Page 9 of The Bloodfeather Promise
“It was a mistake, keeping this from you this long. I said it would come out eventually and things would go to shit.” Dylan’s fists clench and unclench, blue eyes unfocused with anger and disappointment. “Dude, you gotta do something. Pull yourself together. You’re so messed up, so fucking high and drunk all the time, you can’t see what this is doing to you. To the other guys. To our music. You know this can’t go on…”
My focus abruptly shifts. I can’t look at Dylan anymore. The truth in his words slices me like the sharpest of knives. Instead, I glare at the girl who caught my interest only because she caught his. Does Dylan really want her? I hope so. Because I want to hurt him like I am hurting. And, if I can’t hurt him, I’m going to hurt her instead. A poor substitute for Jessica, true, but at the moment, I don’t care.
“Well?” I snarl at her.
Jack quickly moves between us. I have a lot of respect and affection for Jack, but I will tear him apart if he thinks I’m leaving without this girl.
Frowning, he whispers in the brunette’s ear, and her eyes never leave mine while he speaks so softly. Finally, she gives Jack a slow nod, eyes wide but apparently in agreement with whatever he said. Now, I must admit I’m puzzled, especially when the redhead grins, giving her a crushing hug. She also whispers in her ear, causing the brunette to flush pink just before she is thrust toward me.
The strangeness of all that melts away the moment I catch her. I don’t know why my hands are so gentle when they land on her tiny waist, but that jolt of electricity flashes between us again. It’s not my imagination when she shivers in my grip. My prize for the evening is as affected as I am by the sparks sizzling between us. Excitement sends invisible tremors skittering across the surface of her creamy skin. I feel every single one of them beneath my fingertips.
“Get in the goddamn limo.” My victorious grin never falters when she gives me a searching look. Those shadowed eyes of hers glitter at me before she meekly descends into the car’s darkened interior.
“Son of a bitch!” Dylan explodes, leaping toward me with fists raised again. It’s Jett who grabs him this time, restraining him for mere seconds before he breaks free. “Don’t you dare, Greyson! Don’t you fuckin’ dare! She’s not part of this…”
Even in my drunken, drugged state, I’m quicker than he is. Before the limo door slams shut, I get in one last cut. “Now, I gotta fuck her, Dylan. You know I can’t ignore a challenge, especially coming from you. And, by the way, I quit, so good luck finding a guitarist. Hope you find someone who’ll write songs for your lame-ass and still let you take half the credit.”
I crumple onto the plush seats, making sure I activate the door locks in case Dylan decides he’s gonna be stupid and leap into the limo along with us. There’s a stream of blood trickling from my busted nose, and as it lands on the black leather, it rolls a little on the smooth surface. It’s barely noticeable against the dark material. I wipe it away with the palm of my hand. Perched opposite of me, the girl clutches a wad of cocktail napkins from the built-in bar. She silently passes them over, along with a bottle of water, then peers intently out the window as the limo swings around.
She’s so prim and proper, sitting with those beautiful legs crossed at the ankles. Like a librarian or some shit. Fiddling absently with the tiny, wallet-like purse in her lap, she repeatedly snaps its magnetic closure open and shut until my arched brow catches her attention.
Recognizing my irritation, her hands go still, and with a crooked smile, she reclines against the seat. Wary, but bright with interest, her eyes never leave me. She watches my every movement as though I might pounce on her now that we’re alone.
“Come here.” I don’t even know why I demand it. I know immediately she’ll refuse.
She smiles again, only this time, it’s a secretive little thing that makes me want to bite her bottom lip with my teeth and never let go.
“It’s best I stay on my side of the limo, don’t you think?”
“Fuck no,” I growl back. “Don’t you want to know my plans, sweetheart? Don’t you wanna know all the sick, twisted things I intend on doing with you?”
“Oh, but I do know… and I’ll stay where I am until we reach wherever we are going.” Her voice is so soft, so sure. It fills the limo’s interior like sweet music. If I wasn’t so agitated, I think I would be soothed by it. With a scowl, I decide there’s no point in pushing the issue. I’ll wait until we are in the privacy of my suite to put my plan into action.
The crowd parts as we glide out of the lot, flashbulbs popping from the paparazzi that has finally showed up. In a final expression of fury, Dylan starts banging fists on the side of the vehicle. I think he dented it. Whatever. He’ll pay for that, not me.
Even with the girl as a distraction, my friend’s words ring over and over in my ears. If I were alone, I would smash them out with both palms.
“Maybe if your brother wasn’t fucking my girlfriend, they’d both still be alive…”
Not that it matters, but Dylan is a liar. A damn liar. I’m done with Seven Seconds. The whole lot of them. A year walking this tightrope of resentment and fury and pain, and I agree with him, at least on this. I’m done. Out.
On my terms and no one else’s.
