Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(88)

Bright lights flashed from above the stage.

Anxious, the crowd surged.

Undaunted, I pushed and weaved, making my way through the mass of bodies trying to hold me back until I made it almost all the way to the front.

I took a spot just off to the side where I knew Lyrik would stand. Where his old black, much-loved guitar was propped on a stand in between two others.

Colored lights danced across the faces of the fans. Inciting and stirring.

With a thrust of his drumsticks in the air, Zee burst out onto the stage.

Shouts and yells lifted from the crowd.

Ash appeared next, and that energy sizzled. I felt it build around me, as bright and shimmery as the blue stage lights that twirled and throbbed.

It nearly exploded when Lyrik stepped out from behind the dark maroon curtains.

And that was all it took.

My breath was gone.

Knees weak.

Heart manic.

Pound.

Pound.

Pound.

He was smiling my favorite smile when he strode across the stage. The deadly kind. That arrogant, cocky boy who I’d run from for months was back in full force as he slung the strap of his guitar over his neck.

So powerful and bold.

Stunning.

A beautiful predator who with merely a flick of his finger summoned a flock of willing prey.

God, was I a fool, because I knew right then I adored that part of him, too.

Adored everything about him.

The danger and the dark.

The threat of those big hands.

The soft security of them when he held me in the night.

This convoluted, confusing man who amounted to something brilliant.

The crowd just about lost it when Sebastian stepped out, bringing the whole of Sunder standing before them.

No wonder Shea had lost herself to him.

For the briefest flash, the lights completely went dim. The sudden silence only added to the furor.

Energy held fast.

Baited.

Bottled.

Before blinding white spotlights blazed to life.

In that very second, Lyrik slammed into the first erratic chord.

The crowd broke into a riot. As if the ball of energy centered at the foot of the stage burst and rippled out, consuming everything in its path.

Bodies thrashed, bouncing together to the wild, harsh beat and the growling, aggressive lyrics Sebastian screamed into the mic.

I felt a partner to it. Yet elevated above it all as I watched the boy in front of me get lost in the words, in the melody he fed into his own mic, a rugged, razor-sharp edge added to the mayhem.

A dusky haze filtered through the space, and lights strobed as bodies flailed and writhed.

And Lyrik.

Lyrik somehow met my unfaltering gaze.

Dark, piercing eyes.

Penetrating.

Provoking.

As if I were the only thing he could see.

Drawn.

And I wondered if he, too, had felt it all along.

When Sunder finally exited the stage, I worked through the maze of bodies to the side entrance leading backstage. Some people stood around chatting as the bouncers tried to herd them toward the front doors. Others lingered, obviously hoping to get that highly coveted invite backstage.

I felt a twig of panic when wondering if the bouncer would recognize me.

That would just be awesome.

Me standing around out back like some kind of wannabe groupie, waiting for Lyrik to realize I wasn’t there. My phone was in my purse where I’d left it with his things in the dressing room. I didn’t even have a way to call him.

But I should have known better. Lyrik was already there, greedy gaze meeting mine where he waited for me shadowed by the burly bouncer.

With a smile, I offered a couple “excuse me’s” as I shouldered through, not caring a bit that I was met with a slew of grumbles and hisses.

All I wanted was to get to my man.

My man.

Could he be? Could he be more than the two months he’d promised? More than this weekend that neither of us could define? Because after the weight of my realization at his parents’ earlier today, there was a piece of me that was imploring with myself to pin him down. To make him say the words I could so clearly read in his eyes.

With every step closer to him, emotion pulsed through my veins. But it was a new need unlike anything I’d felt before. As if all the fears and reservations and concerns I’d built up for years had suddenly been loosed and freed. Now they bounded forth like the spill of a waterfall, pouring, meshing, and uniting with the faith he’d created, breeding a flood of devotion that quickly rose to fill every crevice and hole.

Love. Love. Love.

“There you are,” he whispered as his big hand came out to grip me from behind my neck, to pull me forward and to kiss me as if he felt the magnitude of what swirled and tumbled through me.

“What’d you think?” he asked when he pulled away.

I clutched his sweaty shirt. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

He laughed a cocky laugh, grin sly as his hand skidded down my arm to my hand where he weaved his tatted fingers through mine, like maybe we were writing our own story. “Know I’m all kinds of irresistible, but I meant about the show.”

A playful grin flitted around my mouth. “I do believe you’ve been hanging out with Ash too much. I think he might be a bad influence.”

Lyrik laughed, this deep, melodic sound. He lifted a dark, incredulous brow. “You think it’s Ash who’s the bad influence?”