The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos #3)(7)

“Stop fussing. You look lovely, Pix. At least a certain singer will think so. He tracked your ass in those leggings like a guided missile today.”

Cujo waved as he walked toward them. With him were Drea, Eric, Trent, and Trent’s fiancée, Harper.

“Starting early, girls?” Cujo kissed them both on the cheek.

“Can you believe this?” Drea, Cujo’s girlfriend, hugged Pixie tightly. “I swear I saw M. Shadows when we arrived.”

“You did not. Where? Show me,” Lia insisted, tugging Drea away.

“I need the washroom, honey. Help me find it?” Harper said to Trent.

“Eric and I’ll get the drinks in,” said Cujo, disappearing off to the bar.

Pixie laughed at the absurdity of it. Surrounded by her friends for a moment, then alone all of a sudden to watch the table.

A young man with long blond hair walked over. “What’s a cute little thing like you doing by yourself?” His accent sounded European, Swedish maybe. It was hard to tell with all the slurring.

“I was just asking myself that same question. My friends left me as quickly as they arrived.”

“I’m Viggo,” he said, the air around her suddenly ripe with lager and cigarettes. “My band, Ant?nda, is on next.”

Pixie moved farther around the table. “That’s great. Shouldn’t you be getting in the zone or something?” And sobering up, maybe?

Viggo tracked her, sidling up even closer. “I’m the drummer. I am the zone. Without me, the rhythm would be skit.” Pixie looked for signs of the others returning, but she couldn’t see any of them. Viggo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed the back of her neck. “I have time,” he offered suggestively, “for you to test out exactly how good my beats are before I go onstage.”

The feel of his fingers on her neck, clammy against her skin, made her feel ill. Pixie stepped out of his reach and knocked his arm off her shoulder. “Please don’t touch me.”

It was so noisy that nobody was paying them any mind. She looked around to see if any of the guys were close by but she was out of luck.

Viggo stumbled and nudged her further into the corner. “That’s why girls like you are here, right? You want to f*ck the band, right?” His hand returned to the back of her neck, but this time he tugged her hair.

“No,” Pixie said shoving against him. “Get away from me.” She pushed by him, but he gripped her arm tightly, the callused pads of his fingers digging into her muscle, sending pain shooting down to her hand. Putting her entire body into it, Pixie attempted to break free by wrenching away from him, but failed to loosen his grip. She opened her mouth to scream.

“Get the f*ck away from her.” Dred ripped Viggo’s arm off Pixie and pulled her close to his side.

“Dra ?t fanders, Dred. Get lost. We were just having a little fun, right, ?lskling?”

“Want me to show you a little fun? I’ll start by removing your f*cking arm at the shoulder, douchebag.” Dred seemed to grow in height as he spoke. Viggo’s confidence left him.

“Don’t sweat it, Dred,” he slurred, hands raised in surrender by his chest. “She’s all yours.”

Viggo turned, but Dred yanked him back. “Apologize to the lady.”

It was the second time he’d been her hero today, first when Bill from Boise had shoved his phone at her, and now, the thought helping her regain some of her composure. It was all too close to the night she left home. Too close to the hands of a stranger ripping her shirt open while her stepdad laughed drunkenly.

“Sorry,” Viggo mumbled before stumbling away.

“Fucking *.” Dred took her hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She let him lead her through a maze of corridors, away from the crowds hanging around the stage area. The walls were closing in around her, and she was relieved Dred ignored the shouts of greeting. Dressed head to toe in black with biker boots on his feet, he was intimidating. People moved out of his way without question or hesitation. A blue door came into view and he slammed it open.

Nikan jumped to his feet. “Hey, Pix, how are—” He stopped in his tracks and looked her over before turning to Dred. “What happened?”

Dred didn’t break his stride. He simply yelled over his shoulder. “Viggo.”

Mumbled curses broke out and a quick glance over her shoulder revealed Nikan and Elliott steaming out of the room.

Dred reached a second door, this one with his name on it, and he opened it for her, encouraging her inside. Her legs felt like Jell-O, her thoughts scattered. Dred ushered her to an oversized armchair and left her for a moment, returning with two glasses, a large bottle of water, and a bottle of whiskey.

“I know which I’d rather have, but which do you want?”

Pixie pointed to the scotch, something to warm her from the inside. Somewhere between Viggo’s actions and Dred’s proximity, her stomach didn’t know which way was up. And now she was in a room with a man. Alone.

“Good choice.” He poured them both a large measure. “There you go.”

Pixie sipped the peaty Lagavulin. Dred took a swig of his and placed the bottle on the table.

He crouched in front of her, his anger having ceded into concern. “You okay, Pix?’ He took her hand, rubbed his thumb gently across it. It was comforting, reassuring even.