Page 151 of Paint the Town, Dove
Ryden swept me into his arms, cradling my head under the weight of his palm. I could breathe. I could think. I could feel.
But only with him by my side.
“What do you need from me?” he asked. “I’ll do anything.”
I could only manage two words before I let the beasts inside me rest, and the dam to my heart broke free. “Hold me.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Ryden
“Its cold is as mighty as the snow above, ice masqueraded like a gentle hug…”
Arc & Sheild Records:‘Snowfall’
Composition By:Ryden Spectre
“She’s hot, eh?” Donny juggled a fistful of beer caps, shaking them like fucking maracas.
“Who?”Scarlett?
“Paisley Devora,” he smirked. “You must be stoked to work with her, even if it’s just for show.”
I rummaged through the closet rack, smoothing out one of the six North Face jackets I kept stored in the chalet for each visit. Black was fitting. Black was the mood.
“Should’ve invited her up for the break. Get to know her a bit, yeah. Break her in?”
I turned to him, my mood so fucking foul I needed something strong. Somethingimmediate. “Why don’t you hit her up and get it out of your system, D?”
Goddamn tool sometimes, man. Derek and Donny were thefunbrothers – like the Wright brothers but, whatever, we all fucking knew. They were loud, exuberant. I was quiet.
Still carried the same vices, though.
I didn’t do coke off a groupie’s tit, never fucked a fan, despite what the tabloids think –what Scarlett thinks…
I’ve messed around, I’ve been a menace, who fucking hasn’t? Who honestly fucking hasn’t. But no fans, no. They were everything to me.
My industry, my legacy, I protected that shit with an iron fist. I wasn’t popular with the press, my headlines may be seven sorts of whack, but I was adored. I’d never take that for granted.
I wore my best smiles, I let Mallory and Tav parade me like a Greek goddamn God. But when it came to making enemies, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stick up for myself. I couldn’t and wouldn’t let anyone tank my reputation, one I worked so hard to maintain.
But I did in the end, didn’t I?
Mom came around, fucked up my life after the tour closer, and now I’m seriously considering slapping Donny with a ski in a room I’d be sharing with my Dove who’s nowhere to be fucking found because I wrecked us by being so desperate for the taste of her and I’m losing it – I’M FUCKING LOSING MY MIND WITHOUT HER – and I could hate her with everything in me, but if she fell I’d fall too.
The headlines are calling me a villain, saying I lost my edge, that I won’t have a comeback. That’s why Paisley’s coming in.Who the fuck even is Paisley, waiting to save the day.
I could hate her for that too. But then I’d make another enemy. And everyone knows my fuck up with Yasmine. I was too trusting, too welcoming.I’ll try my luck with Paisley, be as closed off as a corpse in a casket.
Just thinking thoughts, are you? Thinking, thinking,thinking.
“You wouldn’t mind?” Donny asked.
Paisley. He was talking about Paisley. I pulled out my flask, took a long, thick swig, took my time answering. “Don’t fuck up my song.”
“Pfft,” he scoffed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I shrugged on the jacket, sizing it up in the mirror before taking it off. Fuck, I looked so rough. Hollow. Cut bones. Empty.
