It was so noisy that nobody was paying them any mind. She looked around to see if any of the guys were close by but she was out of luck.
Viggo stumbled and nudged her further into the corner. “That’s why girls like you are here, right? You want to fuck the band, right?” His hand returned to the back of her neck, but this time he tugged her hair.
“No,” Pixie said shoving against him. “Get away from me.” She pushed by him, but he gripped her arm tightly, the callused pads of his fingers digging into her muscle, sending pain shooting down to her hand. Putting her entire body into it, Pixie attempted to break free by wrenching away from him, but failed to loosen his grip. She opened her mouth to scream.
“Get the fuck away from her.” Dred ripped Viggo’s arm off Pixie and pulled her close to his side.
“Dra ?t fanders, Dred. Get lost. We were just having a little fun, right, ?lskling?”
“Want me to show you a little fun? I’ll start by removing your fucking arm at the shoulder, douchebag.” Dred seemed to grow in height as he spoke. Viggo’s confidence left him.
“Don’t sweat it, Dred,” he slurred, hands raised in surrender by his chest. “She’s all yours.”
Viggo turned, but Dred yanked him back. “Apologize to the lady.”
It was the second time he’d been her hero today, first when Bill from Boise had shoved his phone at her, and now, the thought helping her regain some of her composure. It was all too close to the night she left home. Too close to the hands of a stranger ripping her shirt open while her stepdad laughed drunkenly.
“Sorry,” Viggo mumbled before stumbling away.
“Fucking asshole.” Dred took her hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”
She let him lead her through a maze of corridors, away from the crowds hanging around the stage area. The walls were closing in around her, and she was relieved Dred ignored the shouts of greeting. Dressed head to toe in black with biker boots on his feet, he was intimidating. People moved out of his way without question or hesitation. A blue door came into view and he slammed it open.
Nikan jumped to his feet. “Hey, Pix, how are—” He stopped in his tracks and looked her over before turning to Dred. “What happened?”
Dred didn’t break his stride. He simply yelled over his shoulder. “Viggo.”
Mumbled curses broke out and a quick glance over her shoulder revealed Nikan and Elliott steaming out of the room.
Dred reached a second door, this one with his name on it, and he opened it for her, encouraging her inside. Her legs felt like Jell-O, her thoughts scattered. Dred ushered her to an oversized armchair and left her for a moment, returning with two glasses, a large bottle of water, and a bottle of whiskey.
“I know which I’d rather have, but which do you want?”
Pixie pointed to the scotch, something to warm her from the inside. Somewhere between Viggo’s actions and Dred’s proximity, her stomach didn’t know which way was up. And now she was in a room with a man. Alone.
“Good choice.” He poured them both a large measure. “There you go.”
Pixie sipped the peaty Lagavulin. Dred took a swig of his and placed the bottle on the table.
He crouched in front of her, his anger having ceded into concern. “You okay, Pix?’ He took her hand, rubbed his thumb gently across it. It was comforting, reassuring even.
Adrenaline surged through her, yet her skin tingled where he touched her. You okay, Pix? It was a simple question, but Pixie struggled to answer it.
*
Dred stood at the side of the stage, like he had a thousand times before. The roar of the crowd chanting Preload’s name never got old. The smell of beer, sweating bodies, and high expectations permeated the air. He gripped Pixie’s hand tightly. Color had finally returned to her face. Her skin had been so fucking translucent when she’d sat down in his dressing room. He’d wanted to pulverize Viggo. Nothing had been added to his criminal record in well over a decade, but one more comment out of Viggo’s mouth and he’d have willingly carried the assault charge. The icepack Nikan held over his knuckles showed it had been taken care of.
When she’d finally collected herself and laughed at one of his jokes, the tight elastic band around his chest had snapped.
Their favorite warm-up song, “Master of Puppets” by Metallica, played. Chop your breakfast on the bathroom mirror. Yeah, he’d witnessed his mom do that more times than he could remember. Usually she chopped all the breakfast money on that stupid fucking counter. The number of days he’d gone to school hungry was impossible to count.
“This is incredible, Dred.”
He loved the way Pixie stood on her tiptoes, resting her hand on his forearm, to shout in his ear.
“I want you to stay here. Right by the curtain.” The rest of the Second Circle guys were behind them. He knew she’d be safe enough with Trent, Cujo, and Eric.
“You need a muse?” she asked playfully.
Dred kissed the tips of her fingers. “You already inspire me.”