Chapter 5: Thirty Years Later

Thirty Years Later

The tension was thick, reminding me of that awkward moment where predator and prey stare each other down, just before one of them dies. I strummed my guitar lazily, my hooded stare darting from my oldest brother Nash to my older brother Zane and wondered which one it would be.

It was the same argument we endured at least once a month. The rest of us grew weary of the back and forth long ago, but not one had the balls to speak against Nash or Zane.

The chaos made me long for the serenity of my former band. Aside from one ornery jack*ss, we got along swimmingly. But, that was another life and there was no going back. So, I strummed and watched, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

Working with humans was a bad idea, according to Zane. It was necessary, according to Nash. Personally, I agreed with Z. Humans were bad news. We’d been around the block a few times and were experts in the business. There was no need to have a d*mn flesh fairy handle our finances, our schedule, or our music. But convincing Nash of that was like asking the sun to sleep in.

He believed human interaction was required to keep up with the times and stay abreast of societal changes. To an extent, he had a point, but he often overlooked Wulf.

The baby of the family was a technology wizard, fully involved in all social media platforms, and d*mn good with numbers. We didn’t need a human all in our business when we had our own personal jack of all trades. Granted, our youngest brother’s hatred of humankind ran bone deep, rendering him unwilling to leave our shared estate in the backwoods of Florida. Luckily for us, his leaving the house wasn’t necessary to handle our business.

The real problem with Nash’s belief system was about to walk into the room. I sucked in a lungful of the rich, creamy bourbon and vanilla scent that was going to be my downfall and directed my eyes at the door. My canines elongated and my mouth flooded with warm saliva. I’d walked the Earth a lot of years and been around a lot of people, human and vamp. Only one, out of millions, smelled as delicious as Anthony Vacarro.

A twinge of pain struck my chest. I missed him. My former bandmate was the only male I'd ever truly love. Sadly, he might as well have been dead. He lived only in my memories. Memphis f*cking James. I shook the thought away. There was no use in pining for someone I'd never see again.

Unbeknownst to my brothers, I’d taken our manager into my bed a few times. So far, we’d both survived. One day, though, I knew I was going to lose control. I was going to take his vein in a bout of bloodlust and Anthony was not likely to survive. When that happened, Nash would have no one to blame but himself. Working with humans was a bad f*cking idea.

The subtle movement of the oblong doorknob nudging downward drew my stare. I continued strumming, but the chords turned from the dark and broody fare we were known for, to a lighter, suspenseful and anticipatory sound. Kade noticed and pegged me with a curious glare. Sparing him but a glance, I ignored him, my attention more valuable elsewhere.

A pulsing red haze entered the room before he did. Along with it, a rhythmic thumping that rapidly increased the moment his jasper green eyes fell upon me. The dumb*ss was falling in love. I’d strongly warned him against that very thing and explained it could never be more than it was: an occasional nightcap and a good lay. Anything more was dangerous. God, I wanted to taste him. My thumb slammed on the strings so hard, one snapped like a rubber band and coiled around the neck.

"F*ck," I muttered, but otherwise didn’t react.

"Fallon!" Anthony’s velvety tenor echoed in my head. He snatched the instrument away and thrust it into the hands of one of the crew who’d followed him into the dressing room. "Restring that. Immediately. Then, get it backstage for tuning."

"I am perfectly capable of—" I started to protest but stopped. It wouldn’t have made a difference. Even though I did not need a male to fix anything for me—certainly not a human—Anthony was a bit of a control freak. He was going to do what he was going to do.

He dropped to a knee in front of me. "Are you okay?"

I stared at him blankly. Why the f*ck would he think otherwise? He knew what I was, to an extent, and he knew what might harm a normal person had no effect on me. Unless, of course, he was still pretending he didn’t know for the sake of my brothers. That was quite likely.

"I’m fine."

"Are you sure?"

A pair of fingers brushed over my forehead, sweeping back the long bangs that concealed my right eye. His eyes darted across every inch of exposed flesh. It was endearing, in a way.

"You're bleeding."

"I’m fine," I repeated. "It's nothing more than a little scratch. I've had worse."

If our stares remained locked any longer, my brothers were going to start asking questions and I was going to have a bigger problem than I already did. Le sigh. Working with humans was a really bad f*cking idea.

"All right," Zane barked. "That’s enough."

The manager’s attention snapped instantly away from me and focused on the leather-clad monster glaring in our direction. I had to give it to him. Anthony knew when to relent. He'd caught Z's fist with his jaw once, a few years back. Once was all it took.

"Yeah. Yes." Anthony cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. "We need to get you guys on stage."

Kade twirled a drumstick between his fingers and dropped his heavy boots to the concrete floor. Tugging his fingerless white gloves from his back pocket, he slipped his hands into them and said, "Let’s do this ish!"