Sweet Temptation (18 page)

She's looking at me. And then Kopano, who's standing two seats down. She gives her head an almost indecipherable shake, and I feel an overwhelming urge to sit. It takes me a moment to realize she is using her silent compulsion, and I want to scream.

The room brightens further and Rahab lowers his arms.
All of the attention has turned away from Anna, to the light. I squint as I try to look at it. Abruptly, I fall back into my chair and stare.

Angels. The Maker sent angels. Is this . . . did He answer my prayer? Or is this coincidence? I begin to shake, overcome by the beings pushing into the room. The Dukes are falling back and scrambling to move away. Neph jump up and run, huddling against the walls in fear. The angels eye the room sternly and I have no doubt they would gladly take out every one of our stained souls if the Maker gave the order. I want to run onstage and snag Anna away, but the angels move forward.

“It is not her time,” says the angel in front, nodding to Anna. “She will serve as a test to many souls.”

Not her time . . .
I exhale in a rush. They really are here to save her.

Oho, Rahab is livid. A purple vein has taken prominence in his forehead. To see the Dukes crapping themselves might be the highlight of my life.

“Fine,” Rahab says with a deadly smile. “It is not her time now. But it is
hers
.”

The bastard raises his gun and shoots Gerlinda in the face. Anna shrieks as the girl tumbles back, dead. The angels rise up in unified indignation, and I lift a hand to block the brightness.

Chaos breaks loose as Rahab orders everyone out of the room. Neph push and shove to get to the exit. Where is Anna? As the angels retreat and the light fades, it's turned into a damn near trampling spree.

I search for Anna, working my way through until I see her
golden head. I call out to her, and she tries to press back into the crowd to get to me. I don't know why it's so important for me to touch her in that moment, but I need to feel her, to prove to myself she's alive. We finally link hands near the exit, but Belial pulls us apart. He practically carries her out and shoves her into a cab, where she is whisked away. Anna and I watch each other through the back window until she's out of sight. She's safe. Adrenaline still charges through my body. I turn and walk briskly with the running crowd, getting as far from the Dukes as I can.

After an hour of wandering, I sit on a park bench in Manhattan and stare down at my shaking hands in the glow of a streetlight. I don't know where the others have gone. I simply stare at my hands, in shock that there's still blood of life pumping through them. My breaths are still hot against the cold air. My boots are still solid on the ground.

When you're certain you're going to die and then you live, it's a strange sensation. But I don't dare feel relief. I don't dare feel anything. I don't even startle when a hand comes down hard on my shoulder and I look up into the face of Belial. He jerks his head for me to follow him, and turns to leave without waiting. I shove my hands into my pockets and follow a few feet behind him.

I follow him into the underground, where we take the train to the end of the line in New Jersey. I follow him until we're at a packed bar in Hoboken, clear of the Dukes in New York City. And then I sit in silence at the end of the bar as Belial orders five shots of Wild Turkey and throws them back one after the other, before sitting on the edge of the stool beside me.

He puts one giant hand on his thigh, and the other arm drapes along the bar beside me. He leans forward, boxing me in, and talks under his breath in a low, lethal tone.

“I saw you tonight. If any of the others had seen your little show, you'd be dead.”

My jaw is clenched. He must not appreciate my I-don't-give-a-shit expression, because he points a hefty finger at my face.

“You listen to me right now, kid, and you listen good.” His eyes. He is beyond furious about what happened tonight. “You stay the hell away from my daughter. You understand me?”

I swallow hard, but my throat is still dry. “I was planning to, sir.”

“You're no good for her.”

Stab
.

“I agree, sir.”

He narrows his beady brown eyes as if searching for sarcasm. I am too numb to manage any sort of sarcasm or wit.

“You think you're in love with her?”

I don't answer this, and he plows forward.

“You think she loves you? That she's meant for you? Wrong, lover boy. My girl's meant for bigger things. She loves everybody and everything. You're just a stray she'll eventually forget about. Understand?”

Everything he's said is true, but that doesn't mean my insides aren't ripped out. It doesn't mean there's not a part of me that somehow hoped I was wrong and that Belial might see whatever good thing Anna sees in me. But Belial sees the real me. The unworthy me.

My lips move, “Yes, sir,” but only dry sound comes out.

“You are not a safe option, not as a friend, and not as anything else. If Anna wants to pal around with Neph, it sure as hell's not gonna be you. She can fall for that son of Alocer all day long, but I'll be damned if I let the son of Pharzuph fuck with her heart.”

I grit my teeth. It feels as if a boa constrictor has encircled my chest. I give a tight nod.

“I know you thought you were cute tonight, playing Romeo like a God-damned fool, but the bullshit ends right now. If you ever endanger her again—if you dare to contact her or so much as
look
at her, I have friends who will make your death look like an accident. Am I clear?”

To see myself through his eyes—to be reminded so sharply and clearly of all the reasons I'm unworthy of Anna . . . it's like a series of stinging slaps across the face. Belial's eyes bore into me and his nostrils flare. I give him another nod, my neck stiff. He rubs his goatee down and pushes back from the bar.

Belial leaves me there in Hoboken, where I sit until they kick me out. I walk the streets in darkness, hoping to be finished off by drug dealers or gangs, but it turns out the bad guys are never around when you need them.

Perhaps I should pray for an angel of mercy to put me out of my misery. No, I will not pray again. I'm thankful Anna was saved, but having my own life spared feels like a fluke, and I dare not remind the Maker I'm still here. Still, I will make good on my end of the bargain.

I walk.

At six in the morning I ring our lead singer, Michael, from a street in Jersey City.

“What the fuck, Rowe?” he grumbles.

“I'm in.”

It takes him a moment to catch my meaning, and then he chuckles. I've been the only Lascivious member who hasn't yet agreed to make the suggested move to L.A. We can focus on our music full time. I've been holding out, wanting to remain close to Anna.

“Hell yeah, baby.” His voice is raspy with sleep. “You been up all night?”

“Yeah,” I say.

He laughs again. “We're gonna rock that shit in L.A. Wait and see how much ass you get out there, man. You won't regret it.” He yawns into the phone.

I feel none of his enthusiasm. I feel nothing. “Go back to sleep, mate.”

“Yep. Later.”

We disconnect and I hail a cab for the Newark airport, wondering if I'll ever feel anything again.

“It's like somebody stole the biggest piece of me,

I may never see it again, I may never see you again.”

—“Before the Fall” by The Rescues

I
should have hired movers, but I didn't trust anyone to touch my drums. I leave behind my bedroom set but take everything else from the basement with the help of Michael, Raj, and Bennett. I don't think Father is thrilled about not having me under his thumb any longer, but he approves of my continuing on as a musician. I haven't told him I plan to drop out of school when I turn eighteen in March.

When we're loaded up and the guys leave, I trudge to Father's office to say good-bye.

He doesn't get up from his oversized leather chair, but he lifts his eyes, scrutinizing my long-sleeved T-shirt and jogging bottoms slung low.

“Change into something more attractive before you go.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You're still expected to come to Atlanta to help Marissa as needed.”

My already tight muscles clench further. “Yes, sir.”

“I can't believe you're going to drive that monstrosity across the country yourself like a bloody commoner.” I look down at my hands as he continues. “I still expect you to work along the way.”

“Without question, sir.”

“I have very high expectations of you in California. I'm sure you won't mind if my Legionnaires or I pop in now and again.”

“Of course not, Father. I look forward to your visits.”

He stares at me as if trying to detect my bluff, and I stare back, unblinking. Finally, he nods, finished with me, and then turns in his chair to face the lewd images on his computer.

I nod to myself and turn to leave.

I drive the same route I took with Anna, only I can't go faster than fifty-five miles per hour because I'm pulling the SUV behind me and the damn thing swerves back and forth. So I take my time, blasting my music to drown out my thoughts.

Anna is everywhere. She is smiling at every landmark and showing kindness to every stranger I encounter. She is laughing at every silly billboard and humming along to my music. When I reach Arizona and my route changes, she is with me as I stop and walk to the ledge of the Grand Canyon. She is staring in awe at the magnitude, feeling small and fragile.

She is with me because she's inside me and I cannot rid myself of her.

I've made too many mistakes when it comes to Anna. I endangered her because of my own selfish motives and desires. I wanted her for myself, even when I knew I wasn't good enough.

I want to be good enough.

I shove my hands in my pockets and kick a rock. It goes soaring off the ledge and I never hear it hit. I've been waiting for something from the outside to change me—to kick me, to force me into a different life. But after watching Anna at the summit, grabbing her beliefs by the horns despite the dangers, I've realized it won't be some outside power that changes me.

It has to be me.

Anna and Kopano have control over themselves. Only I can control me. And it's time to make a change. I've always lived as if I had no choice, but it's not true. There is always a choice, no matter the consequences. I can't live Father's lifestyle any longer. I can't love Anna and continue to be with other people. I'm tired of hating myself. I'll never be good enough for Father or Anna, or God, for that matter. But if I can be proud of myself, for once, that will be a bloody good start.

I turn to go back to the van but stop when a bird flies past my face, landing in the gravel at my feet. I swear the damned thing is staring up at me. It even cocks its head to the side. I nudge my foot toward it, trying to scare it away, but it only bristles a little and hops closer. He puffs his feathers at me and coos.

It's a dove, I realize, and a lump rises in my throat. My own personal peace offering.

“Sod off, stupid bird.”

It coos at me again and my palms begin to sweat. Just because I reach out to Him with one blasted prayer and decide to change my life, the Maker thinks I've suddenly switched sides?

I look up at the heavens and shake my head. “This is nothing to do with You. You want peace with me? Get rid of the demons, and then we'll talk peace.”

When I look back down, the bird is gone. I let out a rattling breath and jump into the van, throwing the thing into drive. My hands are shaking and I accelerate too hard, spitting up gravel under the tires. I pull off at the visitors' center, and lean my head against the steering wheel, trying to shake off the bizarre bird episode.

Inside the little shop, I imagine Anna flitting along the rows, admiring all the baubles, and my chest feels as if it will cave in.

I never got to say good-bye.

In the aftermath of the summit, we'd sought each other. She'd wanted me at her side. Does she know there's nowhere else I'd rather be? That it's killing me to stay away? That I love her in a way I never believed possible?

I reach for a postcard and a pen at the counter. I've memorized her address. There's too much I need to say. I stare at the postcard so long the lady at the register starts to look at me funny.

Finally I scratch,
I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I found you and introduced you to our cursed world. I'm sorry you fell in love with me. I'm sorry we can't be together.

I'm sorry for everything, Anna.

“They're all around me, circling like vultures.

They wanna break me and wash away my colors.”

—“My Demons” by Starset

I
'm racked with severe pain every day that first week. I get the fucking shakes like a junkie when anyone lusts for me. It doesn't help that we're not in the studio yet. I hit the gym twice a day, for as long as I can stand it. Then I return to my apartment and blare my music as loudly as possible. At night all I want to do is drink myself into oblivion, but I'm trying to stay clean. When I'm drunk or high my finger hovers above Anna's name on the screen of my phone. I cannot afford to do stupid things. I changed my number to keep her safe from me, and I have to stay strong.

I check out all the hot spots with my bandmates, meeting loads of industry people and sexy groupies, but my heart's not
in it. I'm filled with constant loss. The only time I talk to girls is when a whisperer is lurking. And when the demon spirit leaves, so do I.

This is no life. Even with the changes I've made, there is no satisfaction. Only emptiness, and fear that lingers like a bad habit I can't kick.

Michael, Raj, and Bennett have a house together where I keep my drums, but I opted for an apartment alone. We practice every other day, but it's never long enough for me. Michael is confused the day I stay after to see the songs he's working on. I've never taken an interest before, but I can't stomach going back to my place, where my thoughts eat me alive.

One of his discarded songs is only one stanza, but it fills my head and keeps going with new words of my own. I grab one of Michael's chewed-up pens and hunker over the paper, writing furiously. When I'm done Michael snatches it up.

I feel strangely nervous. I tap the pen against my leg and watch as Michael's head begins to bop back and forth and a grin stretches across his face.

“Dude, this is hot.”

I shrug. “I don't want credit for that. Just a one-time thing, mate.” The lyrics hit way too close to home. I can't have anyone knowing I penned it.

“What else you got?” Michael asks.

I shake my head and lie. “Nothing.”

“Yo, Raj! Bennett! Getcha asses in here and listen to this. I think we got a winner.”

We finally get to visit the studio and learn the ropes. I've no clue if we'll get a recording contract, since it's so competitive,
but our manager is frat brothers with some bigwig's son, so he says he's got an “in.” We'll see.

We've decided to record the single I mostly wrote, but Michael is more than glad to take credit.

We're taken into a room where a girl with straight, honey-blond hair is setting up mics and checking the sound. She's incredibly cute and has a kind contentedness in her aura that stabs at my lungs. She looks up and beams when we walk in.

“Hey, guys! You're right on time. I'll bring you some waters, and you can let me know if you need anything else. I'm Anna Malone, by the way.”

The ground seems to rock under my feet. Bloody hell . . . why does the world hate me? Why?

She shakes the other guys' hands, and when she gets to me her aura flares bright orange with a red streak. Her eyes search every feature of my face and then she blushes. I quickly let her hand go and stuff mine in my pocket, looking away.

This is fantastic. Just what I need.

She leaves us and Raj punches my stomach. “She wants you, dude.”

Michael raises his chin. “Told you you'd be getting all the ass you want here.”

I shake my head. “I'd rather not mix business and pleasure.”

“For real, though.” Bennett snorts, and musses his blue hair. “We don't need any Kai stalkers up in this studio.”

“Exactly,” I mutter.

Anna, the studio girl, ends up being one of those girls with more male friends than female. She's all natural with a great sense of humor. She's the type of chick you don't mind hanging
around. Well, the other blokes don't mind, but I keep my distance. It becomes harder when she begins spending more and more time with us, coming to frequent practices and ending up at the same clubs. Raj has a definite thing for her, and though she flirts innocently back at him, it's me she's got it for, no matter how I avoid her.

It'd be easier if she weren't so bloody nice. Or if I didn't have to see her nearly every day. Or if she didn't remind me in so many small ways of my Anna. Or if I weren't craving sex like a deranged mad dog.

Seriously. I keep hoping it will become less difficult to deny my body, but it hasn't. It's a constant ache. It would be so easy to give in. To give myself release with the dozens of willing girls who light up with lust for me.

And then I remember how I felt last year when I'd slept with all those women after coming back from our road trip. I'd been riddled with guilt and self-disgust. I never want to feel that way again. This is the first time I've ever challenged myself, and I need to win this.

If Kope can bloody well fight his temptations, so can I.

After six months, I have to admit, I'm so damned proud of myself that I want to shout it to the world:
I haven't shagged in six months!

On second thought, I don't think anyone would be that impressed. Except Anna. And she's the only one I truly want to tell. I almost ring her so many times, especially when our first single hit local airwaves and we were invited back to Atlanta for a signing.

I love you. I only want you.

And then an image of Belial's face fills my mind and I'm reminded of all the reasons why I can't have her. A pang of dreadful fear pierces me at the thought that Anna might be over me. I can't hold it against her if she stops loving me, but I will never stop loving her.

My plan to stay away is ruined when Anna shows at the Atlanta record store. I should have known Jay would hear about it and tell her. The moment I sense her, I attempt to rapidly build a fortress of stone around my heart, shoving my emotions deep within the keep. But her brown eyes penetrate my barriers, as always, and I can't help but notice she's . . . changed. Intricate piercings line her ears. A short skirt shows off her sexy legs. Her look no longer screams innocence. Except those passionate eyes.

I'm filled with familiar rage, at everything. My anger and sarcasm rain down on Anna. The more she shows love and desperation, the harder I push her away.

I don't care
, I tell myself. She shouldn't have come. She knows as well as I do. This is a mistake.

When we leave, she sees me being picked up by Marissa's driver. We're only having dinner tonight, no new nieces to train, thankfully, but Anna doesn't know that. I see the heartbreak in her eyes as she's reminded once again of all the reasons she shouldn't love me.

We are cursed. And my fortress is useless against her. I return to L.A. emptier and more broken than ever.

It's Friday when Anna Malone approaches me at the studio, holding her hands together in front of herself, her aura both excited and nervous.

“Hey, Kai. Um, I'm having people over at my apartment tomorrow night. Just a small party. . . .” She bites her lip and her eyes go round. She really is quite attractive.

I flip through different excuses I can use, but I know the other band members will expect me to be there.

“Sorry, but I'm visiting an old mate of mine in Santa Barbara this weekend.”

“Oh!” She smiles, but disappointment fogs her aura. “No problem. Hope you have fun.”

“Yeah, you as well.”

Now I just have to ring Blake and let him know. He's been trying to get me to visit for months, but I haven't wanted him to know I'm not working. Well, no better time than now.

“Dude. Brah. Compadre. Cut the shit.” Blake and I are sitting on bar stools under a tiki hut on a crowded beach where I have gently rejected the advances of three girls in the past hour. Blake is ogling me in disbelief. I continuously search the skies for whisperers.

“Don't make a big deal of this,” I say.

His eyes drop to my glass of water then rise to my face. “I
will
make a big deal of it, because it
is
a big deal. You don't need to do this, man. You got nothin' to prove.”

“I've got plenty to prove. To myself.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head. I didn't expect him to understand.

A blond bombshell saunters up to us with mile-long legs and mini black shorts. She has a posse of manicured beauties following behind her. Blake sees me looking over his shoulder and turns.

“Ah, hey, baby!” he says. The blonde smiles and stands between his legs, wrapping her flyaway arms around his neck and kissing him.

She's magazine material. A few men glance at Blake with envy.

“How's my man?” the girl asks, leaning her forehead against Blake's.

“Helluva lot better now that you're here.”

She turns to me and blinks with big eyelashes.

“Oh, hey,” Blake says. “This is my boy from way back, Kaidan. This is my girlfriend, Michelle, and her J-Pack of friends, Jessica, Jamie, and Jen.”

Girlfriend? Apparently I'm not the only one with secrets.

We shake hands, and I say, “Nice to meet you, Michelle.”

Her eyes widen at my accent, and her friends move forward, all their eyes on me, auras zinging with red. I shake each of the J-Packs' hands and sit back.

“Hey now,” Blake says when Michelle has stared at me a beat too long. “Don't be looking at him. He's gay.”

I fight back a grin.

“Oh,” Michelle says, eyeing me differently now.

“Just kidding,” says Blake. “He's bi. Sometimes we get it on.”

Her face scrunches when she realizes he's teasing her, and she slaps his shoulder. Her friends laugh and smile at me.

“Wait,” says the friend Jamie, with a hand on her hip. “So, are you gay or not?”

“He's whatever you want him to be,” Blake tells her. “Straight, gay, bi, tri. My boy here does it all. He also likes to watch. So you girls go ahead and put on a show.”

I keep a straight face as the girls laugh at Blake's antics and
swat at him with their clutch purses.

“What are you girls up to tonight?” Blake asks them.

“We're going to the movies,” Michelle says. “Want to come?”

“Not tonight. I'm taking Kai out on my boat.”

Michelle's face lights up. “I want to come!”

“I mean the fishing boat,” he backpedals. “We're going fishing.”

“Ew, never mind. You guys have fun.”

Blake winks at me. He and Michelle kiss again and the beauty posse leaves, sending a few backward glances my way.

“You have a girlfriend,” I say.

“You're not working,” he retaliates.

We search around us to be sure nobody has heard, then Blake tosses back the rest of his rum runner. “Look,” he says. “My pops is making me, okay? It's not enough for me to date. I have to be able to land the big one and take her off the market. Trophy wife and all that.”

“Shite,” I whisper.

“Yeah. Don't say anything to anyone.”

“I won't.”

We look around again, paranoid. I wish we had a way of talking without worrying about anyone eavesdropping. I take a drink of my water and think about it.

“We should learn Sign,” I say.

“Sign language?” Blake scoffs. “We can't be caught doing that. They'll know we're being secretive.”

“No shit. We'd obviously only do it when nobody's around.”

He thinks about it and nods. “Yeah, all right. I'll let Gin
know, and she can tell the others to learn too. I hope it's not too hard. Ain't nobody got time for that.”

I do. I've got all the time in the world these days.

I end up spending a lot of time in Santa Barbara to keep my distance from the other Anna and to give Blake time from Michelle. I've never truly had a best mate before—someone I can be myself around. Our fathers approve of us “working” together, so it's a brilliant setup.

We've spent a lot of time learning Sign and trying to talk to each other. I had to dig a bit online to find all the swear words, though. Blake let the twins know, and they also want to learn. They've got a bit of time away from their father to safely practice now that they're both airline attendants.

All is well until the autumn afternoon I get a call from Marna.

“Hallo?” she shouts. “What is that noise?”

“Music.” I'm stretched out on my bed with a hand under my head. Rage Against the Machine is blaring through the room:
The microphone explodes, shattering the molds . . .

“Well, I can't bloody well hear you!”

I flick it off with the remote and silence falls.

“Honestly, Kai. You're likely to go deaf.” When I don't respond, she sighs. “You alone, then?”

“Yeah. You?”