Chapter 30

“What the fuck happened?” Chris shouts when Benji, Bash, and I stumble onto the tour bus. His expression is intense already, but his eyes take on a frenzied gleam when he notices the blood on my neck and shirt. He pulls me closer to him, turning my head gently so he can inspect my wounds. “Who.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand. “Give me a fucking name.”

“Amanda.” I choke out, resting my weight against his chest. I’ve lost a lot of blood, and I’m already woozy.

“Oliver was there too. He tried to rip out dear Bash’s heart and kidnap Dani once again. I’m sick of the same song and dance with him.” Benji scowls and rubs his arm around the bleeding claw mark. “And Amanda scratched my fucking arm with her demon claw. It’s burning like hell.”

“Not to bring down the party, but did anyone else know that Oliver can walk in the sun? ’Cause that was a twist I didn’t see coming,” Bash says as he tries to laugh. His laugh turns into a grunt of pain.

Chris cocks his head in their direction. “You two need to feed. On a human, not a blood bag,” he clarifies, as Benji opens his mouth like he’s about to protest, before Chris shushes him. “You know you won’t heal as well if it’s not from the source. Go. We have a show tonight.” Chris is calm, simply staring at them until they listen to him and leave. His eyes track them the whole way out, before shooting back to me. “Come sit with me, little kitten.” He holds his hand out to me.

I’m a little put off by the way he’s acting. So calm, when I expected him to be raging. Is this what Chris looks like when he’s truly angry? I take his hand, and he walks us over to the couch, settling me down before he sits beside me. “You need to feed too, Dani. You’re hurt.”

I shrug, but I can feel the flayed skin of my throat cracking with the movement. “I could just use a Band-Aid or something. Really. It’s not that bad.” I try to play it off, but the pain and blood loss are getting to me.

Chris brings his wrist to his mouth, his eyes flashing yellow before he closes his eyes and tears into his wrist with his fangs. Crimson pools out from the bite as he lifts his mouth and offers his wrist to me, his eyes pleading. “Drink. It will heal you, kitten.”

“I… Will I turn into a vampire?” I ask, watching the blood collect on his wrist.

“No. You would need to die with vampire blood in your body. And I plan to keep you very much alive.” He brings his wrist closer to my mouth. “Now, drink before it heals.”

I grip his hand tightly and lift his wrist to my mouth, sealing my lips around the puncture marks. The metallic taste is strangely sweet as it seeps into my mouth.

Chris brings his other hand to my head, tangling his fingers into my hair as I drink. A low growl rumbles in his chest. I feel the blood coursing through my body, shock waves of pleasure suddenly surging. I grip his wrist tighter and let out a moan. His blood is euphoric. It’s altering me, almost like I can feel each molecule and atom in my body shifting into something new. His hand tightens in my hair, and I let out a hiss at the pain, tempering my pleasure.

“Is my blood turning you on, little kitten?” he asks, his voice low.

I moan softly in reply.

Chris tugs his wrist from my mouth and settles himself back against the arm of the couch. “Come here,” he demands.

I stare at him in confusion. Drunk on his blood, I don’t understand what he means.

With a chuckle that sounds more like a growl, he leans forward and picks me up, lowering me into his lap so that my back is resting against his chest, my hips nestled in between his legs. He brings his wrist back to my mouth, and I immediately latch on, drinking deeply. I can’t get enough.

His other hand slips under the band of my leggings, his finger sliding into my soaked heat and brushing over my throbbing clit. I arch my back, and gasp into his wrist. “Always so wet for me,” he growls into my ear. I’m lost in pleasure, the slow, tight circles he’s making around my clit overwhelming me with each pull of his blood into my mouth.

Unexpectedly, Chris plunges two fingers inside my pussy, thrusting them in and out slowly. I’m so needy, grinding my hips along with his pace, chasing the release I crave. Each draw of his blood amplifies my desire. “Make me come, puppy,” I breathe through each sloppy draw of his blood.

He rips his wrist from my mouth and grips my hair in his hand. “How badly do you want me to?” he asks, his words sharp in my ear.

I hiss. He’s thrusting his fingers inside me at an agonizingly slow pace. I want more of his blood. I need him to finger me faster, harder. And I’m desperate for him to make me come. I crave every part of him, and when he took his wrist from my mouth, I immediately felt the loss of that sensation and the metallic tang on my tongue, and I want it back. “Please, Chris.” I moan, rolling my hips against his hand.

“Tell me something true then, little kitten.”

“W-what?” His fingers drive deeper into me, and I lose track of his question.

“I’m going to ask you a question. If you tell me the truth, I’ll make your pussy sing as you scream my name. If you lie, I’ll drag this out until you admit the truth.” His voice is gravel in my ear, and he tugs my hair so the length of my neck extends.

A strangled whimper leaves my lips at his roughness. I fucking love the intensity, I am obsessed with him acting out of control like this. “Ask me.”

“Are we friends?” He slides his fingers out of me until only the tips rest just inside my entrance.

My eyes widen, and I clench my thighs around his hand, to stop him from sliding his fingers out completely. He taps his thumb against my swollen clit, my body twitching with each light strike. “Are.” Tap. “We.” Tap. “Friends.” Tap.

My walls clamp, trying to drag his fingers further into me, more wetness pooling between my legs. Are we friends? “No,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he responds, resting his thumb against my bundle of nerves and slowly sliding his fingers deeper inside me, millimeters at a time. Enough to taunt but not enough to make me come. “What are we then?”

“I don’t-” He begins removing his fingers, and I whimper. “More! God, Chris! We’re so much more than friends, Chris! I want you, please!” I cry, my voice shrill in the bus’ main area.

“I want you so fucking bad that it makes me murderous, Dani. All I can think about is you. You torture me. Consume me. If you think for one second that this, us, is anything simple—I will show you just how fucking wrong you are. Every. Time.” He growls in my ear as he grips my hair tighter. “Was it so hard to tell the truth?”

I shake my head, but he’s not waiting for my response, already thrusting his fingers quickly in and out of me, hooking them just enough that they hit the spot inside me that makes me writhe against him, all while making circles with his thumb against my swollen clit. The feeling is overwhelming, and I can feel my release coming on quickly as his fingers rub along my G-spot while briskly stroking my clit.

I’m on the edge when he leans down and croons into my ear, “You begged for this, kitten. Now come all over my fingers like you wanted.” His words tip me over, and I scream his name over and over again as I find my release, my legs shaking as every bit of desire courses through me. Finally, I sag back into him, boneless, sweaty, and happy.

He pulls his hand from my leggings and sits us up. “I gotta get ready for the show. The boys will be back soon.” He adjusts us so he can stand, catching my arm as I tip over a bit at his sudden movement.

“Are you mad?” I ask tentatively. I finally just admit something real to him, and now he seems standoffish, like he can’t get away from me fast enough.

“At you? No.” He rises to his full height, his shadow falling over me, and I’m caught by his eyes—cold and intense on mine. When he speaks, his voice is seething, burning rage. “At those pieces of shit who think they can put their hands on you? Yes. I’m fucking furious, and I’m going to destroy them for ever hurting you. I will fucking kill them, Dani. Both of them. That’s my promise to you. I know you haven’t known me long, but you should probably know I have quite a temper. Right now, I’m so fucking mad, that I want to kill anyone that comes near you. No one,” his voice is loud in the quiet of the bus. “And I mean fucking no one, is ever going to hurt you again. Whether you want to admit it yet or not, you are mine. No one touches what’s mine, like that, and walks away still breathing.” His thumb smoothes along my cheek, a soft touch completely at odds with the fury radiating from him, before he turns, leaving me totally shocked.

“Chris, I-” He’s already walking away.

“We have to get ready, Dani. We’re running out of time.” With that, Chris walks into the bedroom, cutting our conversation short.

When I raise my hand to my flayed throat, the skin is healed, with the only remnants of the potentially life-threatening injury remaining being the sticky residue from my own blood.

* * *

Chris barely says another word before the concert. Even when I was in the room with him, he was silent, just looking seriously pissed the whole time he’s getting ready, a look I didn’t know was possible for a man putting on stage makeup.

Eventually, Benji and Bash returned completely healed. They promised they didn’t kill anyone, that they only took what they needed and compelled the victims to forget it ever happened. Todd, Tyler, and Cade showed up shortly after that.

Unlike before the last concert, everyone is quiet, and the general vibe is more serious. I feel like it’s all my fault that Benji and Bash got hurt. If I hadn’t needed to get away and have some time to myself, they wouldn’t have followed me, and they wouldn’t have been injured. This is all because of me. I try to apologize to them, but they both tell me not to worry about it. Even with the lukewarm reassurance, I don’t feel any better. They’re all acting so strange and on edge. It feels like I’m missing something.

Benji’s wife, Scarlett, shows up right before the concert, racing into Benji’s arms and kissing him like they hadn’t seen each other in months. Their kiss is passionate and fueled with so much love that it almost makes my heart ache.

Benji introduces me to her shortly after that. She’s stunning with long red, pin-straight hair, bold and beautiful sage green eyes, and raised cheekbones that accentuate her lovely features. Her lips are painted a deep red that should clash with her red hair, but doesn’t. She’s just so… beautiful. Everything about her radiates confidence, and I get the feeling that Scarlett is the kind of girl whose bad side you don’t want to get on. Despite my nervousness, she’s so kind to me and gives me a warm welcome that I don’t feel like I deserve, given that I got Benji clawed up by a psycho. I have so many questions I want to ask her, about her and Benji. Maybe after the concert we can get to know each other better, but now, before the concert, it just feels too awkward with the guys being so touchy and weird. Even still, it feels really nice to have another woman around. I didn’t realize just how much I felt like the minority surrounded by a bunch of dicks over the last several days, until Scarlett joined us.

The venue is outdoors, and even with the chilly October air, there are still thousands of people in the crowd who don’t seem to care that it’s freezing. Midway through Bloodstained Symphony’s set, everyone is jumping around and cheering, the grassy field beyond the stage filled with wild fans going crazy for their favorite band.

The sun begins to set in the distance as I stand next to Scarlett, who is dancing and singing along to the songs. They’ve just finished a song, and everything seems normal until Chris starts pacing back and forth on stage, looking angry. Or upset. Or murderous. All of the above? I can’t really tell. I dart to the closest point I can get to, without running onto the stage, and try to get a better look at him. His head swivels, and he meets my stare for a second before he glances back at the crowd.

“Indiana! I need everyone to do me a huge favor,” Chris shouts into the microphone. The crowd cheers back at Chris, but he doesn’t respond to their happiness. “I want every single one of you to pull out your phones and record something for me. I got a message for Oliver Shaw.”

My mouth drops open. Holy fuck. He just name-dropped Oliver. What is he playing at? I’m staring at him, stunned and frozen in place.

“Come on! Every single one of you. Get your phones out and record this shit! I want all of you to tag him on EVERYTHING,” He screams into the microphone, giving a wicked grin to the crowd. Nodding slowly, he watches the crowd, folding his arms across his chest as he waits until he’s seen enough phones in the air.

The band starts playing their instruments in a hard, unforgiving beat. Jeers and insults about Oliver punctuate the music.

“Oliver, mate. Or was it bitch?” Chris laughs into the microphone. It’s a brittle sound that brings chills to my arms. “You touched something of mine. You did something unspeakable to my brothers. You’re soft. Weak. A fucking pussy. Nothing fucking impressive, you fragile little piece of shit!” Chris snarls into the mic now, his eyes wild, a sneer twisting his lips. “The next time I see you, you better count your blessings and say your goddamn prayers. She’s mine. I’ll shout it to the world, so everyone fucking knows. This is your world falling apart. I’ll bring you to your knees, by my hand.” Chris leaps onto one of the large speakers in front of the stage and stands there, lit in white by a spotlight from the rafters. “And I’ll show you what a pet really looks like, when I yank on your fucking leash and hear you whimper like the bitch you are.”

The crowd goes wild. As far as I can see is just a flood of cell phones held high in the air, all capturing this once-in-a-lifetime moment.

This is why they were all quiet earlier. They were preparing for this, their call out to Oliver. I know Chris means every word, and I’m certain Chris is going to kill him. And I think… I let out a long, deep breath. I think I would let him. This has to end. Bash almost died today. I almost died today. Benji was severely injured. This has gone way too far.

Oliver is lost. No, not lost. Oliver is gone. I couldn’t save him in time. I think that’s what I was holding on to, through every argument I had with Chris about Oliver, through all of the uncertainty. I wanted to see if he could be saved. After today, I don’t see how he can be. Even though he saved me from Amanda and let us escape when he tore Amanda away from me, he has caused too much pain. If it comes down to me, Chris, and the rest of Bloodstained Symphony or the possibility of Oliver, I won’t choose Oliver. My heart won’t break for him after everything he has done. Chris and his band are out for blood, for revenge, and I’m surprisingly okay with it.

“This next song is dedicated to our dear boy, Oli. Everyone upload this everywhere you can. I wanna make sure he sees it as soon as possible. This song is called Mutilate!” Chris screams as he takes his thumb and makes a quick slashing motion across his throat. The crowd fucking loses it.

Oliver will be showing his face again, and soon. He won’t take this hit on his ego lightly. Chris just announced publicly that he has claimed me, and he won’t be letting me go. He has declared war against Oliver.

I’m terrified but also turned on. This might be the hottest thing any man has ever done for me.