately, her hand automatically flying to the one he’d given to her, and which she always wore. “My God, what happened?”

  He didn’t react, just stood there staring at her, while the colour drained from his skin leaving him deathly white. That in turn, made the bruising seem so much more livid. Yet, despite that, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever known. So beautiful her body automatically reacted to him. She felt a pulse deep in her pussy, and tensed her muscles. For nine months she’d had to rely on press pictures and memories. Now, he stood before her clearly hurting, and all she wanted to do was swaddle him
in an embrace and promise to chase the monsters away.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Alle closed the gap between them. “I came to see the show—”

  “You never said—”

  “It was last minute. After last night, I wanted to reassure myself that you really were okay. Xane’s text wasn’t entirely convincing, which I can see is because you’re not.” She raised her hand to his face, but he flinched away from her touch. Pain, raw and desperate, lanced through his eyes. Alle lowered her hand. “Christ! What the hell happened? That mob of fans did this? What were they, deranged? I’m so sorry I put you in that position.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I distracted you. Fuck, I never imagined…” She bit her lip.

  Spook dragged a hand through the front of his hair. “Alle, it wasn’t the mob. And it wasn’t your fault. So don’t blame yourself.”

  “What, then?” If the mob weren’t culpable, then who was? “Did you get into a fight?” she asked sceptically, recalling the news article Ronnie had shown her. Even standing looking at him covered in bruises, she had trouble believing in that reality. “There were rumours about an altercation, and social media’s in overdrive, as usual.”

  Spook set his nails to the side of his head and scratched. Slowly, he shook his head. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  Yes, but she needed to. She wanted to know every last detail of what had left him in this state. The hell she’d gone through last night fearing the worst. She was all ready to interrogate the shit out of him. The first in a long series of questions sat ready on her tongue, but the strain in every line of his face convinced her to curb her impulses. Whatever had happened had obviously left him mentally as well as physically bruised.

  “Okay,” she squeezed his hand. “I won’t prod. I’ll be thankful you’re relatively okay.” He was, otherwise, he wouldn’t have played the gig, right?

  The remark prompted a dry laugh, lacking in humour that gave way to a twitchy, uneasy silence, wherein he refused to make eye contact. Instead, he stared at their interlocked fingers as if he wasn’t sure he was enjoying the connection. After a moment or two, he pulled his hand away.

  “Alle, I… God, I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.” He began backing away again.

  “Spook?” She caught hold of his arm and felt the flesh jump. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

  “You. Me… I can’t.”

  “You can’t? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. No. Of course not.” He reached out to her but stopped short of actually touching her. His features crumpled into agony. “Every time you’re near, it just makes it so fucking difficult. I really… I don’t know if I can do this right now.” His thumb finally touched her cheek, while his fingers curled against the underside of her jaw. “Ah, look at you. You’re so goddamn perfect. Walking fucking temptation. It makes me want to…”

  “To what?”

  His thumb brushed her lips, then began making shallow back and forth strokes along her cheekbone. His thoughts were not so incomprehensible in that moment. They were surely a mirror of hers. Same scenario, just a different angle.

  “You know I want everything you do.”

  “Do you?” he responded trance-like. “If only I believed that were true.”

  “Let me convince you.”

  His index finger caressed her lips again. This time when she sighed, he pushed the digit into her mouth. Alle flicked her tongue against the intrusion, then more firmly massaged the calloused pad.

  Spook fed her another finger, the blue of his eyes darkening with each suck.

  God, yes. She wanted more. Wanted to melt into him. Have him press her up against the wall and chase off all her anxieties with a few well positioned smacks. Her body was already warming, softening, opening at the prospect. Whatever he needed, she’d give him.

  The months they’d spent apart had surely been torture for them both. They could end that right here and now. Make good on the promises they’d made to one another by fucking every which way possible.

  Three fingers now, which he was pushing deeper with each stroke, like he was testing her resilience before he fed her something larger.

  Her hands found purchase against his chest, and then drifted downwards towards his fly. The moment she traced the line of his cock through his jeans, he jammed her hard against the wall. “Alle,” he groaned, before his mouth possessed her, and his fingers curled into the flesh of her arse.

  Hell yes! With her whole body, hell yes.

  His hips ground hard against her own, as he held her fixed exactly where he needed to feel her.

  Alle flicked her tongue against the slit in his lip, and suddenly, he was holding her at arm’s length again, while their intermingled breath heated the air between them.

  “Fuck,” he said.

  “Please.”

  Tiny crow’s feet appeared in the corners of his eyes, which stretched out into grooves as his expression contorted into a humourless grimace. He took a step back, his hands raised up to shoulder height. “Alle. God. No.” The crease lines around his eyes deepened. “No. I can’t. We can’t.” A shiver rolled through him from toe to tip. “You need to leave. Right now. Please, get out of here, before you tempt me to do something insane.”

  “Spook?” He’d always been twitchy and prone to swinging from “no fucking way” to “yes, yes, baby”, in the space of a few heartbeats, but this was extreme even for him.

  “Please, Alle. Just go. Leave. Before one of us does something we’ll regret and that can’t be undone.”

  She would never regret a single thing they did together. There was nothing he would ever need to worry over. They were consenting adults, and she liked it when things got wild between them. Besides, they were perfectly capable of having an adult conversation and setting some ground rules. She’d browsed enough forums to know that communication was the key.

  And evidently, their downfall.

  “What is it you think I’m going to regret? I’m telling you, whatever it is, it doesn’t exist.”

  “We are not doing this.”

  Damn, the steel in his voice was unnerving her. He sounded so rigid on the issue. Unbreakable.

  “Spook, please. I don’t understand. You’re not making sense. One minute you’re all over me, and now you’re pushing me away as if I’ve done something I shouldn’t.”

  “I know I promised I’d try, but Alle—” His voice cracked. He took a breath, and swiped his tongue across the slash in his lip. “—what I failed to make clear was exactly how difficult I was going to find that. The reality is that this… This. Between us. It can’t happen.”

  She had only one response to that. “Why? If we both want it, why can’t it happen, Spook? Please don’t suggest this is entirely one sided.”

  “Alle, it’s not something I can compact into a few explanatory sentences.”

  He didn’t need to. “I have as long as you need.”

  His long hair swished against his shoulders as he shook his head, while further backing off.

  “Please. Talk to me. Just explain what the problem is? If you’re worried about mechanics or anything after being celibate for so long—”

  “I’m not.”

  “That’s good. Then if it’s—”

  “Alle, stop.” He waited until she was both still and quiet. “Look, I’m sorry. Sorry for leading you on. Sorry for making you think that there could be anything between us. There can’t. I can’t be the person you want me to be. I think you’re fucking amazing. I do. Truly. I wish I could be that person, but I can’t, and that’s not going to change.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Spook raised his hand to hush her. “I can’t do this. I can’t argue the ins and outs of it with you. My head is way too messed up at the minute for that.”

  “Because of last night?”

  Yeah, last night. He steepled his fingers and pressed his thumbs to the bridge of his nose. After a moment
collecting his composure, he straightened up once more. “Alle, some prick tried to rape me—”

  “Oh my God! Spook. Jesus!”

  Hurriedly, she closed the gap he’d opened up between them, intending to swaddle him in an embrace, but he lifted both hands again, forming a barrier.

  Alle stared at him, taking in afresh the full extent of his physical injuries. The bruises around his throat, were they finger impressions?

  “Alle. I didn’t tell you because I don’t want sympathy or special treatment. I’m only telling you because you deserve some sort of explanation and it’s the only one I can offer right now. You and me, it has to stop. Please. It’s too dangerous.”

  He closed his eyes as if he expected her to blink out of his existence then and there.

  “You don’t want us to see or speak to one another anymore?”

  He didn’t actually need to vocalise an answer, the truth was evident in the rigour of his jaw, and the nervous tick pulsing in the side of his temple. His eyelids inched open. “I think it’d be for the best.”

  Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She held up her hand, turned, and fled.

  -15-

  All the space Alle had given him since they’d first hooked up, what had it achieved? A big fat spectacular nothing, that’s what. It’d just allowed Spook to keep his head buried in the sand. And now, now she couldn’t even argue with him because… because shit had happened. She hadn’t attacked him, but she had distracted him last night. He’d put himself in a vulnerable position because of her. No wonder he no longer wanted anything to do with her.

  Except, she hadn’t imagined the fire of his kiss, the heat with which he’d embraced her or the way his hands had clawed at her like it wasn’t possible to hold her tightly or closely enough.

  Alle burst back into the room where she and Ronnie had located the band to find it blissfully deserted. At least there wasn’t a crowd now staring at the mad ginger woman with the red nose and puffy lips. Further tears sluiced down her cheeks, as she snuffled at the side of a stack of crates. Ronnie had meant to do her a favour by bringing her here, but it had been an unmitigated disaster. At least before, the possibility of turning her and Spook’s almost-not-quite relationship into something real had existed. Now, that hope was exhausted.