3. Lars

3

Lars

Cain throws his arms around me as we rush from the stage. The audience still chants our names, clamoring for more.

“Way to go, outing us all,” Cain whispers in my ear.

“She can’t out us. She has an ironclad contract,” I shout over the roar of the crowd as we leave the stage area.

The chatter dies as we open the door to the green room. We haven’t even taken one step inside before the PAs and roadies scurry like rats exposed to light. The only two people who don’t budge are Kaye and Billie.

Kaye glares at me. I’m pretty sure she thinks if she concentrates hard enough, she’ll light me on fire until I disintegrate. Billie stares at a spot on the floor, refusing to look up.

What I did tonight was fucked up. I was shocked that Cain let me fuck him on stage. Usually, we pretend to bang, but something came over me, knowing Billie was there. He said nothing and took it like a champ, but I know I’ll be paying for it later. Cain doesn’t like surprises, but it was worth it to make Billie nervous and unsteady.

“Get out, Kaye,” I say without taking my eyes off Billie.

Kaye places her hands on her hips. “I’m exactly where I should be. You two were out of hand tonight.”

“Let me say it another way,” I growl. “Get the fuck out, Kaye, or you’re fired.”

Kaye huffs before she storms from the room, leaving Cain and me alone with little Billie Richmond.

“Long time no see, Billie Goat Gruff,” I whisper as I grab a bottle of whiskey.

Billie’s palms press flat against her thighs as she smooths her skirt. Gotta give it to her; she presents a calm exterior. The notion that she could’ve put the past behind her and moved on irritates me. I’ve dreamed about her since that night at the docks, and learning it isn’t the same for her sparks anger in my heart.

Her hands tremble, giving me hope that we still affect her, but then she looks up and smiles. “Will it be Blaze and you, or will the other guys join us? I was hoping to ask Mayhem about the infusion of classical music into his sound. I’ve never heard a keyboard player as talented as him.” She gazes down at her notebook. “He must’ve had some extensive training.”

I swallow all the years of anger and allow her to keep talking about the flawless skills of Marley Banks on the keys. I wonder how long she can keep going without acknowledging what’s right in front of her.

“Striker and Mayhem are on the tour bus,” I say as I open the green room door. Turning, I catch her eyes, still as beautiful as ever. “You coming?”

Billie says nothing as we walk backstage and out of the amphitheater. She wraps her arms around herself and rubs the fabric of her long sweater.

Shrugging off my long black trench coat, I drape it over her shoulders.

“Please, you need this more than I do,” Billie whispers as her eyes hungrily take in my bare chest and arms.

I raise the bottle of liquor and wave it at her. “Keeps me warm.”

Music blares from the bus. I’ll bet my career that Marley and Iggy have a harem of half-naked groupies begging for their attention. Iggy’s probably balls deep in one of them. That’s his thing. No relationships, but always down for fucking. The only people I’ve ever seen him care about are Marley and Kaye, who occasionally fuck groupies with them. Something is going on with those three, but as long as it doesn’t fuck with my business, I don’t give a shit.

“Go on up, Ms. Richmond,” I say, gesturing to the stairs.

Billie looks at me nervously before taking the first steps.

“How did you like our Smashing Pumpkins cover? If I recall, it was your favorite.”

Billie stops in her tracks. The half-naked girls don’t faze her as they gyrate around Marley while he fucks one of them. She glares at me like I’m a ghost she thought she’d buried. So that’s her plan—to pretend we never happened. Part of me can’t blame her. I’m the one who told her to walk away, but it didn’t mean I didn’t want her to hurt.

“Can you take off the mask?” Billie asks.

My hand moves to the black balaclava covering my face. We always wear them after the show. The gas masks get a little annoying after a set. Most days, I want to kick Cain’s ass for suggesting those things. At least the balaclava is breathable.

“Never comes off, baby.” I step up to her and relish how her breathing speeds up. I grip the top of her prim and proper good-girl sweater. “If I recall correctly, Billie-Goat, you liked anything dangerous.”

She swallows and licks her lips. Her eyes lock with mine, a trembling deer trapped in the headlights. She drops her gaze when I hold her stare. “That girl is long gone.”

I smirk as I trap her against a wall. “Nah, baby. No way that girl is dead and gone. She’s just hiding.”

She stares past me at Marley and Iggy. “Looks like now isn’t a good time to ask some questions.”

I turn to witness them tag-teaming a groupie while two others rim their asses. “It’s not like you haven’t done any of that yourself, Billie.”

Billie’s face turns bright red, but she stands firmly in place. “It’s getting late. I’ll see you all at the hotel in the morning.” She clutches her purse and storms from the bus.

I move to the window, pull the curtain back, and gaze at her retreating form.

“She’s still got the hottest ass I’ve ever seen,” Cain whispers in my ear.

Don’t I know it? No woman compares to Billie Richmond. That girl got hold of my heart ten years ago and never let up. She’s like a damn sorceress who put a spell on me. No matter what I achieve, a part of me is right back there with her.

The pathetic boy who longed for a girl he had no right to still lives in my heart, an open wound that grows and festers.

Cain flips me away from the window and Billie Richmond. He doesn’t say anything; he grabs my arm and pulls me to the back bedroom, slamming and locking the door with an audible click.

I grip the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. My disturbing skin is on display to the only person I trust with my scars. The other half of my mangled heart. Cain’s gaze drinks me in. A silent secret flows between us like an invisible tether connecting us. If it weren’t for Cain, my life would have veered off the rails a long time ago. I would’ve ended up dead, a junkie with a needle sticking out of my arm. Cain and I raised each other, loved each other, and created everything we have. Together.

“You want me to get one of those girls?” Cain asks. “The brunette sitting at the front has the same hair. She’s a little skinny, but there’s only one Billie Richmond.”

I shake my head. Cain and I haven’t fucked another woman since Billie. We came close with women who resembled her. Those with similar features and body type—even those who sounded like her. But an imitation was never as good as the real thing. None of them were good enough. They all lacked something because they weren’t her. We could never bring ourselves to share another girl. So we satisfied ourselves with each other and dreamed of Billie.

“Just us,” I finally reply.

Cain steps toward me, and his hand circles my neck. I close my eyes at the sensation. Numbness falls over me, and the taunting voices in my head quiet. My past and present melt away, and I don’t think about the future. All that matters is Cain and the sheer force of my desire for him.

He pulls me to him by my neck. “You fucked up tonight, Lars. You went up there and did whatever the fuck you wanted and didn’t think about how it would affect me.”

He’s right. I didn’t pause for a second to contemplate the ripple effect my minor revelation would have on him or anyone else in the band. At that moment, I only thought about Billie. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to kiss her brutally until her lips were battered and bruised. Leave my mark on her the way she left hers on my heart.

I try to speak, but Cain’s grip on my throat makes it impossible to utter a word. I gaze at his blue irises, darker now than they were earlier. It happens when he’s angry or horny. Right now, he’s probably both. I know he was affected by Billie as much as I was, but unlike me, Cain can compartmentalize. He can put Billie in one section of his brain while focusing on the others. I’m not built like that. My emotions all blend, vibrant colors mixing continuously until they become a muddy brown. That’s why I’m a mess in every single way.

Cain steps closer, pushing me until my back hits the wall and covering me with his body like a blanket. “You’ve always been impulsive, Lars. Making rash choices, not taking a moment to process your emotions.” He uses his hold on my neck to push me down until I’m on my knees in front of him. His other hand works at his buckle before swiftly removing it from the loops of his black jeans. “You know what to do.”

I unsnap the button of his denims and lower the zipper before pulling his pants to his ankles. Cain’s hard, large cock bounces in front of my face.

His grip on my throat remains, while he tugs my head back with his other hand until I’m gazing up at him. “I’m going to choke you for what you did today, Lars. Make you my little bitch until you beg me to stop. But I won’t stop.”

My throbbing cock tells me I want every second of the humiliation Cain will provide. In life, I’m the leader. The one who calls all the shots. The boss. But it weighs on me until I think I’ll drown from the pressure. The only time I’m free, when life is easy, is when I’m serving Cain.

It doesn’t mean he won’t let me top; he does. I fucked him tonight, right on stage. It was with a condom, so not the same, but cleaning up during a performance is a pain in the fucking ass. Cain lets me take control on certain occasions, but the brunt of our dynamic is this: Cain is the master, and I’m nothing more than his servant.