Chapter 7

DIANA

I turned to stone despite the raging blood coursing under my skin. My lips parted in a silent breath as my eyes dropped to his mouth. Something unwanted and sharp coiled between my thighs.

A whisper of longing invaded my thoughts.

“Shut up.” I snatched my hand away.

Breathing fast, I whirled around and stepped away. There wasn’t enough air in the studio to clear my head.

Levi threw his head back, and a rumbling laughter filled the room.

My hands curled into fists at my sides with each second that arrogant prick chuckled at my expense.

“We’re done for the day.”

That shut him up.

“Wait,” he said.

Too late. I shoved my materials back inside my backpack.

Embarrassed and frustrated, I wanted nothing more than to get out of this enclosed space with him. Sharing breath in the dark with Levi was doing things to my head and body that I didn’t appreciate.

“Come to my show tonight,” he offered in a rush, pushing the request out before I disappeared again.

I tossed my bag over my shoulder.

“I don’t think so. Live shows aren’t my thing anymore.”

He lifted his guitar and leaned it against the table. Slowly, he approached me.

As if I were a rabbit that might flee from a fox. The brash light in his stare softened.

“I know. But maybe if you listened to me sing live, we could figure out how to work through our differences in this song. It might make the rest of the album come together easier.”

“Levi, I don’t think—”

He deflated, instantly backing off.

“It’s all right. I understand, but I’ll leave a ticket with your name on it at the door tonight if you change your mind.”

Uncertain of anything else to say, I wandered toward the door.

The pressure of Levi’s presence didn’t lessen the farther I got. I would have sworn he was breathing down my neck even from across the room.

I grabbed the doorknob, and his voice reeled me back in.

“I really hope you make it.”

Levi’s aura followed me all the way home.

Regardless of the distance, his scent clung to my nostrils. Everything about him was inescapable, like a mystical shroud obscuring my senses.

Both annoyed and impressed with him, I grumbled to myself in the middle of my kitchen.

Soup simmered on the stove, and I picked at my nails. Through the kitchen window over the sink, I watched the sun drifting toward the horizon.

Levi Stark was in a category all his own.

Despite being booked almost nightly for an extensive local tour, he was still up bright and early to work with me in the studio. I’d readily admit he was talented, driven, and motivated.

But the tour was why he needed the help of a lyricist.

He had practice with his band most afternoons and shows most nights. They didn’t permit the rock star a break in his hectic life and that was where I came into the picture.

And I needed the money.

Levi was actively trying to make our contract work.

He openly admired me and my abilities in a way that was almost overwhelming. Even though I wasn’t popstar Diana Winslow anymore, it didn’t matter to him.

It was my work as a lyricist that astounded him.

While I wouldn’t admit it aloud, there was some part of me, deeply hidden away, that bloomed from his compliments.

I came alive any time he rattled off the praises he offered so willingly.

Then there were the heated glances throughout the day.

Tense moments where our eyes locked and the world melted away. Each of us held our breath, waiting for the other to speak and break the spell.

That didn’t falter even when he butchered my song.

That fiery tension coiled painfully tight.

The lust in my veins fed on the anger and irritation I carried for him. Each time he purposely provoked me, I wanted to tear his clothes off with my teeth and sink to my knees—

“I’m going to the show,” I told myself. “Fuck me.”

Listening to his music live was a decent idea.

It might help bridge the gap between what I envisioned for the song and his manner of singing. Otherwise, he might ask me to sing again.

I’d avoid that to protect my sanity.

Immediately upon deciding to make an appearance, I noticed the time.

I had an hour to shower and get there. Which seemed like enough time when I raced to my bathroom and turned on the water.

Under the scalding spray, I scrubbed myself raw.

The day’s grime from working in the studio spiraled down the drain along with my nerves.

Warm water pressure and wild cherry blossom soap cleansed me of the darkness nibbling away at my confidence.

I had performed shows a decade ago. There was nothing at the concert tonight I wouldn’t have seen before.

I could handle crowds, and it was unlikely anyone there would know me.

To ensure no one would recognize me, I lathered shampoo with purple dye into my hair.

It maintained the vibrancy of my color while securing my invisibility.

The color distracted people from taking a second glance at my face any time I left the house.

A decade away from the spotlight also helped.

“What do people wear to rock concerts these days?”

I thought back to my father’s concerts I went to as a kid and compared what I recalled to the outfits I noticed a few nights ago.

Standing out was the last thing I wanted to do.

I had to fit in.

Digging through my closet, I decided that tonight I was going undercover.

This was an opportunity for me to study Levi Stark and his band in person.

Listening to their music and watching how the crowds reacted to his stage presence might guide the next song I wrote for him.

Buried in a box at the back of my closet, I found old band T-shirts from my teenage years.

I had hundreds of these from Dad’s shows and other musicians sending them to me.

It had taken several donations to weed through the collection.

I chose a black T-shirt with a faded band name in forest green on the front, then tucked it into a black leather skirt.

Despite the lack of time, I rushed on dark makeup and curled my violet hair.

Knee-high black boots paired with a chain belt completed the look.

All my rushing fell short, and I arrived at the venue late.

Luckily, they held my ticket at the front door.

The glass doors here were much easier to open than the metal doors at the previous venue.

Though the crowds were equally loud and disorderly.

Levi’s band was mid-song.

I recognized it as one of his new releases from a recent album.

All my studying over the weekend paid off in that regard.

The crowd writhed around me.

A surging wave of excited bodies caught up in the music’s thrill.

His fans screamed and cried and writhed as he sang, as if his voice moved through them, lifting their very hearts and souls.

Stage lights made it difficult for a performer to see their entire crowd. I couldn’t help the sneaking thoughts in my mind that wondered how fans at my shows reacted. Did people in the audience weep from the intensity of my concerts all those years ago?

On stage, the band transitioned into another song. As the first notes played, the observable tension in the crowd exploded. Arms waved in the air, and fans screamed with their delight.

Any other time, the swarming bodies crowding around me might have overwhelmed my anxiety. Claws of my nerves lingered on the edge of my mind, and only the alluring notes of Levi’s voice kept them at bay.

The way he swayed his hips and stroked the microphone was entirely erotic. His gyrating and singing were explicitly suggestive.

While the song itself wasn’t lewd in nature, everything about his charisma radiated with carnal desire. His handsome painted face, mimicking a frightening skull and accentuated by the strobing lights, evoked an arousing fear.

Lured into the haze of his performance, and addled by the energy of the crowd, I swayed under his influence. Chills raced over my limbs, and a wanton heat stewed low in my belly.

My skin tightened and my heart thudded like a hammer against my ribs. Hundreds of bodies separated us, yet by the end of the song, I swore we were the only two souls in the building.

The last notes of the song faded. Levi had successfully captivated his entire audience. Fans were nearly silent, in awe as the music ended.

Levi, dressed in a tattered Gothic mock of a Victorian military uniform, crouched at the edge of the stage. He was an otherworldly creature, looking over the front row from the black voids around his eyes.

The band played another few beats as the rock star enticed the crowd by singing the last lines once more. His hand reached out into the crowd, close enough for a fan to take it.

Those dark eyes locked onto someone in the front row as he pulled them closer. This would be a moment that fan would never forget.

Slowly, as if whispering for his chosen fan alone, he sang the final line of the song.

~Then the world around me shattered like broken panes of glass as he pulled her in for a kiss.~