Czytaj książkę: «Come Undone»
Come Undone
Rock Hard: Book 1
Madelynne Ellis

Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
More from Mischief
About Mischief
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
‘Leave it – leave it. Ginny, don’t.’
Daniella struggled to keep the excitement out of her voice as Ginny seized the lanyard and tugged. It slipped readily enough from beneath the handles of the half-open handbag and slithered into her palm, bringing the prized backstage pass with it.
‘Bingo!’ Ginny took a moment to sway her hips in a triumphant wiggle, before the sound of the toilet flushing caused her eyes to widen. She and Dani lurched towards the exit and somehow managed to squeeze through together. After a ten-metre sprint down a corridor they turned a corner and collapsed against the wall with stupid grins stretched across their faces.
‘Mmmwha.’ Ginny smacked a kiss upon the stolen pass. ‘We’re in, Black Halo all-access.’ She gave Dani a thumbs-up, only to roll her eyes a second later at the sight of Dani’s frown.
‘We shouldn’t have done that,’ Dani wheezed, still bent over from the exertion. ‘Are you insane? She’ll probably get into awful trouble for losing it.’ Not that her concern was entirely for the woman in the loos. What she really meant to say was that they’d get into trouble. Arrested, probably, and definitely escorted off site. Her mum would disown her or, worse, exact sanctions, and she’d only recently managed to fly the nest and move into student digs.
‘Gin, why did you do that?’ Dani pushed away from the wall, and straightened her skirt, which had somehow got twisted during their insane flight. Even set to rights, she wasn’t entirely comfortable in the ensemble, which was one of Ginny’s and far too short and clingy. She hadn’t shown off this much leg since her pre-teen days. ‘You’re going to get us into so much shit.’
Ginny stuck her head around the corner to check the way was clear. ‘Don’t be soft. It’ll teach her to take better care of her property. She’s lucky it’s only this little baby –’ Ginny wafted the laminated card before Dani’s nose ‘– that she’s lost and not her purse and credit cards too. Admit it – it’s pretty dumb to leave your bag unattended in a public washroom.’
‘Suppose.’ Depressingly, that was true, no matter how much Dani might wish otherwise. Not that it excused their action. Now the thrill of the moment had passed, she rather wished she’d put more effort into stopping the theft, instead of behaving like a teenage mug. She was older and smarter than that, and having a crush the size of a mountain on the Black Halo front man didn’t excuse juvenile behaviour.
‘The main act’s starting,’ she said, thinking they could hand the pass in to one of the security guys working the doors before they went to their seats. They could say they found it. They might even get a legitimate reward for their honesty. ‘Let’s go in now.’
‘What’s the rush?’ Ginny stalled, dragging her heels as they walked back towards the main foyer. She stopped before a poster advertising the tour to fluff her jet-black hair.
Despite Ginny’s black-only wardrobe, Daniella suspected that her friend didn’t actually like Black Halo’s music as much as she did the band members, or at least some idea of them, or just the notion of snogging them. She’d already vetoed watching the two support acts in favour of hitting the bar and then scouting around for a route backstage. Dani hadn’t been too bothered by that. Godwatch’s lyrics strayed into uncomfortable territory for her, but she hadn’t forked out for a ticket to miss seeing her favourite band. ‘I came here to see them, please let’s just do that,’ she pleaded.
‘Don’t you want to see where this baby can get us?’ Ginny kissed the laminate again. ‘Come on, admit it, an all-access pass to the group is way more exciting than standing in a crowd and yelling, “Black is my heart” until you go hoarse.’
Actually, Dani had been looking forward to shouting along with the several-thousand-strong crowd. The resulting sore throat would be totally worth it. Plus, they had seats right at the front so she’d get to see vocalist Xane Geist close up. And oh, she had to squeeze herself just thinking about that, and how he might look at her even for a second.
Xane was Dani’s secret piece of rebellion, her Lucifer wrapped up in an unbearably erotic package. He was all tight muscle and temptation. His snaky hips alone were an enticement to sin. Then there was his voice, unique even within the gothic metal scene, and his disturbing but oh, so very pretty face.
‘Dani Fosbrook, don’t pretend you’re not up for this. We both know how wet Xane gets your knickers. You’re literally dying for him to get into them.’
OK, her not so secret fantasy. Yes, she’d struggle to say no to him if he asked her to kneel and worship him, but that didn’t make the notion of sneaking into his dressing room and throwing herself at him any less abhorrent. That was the sort of stunt that, if anyone were to find out, would earn her a one-way ticket back to St Agatha’s home for the benevolently disturbed. And she was so, so done with that messed-up place.
‘Think on it, you can have him right after he’s walked off stage.’
Nnn-gh! Dani bit down so hard her teeth hurt. She ought never to have come with Ginny, who had the morals of an alley cat and the sex drive of a Duracell bunny. Her friend’s plan for the night appeared to be not only to get laid but to do every member of Black Halo before they’d even hit the showers.
Yet until now Ginny had seemed her best option. The only other people Dani knew who were there were Ellen, Tony and Reg, and the thought of Reg accidentally on purpose nudging against her every few seconds so he could cop a feel of her butt gave her hives.
‘Come on, Saint. Don’t sweat it. Let me do the talking.’
Dani bristled at the use of her recently acquired nickname. Other people seemed to find it amusing that she’d been brought up in a religious commune. They hadn’t a blinking clue! There was absolutely nothing amusing about St Agatha’s.
Ginny linked their arms and swung them around. ‘You, me and Xane, that’s all you have to think about. Now, let’s go and grab a piece of his ass.’
And, like that, Dani allowed herself to be tugged away from the auditorium.
Chapter 2
There was a second, a single sprawling moment between two beats during which Xane genuinely believed he could make it through the show. He’d worked for this; no one could say he hadn’t. The crowd before him screamed his name, sometimes so loudly he could hear it over the top of the thundering guitars and the crackle of his own voice. But he could only see them in snapshots between the curls of dry ice and the near-blinding array of overhead lights, and that wasn’t enough to keep him grounded. The first time his voice cracked it was pretty easy to cover, the fifth not so much.
The lyrics, words he’d written, might sound like an incomprehensible growl to the critics, but they had meaning for him. Meanings that now bruised and bit and tore into his chest, making him feel as though his heart would rupture. Whereas in the past those words had been an emotional, sometimes sentimental, sometimes cathartic release, they were now transformed into a poisonous rehashing of the last eighteen months.
He had to stop this charade somehow. If only to make them realise he wasn’t here to be used and abused.
When, midway through ‘Perverted Wraiths’, their biggest hit to date, he skipped the first three lines of the chorus, the concerned looks that bassist Paul ‘Rock Giant’ Reed had been throwing him became truly alarmed. For a while the rest of the group were carrying him, but that couldn’t last long. The fans were watching, and they were used to a thumping, souped-up horror show that Xane led. If there were monsters in the band, then he was the biggest, and made a point of dressing the part: black leather, piercings, the sort of glassy-eyed stare that could melt steel (it certainly wet knickers) and other accoutrements of the shock-horror genre. Then there was the stuff he could do with his voice – raising hairs on the backs of necks one second, only to change into a chorus of angels the next. What he actually was, when you stripped away all the theatre, didn’t matter. Folks didn’t pay to see the real Xane Geist. They paid for a spectacle.
Unfortunately, tonight the cracks in his disguise were showing.
Given the amount of crap he endured on a daily basis, and the routine lack of respect, it was a miracle he hadn’t reached this point sooner. One human being could only take so much, and being a rock god didn’t change that.
His nose stung, and his vocal cords refused to form the lyrics. Hell, he couldn’t even scream, something he was particularly known for.
Elspeth ought to have held her tongue, but when did she ever?
Why had he believed she’d be good for him?
Maybe, if he’d been more honest with himself and how he felt, it would never have come to this?
There was no way of knowing now.
The sound of the audience’s frustrated baying was a minor thing at first, easily masked by the crash of the drums, but soon not even Ash hacking away on lead guitar could entirely drown them out.
When he mouthed, ‘We’re done’ to Steve, the drummer, he hadn’t counted on the big screen picking it up. The fact that it did brought things to an extremely swift halt.
* * *
Xane barely got off the stage before Paul and Ash were both in his face asking him what the fuck was going on. Xane was no weed but Rock Giant towered over him by a good four inches. He could probably bench-press Xane and a Ford Fiesta combined. ‘What the fuck, man? Get back out there.’
‘Is something up with your voice?’ Ash, their lead guitarist, muscled his way between them. He wasn’t quite Rock Giant sized, but he did know how to throw a mean punch. ‘You’ve been off-key all night.’
‘He’s been giving one too many blow jobs,’ one of the roadies joked.
Xane threw the guy a scathing glance.
‘Keep your dickhead remarks to yourself, Liam. Unless you’d like me to review your working hours?’ Ash snarled. He returned his attention to Xane. ‘Do you need a break to gargle some tea, or something? We can say there’re technical issues.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my throat.’ Xane wasn’t even going to pretend that was the case. His problems were was far more deep-rooted than that. He could no longer work with these people. He didn’t want to be on the same continent as two of them. ‘Gig’s off.’ It wasn’t even a case of artistic differences. Those they could have worked out. This they’d never make right.
‘What the fuck!’ Jan ‘Spook’ Mortensen, who rarely muttered more than five sentences a week, launched into a string of Swedish expletives. Curiously, the dozen or so Swedish words that Xane knew.
‘You know he has a point, Xane.’ Ash tried to lead him off into a corner for a quiet chat, but the rest of the group followed. ‘There’s a stadium full of mad bastards out there. Do you really want to tell them the show’s over? They’re not going to slope off quietly to their homes and hotel rooms.’
He understood that. They’d come for a piece of him, and they’d insist on getting it. He, however, was damn sure they weren’t getting any more of him tonight, regardless of how many people insisted on staring at him as though he’d grown an extra head.
‘Xane, it’ll cost us millions.’
Hardly. This was one gig, and there was only one other date left on the tour. It might piss off a few people, but they’d get over it. Bands sometimes had to cancel shows at short notice. It happened. It rarely crippled anyone.
The guys parted to let Elspeth float to the fore. She looked as insubstantial as a wraith, but she had a banshee’s backbone and a scold’s tongue. Her lips were slicked red, and curved into a perfect pout around two sets of vampire fangs.
Xane’s hackles rose the moment her jasmine perfume wafted to his nostrils. He refused to look at her, focusing instead on the top of her head. She and Spook were the only blondes in the band, but Spook’s white-blond mane didn’t come out of a bottle. Elspeth was showing a quarter-inch of mousy brown roots.
When she curled her hand over his arm, he mentally pulled himself inwards. Xane stared at her black polished nails and fought the urge to physically recoil too.
‘Look, honey, I know you’re upset, but for crap’s sake think about this. You’re not just going to shaft us over this gig if you walk out. The press will hammer us into an early grave. We’ll all lose out. All of us.’
The problem was that ‘all’ didn’t seem to include him in any capacity other than as a cash cow. He knew for a fact that she didn’t give a damn about him as a person. She’d proved that resoundingly, five minutes before they’d walked out on stage.
‘Black Halo’s dead.’
He hadn’t planned to say it, to make it so final, but as soon as the words were spoken he knew it was the right decision. They were over in their current format anyway, because he couldn’t continue to work with either her or Steve. This was his band. Without him, Black Halo were nothing. He was their lyricist, their main composer, the motivating force behind it all. Their whole image had been created by him. Without his drive, nothing would ever happen. Maybe now they’d start to appreciate that.
Despite his bitterness, the shock reflected in their eyes gave him a moment’s pause, but only until he realised that the relief the announcement brought him had given his foul mood a strange little upswing. Oh, yeah, screeched the bit inside him that hurt. Chew on that, lady.
When he jerked away from Elspeth’s grasp, to his relief she didn’t attempt to touch him again.
‘No,’ Rock Giant groaned. ‘We are not done over a fucking lovers’ tiff.’ He stared at them as if he expected them to lay aside their quarrel and to kiss and make up.
It wasn’t happening.
Rock Giant held his head in his hands, which crushed several of the deranged spikes he’d moulded his hair into. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this, Xane. The band’s more important than one individual relationship within it. Seriously, you’re throwing in the towel because she’s not warming your bed any more?’
‘Paul’s right, Xane. You’re acting way out of proportion.’ Graham Callahan, the band’s manager, had arrived, his twenty-stone frame squeezed into a corporate suit.
He was not overreacting. This wasn’t only about him and Elspeth. It was about him and Steve, and the rest of the band too, and all their shitty attitudes, which were apparently about to see another airing.
‘You need to get back on stage.’
Not bloody likely. Xane gave a swift shake of his head.
Several of the roadies formed up around him like a squad of Marines. As if marching him back onto the stage was going to achieve anything.
‘Seriously, I’m done.’
‘Xane.’
‘Really, Graham.’
Would it have hurt any of them to ask him if he was OK? It wasn’t as if they hadn’t figured out the basics of what was going on. But no, all they were concerned about was what was best for them and their wallets.
Graham raised his hand. ‘OK, let’s talk.’
He didn’t fucking want to talk. He didn’t want to explain. He just wanted out. If any of them actually wanted to know what had caused this rift then they could yap amongst themselves and figure it out. That’s if the platinum band next to the ruddy enormous diamond on Elspeth’s finger didn’t clue them in.
He wasn’t the one responsible for this. He was just the shmuck who’d been taken for granted and then unceremoniously dumped by someone he’d loved and trusted.
It was probably a good thing there were no windows backstage, because he felt like punching glass.
‘Xane, I’m sorry,’ Steve mumbled at him as Xane shouldered his way towards the greenroom. He wasn’t sticking around for a debate, and he sure as hell wasn’t singing, even if they dragged him back on stage trussed up like a Christmas turkey.
Right now, he couldn’t sing. He was too fucking choked with anger.
Steve tailed him as far as the water fountain. ‘You know it wasn’t our intention to hurt you. It doesn’t have to change things between us. It can still be like before, if you want.’
If he wanted. Nice of Steve to think of him at last. Except, of course, it was bollocks. No way could things be the same. Marriage changed things irrevocably. It involved commitment. It imposed limits. It stank of exclusivity. And Steve and Elspeth were hitched.
‘We’re for ever, man.’ Steve lifted his hand as though he intended them to brush knuckles. Instead, Xane snapped the chain he wore around his neck and dumped the contents into the callused hands of his drummer.
‘Not any more. I don’t want to see either of you again.’
Steve’s brow furrowed. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Weren’t you listening?’ God, it hurt his throat to speak. ‘The band’s done.’
Steve stroked his hand over his chin and his devilish goatee. ‘I didn’t think you actually meant it.’
‘We’re done.’ Xane repeated to emphasise the point.
Steve crossed his arms over his chest. ‘What would you have us do, Xane? I love her. You know I do. Was I supposed to turn her down?’
Xane’s eyes narrowed. The sting in his nose had become almost intolerable. It made him physically ill to look at this man who had been his closest friend for years. ‘Did you think for a second how I’d feel?’
Steve stretched out his arm, but Xane stepped back out of reach to avoid the contact, leaving his former friend shaking his head.
‘I’m sorry it’s happened this way. I really am. It’s not how I wanted it. I thought we were good, Xane. I thought you understood. I hope when you’ve calmed down we can –’
‘Fuck off!’ Xane snarled, tightening his fists. ‘Seriously, just eff off, before I give in to what I’d like to do and wring your bloody neck.’
Chapter 3
Not only was Ginny’s plan the source of everything stupid, it was moronic too. Missing the show on the vague off-chance that they might meet the band sucked big time. Dani wanted to be in with the crowd, singing along with Xane’s growling vocals as Spook Mortenson went batshit on guitar. That guy could work magic on a fretboard. His textures, the way he injected primal desire into the heavy choruses from their Beyond the Lich Gate album, set vibrations running through her nerves as though it were her he was playing.
‘Can’t we just hit their hotel bar, post show?’ she whined.
They’d managed to slip into the backstage area, although bits of it looked more like a coffee shop, thanks to the leather tub chairs and cute round tables. But there’d not been so much as a sniff of testosterone, unless you counted the odd besuited member of the venue staff.
‘Know where they’re staying, do you?’ Ginny asked, planting a hand firmly on her hip.
Dani sighed at her toes. ‘Actually, I heard it was the Whyteleaf.’ The landmark family-run hotel had recently undergone an extensive refurbishment, having been purchased by a global conglomerate. What’s more, their PR man had clearly decided that having a rock band, even an extreme metal group, constituted a major scoop for business. Black Halo’s image had been splashed across all their recent advertising.
Ginny vetoed the possibility with a slash of her hand. ‘Everyone will be there. We’ll not get close.’
They didn’t seem to be getting very close anyway. ‘Ginny, are you even sure this is the right place? These rooms look like offices.’
‘What do you expect a dressing room to look like?’
‘I don’t know, stars on the doors?’ She’d never been backstage anywhere before, unless you counted performing in the school nativity play. She’d assumed it’d be full of bustling activity, whereas their current surroundings were too quiet. Only the odd vibration through the floor hinted that there was a band on the premises.
They turned yet another corner and into a broad corridor, down which there were at least a dozen doors. ‘Like these, you mean?’ Ginny crowed.
There weren’t actually stars on the doors, but there were card slots. Godwatch, Dying Pain … Ginny read them out, her voice growing louder, until she shrieked, ‘Black Halo. Yes!’ She punched the air. ‘Dani, we’re in.’
Ginny barged straight into the room. Dani followed on the balls of her feet, expecting to be challenged. Inside, dressing tables lit with hundreds of bulbs lined one wall of a roughly boot-shaped room. They’d entered at the leg end, a tight space dominated by rails full of leather coats. Where the room widened, twin squashy sofas sat either side of a coffee table littered with beer cans and half-empty bottles of spring water. A purple electric guitar lay in the centre of one sofa, and a huge display of lilies on its counterpart. The smell of flowers permeated the room, almost but not quite masking the waxy odour of white foundation, hairspray and half a dozen different deodorants.
‘Seriously, they make them all squish into one room?’ Dani had anticipated a dressing room each. Surely by the time you hit Black Halo’s level of success you were guaranteed a little privacy? ‘So, now what?’
Ginny moved the lilies onto the table alongside someone’s laptop and a stack of chocolate. Then she stretched out on that sofa. ‘We chill, silly.’
Dani flicked a glance at the clock on her phone. She had no intention of lounging around in the dressing room with Ginny for the next hour, missing all the thrill of the show. She’d bought a ticket so that she could chant along with the rest of the crowd, not to camp out in a glorified closet. ‘I’m going to go watch,’ she insisted.
‘Suit yourself.’ Ginny rolled her eyes upwards, then crossed her arms and snuggled against the leather. ‘Suppose you’d better take this, then, just so that you can get back in. And don’t lose it. I need to frame that baby later.’
Dani caught the laminated pass and slipped the lanyard around her neck, still half hoping Ginny would come with her. When it became apparent she wouldn’t, Dani headed for the door.
‘Hey, Saint,’ Ginny called. Dani turned to see her helping herself to a bar of chocolate. ‘Are you actually going to come back or shall I see you at the hotel?’
‘Um,’ Dani replied, her hand on the door knob. She worried her lower lip with her teeth. Sure, she wanted to meet the band, but not through subterfuge. Ginny’s method also required her to be somebody she wasn’t, and entailed expectations that made her uneasy. Dani didn’t put out for a guy on a first date – and she was applying the term ‘date’ very loosely in this situation. That rule didn’t change even if the guy in question was a rock star, and somehow she didn’t think any of the band members would be interested in a chat over coffee. Before she let a man between her legs, he had to prove he cared about her. She couldn’t be like Ginny, who never seemed to worry about pregnancy or disease or any other complication. Ginny didn’t need trust to get naked, only the most basic of excuses.
Dani preferred not to take all her clothes off – ever. She routinely showered with her eyes tight closed, and, if it’d been practical to leave her underwear on, would have done so. The thought of allowing a stranger to get frisky with her, especially while his mates were hanging about close enough to hear, if not see, them, made her nauseous, not horny.
‘It’s OK, Saint. I can be woman enough for them all if you’re not game.’
‘Well …’
‘Really. It’s fine. I’ll see you at the hotel.’
‘How?’ Dani asked. They’d driven to the stadium together.
Ginny laughed at her. ‘Duh, I’ll call a cab. You know, the black things with wheels on the corners that ferry people about. And don’t feel you need to wait up.’
‘All right,’ she agreed dubiously, not entirely happy about the idea of leaving Ginny to make her way alone. And she would wait up, same as she always did when Ginny stayed out late, just to make sure she actually got home.
‘Use the pass if you change your mind about scoring yourself some hot man-flesh.’
Dani left her and began retracing their steps. Naturally, she did wonder if she’d made the right decision. She did desperately want to meet Xane, and it would definitely be safer if she and Ginny stuck together, but … hell, Xane probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her anyway, especially when she wasn’t prepared to put out, and she didn’t think she could stomach that sort of rejection. Also, she didn’t want to see Ginny getting frisky with him. That’d make her puke.
Better that she stuck to seeing the gig. As it was, she was going to have to concoct a story for her mum about what she’d been up to tonight. She might have escaped the commune, but the sisterhood were still paying her university fees, and they liked to keep close tabs on her to ensure she was still upholding the precepts of the order.
Attending rock concerts, especially Black Halo gigs, definitely wasn’t on the list of acceptable activities. Black Halo epitomised just about everything the sisterhood despised most. If they found out she’d been here, they’d probably cut her off. Or, worse, drag her back to the commune to live amongst them again.
Dani paused, realising she’d taken a wrong turn in the maze of backstage corridors. Ahead, rather than the entrance hall, were crates of equipment. Several beefy guys – roadies, she guessed – were lounging around swigging tinnies. One or two were entertaining a huddle of scantily dressed rock chicks.
Ginny would have blended right in, but even decked out in Ginny’s goth gear Dani knew she’d give off the wrong vibes. Better she kept her distance than embarrassed herself by asking for directions.
Only one guy even shot a glance in her direction. His interest died away the moment he focused on her chest.
She’d have felt hurt, if she hadn’t realised he’d clocked her pass. It was white, while the ones the girls were wearing were all pink.
Having decided that she must be quite close to the stage now, Dani continued onwards. Only where was the thumping bass? Even through the walls she ought to have been able to hear that by now, if not feel the vibrations pummelling her chest. Instead, only a low-level hum of voices reached her from ahead.
Another few paces on, and she stopped to perform a double take. Hang on … wasn’t that Ash Gore, the Black Halo lead guitarist, lounging against the stacks? Why wasn’t he on stage with the rest of the band?
Unless he had an identical twin brother?
Nah – it would have cropped up in interviews. Stuff like that gave the fan girls wet dreams. Nor did it account for the thick rim of kohl around his eyes or his crazy metal-head hair. Or, indeed, why Rock Giant hunched beside him on top of a busted amp.
‘Oof!’
Dani came to an unceremonious halt, metal claws digging into her shoulder. She put out a hand for balance, only for it to meet leather – soft, supple, leather – and then hard muscle. Equally quickly, she jerked away.
‘Sorry.’
‘Just look where you’re going?’
She was. Leastways, now she was. Staring in gobsmacked disbelief, in fact. Her attention fixed upon his lamp-like cat’s eyes.
Xane. She’d walked right into Xane Geist without even seeing him. And … and … wow.
Her heart gave a fluttery drum roll, while her knees threatened to buckle.
Xane had always been her favourite. As the face of the group, he’d always drawn the bulk of the fans’ attention, but he was also the acknowledged genius behind their success. Up close, the magnetism that wowed audiences snagged her in the midriff and yanked her into closer proximity. He was … She had to touch her lips to ensure she wasn’t drooling. He was perfect.
Inky black hair framed his narrow face, and the ends reached midway down his chest. A spiked collar encircled his neck. Dani curled her fingers. The memory of his heat still warmed their tips. His cheekbones were shaved as if from pure marble; his nose a slender blade, above which his black eyebrows were furrowed. His crooked, kissable lips were drawn into a tight scowl that was further emphasised by the silver hoop piercing the centre of his bottom lip.
Two further hoops pierced his right eyebrow.
Beneath his leather jacket, he was dressed in a combination of rags and more form-fitting black leather. When she’d touched him, she’d hit a spot where his T-shirt was ripped away to show a painted-on version of his exposed ribs.
Dani’s lips parted in a gasp. For the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to melt, too feel so drawn to another human being that she lost control of even the most basic functions. All at once she was too jittery and hot; molten with arousal and terrified and ashamed too.
Oh, man – he smelled fab too, of good old-fashioned body scent, liberally mixed with a spritz of something expensive for men. Now it made sense why women like Ginny went to such effort to meet him, and why they were prepared to throw their morals to the wind and romp like wild things with a total stranger.
She could even picture herself sprawled across some hotel bed with him, having crazy sex.
‘Are you all right? Lost?’ He sounded pissed off, something his brittle smile corroborated. Yet Dani’s brain only processed the fact that his speaking voice was much softer than she’d anticipated, and lacked any hint of his trademark growl.
Realising she was still gaping at him, she took a moment to close her mouth. She wasn’t lost, just dazzled.
The painful bite of Xane’s claw rings restored her sanity. She coughed and straightened herself.
Xane kept his hand on her shoulder. ‘Sally?’ he said, as he lifted the backstage pass to read her name. Even hidden by opaque contact lenses, his eyes were still shrewdly intelligent as he gave her face and body a quick, appreciative sweep. ‘Were you looking for me?’ His eyebrows arched meaningfully.
‘Yes. I mean, no. I was trying to get through to the arena so I could watch the show.’
They maintained eye contact, because Dani couldn’t wrench her gaze away.
For a split second Xane’s scowl transformed into a smile. ‘The show’s over, honey. I don’t think you want to go out there.’
‘I don’t? Already?’
He rubbed his thumb across the part of her ID that said PR. ‘I’d stay back here. Safer, until you’ve a statement worked out.’
A statement! What was she supposed to give a statement about? And how was it she’d managed to miss the entire show? It wasn’t supposed to be over yet. Although now she thought about it, the roadies did appear to be packing up. ‘W–what happened?’ If she’d been an actual PR person she’d have been in full-on flap right about now. The woman whose pass she wore probably was. Ginny ought never to have taken her card.
Xane shook his head. ‘Sally.’ He snagged hold of the lanyard again, forcing her to meet his gaze. This was it. She was busted. He was going to yell for security and have her unceremoniously dumped out back. ‘Do you drive?’
‘A car, you mean?’ Why was this important? ‘Yes. I drove to the show.’
His lips quirked up at one corner, forming a rehearsed smile, which nevertheless had her creaming her knickers.
‘Good. Then you can get me out of here.’
Chapter 4
‘Xane. Hold up, man.’ Ash stopped him just before he hit the tarmac, by making a starfish impersonation across the exit. His original intention might have been noble – Ash, like Xane, only had one commitment in life and that was the band – but his best intentions went bye-bye as he checked out the girl.
Hell knows who she really was. For definite she wasn’t Sally Kettering, prize battle-axe and PR fiend extraordinaire. Sally had never looked half so hot. Most of the time she barely looked human, and in her case that primarily wasn’t down to stage make-up. He’d made sure Sally had plenty of work to do tonight, a fact she’d no doubt fry him for later.
This girl, now – she was exactly the right mix of hot, indecisive and innocent to get Ash completely jacked up. Pretty oval face, with big wide-set brown eyes and a slightly top-heavy figure, coupled with a fearfully delicate smile. Admittedly, pretty much anything that moved and was ostensibly female captured Ash’s interest. The lead guitarist got laid more often than the rest of the group put together, and none of them went short in that respect. The others weren’t quite such bastards about it, though. Ash liked to get his kink on, turn them out and move straight on to the next one. He consumed women in the same way he consumed booze. He’d take whatever was on offer, as long as it went down well.
The reason Xane insisted on individual hotel suites and his own tour bus wasn’t just because he needed solitude in order to compose. It saved him from being irate at Ash twenty-four seven. Patting Ash’s rejects on the back and seeing them on their way got horribly tedious. Nor did he care for the constant reminder of what his life had once been like. It wasn’t so very long ago that he’d shown similarly indiscriminate tastes. That’d changed in recent times. Having found himself a comfortable arrangement, he hadn’t felt the need to wander.
‘Hadn’t’ – the word rang in his head like a leper’s bell. He tried to shut down the thought before it doubled him over, but failed miserably. His relationship was in tatters, and what he needed right now was a hell of a lot of something to deaden the pain.
When the hell would he learn his lesson? Just because someone whispered words of love into your ear after they fucked you didn’t mean they meant it. It didn’t mean you could trust them. People said one thing and then did another all the time. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that. It just hurt like fuck to accept it.
Xane kept his fists curled tight. It wasn’t very manly, but curling into a ball and sobbing until he was hoarse really appealed right now. Except he was too damned angry to cry, and he refused to shed a tear over that bastard and bitch.
Not that it was purely the Steve-and-Elspeth situation riling him. It was the contempt too. The fact that the rest of the band valued him so little they thought it was no big deal for him to be treated like this.
Well, it was time people started accepting that their actions had repercussions. If you pissed on the same fire often enough it went out. And right now he felt thoroughly pissed on.
‘Where you headed?’ Ash enquired nonchalantly, as though there were nothing amiss.
Xane put his arm around the girl’s shoulders. Beneath her skin, her pulse raced excitedly. She probably thought she’d won herself a grand old prize, when she couldn’t have been more wrong.
‘Sally and I are going for a drive.’
That got him a response. Ash raised both beetle-black brows in disbelief. The girl stiffened too, so much so that Xane almost withdrew his hold. It seemed the idea of getting lewd and crude with him hadn’t actually been front and centre in her thoughts. She looked up at him in stunned disbelief.
‘Really?’ Ash raked his gaze over the girl’s body from her tits to the hem of her very short skirt. ‘I know I’m always on at you to branch out more, but is now really the best time? Shouldn’t you be hashing it out with them?’
Xane flicked the tip of his tongue against the silver ring through his lip. ‘To what purpose? Everything that needs saying has already been said.’
Ash hunched his shoulders so high he was in danger of piercing his ears with the spikes on his jacket. ‘Dammit, Xane, nothing’s been said at all! It was a dumb situation to get yourself in, and it’s even dumber now. You ought to be glad you’re out of it.’
‘’Cause you’d know all about what’s best for me.’
‘I know you should have waited until the gig was over before you started your pity party.’
Yeah, and Elspeth should have held her bloody tongue until the show was done, but he didn’t suppose Ash had bothered to yell at her.
Xane moved closer to the door. His public image might be as a hard man of rock, but not even he could perform a death growl with his throat choked up and a six-foot incision in his chest.
Ash shifted to one side but slouched against the doorframe, forcing them to step over his legs to get out. ‘I’ll be in touch tomorrow. We need to talk things through.’
They didn’t need to talk about jack. Black Halo was done in its current form. ‘Whatever.’ Xane pulled his saviour into the rain.
After the heat of the arena, the cold outside came as a surprise. Xane kept hold of the girl as much for warmth as to maintain the façade that he intended to get laid. Sex was not what he needed right now. With his soul already flayed he didn’t need someone else’s expectations and emotions complicating things. And the thing about fans – which is what he gathered she was – was that they all thought they knew him, having memorised a few bits of trivia. Not only that, but they assumed, because they ‘knew’ him and loved him, he’d feel the same way in return.
He never did. They weren’t people he’d call friends. They had no life experiences in common with him. The only commonality was the music, and even then they didn’t experience it in the same way. To them it was a product; something packaged, shiny and complete. Whereas he birthed the damn stuff, taking lyrics either he or Spook had written and then scratching out the chords and rhythms that filled his head. He worked at it, transformed and nurtured it, until he had something good.
‘How far are we going?’ he asked, growing tired of the cold.
Ahead of them the car park formed a vast dark stain on the horizon, relieved only by the rainbow hues of oil-slicked puddles. Xane lifted his hand to his face to brush back his hair, whereupon streaks of kohl ran into the grooves between his fingers. ‘Where did you say you were parked?’
‘I didn’t.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘It’s this way. I’m not in the main car park. It was full. I had to settle for a side street.’
He followed the clack of her heels for what felt like miles, while watching the sway of her butt. He’d lay money on her only dressing like this for special occasions. The clothes didn’t sit easily on her back. She was so knotted with tension she seemed in danger of snapping something. Her hemline especially was giving her issues. Her small hands constantly smoothed the cloth.
Jeans and T’s, he predicted as her usual attire. Maybe the occasional floral dress that turned her into a frump.
Xane almost fed her a corny line about how great she looked in order to get her to relax, and because even in his piss-poor mood he could acknowledge she was a knockout. The dark colours suited her peaches-and-cream complexion, while the tight cut emphasised her natural hourglass curves.
Of course, he also considered the possibility that he and not the outfit was the source of her distress. She wouldn’t be the first woman who’d landed lovely foul-mouthed him instead of kinkmeister Spook or everyone’s sweetheart, Paul.
He caught her looking back at the lights of the stadium and decided it was definitely a case of wrong-guy syndrome. Well, she was going to be doubly pissed off when she realised that not only had she landed the booby prize, but he wasn’t interested in making out. His only plan for the night was to get home and get blotto.
If that made him a bastard, then so be it.
At least he’d saved her from being screwed by Ash. Not that she’d ever thank him for it.
‘This is it.’ She stopped under a street lamp, part way along the sort of side road he’d think twice about traversing in daylight.
The wind chased the strands of her now dripping dark-brown hair across her face, giving her a solemn, slight ethereal look. She was different from the sort of girls who normally offered to take him places, but then she hadn’t actually offered, only gone along with what he’d suggested – so far.
‘This is yours?’ He’d expected her to drive a girly city runabout, not a bloody enormous sedan. Maybe she wasn’t quite as inexperienced as she looked. Her whole image might be a sham to lure guys in. Half a mile down the road, she’d probably transform into some vampire bitch queen and suck him dry.
No matter, he’d take that chance just to be away from here.
Xane settled himself into the passenger seat, from where he checked her out for fangs. No evidence of them: she had small, neat white teeth.
She nervously fussed, making multiple checks before turning on the ignition.
A powerful rumble filled the vehicle.
‘Sorry.’ She slapped a finger across the CD power button, cutting his death growl off midway through one of the band’s earliest tracks. ‘I’m sorry.’ She backed up the car and proceeded to perform the slowest turn out of a parking space he’d ever experienced, but then he was used to Rock Giant slaloming the tour bus as though it were an Aston Martin and not a converted double-decker.
‘Been driving long?’
‘Six months. How about you?’
‘I can, but I don’t very often.’
‘I don’t suppose there’s much need when you’ve people to ferry you about.’
Was that a dig? He thought it might be.
‘Where are we headed?’ she asked as they approached the first junction. ‘You’re staying at the Whyteleaf, right?’
Wrong. He might have a room booked there, but he’d never intended to occupy it. Not when he had a bolthole within an hour’s drive.
‘May I?’ He pulled his phone from his pocket and jacked it into the port on her dashboard. It was the work of moments to feed his postcode into the satnav app and have it start bleating instructions. The grating female voice made him want to cut off his ears, but it beat him having to give directions. All he wanted to do was switch off and forget.
‘Is that thing reliable?’ she asked, casting it a dubious glance. ‘It’s not likely to direct me into a ditch, or get me to do U-turns in the middle of the motorway?’
‘That’s where common sense comes in,’ he said, ticking a finger against his head. ‘You have some, right?’ Though evidently very little if she was prepared to put up with him.
‘Not sure.’ She cast him a dark look. ‘I just agreed to give a lift to a guy who looks like an axe-murderer.’
Chapter 5
Dani tried to keep her eyes on the road, but her attention kept slipping sideward. Xane Geist was in her car.
Xane Geist, for Christ’s sake!
Insane.
She’d never imagined Ginny’s plan for them to meet the band would actually amount to anything. Of course, her friend would probably kill her the next time they met for running off with Xane. Dani rather wished her friend were here. Ginny would know what to do. Ginny wouldn’t have been driving at 50mph on the motorway because she was shit-scared of what came next. She’d probably have had the shirt off his back by now, and be well on the way to an orgasm.
Dani wasn’t nearly so bold. There’d been few men of any significance in her life. However, she knew enough about rock stars to guess where driving off with one was likely to go. The frightening bit being her apparent willingness to go along with it. She knew it wouldn’t mean anything to him. He probably had a different girl at each stop on the tour. For one night he’d get wicked with her, have his fun and then be on his way. Come morning, he probably wouldn’t even remember her name. Not that he knew her real name now.
Her experience would be very different. She’d remember tonight for ever, whatever happened. And there would be repercussions. She could already hear Sister Anna’s voice in her head pleading for her soul, like that batshit-crazy mom out of Carrie.
If the possibility of them discovering she’d attended the gig wasn’t bad enough – Black Halo were the devil’s own spawn – then confessing to sleeping with a band member would probably see her subjected to an exorcism.
She rubbed her right wrist against her thigh, and fought not to grimace over that very real possibility.
Dani sneaked a look at Xane, which instantly replaced her frown with a goofy grin. She still couldn’t believe it was him.
Xane was busy removing his cat’s-eye contact lenses. She’d always wondered what colour his eyes really were. She guessed she’d finally find out.
He turned, and caught her staring. Amusement flickered at the centre of two storm-grey eyes.
Dani hastily turned away.
‘Do you have any water?’
‘Um, yeah. In the footwell behind you. I don’t know if you’ll be able to reach.’ They both stretched to get it at the same time, bringing them into unexpectedly close contact. For a split second, his lips were level with hers and a mere inch away.
And, oh, my God, her libido abruptly revved up and started painting lewd pictures of what she’d like to do to the guy across the inside of her brain; like kissing him for starters, and tasting those crooked devil’s lips. Maybe peeling his clothes off or digging her fingernails into the pert cheeks of his butt.
Xane flicked the tip of his tongue against the ring in his lip. ‘Road,’ he reminded her. ‘I got it.’ He leaned back against the headrest, holding the bottle.
Yeah, road! She jerked upright in time to avoid drifting into the traffic occupying the middle lane. One guy beeped her, so Xane gave him the finger.
OK. She needed to concentrate. She didn’t want to be known as the girl who killed Xane Geist.
Xane popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig. He pulled a blister pack of pills from his jacket pocket and pressed out two white tabs.
‘Hey!’ she objected, as they went into his mouth, followed by another slug of water. ‘What are you doing? What are you taking?’
‘Calm down, Mum,’ he retaliated. ‘It’s legal. Here.’ He chucked the blister strip onto her lap. ‘There, you can check ’em out for yourself, make sure I’m being a good boy.’
Somehow, Dani managed to convince her fingers to uncurl from around the steering wheel to allow her to pick up the packet. ‘What is this?’ An unfamiliar brand name was embossed on the foil. ‘Are they painkillers or something?’
‘Nap time,’ he explained with a shrug and a yawn. He turned partly away from her and sank deeper into the seat with his knees drawn up. ‘Prod me when we arrive.’
‘You’re – you’re going to sleep?’ How far was he expecting her to drive?
‘Shh, don’t talk. I need to switch off.’
OK. This was one weird-ass evening. It certainly didn’t conform to any of her rock-star fantasies, which primarily involved lush beaches and eating canapés with champagne at midnight.
Maybe the backstage pass was to blame. If Xane believed her to be a member of staff, that would explain the arrogant assumption that she was available to ferry him home.
Damn, she thought, biting her lip. She’d never expected him to love her, but now she had him within her grasp, she’d hoped the whole lust thing would at least be mutual. So far, it really didn’t look as if that were so.
Chapter 6
‘You have reached your destination.’
Dani cut the engine, thankful that the whiny woman had bleated her last. She unbuckled her seatbelt before turning to Xane, who hadn’t moved for the last forty minutes. He faced the door, with his knees drawn up towards his body. A shroud of black hair masked what little she could see of his profile.
Lucky for him Dani wasn’t the sort to molest a sleeping man. That was assuming he was actually asleep and not merely avoiding conversation.
Based on the fact he’d taken pills to switch off, she generously supposed the former.
Actually, thinking on those lines, it seemed a shame to wake him. Maybe exhaustion accounted for the gig being cut short, although that didn’t explain Ash Gore’s remarks as they’d left. It sounded as though the band had had a bust-up. She hoped it wasn’t serious.
Dani tentatively prodded Xane’s shoulder, hardly daring to make physical contact with him, half convinced the resulting feedback would zap through her synapses causing her to spontaneously combust. He didn’t stir, not even to grunt.
‘Xane.’ Dani risked a second jab into his shoulder. This time he yawned and stretched, so that the muscles flexed beneath his shirt, reinvigorating Dani’s pulse. Would he freak, she wondered, if she leaned over and licked the back of his neck?
What was she doing even contemplating such an act?
‘We’re here. I think.’
Xane glanced at his phone, which currently displayed an image of their current location, overlaid with the words ‘Destination Reached’.
‘Back up, and swing us round. Then take the first left. It’s just behind the rise.’
‘All right.’ Good to know their destination wasn’t actually a field. Dani restarted the car and followed his instructions.
Xane unplugged his phone from the car charger. ‘Now, turn in here. Just pull up in front of the house.’
‘House’? If you were being super-kind, maybe. The building she drew alongside could more accurately be described as a brick shed. Weren’t rock stars supposed to own swish penthouses, not ten-by-ten cattle barns?
‘What is this place?
Xane mumbled something that might have been ‘bolthole’ as he clambered out of the car.
Dani tentatively climbed out too. The night wind whipped across the open countryside and nipped her bare arms. Mud underfoot sucked at her shoes. Only the sight of Xane leaping about beneath the orange glow of the security light convinced her not to get straight back into the car.
‘Keys,’ he muttered, before launching himself towards the eaves again. His T-shirt rose as he stretched, giving her a tantalising glimpse of his torso. No doubt about it, Xane hit the gym on a regular basis. He was ripped to perfection, the muscles clearly defined. Rather intriguingly, a faint trace of hair led down from his navel, under the waistband of his leathers, and probably all the way to his loins.
OK, she was not pursuing that thought. Thinking about the package he had hidden there only raised her blood pressure.
‘Gotcha!’ Xane finally snagged the key from its hidden hook. He blew off the cobwebs before applying it to the lock.
‘Come in if you dare,’ he remarked before stepping inside, leaving her alone in the dark.
She wasn’t sure if that was a challenge or merely an invitation. Either way, she accepted.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he was welcoming her to a vampire dungeon. At worst, this would turn out to be his shagging shack, home to two thousand scented candles, an iron rack and an oversized four-poster bed. And crossing the threshold would automatically grant him licence to debauch her in whatever manner he fancied. That didn’t seem so bad, although she intended to have a nice long chat with him before any shagging took place.
If any shagging took place.
Gah – why did her brain fog up at the mere thought of him naked?
A light flickered on inside the building. Dani squelched forward onto the raised porch. She kicked off her shoes before entering.
Curiously, the interior didn’t reek of incense, nor were the walls painted black. There was no rack, or iron maiden, and no cobwebby alcoves harbouring human skulls.
A single twisted ironwork candelabrum was the only significant nod to the gothic horror genre, otherwise the place looked more like a forester’s hut, all reclaimed wood and earth tones. Maybe he hadn’t been clear on his vision when he’d spoken to the designer, or hadn’t owned the place very long.
A collection of photographic prints covered the back wall of the single-roomed building. Dani wandered over to take a closer look. The images more than made up for the general lack of demonic accoutrements. Goth porn, she supposed you’d call them: all blood, skulls and depravity.
She turned away quickly as heat infused her cheeks. It seemed Xane enjoyed some pretty extreme stuff.
‘My cousin’s a photographer,’ Xane explained, confirming her suspicion the images were of him.
He was leaning against an age-blackened cabinet. The jacket and the collar he’d worn around his neck now lay in a heap beside him. ‘I commissioned those as a photo-book accompaniment to our second album. Sadly the record company vetoed the lot – something about them being pornographic, and it being bad practice for me to get my kit off if we wanted to be taken seriously. Of course, it would have been a different story if I’d been a girl.’ He scowled. ‘Anyway, enjoy. I think my cock’s out in most of them.’
‘What makes you think I want to see it?’
Oh, God, she sounded so prudish. Ginny would laugh. Her friend would have made a detailed study of every image and then insisted on a real life comparison, and would probably have taken a few extra snaps of her own.
Xane did laugh, be it somewhat humourlessly. ‘Oh, right! You mean you’re here to enjoy my riveting company and not so that I can bang you into oblivion?’
Dani planted her hands on her hips. ‘I’m not easy.’ None of this had been her idea. Yeah, she was attracted to him, but he was being exceptionally obnoxious making such assumptions and she was tempted to call him a dick. The Xane in her head wasn’t nearly so crass. He was a gentleman, even if he looked like a scary beast. Sadly, reality wasn’t quite matching up. ‘You wanted a lift,’ she reminded him. ‘I drove you. We never discussed anything else.’ He probably didn’t need to. Likely enough he took it as read that if he went home with a girl, he’d pulled.
‘Yeah – and why is it you did that, if you’re not interested in my ass?’ He turned slightly, and probably deliberately, so that he presented her with a damn good view of his rear inside his black leather jeans. Now he was plain teasing her in addition to being an ass. And was it really necessary for him to sound so scathing?
‘What would I do with it?’
She’d curl her fingers into it. Squeeze all that tight, firm muscle, that’s what. And then maybe lick him for good measure.
‘I’m sure I can’t imagine.’ Xane eyed her thoughtfully from over his shoulder. ‘Well, now,’ he said, his tone softening. ‘If you’re really not interested, that makes you a whole lot more interesting.’ He rubbed his lower jaw, smearing the remains of the make-up the rain had already wrecked. ‘Are you staying for a drink?’
Given that her heart had already suffered one too many shocks, she’d gratefully accept a nice cup of tea.
Xane reached up and cracked open a cupboard. When he again turned to face her, he was clutching a bottle of vodka by the neck. ‘Just so you know. I intend to get completely wankered.’ He waved the bottle in her direction, before gesturing to the sofa to indicate she should sit.
Dani frowned.
One glass of vodka would get her tipsy; two would likely have her flat on her back with her thighs apart. With the exception of an occasional glass of wine with a meal, she was virtually teetotal.
Meanwhile, Xane knocked back several shots. After the fourth or fifth, when she still hadn’t replied, he poured another and offered it to her.
Dani closed her hand around the glass, already anticipating fire in her throat and Xane inside of her. The vision was so real she gave an actual gasp, as the flesh between her thighs became warm and damp.
Everything ached.
Xane smirked. ‘And that’s before you swallow.’
Dani shot him an angry glance.
He raised his hands in surrender. ‘I’m just saying, maybe you shouldn’t be on the hard stuff.’
Still vexed, Dani gulped a mouthful of vodka. The fluid ignited her taste buds, burned as it flowed down her throat bringing tears to her eyes. No matter, she refused to let them fall. ‘Don’t you have any mixers?’
Xane groped around in the cupboard and produced a bottle of cola. ‘This do? Say when.’
She gripped the glass tightly with both hands to keep it steady as he poured. Of course, he had to come closer to do so. Close enough that he was at least partially in her space, and wafting his delicious scent in her direction. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck, while further excitement pulsed between her thighs. If he touched her again, as he’d done earlier, she’d probably pass out – that or crack the goddamned glass with her grip.
‘So, Sally.’ Xane reached out, and claimed the all-access pass from around her neck. After a swift glance, he cast it into the wastepaper basket. ‘Who are you really? Give me a name. I like to know who I’m talking to.’
So he knew the pass was stolen. The realisation that she’d been caught sobered her a moment. It was hardly a surprise. Of course Xane knew his own staff. Regardless, Dani contemplated maintaining the façade. Given that Sally Kettering hung out with the band, she was probably a whole lot worldlier than Dani, and more assertive too. Sally had probably slept with most of the band three times over and didn’t see anything wrong with that. She was free, like Xane, and like Ginny. Not hung up on morality and what people thought of her, nor so scared of what might happen that she was figuring out a host of different excuses for why she might have to leave at short notice.
‘You know she has a moustache, don’t you?’
Dani blinked at him in surprise. She’d never got a proper glimpse of Sally before the theft. All she remembered was a woman in black, a description which probably described three-quarters of the women at the gig.
Xane shook his head. ‘She doesn’t really. I just made that up. She’s got at least ten years on you, though. What are you, about eighteen?’
‘Twenty,’ she replied indignantly. ‘And I’m Daniella … Dani.’ Out of habit she stuck out her hand for him to shake.
‘Hi, Daniella.’ Xane accepted her hand. His grip was pleasantly firm, although the bite of his numerous claw rings made it faintly disturbing. ‘I’m –’
‘– Xane Geist,’ she finished for him. ‘Lead singer and mastermind behind Black Halo.’
A flash of something – not appreciation, pain perhaps – swept across the surface of his eyes. He blinked, and it was gone. ‘– Alex. My real name is Alexander.’
She’d read that in an interview. ‘So do I call you Xane or Alex?’
‘Whichever.’ He released her hand. ‘I can’t say that I much care for either at the minute. Call me what the hell you like. Dickhead, was it, you were thinking a minute ago?’
‘I’ll stick with Xane.’ It’s what popped into her head complete with an exclamation mark every time she looked at him. How could one man be so bloody scrumptious? Despite him sitting close enough to touch her, he still seemed a fraction unreal.
Darmowy fragment się skończył.