Page 42 of Behind the Lyrics
I nodded and smiled, elbowing some of the crowd from behind who kept knocking into me and shouting at the band, invading my space, and sending those small sparks of panic swirling in my belly.
After an hour or so, the band finished their last song of the night. The lead singer, accepting a full minute of screaming applause, held up his hands. “All right, you maniacs. That’s it for us. Don’t forget to check out the merchandise table tonight.”
Boos and shouts erupted. Someone screamed, “Encore, encore.”
“No encore, but wedohave something special for you.” The hisses turned to excited shouts. “To kick off hisFallen Godtour in America…” He half-turned to the side of the stage and grinned.
My heart sped with excitement…and dread.No. He wouldn’t.I clamped a hand on Terri’s arm. “Where did you get those tickets?”
“Ouch, woman. Get your damn claws off me.” She frowned and rubbed her elbows. “I told you they were delivered.”
I was crazy for thinking he’d go through this kind of trouble to talk to me. Then I remembered Viktor stealing Rusty and replacing him with a new vehicle.I shook my head and leaned against the railing, my eyes glued to the darkened side of the stage.
It seemed as if everyone else held their breath, too.
The opening lines to “Push All Night” blasted from the sound system, and members of Farrow’s band walked onstage to replace the Maniacs. To say the crowd went wild would be an understatement.
A wave of people at my back shoved and poked, trying to squeeze into the front.
“Get your asses away before I pop you in the nuts,” Terri hollered at one guy twice her size, shaking her fist.
Once the band members settled, Viktor strolled out, a knowing grin on his face and an electric guitar strapped across his chest. His honey-colored hair, normally past his shoulders, had been cut and barely brushed the nape of his neck. It shouldn’t have mattered, but I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not.
Thick, black eyeliner rimmed his eyes, the typical look for his concerts and album covers, and his tight black jeans sported frayed holes. A blood-red tie hung around his neck. I was sure it was the same tie he’d worn the first time he showed up at my apartment. The very tie he’d looped around my neck and used to pull me to him, claiming me before I even knew what had happened.
Sweat broke out across my back. He looked sinfully devilish and felt like…safety.Why?
When he reached the mic stand, he unscrewed and adjusted it to reach his height. Holding up his hand, he shielded his eyes from the spotlights overhead. His gaze roved the front row until it landed on me. He winked, then loosened the knot in the tie and pointed in my direction, waving and showing those sexy little dimples in a wide grin.
“This song goes out to a very special woman.” He focused on me, and I stood in the crowd of twenty thousand people who disappeared until it was just him and me. “An angel who didn’t let the past weigh her down, who fought to break free.” For a few seconds, his hooded eyes shifted away to tune the guitar then his sharp gaze caressed me again. “Who stole my heart while we flew across the desert one moon-filled night.”
His fingers strummed the instrument, and a blush crept up my neck as I remembered how he’d stroked me the same way.
Those eyes, intense and sexy, seemed to flash with heat.Is he remembering that moment, too?
I should’ve looked away. I should’ve been angry knowing he’d probably been the one to buy those tickets. I should’ve run far away, but instead, I stood my ground and met his possessive stare. Why had I ever thought we could just be friends?
He hummed a few notes, but I didn’t recognize the song. The crowd seemed to be waiting with bated breath, as if he were God and they were waiting for some edict or judgment.
Lord, hedoesknow how to command an audience. EvenI’menthralled.
“A glare as cold as ice, but skin hot to the touch. Ooooo, she gets my love pumping, one touch is never enough.”He howled the last word into the air like a wolf, undulating the two syllables—another trademark of his—and the crowd roared. An eyebrow quirked in my direction.
Oh my God. I desperately prayed I misheard him saying this song was about me.He tended to include alotof sexual meanings into his lyrics, and I cringed inside, dreading what was to come.
“Come on, little baby, slide closer to me. Come on, little angel, I can set you free.”He removed the guitar from his chest and set it down then grabbed the mic and swaggered to the small ramp at the end of the stage, the spotlight following his progress.“Come on, little baby, wrap around my charm. Come on, pretty angel, inside you’re so warm.”
Kill. Me. Now.All around, women were screaming, crying, and shrieking, and allIcould do was try not to pass out.I’m going to strangle the son of a bitch.There were so many innuendos in that chorus I didn’t even know where to begin.
He sauntered to the concrete below the stage and continued to croon more lines, each dirtier than the previous, as he made his way down the aisle, closing in on me.
Security guards circled him, their eyes scanning the crowd. One woman tried to throw herself over the barricade, but a stout officer grabbed her before she flew into Viktor, and had her carted away, still screaming confessions of love and devotion.
Viktor didn’t even give her a glance. His heavy-lidded eyes lasered me, and I stood there like a gawking idiot.
I pushed against the railing to put some space between it and my chest to breathe because the bodies behind me squeezed tighter. If they kept it up, they’d break my ribs, or I’d have a full-blown panic attack.
His attention steadied me, though, so I clung to the cold metal fence and waited even though inside, my mind screamed for me to leave, to find peace and quiet, to shelter from the mass at my back.
