Consumed (28 page)

Lucas

November

What the fuck do you do when you find out that the secrets that you buried, the lies that you paid to cover up, were just that? Lies. 

Do you linger in the past; holding on to those fucked-up regrets, wishing you could change things?

Or do you move forward?

I decide to do both.

It’s not Samantha who has to live with what she did to Bryce—it’s me having to face that I lived for four goddamn years thinking I was a monster and pushing away the woman who wanted to bring me out of those shadows. 

The fact that she’s here with me tonight is a miracle. 

“You look like sin, Red,” I murmur, looking up at her reflection as she comes up behind me. She’s wearing a tiny black dress that I think should be on my dressing room floor instead of her body, and heels that make her legs go on for days.

“The best kind.” Her hair falls around me as she drapes her bare arms over my shoulders and wraps me up tightly, like she doesn’t want to let go. “Last show.” Her clear blue eyes find mine in the mirror, and she takes a long, deep breath. “Are you ready, Mr. Wolfe?”

Reaching back, I ravel her hair around my fingers before I turn my head and find her mouth. I devour her. And she consumes me. This is the only way it will work.

When I pull her away, watching in amazement at the way she’s looking at me, I offer her a grin. “Sinjin will break my fingers with his drumsticks if I’m not ready.” Zoe is supposed to show tonight, and he’s hell bent on impressing her. 

“Then you should probably let go of my hair,” Sienna suggests, and when I do, she flips it over one of her shoulders. “Do I look presentable?”

“You look like you should be naked on that couch over there.” I jab my finger at the narrow piece of furniture across the room, but then shake my head. “But yes, you’re the best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. The best thing for me, period.”

“And then you have to say stuff like that.” She takes a few steps backwards. “I’ll see you after the show.” Her gaze remains locked with mine as she backs out of the room, and I don’t turn back around until after she’s gone. 

I stare at myself in the mirror. Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe. I stare at the man I was and am, and the one I want to be with her. Then, I get up and leave the dressing room, too.

Cal and Wyatt are mulling around the backstage hallway, with Wyatt talking shit about my sister’s friend Heidi leaving Cal tied up somewhere a week ago. When Cal sees me, he runs his hand over his face in embarrassment and directs his eyes down to the gray concrete floor.

“You got something to add?” he finally challenges. 

“Only that I wish she’d left you in public like that.” When he mouths a “fuck you” I grin and shrug it off. “Sin and I’ve got 500 bucks on who’ll come out of this thing with Heidi ahead.”

As I take off down the hall to the stage entrance, Cal calls after me, “So which one of us are you betting on?”

“My money’s always been on Heidi,” I say before ducking through the backstage exit.

What do you do when all your secrets come to light, just to be buried again?

You keep fucking playing.

Even though I already know the rescheduled Los Angeles show is sold out, there’s still no denying the amazed satisfaction of knowing that thousands of people have dragged their asses out here tonight to see my band. Still, through the screams and the music blaring around me, and thousands of faces, only one stands out to me in the crowd. Sienna’s sitting between my sister and her friend Tori in one of the floor seats closest to the stage, beaming up at me. 

As Cal kicks off the show with “All Over You,” her lips move. I can’t read them, but it doesn’t stop me from murmuring into the mic, “I love you, too.” The crowd goes wild, and I give them a cocky grin before I open my mouth to perform. 

Two hours later, when we reach the second song of our encore, and my fans are starting to get up out of their seats, I stop them. “I don’t do a lot of acoustic shit,” I say into the mic as two members of the stage crew bring out a stool and my guitar. A hush falls over the crowd and then there’s shuffling as they try to get back to where they were sitting. I put the mic on the stand and lean into it. “And I sure as fuck don’t usually do covers. But this is the last stop on a tour that seems like it’s gone on for months.”

Sitting down on the stool, I start to pick the beginning of a song slowly, waiting until the audience picks up on what I’m playing. Ten seconds in, the applause begins to erupt across the stadium. It’s deafening, and it gives me that shove I need to move forward. 

“I don’t think I need to explain why I’m doing this song. Just that it’s for the woman I fucking love.”

Her blue eyes never leave mine as I sing a Tonic song about doing anything for love and the beautiful blue-eyed woman I’d do it for. When I’m done, and the audience is screaming, I lean back over the mic again.

“I’m going to be a dick and put you on the spot, Red,” I growl. “Marry me.”

This time, when her lips move, I can easily read what it is she’s trying to say.

“Yes.”

Thank you so much to my readers—to YOU—for being so amazing. Your enthusiasm and support for my books amaze me on a daily basis, and I feel so blessed to have you. Thank you for all the emails, reviews, and Facebook messages. You rock my world!

To Kelli Maine, Michelle Valentine, and Kristen Proby— Thank you ladies for putting up with my randomness and making me laugh. I love you three.

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Thanks to Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs for creating such a beautiful book cover.

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Emily Snow is The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Devoured series (October 2012, January 2013) and Tidal (December 2012). She loves books, sexy bad boys, and really loud rock music, so naturally, she writes stories about naughty rockers. Visit her blog at http://emilysnowbooks.blogspot.com and her website at www.emilysnowbooks.com for news, teasers, and contests.