Consumed (Devoured, #2)(37)

She races her tongue over the center of them. “Mmm, the submissive has a backbone. You must drive Lucas up the wall with that type of shit.” She reaches for a bottle of top shelf vodka, but I grab it first. She laughs coldly. “Just so you know, I don’t give a shit if you’re here or not.”

“Right.” I tilt my head to the side, sizing her up from the heels of her black, lace-up boots to the strands of dark hair damp against her forehead. “I’m sure you don’t. But just so you know, I’m not going anywhere unless Lucas asks me to.”

She pries the bottle of vodka out of my grip, sloshing some on the front of my white strapless shirt. “Well if that’s what you’re waiting for, I guess you know exactly what to expect then, don’t you?”

The only thing that stops me from flinching is just how hard I poke my nails into the palms of my hands. Cilla is watching me carefully for a reaction, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing that her bitter reminder of what happened in the past has stung me. I give her nothing but a distant smile that only confuses her and makes her shoulders hunch forward.

“Guess we both know our roles,” I retort.

Her face flushed, Cilla finishes pouring her drink in sharp, jerky movements. As soon as she’s done, she raises the plastic cup in a shaky toast. “Enjoy the after-party, bitch.”

I wait until she’s gone to move even an inch. My hands are completely numb as I grab myself a miniature bottle of Coke from one of the side tables. Every muscle in my body feels taut, and I’m unable to keep from working my teeth together. For a long time, I stand by the spread of refreshments, clenching and unclenching my hand around the cold plastic, oblivious to the comings and goings of the band and crewmembers.

Finally, I feel a familiar, possessive touch flare across my hip. I inhale deeply, breathing Lucas in, but not wanting to look at him. “The show was incredible,” I say flatly.

“Fuck the show, I care more about you stabbing someone with this thing.” He plucks the bottle out of my hand and places it on the table. “Look at me, Sienna.”

I’m reluctant to face him, but he pulls me around anyway. His look of concern changes the moment he’s able to study my face. Lifting his head to the handful of people coming into this room, he barks, “Get the f*ck out and close the door.”

Like always, they comply, racing away to do his bidding.

And like always, I’m a little envious at how much control Lucas has.

He cradles my face between his long fingers and gives me a long stare that causes my throat to feel dry. “Tell me what the f*ck is going on, Sienna.”

I rake my bottom teeth over the corner of my lip. “I see why Sinjin thinks Cilla’s the devil.”

“Is she f*cking with you?”

“Apparently I’m her new stalker.”

Dropping his hands from my face, he draws back several inches. His breath bursts in and out until he demands, “She told you that?”

“Oh, and she wrote a song about screwing you.” I duck away from him because I can’t think clearly with him looking at me like this. With my back turned to him, I add, “Not sure if you’ve heard it yet, but yeah, you’re kind of a big deal.”

I brush past him, determined to go anywhere but in here, but he stops me before I can leave the room, pinning me against the door. “Do you hold all your girlfriends hostage?”

“Only you. And trust me, Red, this isn’t hostage.”

“I swear I’m fine, Lucas,” I say a little too loudly because in the other room, Sinjin yells something about not being fine and dying of thirst.

“Don’t stand there and try to feed me bullshit,” Lucas says.

He attempts to draw me to him again, but I press my palms flat against his chest. He pulls them away effortlessly, holding my wrists to my sides. “You are the only thing that matters to me,” he growls against my lips, and I squeeze my eyes together tightly. “You are mine, and anything that hurts you, f*cks with me.”

Everything burns—my chest, the inside of my eyes from tears that I’m trying desperately to hold back—but I nod anyway. “You have no idea how hearing that makes me feel. But, Lucas, I can also hold my own.”

Pressing his fingertips to the outer corners of my eyes, he exhales. “I know you can. And I won’t say anything to Cilla.”

“That’s probably what she wants anyway.”

“You’re a perceptive little thing.”

Once again he lets go of me, and I widen my eyes just in time to see him kissing the tip of his thumb. Before I can react, he leans into me, his mouth coming down on mine. I taste the salt from the tears he caught, and I push myself deeper into him, savoring everything about him. The way he feels. The way he sounds letting out a rough groan as his lips devour mine. The way he smells—a seductive mix of cologne and the sweat still clinging to his skin from performing.

“Oh, Sienna,” he breathes. “What the f*ck am I going to do with you?”

“I draw the line at sex in the refreshment room.”

“I don’t want to do this after show bullshit.” He strokes the backs of his fingers over the curve of my cheek. “I want to take you back to the bus and spend every moment from here until we get to Chicago tomorrow night in that back room with you.”