“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.