“You sure you’re goin’ down there?”

Duskiness clung to the enclosed quarters backstage, the hallway narrow and the ceiling low where Lyrik had me pinned against the wall.

People jostled through, moving equipment as the opening band cleared out to make room for Sunder to take the stage. Voices yelled demands and directions, and a frenzied excitement bustled through the atmosphere.

“Do I look like I can’t take care of myself?” I lifted my chin in defiance and let out a little bit of Red. So what if I liked it a little too much that this intimidating boy looked as if he wanted to scoop me up and hide me away.

Protective.

Defensive.

Possessive.

“I just don’t get why you’d want to be down there on the floor when you could be back here with Shea, standing at the side of the stage. Best view in the house, baby.”

I scoffed. “Watching a video on my computer screen is a pretty good view, too, but you and I both know it’s not the same.”

“It’s a madhouse out there tonight,” he warned, as if that bit of information would sway me. “No doubt the pit’s gonna be crazy tonight.”

“Even better.”

He edged in closer. I sucked in a breath, as if I could inhale all the elements of this powerful man. Or maybe as if I could defend myself against them.

Because they were overwhelming.

Consuming.

I pressed back closer to the wall.

His voice was a grumble where he ran his mouth up and down my jaw. “Last thing I need to worry about while I’m on stage is my girl down there, getting trampled underfoot by a bunch of kids who just want to let go.”

My girl. My girl. My girl.

Could it be?

It felt so close.

Attainable.

This untouchable boy right within my reach.

My head rocked back against the wall, granting him better access as he started kissing a path up and down the sensitive flesh of my neck. He dug his fingers into my hips and pressed his already straining cock against my belly.

Well then.

“Are you trying to distract me?” I rasped toward the low ceiling, waffling between caving to whatever he asked of me and begging him to take me back to the dressing room.

“Whatever it takes,” he muttered against my skin. “Terrible, terrible sacrifice I have to make.”

“Right,” I drew out. Laughter that hinted at the giddiness his actions stirred within me tumbled up my throat. Finally, I managed to nudge him back, meeting those charcoal eyes. “I’ll be careful. I promise. I just…”

I chewed at my lower lip, wondering if he got it.

Mouth pressing into a thin line, he seemed to make a decision. With a resigned sigh, he gathered me into a hug. “I hear you, too,” he murmured.

Affection wound in my chest, my emotions all over the place as I looked up into the face of this man. This stunning, foreboding man who’d come to mean everything. Staring up at him was the girl who looked at the world with wide eyes and an anticipating, eager spirit.

One who felt as if she was at the verge of experiencing the good things that world had to give.

The thrill and the excitement and the steady hum.

All the while, those hard, hard lessons learned along the way flickered in the distance. In the recesses of my mind that weren’t all that rusty. They only fueled the rising flames.

“Lyrik,” Ash suddenly called from the end of the hall. “Get your ass over here, man. About time to go on.”

Lyrik shot me a menacing grin. “Don’t make me have to jump off that stage to kill anyone.” He pecked his mouth once against mine. “You know I will.”

Butterflies scattered and lifted and flew.

God.

“I’ll be sure to stay out of the line of fire.” I pushed up onto my toes, kissing him a little longer than he’d kissed me. “I’ll see you afterward.”

I followed Lyrik down the short hall of the music theater, gave a small wave to Shea who looked at me as if I were crazy as I passed by and headed to the entrance at the side.

So yeah.

Maybe I was a little crazy.

I was totally okay with that.

The bouncer stepped aside to let me through, and I bounded down the five stairs until I became just another indistinguishable face in the unruly crowd.

It was standing room only—everyone crammed together as they vied to get closer to the stage.

Excitement flared. I filled my lungs with it, making myself one with the living, thriving ring of energy spinning through the room.

Bright lights flashed from above the stage.

Anxious, the crowd surged.

Undaunted, I pushed and weaved, making my way through the mass of bodies trying to hold me back until I made it almost all the way to the front.

I took a spot just off to the side where I knew Lyrik would stand. Where his old black, much-loved guitar was propped on a stand in between two others.

Colored lights danced across the faces of the fans. Inciting and stirring.

With a thrust of his drumsticks in the air, Zee burst out onto the stage.

Shouts and yells lifted from the crowd.

Ash appeared next, and that energy sizzled. I felt it build around me, as bright and shimmery as the blue stage lights that twirled and throbbed.

It nearly exploded when Lyrik stepped out from behind the dark maroon curtains.

And that was all it took.

My breath was gone.

Knees weak.

Heart manic.

Pound.

Pound.

Pound.

He was smiling my favorite smile when he strode across the stage. The deadly kind. That arrogant, cocky boy who I’d run from for months was back in full force as he slung the strap of his guitar over his neck.

So powerful and bold.

Stunning.

A beautiful predator who with merely a flick of his finger summoned a flock of willing prey.

God, was I a fool, because I knew right then I adored that part of him, too.

Adored everything about him.

The danger and the dark.

The threat of those big hands.

The soft security of them when he held me in the night.

This convoluted, confusing man who amounted to something brilliant.

The crowd just about lost it when Sebastian stepped out, bringing the whole of Sunder standing before them.

No wonder Shea had lost herself to him.

For the briefest flash, the lights completely went dim. The sudden silence only added to the furor.

Energy held fast.

Baited.

Bottled.

Before blinding white spotlights blazed to life.

In that very second, Lyrik slammed into the first erratic chord.

The crowd broke into a riot. As if the ball of energy centered at the foot of the stage burst and rippled out, consuming everything in its path.

Bodies thrashed, bouncing together to the wild, harsh beat and the growling, aggressive lyrics Sebastian screamed into the mic.

I felt a partner to it. Yet elevated above it all as I watched the boy in front of me get lost in the words, in the melody he fed into his own mic, a rugged, razor-sharp edge added to the mayhem.

A dusky haze filtered through the space, and lights strobed as bodies flailed and writhed.

And Lyrik.

Lyrik somehow met my unfaltering gaze.

Dark, piercing eyes.

Penetrating.

Provoking.

As if I were the only thing he could see.

Drawn.

And I wondered if he, too, had felt it all along.

When Sunder finally exited the stage, I worked through the maze of bodies to the side entrance leading backstage. Some people stood around chatting as the bouncers tried to herd them toward the front doors. Others lingered, obviously hoping to get that highly coveted invite backstage.

I felt a twig of panic when wondering if the bouncer would recognize me.

That would just be awesome.

Me standing around out back like some kind of wannabe groupie, waiting for Lyrik to realize I wasn’t there. My phone was in my purse where I’d left it with his things in the dressing room. I didn’t even have a way to call him.

But I should have known better. Lyrik was already there, greedy gaze meeting mine where he waited for me shadowed by the burly bouncer.

With a smile, I offered a couple “excuse me’s” as I shouldered through, not caring a bit that I was met with a slew of grumbles and hisses.

All I wanted was to get to my man.

My man.

Could he be? Could he be more than the two months he’d promised? More than this weekend that neither of us could define? Because after the weight of my realization at his parents’ earlier today, there was a piece of me that was imploring with myself to pin him down. To make him say the words I could so clearly read in his eyes.

With every step closer to him, emotion pulsed through my veins. But it was a new need unlike anything I’d felt before. As if all the fears and reservations and concerns I’d built up for years had suddenly been loosed and freed. Now they bounded forth like the spill of a waterfall, pouring, meshing, and uniting with the faith he’d created, breeding a flood of devotion that quickly rose to fill every crevice and hole.

Love. Love. Love.

“There you are,” he whispered as his big hand came out to grip me from behind my neck, to pull me forward and to kiss me as if he felt the magnitude of what swirled and tumbled through me.

“What’d you think?” he asked when he pulled away.

I clutched his sweaty shirt. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

He laughed a cocky laugh, grin sly as his hand skidded down my arm to my hand where he weaved his tatted fingers through mine, like maybe we were writing our own story. “Know I’m all kinds of irresistible, but I meant about the show.”

A playful grin flitted around my mouth. “I do believe you’ve been hanging out with Ash too much. I think he might be a bad influence.”

Lyrik laughed, this deep, melodic sound. He lifted a dark, incredulous brow. “You think it’s Ash who’s the bad influence?”

His smile softened as my expression drifted into something tender. It was impossible to keep it out.

“You already know what I think about the music,” I told him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah…about your voice. About the way you wrap me up when you play. The way I don’t feel so alone when I’m surrounded by the words that feel almost like you wrote them just for me.”

I lifted a self-deprecating smile, Red so far gone I no longer remembered who she was or who I’d been so frantically trying to be.

“Pretty sad, huh, being that girl sitting all alone in her apartment, pressing play again and again to the same song, pretending this untouchable rock star was there and everything didn’t seem so bad anymore.”

He brushed his fingers through my hair, making my head tilt back as he looked down at me. “Not alone, Blue. Not anymore. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Didn’t I? I wanted to beg him as that flood whooshed into a white-capped wave of insecurity.

“Come on,” he said. “Four of us have a little tradition after each show. Want you there.”

“And what kind of tradition would that be?”

“Shots.”

“Surprise, surprise,” I mumbled, tone dry.

A smirk played at that delicious mouth, and he turned on his heel and started zigzagging us through the backstage crowd. I clasped my free hand around his wrist, refusing to let him go as I tried to keep up with his long, purposed stride. He gave my hand a squeeze, a silent reassurance that he had me, that he knew where I was.

That maybe he knew who I was.

I hear you.

His voice trembled through my spirit.

People clapped him on the back as we passed, and I took in the whole scene with wide-eyed exuberance.

Balancing on the ledge.

Ready to take that last step over the edge.

To jump.

Straight into a free fall.

Would he be there to catch me at the bottom?

“Great show, man,” one of the guys from the opening band said to Lyrik, slowing our progression as he blocked our path in the cramped hallway.

Heat permeated the space, the air dank and dim and thick. In amused appraisal, the guy’s brown eyes slithered down to where Lyrik’s and my hands were clasped.

“Where’s the twin?” he asked with a suggestive twist of his brow.

I cringed.

Wow.

That hurt worse than I thought it would.

But it was no secret or surprise. That was Lyrik’s style. In almost every picture I’d seen of Lyrik with a girl, there was never any girl about it. It was a pattern in the images captured by the paparazzi, in those snapped by fans.

Lyrik West was always draped in multiple women.

In them, his posture almost suggested he didn’t register they were there except for the fact he was getting ready to ravage and annihilate.

Spoil and loot and desolate.

Once he used them up, I was sure there was nothing left behind.

All except for the one I’d found in that picture.

“Fuck off, Brinks.” That was Lyrik’s only response as he jerked me back into movement. My gaze turned in time to follow the guy’s shocked expression staring back at us as Lyrik wound me deeper into the darkened maze.

I guess I was a little shocked too.

And a whole lot relieved.

Lyrik said a few hellos as he walked into one of the reception rooms backstage that had been close to empty when we’d walked through it earlier this afternoon.

Tonight it was packed, overflowing with a crush of people plastered against every wall, some voices loud and raucous, the center of attention, others obviously ill at ease and having no clue what to do with themselves.

Heavy metal blared from the speakers, only adding to the chaotic vibe that vibrated the floors and climbed the walls.

For the most part, Lyrik barely lifted his chin in acknowledgment of someone calling his name, those competing for his attention, this dangerous, volatile man seemingly unaffected and aloof.

He led us to the very back where a bar was set up.

Here, most of the people in the room held back, giving us space.

Anthony appeared off to the side with a grin on his face. He clapped Lyrik on the shoulder. “Lyrik, it’s good to see your face. Feel good to be back in town?”

“Sure thing,” Lyrik said with a little less enthusiasm than someone might anticipate.

Anthony turned his gaze on me, appraising again, but where the asshole back in the hall had been exactly that…an asshole…Anthony’s assessment was soft and without judgment. Just…curious.

“Nice to see you again, Tamar.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

Ash squeezed through, bounding onto the scene, always larger than life, cutting off any further conversation. “Anthony, how’s it going, man? You outdid yourself this time. Sold out. Guess we can’t ask for better than that, now can we?”

“Hell yeah,” Sebastian agreed as he sidled up to the bar, his hand wrapped up in Shea’s, refusing to let her go.

She eyed me with a knowing smile.

Crazy, huh?

I shook my head with a smile, thinking it truly was crazy, that Lyrik had me wrapped up kind of the way Sebastian had Shea.

Staunch and resolute.

That I was here, and for the moment I was his.

That whole feeling fluttered through me again. The promise of something good.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Because that thrill trembled with the consequences of leaving myself susceptible and weak.

Right then, I wasn’t sure I could much make myself care anymore. Wasn’t sure I could conjure the fight.

I squeezed Lyrik’s hand, turned my nose to his arm so I could breathe him in.

Maybe it was better to hurt and bleed and cry than to be vacant and alone.

Maybe fear wasn’t such a horrible thing, after all.

Ash leaned over the bar and helped himself to a bottle of Jack, lined up a long row of shot glasses, and set to pouring the amber liquid across them.

I felt the curve lifting at the corner of my mouth. “You’re making me feel like a slacker, you pouring the drinks while I stand over here pretending like I don’t have a thing in the world to do. You sure you don’t want a professional to handle that?”

Ash cracked up with a shake of his head, his blue eyes sly as they cut across to me. “Ah now, my Tam Tam…I do appreciate the gesture…”

His attention kept sliding until it landed on the side of Lyrik’s profile, Lyrik’s head inclined so he could hear whatever Anthony was saying, clearly paying us no mind.

Ash flicked his attention right back to me. “Think you have plenty to keep you busy. My boy there is a handful. Wouldn’t want to leave you at a disadvantage.”

He said it like a tease, but I didn’t miss the undercurrent of warning that made its way into his words.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, accepting the glass he passed my way.

“I know you will.”

Ash nudged Lyrik’s arm, and Lyrik turned from his conversation and took the shot glass Ash offered. Everyone seemed to know their routine, each taking a step back or closer, huddling until they’d made a small circle of friends.

These boys who’d always seemed so bad.

The ones who’d shaken my axis the second they’d invaded Charlie’s bar, because they’d ushered in this black-haired, broken boy who would steal my world.

A beautiful storm.

Still holding my hand, Lyrik slanted me one of this deadly grins and a wink.

My insides went haywire.

A sizzle and a snap.

Ash lifted his glass. “To the future of Sunder. May all our roads be paved in gold and may badass songs continue to pour from our souls. Oh yes, and may there always be lots and lots of girls.”

He grinned like the Cheshire and tossed back his shot.

Shea smacked him on the chest. “Hey.”

He deflected, jumping back and trapping her hand against him. “Don’t worry, Beautiful Shea. We know Baz Boy here is locked down tight. No worries. Just leaves more for the rest of us.”

Tugging her hand away, she pointed at him. “I still have two hundred bucks saying you’re going to be filling up that house with a herd of little Ashes. I’ve got your card, buddy. This girl needs a new pair of shoes.”

Ash gripped his chest like he were in pain. “Oh…God…you’re killing me here, Shea. I’ll gladly fill up your whole damned closet with shoes if it’ll stop you from this mad delusion.”

The entire time, Lyrik was squeezing my hand. Hard. A little hopeless. Like he didn’t know where this was going, either, but he couldn’t bear the thought of letting me go.

I squeezed back.

Don’t let me go. I need you. I want you. I love you.

Do you hear me?

He suddenly looked down at me. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to call it,” Lyrik said offhandedly to the rest of the guys, not waiting around for goodbyes.

He began to lead me back through the crowd. Just before ducking out of the room, Lyrik froze when a middle-aged guy stepped into his path.

He was bald and grinning and so obviously not welcome.

“Eric Banik…” Lyrik seemed to process his presence, before his jaw went rigid. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? This isn’t the time or place for your games.”

Eric Banik.

A thread of unease spun through me.

That was the name that had sent Lyrik into a tailspin the night he’d gotten into that fight with Ash. The night Lyrik had lost some of his control. When he’d used me like he’d needed me and not the other way around.

Eric grinned. “Just thought I’d drop by and see if you’d thought any more about my offer.”

“Told you a thousand times and not a thing has changed. But if you need a reminder, then fine—” Lyrik edged in closer to him. “Fuck off.”

A cold unlike anything I’d ever felt from Lyrik chilled the room. His dark eyes had gone black when he glanced behind him to the guys still talking by the bar.

“Now if I were you, I’d turn around and not ever come back. Pretty sure I gave you a warmer reception than the rest of my crew is going to give.”

He laughed as if Lyrik didn’t faze him. Not in the least. “Baz’s wife sure is pretty, isn’t she?”

In a flash, Lyrik had Eric Banik’s shirt in his fist, lifting him from the ground. “I’m warning you…turn around and walk out the fucking door. Don’t come back. This is me asking nicely. And I’m about five seconds from not feeling so friendly. You got me?”

Hands lifted in a placating gesture, Eric backed down. “Fine. Just know the offer’s not going to stand forever.”

“Real broken up about it,” Lyrik mumbled as he pushed around him, and I struggled to keep up as he dragged me out the entry and back down the dingy hall. Anger radiated from him.

And I didn’t quite get it. Why an offer would make him so upset. Sure, the guy was obviously a dick. But it wasn’t as if he had to accept it.

I was almost surprised Lyrik didn’t punch the poor scrawny kid who suddenly stepped out in front of him at the end of the hall. Like a target directly in Lyrik’s warpath.

“Lyrik West. Would it be okay if I asked you a couple questions?”

Lyrik just grumbled something about assholes beneath his breath, and I gave his hand a small tug. This guy seemed so much better than the paparazzi that had descended on us when we’d stepped from the Escalade when we first pulled up to the theater this afternoon, a swarm of them firing question after question. All of which had been ignored.

“It’s fine,” I encouraged him, and Lyrik sighed, raked a hand through his unruly hair, agitation still vibrating through his bones.

“Make it fast.”

The guy gave a timid, but grateful smile as he scrambled to pull out one of those old-fashioned notepads. “Thanks so much for answering my questions. Umm…”

Nervously, he scratched the side of his head. “We know the next Sunder album is slated for release this winter. Word is, Sebastian Stone’s new wife, Shea Stone, aka Delaney Rhoads, will be a part of that album. Can you confirm or deny?”

“No secret they’ve written some music together.”

“Um…okay…and will she be joining Sunder on tour?”

Lyrik huffed. “Doubtful. She’s got a family. And the road and family don’t exactly mix.”

His tone was bitter. I stood at his side, trying to make sense of where all the hostility was coming from, all the while trying to tamp down the frisson of panic that threatened when the reporter’s attention kept flicking toward me.

Brows drawn, he inclined his head, assessing. “You look really familiar.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’d been too wrapped up in Lyrik’s proposal that I’d never even considered someone might recognize me.

Slowly I shook my head and took a step back. That disquiet I’d felt in front of Eric Banik doubled. But I hadn’t perfected my mask for nothing. I forced a brilliant smile, all sex and distraction, pushed out an easy laugh. “Nope…I’m nobody. I’m sure you’ve never seen me before.”

He gave a slow nod and turned back to Lyrik. “We’ve also heard the next album will showcase a few more songs in the style of Sunday Gone, your voice as the lead. Is that any indication that Sebastian Stone may be taking a step back from the band?”

Lyrik seemed to itch, antsy on his feet. “Band’s in a transition period right now. Don’t have all the answers. But I can assure you we’ll be making music together. Nothing is gonna change that.”

He scribbled something on his notepad, but I could feel the flicker of his eyes as they peeked at me from the side. The curiosity that wouldn’t let him go. The awareness.

Almost in frustration, he turned his full attention on me. “Are you sure I don’t know you?”

Shaking my head again, I took another step back, slinking behind Lyrik, hating the way I wished his shadows would swallow me up and take me to a place where I could disappear.

Hide.

Hide. Hide. Hide.

I was so damned tired of hiding. Of running from everything that scared me, but I didn’t know how to handle this when I’d been running for so long. I didn’t know how to bear the brunt of it. How to stand up under the sudden recognition that lit on his face.

I was peeking out from behind Lyrik when the reporter suddenly shook his index finger my direction, the smile on this guy’s face making it clear he had no idea he’d knocked me from the precarious foundation I’d created.

Where I’d balanced on unstable ground.

Knowing one day, one side would eventually give out.

“Yeah…yeah…you’re that girl. Tamar Gibson. Madeline Shields…she was from here…L.A. That whole thing is about to go to trial in Arizona, right? Saw something about it come across the feed last week.”

He frowned as the full story seemed to dawn, sudden confusion setting in. “Are they still looking for you?”

And that was it.

The bottom finally crumbled out from under me.

Darkness pressed in as a horror of memories came crashing through my mind.

Madeline Shields.

Pain lanced through my being like the cut of a rusted, dulled blade.

Paralyzing.

My legs wobbled as my heart and knees went weak.

All functions gone.

“Blue.” Lyrik was suddenly there. Holding me up.

Protectively, he wound his arm around my waist, let me bury my face in his chest. “Think that’ll be enough questions for tonight.”

He began to guide me through the shadows and voices and bodies. He brought his free hand up to my cheek, pressing me closer, covering the part of my face still exposed.

Blocking.

Shielding and sheltering.

Lyrik squeezed me tighter, his voice an echo on the fringes of the world I’d disappeared to. “It’s okay, baby. Ten more feet. Just need to make it out this door. I’ve got you. Not gonna let you go. I’ve got you.”

My hands curled tighter into his shirt, and I could hear the hushed murmur of his voice mixed with another man’s, the scrape of a metal door as it was opened.

Fresh air breezed across my damp, sticky flesh, wiping away the grime of the theater.

But there was no relief.

It was just another layer exposed.

Another sweep across the dirt.

Revealing my forgotten reality.

Madeline.

I hadn’t allowed her name to enter my thoughts in years. There was too much guilt. Too much shame.

Now I almost buckled beneath the weight of it.

Lyrik helped me into the backseat of the waiting SUV. The black leather was cold against my already clammy skin. Sliding in, he curled me back in his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered at the top of my head.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled through the old grief. But I’d kept it in for far too long.

“Shh…don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Nothing. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

And I remembered that voice and those words.

Lyrik.

The night he’d first found me. When he’d first unearthed everything I’d buried like a cursed relic.

“Lyrik.” It was pain. Torment. Regret.

“Shh…baby…I’ve got you…I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

The ride sped by in a blur of memories as I finally fully opened the door.

Opened it for everything to come rushing in.

Every fear.

Every hope.

Every memory.

I opened myself to every wound that had never healed.

I let every single one of them invade.

It was time. It was time. It was time.

I was so tired of being the girl I was not.

And I missed her. Tamar Gibson. The girl Cameron Lucan had tried to destroy.

Just like he’d destroyed Madeline Shields.

It seemed only seconds later when the SUV came to a stop. Lyrik opened the door, quick to slide out, hands careful as he helped me stand.

“Can you walk?”

Through bleary eyes, I nodded, and he wound his arm back around my waist, supported me as we started across the cobblestone drive.

With each step, I somehow felt stronger and stronger.

Braver and braver.

Unchecked, tears streaked down my face.

Once, I’d believed they made me weak.

But now. There was power in their presence.

And I felt a little crazed. Maybe a little insane. To feel so much turmoil and welcome it all the same.

Lyrik fumbled in his pocket and took out his keys. He opened the door to the massive house he called home. The expansive windows on the other side of the huge living area opened up to the pool and the sparkling city below.

He didn’t hesitate, just turned me to the right and led me upstairs and down the hall to his room.

I’d only been in it for a few minutes this afternoon before we’d had to leave for his parents’. But it felt so much like him. Dark and filled with mystery, the corners filled with shadows that ached to tell the same story he had written across his skin.

Releasing me, he quietly latched the door shut behind us.

Standing in the middle of his room, I turned to look at him.

For once, I was hiding nothing.

Open and free.

And it hurt and it hurt and it hurt.

And it felt so amazingly right.

He cradled my face.

Softly.

Gently.

“Tell me who you are.”

Unable to remain standing, I slowly sank to my knees.

Without releasing my face, Lyrik followed.

Tears clogged my throat. “All I ever wanted to do was forget. But I can’t do that anymore, Lyrik. I feel too real. Too much like me. Who I used to be.”

He nodded like he got it, a prod of encouragement.

I found my voice. “You remember I told you…that I escaped. When I escaped, I escaped from Cameron Lucan.”

I hadn’t voiced that name in so long.

Lyrik gritted his teeth, the sound an audible grind as he clenched and winced and fought the anger the utterance of it so clearly evoked.

Anger for me.

Was it wrong to love him more for it?

My tongue darted out to wet my lips. “Like I told you, when we first got together, it was good and then it got to where it wasn’t so bad. Looking back now, I realize he was acclimating me to his lifestyle. Desensitizing me. Convincing me his twisted desires were my own. Robbing me of all my confidence and self-preservation until I’d completely submitted to his will.”

I drew in a breath. “It didn’t take him long to persuade me to cut ties with my family. He told me they were only trying to keep us apart. I’d moved in with him before things had gone bad…back when I’d willingly let him use me, even though I knew in my gut something was wrong.”

I glanced to the floor, before letting myself look back on the severity of those eyes that had deepened to pitch. “It got so horrible, Lyrik, so bad so fast and I had no idea how to get out. I’d pray for death.”

The words had gone raspy. “For it all to end. He’d leave me tied up in this room in the dark where I’d be disoriented for days. Hungry. Not sure when he would return and when he did return if he’d come alone.”

Lyrik’s muscles twitched. A palpable rage skimmed just below the surface. It lifted and rose and shivered in the air.

Yet there remained a gentle softness to him that had never been there before.

This beautiful boy had always been both cautious and heedless when it came to me. His touch gentle in its aggressive demand.

But I felt the shift as I took him with me to that place where I’d never wanted to return.

Images flashed. I blinked, viewing them like old, faded snapshots I hadn’t known were taken yet somehow intimately recognized.

“I lost sense of time, but I would guess it had to have been about six months after he started holding me in that room upstairs when I woke up to him dragging another girl into it.”

Old horror circled and circled. I could barely speak. “I guess in the time he’d been isolating me, he’d started the same process with Madeline. Making her fall for him and his lies. Cutting ties with her family. Convincing her she was nothing without him. Making her wholly reliable upon him until he had her where he wanted her. No resources. No fight left to fight.”

I squared myself, the words suddenly strong as I looked up at his blistering expression. Anger restrained in agony. As if he both wanted to stand up right then and hunt Cameron down yet refused to leave my side.

I touched his cheek. “But he hadn’t broken all my fight, Lyrik. It was still there, buried deep. I watched and waited. Listened. Counted the knots in my ties. Memorized them until I could untie them in my head.”

I gulped. “In the corner, he’d…left a video camera on a stand for days. Taunting us.”

My skin crawled with the thought of it.

“I waited until I heard his motorcycle start up and drive away. It was so clear in my head. Untying myself. Untying Madeline. Running. Jumping. But she seemed so shocked when I was suddenly out of my bindings, and she screamed when I smashed the window with the camera.”

On the waves of the memory, the words broke in my throat and I looked at the bare wall over Lyrik’s shoulder as I forced out the confession.

“Madeline…she was too scared, Lyrik. Too scared to jump. Too scared to leave. She begged me to stay. Begged me not to leave her there alone. I’ll never forget the defeat in her eyes when I looked at her one last time, giving her one last chance, before I climbed out onto the eaves of the second-story roof.”

Everything rushed out. “But I was the coward, Lyrik. I was the coward because I just left her. Left her without a word and ran. I never looked back. Madeline had made her choice and I’d made mine. I never picked up the phone because that would mean I’d have to voice what Cameron had done. It was so much easier to pretend it’d never happened. Easier to become someone I wasn’t. Someone no one could touch.”

No one until him.

Lyrik’s hold was fierce. Unyielding. Those eyes searched every inch of my face.

Sorrow shook my head. “I didn’t know they’d found her body until a year later. I…I was missing my mom so bad. I signed into my old Facebook account…just needing to see her face. There was an article I was tagged in linking all of us…one naming me as a missing person after they’d discovered her. They were looking for Cameron as a person of interest.”

Lyrik squeezed me tighter, voice as harsh as broken glass, disbelief and so much hate. “He killed her?”

I shook my head as more tears broke free, begging for him to understand. “No, Lyrik. She killed herself. He dumped her. Just left her like garbage. He was gone when the police showed up at his house. They finally caught up to him and arrested him. He’s…he’s getting ready to go on trial.”

The room swam, the decision dangling over me like a noose.

Run.

Or turn around.

“Jesus.” Everything about Lyrik softened with a thready caution. He dragged the back of his hand across the tears soaking my cheeks before he knitted his fingers through my hair.

“Blue. I want to destroy him. Never wanted to hurt someone the way I want to hurt him. Can’t fucking stand it…thinking about someone hurtin’ you. What can I do? Tell me what to do and I’ll fucking do it. Say it and it’s done.”

I gripped him by both wrists and rocked toward him. “Kiss me.”

Two months ago, he’d promised to erase Cameron Lucan from my body. To touch me and fill me until I knew nothing but his name.

But it was Lyrik who made me remember mine.

There was zero hesitation. Lyrik hauled me up against the warmth of that strong body. Mouth overwhelming.

But this kiss. This kiss was so excruciatingly slow.

Deliberate.

Measured.

From every wisp and tug of his lips over mine to every flick of his tongue.

An intentional dance.

Unhurried yet brimming with need.

Barely contained.

I felt dizzy on it.

“So brave. So fucking brave.”

And we spun and we spun and we spun.

Searching hands. Heedful touches.

Edging back, he dragged my shirt over my head, whispered, “Blue.”

A cool rush of air prickled my skin, my flesh covered in chills as he leaned in and kissed across the upper curve of my shoulder.

My head dropped back.

His mouth fell fervid at my neck.

Hot hands at my sides.

I fumbled under his shirt and pulled it free. My hungry gaze roamed, as if I could decipher each bunch of his muscles, the flex and the bow, the smooth skin covered in tantalizing ink.

My eyes wandered, just as greedily as my hands as I touched and explored, drunk on freedom and lust.

My spirit unchained.

Shackles released.

Callused fingertips trailed over the warped heart imprinted on my chest. Translating. Communicating.

Guard your heart.

It was his.

I shivered with his kiss that was just as cautious when he pressed it there.

Oh God. This man.

I arched up on my knees to meet him, my hands fisted in his hair. His mouth moved delicately across the lacy fabric of my bra, his breath like a warm caress across my skin.

A tiny mewl slipped from between my lips and I held him tighter. Closer as he licked then softly sucked.

The need to know him was greater than it’d ever been. His dark, dark spirit taking on shape and form. It snuffed out the air until the only thing I knew was him.

I slid my palms over both his shoulders, slipping down his arms. Across the designs. The pads of my fingers played across the song on his left arm and over the name hidden there.

Tell me who you are.

The question begged at my tongue, but was silenced by his when he suddenly moved to capture my mouth. Hand on the back of my head, he tilted his to the side, kissing me deeper, carrying me away into his twilight.

Tell me who you are.

Lyrik scooped me from the floor and carried me to his bed. He laid me in the middle, never letting me go as he climbed over me.

Enclosing and surrounding and engulfing.

But where Lyrik and I normally lit, we smoldered.

His movements were controlled. Purposed. He edged back, never releasing me from the grip of his gaze as he lifted me by the ankle and unzipped my boot, turned and did the same to the other.

That bold, beautiful body inched forward to flick at the buttons on my jeans, my pulse going wild as I was eclipsed by his shadow.

A sigh puffed from between my lips as I lifted my hips to help him.

He dragged them down, taking my underwear with them.

“Blue,” he whispered at my belly, hand palming the apple on my thigh.

“What have you done? What have I done?” It was all a jumbled whir, lost to the energy.

I shuddered, pinned to his bed by the weight of his intensity. His severity so dense and dominant I felt our spirits coalesce.

There was nothing but us.

My head spun, dizzy on this feeling.

Light. Light. Light.

He was suddenly over me, that beautiful body bare, guiding himself into me.

Whole.

Never before had I felt so whole.

He gripped me by the back of the neck, our chests pressed close, the thunder of our hearts the only quickening in the room.

He rocked forward, slow and somehow desperate.

A soft moan fluttered from between my lips.

Those bottomless eyes latched onto mine in the darkness, his mouth a breath from mine.

He pinned my wrists over my head.

His body worked a steady beat, a frenzy barely kept at bay.

A raging storm contained.

Our pants leapt into the air.

“Lyrik,” I gasped out.

He swayed and pitched, buried his face in my neck as he released my wrists. My arms were around him, holding him close as he rocked and drove and pled. “Blue…what have you done? What have you done?”

“Lyrik…please…” It was a petition unnecessary, because I was already rising to the top where pleasure gathered fast.

“Blue.”

My body stretched tight beneath him as I came undone.

Lost.

Where I floated in the darkest skies. Where I drifted through clouds that rumbled their threat. Where I glided through the danger of this building storm.

The buzz before the strike.

Lyrik jerked and his mouth dropped open, this volatile boy clinging to me. Unhinged. Fingers dug into my skin.

Almost painfully, the words came from his mouth like distress.

“You sing my soul.”

So quiet.

Yet deafening.

You sing my soul.

Everything froze. The spin of the room and the hammer of my heart and the panicked boy who lay stock-still on top of me.

It was unmistakable.

The grief that suddenly poured into the room, seeping from his pores and from the shattered breaths from his lungs.

“What did you say?” I didn’t mean for it to come out so needy, but I couldn’t stop it from fleeing the confines of my mouth.

Because I needed to know.

I tried to edge him back. To see his face.

He jerked his head to the side. Jaw rigid. Throat tight.

Still refusing to look at me, he slowly rolled out of bed.

Nothing was said as he slipped on his underwear and jeans, the silence suffocating as he buttoned them.

He snatched his shirt from the floor and yanked it over his head.

The whole time I lay there with his sheet clutched to my chest. Shocked. Stunned. Both joyed and terrified.

“What did you say?” I begged again.

“Nothin,” he mumbled with a rake of his hand through that dark hair.

I clamored off the bed. “Don’t tell me it was nothing when we both know it was something.”

He looked at me. Hard and furious. “Said it was nothin’. Drop it.”

I grabbed his arm. “Lyrik.”

He shook me off and headed for the door.

What the hell?

I dressed as fast as I could, on his heels as I chased him down the stairs.

Ash and Zee were just coming through the front door as we hit the landing.

Shit.

But I wasn’t letting this go.

I refused to let go of this rigid, impenetrable man who was so obviously broken.

Because God, maybe he needed me just as badly as I needed him.

Maybe he needed a little saving, too.

It didn’t matter who was there to witness it.

I didn’t care.

Because what I cared about was him.

What I cared about was what he said and what it meant and where it would lead us.

“Lyrik, please,” I begged as I grasped at the tail of his shirt.

Lyrik spun around. The words he spat from his tongue were low and vicious and vile. “Please, what, Red?”

He was looking at me like I was garbage.

Dirty.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what this was,” he continued. “Two months and you got what you wanted. You fuck like a pro. Congrats.”

A strangled gasp wheezed into my lungs and I recoiled. Mortified. Slammed with a misery so great it nearly dropped me to my knees. After everything I’d revealed to him. After what I’d trusted him with. And this was his response?

My hand cocked back before I could stop it, and I barely registered the force of it as it flew through the air toward that too-fucking-pretty face.

Guess I was right all along.

Lyrik West was nothing but a bastard.