Rock the City: A Midnight Fate Novel (7 page)

She lifts her cheek from the marble as her stomach muscles clench. “Lane, please don’t stop,” she begs as she tries to dig her nails into solid marble.

Inching even higher on her toes, her body greedily takes every ounce of pleasure it can find until her forehead falls against the counter, her sated body sagging against the marble. My arms stay wrapped around her until she can open her eyes and support some of her weight again.

“You’re really good at that,” she says, lazily. “Like, exceptionally skilled.”

“No more hiding in the bathroom when you need me, okay? I’ll always take care of you.”

She finally stands up and turns around, her face still heated and her makeup a little bit smeared under her eyes. “I didn’t want you thinking I was only here to screw you.”

“The thought never once crossed my mind.”

“Okay, because believe it or not, I’m pretty into you, drummer boy.”

I smirk for the simple fact that, in Noelle’s language, sarcasm is love. It doesn’t stop me from giving her the reassurance I want her to have. “Nobody else has ever come close to you, Noelle. You’re the only one I want.”

“I guess that means a threesome is out of the question?”

“Jesus, baby. If ropes get you this horned up, I’m going to start leaving them lying all over the condo.”

“That’s fine with me as long as you’re naked doing whatever it is you do with them while I watch.”

“I’ll show you sometime, but right now, we have to finish getting ready before I’m late.”

“I like being late,” she whispers against my lips before she kisses me again.

I’m so fucked.

The crowd in the area has been going insane for Midnight Fate for the last hour and a half. I knew they only gained in popularity the longer they’ve been back on the scene, but this is so much more than what I was expecting. The groupie in me is begging to be unleashed from the confines of the luxury box the guys insisted we stay in, but what fun is a concert if you’re so far away all you can do is watch them on the big screens surrounding the stage? I don’t want to watch sweat fall on TV; I want to watch it hit the stage from two feet away.

“How pissed do you think Lane would be if I ventured out there for a little while?”

“I’m pretty sure he’d lose his shit,” Gina says as she sips her beer. Lark nods in agreement, her ass stuck so firmly to her chair she’d never go explore with me.

“The way I see it, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

They both laugh like that was the stupidest thing I could have ever said. Gina leans closer, whispering in my ear, “Those big dudes by the door aren’t here for decoration. They’re here to make sure we stay in here and everyone else stays out. They’ll rat you out so fast, you’ll never see it coming. Trust me, I’ve tried to escape.”

“Seriously?”

“She’s telling you the truth, Noelle. If you want to enjoy the rest of your time in New York, I’d keep your rump in the chair.”

I hear their warnings loud and clear, but the longer I sit here, the more drawn to the stage I become. It’s not like I can help it—it’s in my blood. Even though the girls are probably right about Lane being pissed, I still want to be front and center, just like I’ve been for every concert I’ve ever been to.

When I’m positive they only have a couple songs left in their set, I decide it’s go time. I tell Lark, “I have to pee. I’ll be right back,” not even waiting to see if she wants to come with me.

If what Lark said about security is true, I don’t bother trying to get by them. Tapping Reed on his beefed-up bicep, I pull him into the hallway away from everyone else. “What’s up?” he asks, in a voice so deep I start to rethink my plans.

“I need you to get me in the first row—and no, I’m not going to change my mind.”

“They warned me about you.”

“Who did?” I ask with my hands on my hips, surprised I have a reputation already.

“Lane won’t like this.”

“But I will, Reed. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. I can see the wheels turning inside—he’s torn. “You’re trouble.”

“I promise I’ll take the blame. I won’t let anyone get mad at you.”

Reed’s face softens the longer we talk, but time’s working against me. The longer I’m standing in this hallway trying to convince him to take a chance, the less time I’ll have to watch the show. Finally, I resort to begging. “Please, Reed. I’ll do whatever you say.”

With his face stone-cold, he says, “You’ll go where I tell you to. And you’ll leave when I say it’s time. I can’t keep you safe if you don’t listen.”

“Deal!”

He leads me farther down the hallway to a different set of elevators than the ones we came up in. When the doors open, we’re on the lowest level, the sounds of Lane’s drums so powerful I can feel each beat in the pit of my stomach. This is how a show should be—the music so intense each beat punches you in the face.

Reed takes me exactly where I want to go, only on the other side of the barrier where nobody else is allowed to be. It’s even more amazing than I imagined once I catch a glimpse of Lane on the platform with his drum set, suspended a few feet above the rest of the band.

“This is as good as it gets, Noelle. You can go anywhere up front, but stay on this side of the barrier or you’ll get crushed. The guys in the yellow shirts won’t let anyone else over, so don’t even try it if anyone begs.”

“This is perfect, Reed! Thank you.”

All I get is a simple nod, the smile I got upstairs long gone. With him trailing behind me, I dance my way to center stage, my eyes focused on Lane’s sweaty skin. Somewhere between leaving the box and here, he shed his black T-shirt, leaving his muscles on full display. He may not have a lot of ink, but what he lacks in body art he makes up with pure muscle.

He doesn’t spot me right away, but Easton does. The moment he turns around and nods toward where I’m standing, Lane’s eyes follow, eventually landing right on me.

He looks up at the box where I’m supposed to be and back down, silently asking me what the hell I’m doing down here. I give him a big smile as I twirl in a circle, my hands in the air and my body keeping time with the music. Clearly, this is the only way to experience Midnight Fate, but so he doesn’t worry, I point to Reed a couple feet away, giving him the thumbs-up that I’m safe.

That’s enough to ease his mind, and his eyes close again as he gets lost in a new song. Each time he opens them, it’s not the crowd he’s looking at anymore—it’s me. We dance with each other, the show becoming our own personal conversation of how much I want him and how much he wants me.

The only thing powerful enough to interrupt our connection is the sound of fire alarms going off all around us. The band plays a few more seconds before they stop, looking toward security for answers. When they tell them to clear the stage, pushing them out the back, Lane tries to turn around and get to me, but they won’t let him.

Reed moves toward the door, opening the three that were closed just as shrill screams light up the space around me. The mad rush toward the exit sends two girls standing on the other side of the barrier to the floor, their shrieks becoming muffled as they’re trampled.

I try to help them, yanking on the cold metal fencing separating us, but it won’t budge. It’s only when the crowd starts jumping over the barrier into the safe space where I’m standing that I realize I’m about to be in the same situation. With all my might, I latch onto the metal bars, praying they don’t knock me down, too.

Screaming for Reed, I look for his towering frame, but he’s fighting against the masses to get to me. I can either let go and risk falling or stay where I am, hoping he gets to me before it’s too late.

I’m scared to death but I choose to hang on, scraping my nails against the metal to the point they’re breaking off. Just as a drop of blood trickles down my wrist, I’m jolted from behind, my ribs screaming as loud as the voices in my head. Even though my brain’s in full panic mode, my body won’t move from where I am.

Lyrics from the song they were playing before they left the stage swirl around in my mind, and I force myself to focus on them. By the time I get through them, Reed will come and get me and this nightmare will all be over.

You’re all I need in this life.

I will love you.

But I’m fading so fast.

Tell me that wasn’t our last hello before good-bye.

Breathe with me.

I’m fading. Fading so fast.

I say them once more but Reed still hasn’t come, and just like the song says, I can’t hold on much longer. In a split-second decision, and with numb fingertips, I let go, prepared to either fall to the floor or fade into the sea of colors around me.

All the bodies and equipment around me disappears into a meaningless blur. My eyes are so watery all I can see is the flashing red and white exit sign—my finish line.

Breathe with me.

I’m not fading. I won’t fade so fast.

Two steps toward freedom and steel arms wrap around me, hoisting me up and over a strong shoulder. My sore ribs bounce against bone and muscle as my savior runs up some stairs, across a dark floor and through a dimly lit corridor.

A minute later, we bust through a door. The only indication that we’re outside are the black patches of gum left behind on the cement and the glowing yellow lines leading us away from the building.

When the yellow brick road finally ends, I’m thrown into the back of an SUV with so much force I hit the leather seat and roll off onto the floor, landing on a floor mat below. Tiny rocks dig into my legs, but I’m so stunned I curl into a ball, praying whoever has me will take me back to Lane.

Seconds later, the driver steps on the gas pedal so hard my body’s jolted against the back of his seat. I latch onto the pocket of the front seat, knocking a magazine to the floor as I try to sit up, but I don’t get far on my own.

Even though I raise my head and see a shadow in front of me, I can’t see who it is. His face is so blurred by my tears, but until now I didn’t even realize I was crying. The only place I’ve existed is in my head, song lyrics getting me through chaos.

His voice stops floating around me and his words begin to make sense. “Noelle, talk to me.”

His voice is the sweetest victory. “Lane,” I whisper around a strangled sob.

Once he realizes I’m out of the fog, he pulls me off the floor and into his lap. With his arms around me, and his kisses, he slowly brings me back to reality. It’s the first breath I can remember taking where I wasn’t slowly suffocating.

“Noelle, baby, talk to me.”

My shaky hands with broken nails on each finger reach for his torn shirt. Pulling the fabric apart a little farther, I try to look at his skin. “Are you hurt?”

He glances at his side to see what I’m looking at, the adrenaline still so strong he doesn’t even realize he’s cut. “I’m fine, but your hands . . .” he says, softly. “They’re bloody.”

Even though it hurts, I make a fist and clench my fingers, the jagged edges of my nails digging into my palm. Most of the little cuts I have are from other people trying to lunge for the same piece of metal I was holding, only coming up empty when they couldn’t hang on long enough to stay on their feet.