Chapter 6

Brave was not a nice person without sleep. Standing behind the studio they’d rented, he watched Skull, their oldest roadie, take a long, very satisfying drag on his cigarette.

Maybe secondhand smoke would kill the cravings. Coffee definitely wasn’t cutting it. And he’d had three cups. Black and hot enough to burn his tongue because he wanted it to hurt.

Things that hurt made sense. Physical pain he could handle.

Emotional shit? Not so much.

He’d been better off completely numb. Worrying about his brother, telling anyone how fucking scared he’d been…shit, at this point, no one cared what he thought.

But he’d done that. He’d pushed them all away.

Job well fucking done.

“What’s eating at you, boy?” Skull let out the smoke slowly, his lips curving slightly as Brave stared at his mouth. He chuckled and held out the cigarette. “Go ahead. A few puffs won’t kill you.”

Brave took the cigarette even as he shook his head. “The guys might if they catch me.”

“Bunch of hypocrites, the lot of them.” Skull folded his arms over his chest, not speaking until Brave inhaled deeply. “Life was simpler when they all hated you.”

Snorting, Brave opened his mouth to reply, but the smoke caught in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit. He bent over. Gasped in air.

As Skull laughed his ass off and pounded on his back. “You were saying?”

“They—” Another ragged cough. “—still hate me.”

“Then why would they care if you slowly kill yourself with this shit?” Skull had retrieved his cigarette at some point and went back to smoking like the damn thing hadn’t nearly suffocated Brave. “And before you call me a hypocrite, remember I’ve been doing this for almost forty years.”

“I smoked for fifteen.”

“Then you quit.” Skull’s lifted his shoulders like he couldn’t care less. “I won’t get on your case, Brave. You’re a grown man and lectures didn’t work when you were a cocky little shit, never mind now.”

“How about some advice?”

Skull’s lips slanted up slightly. “Might be able to manage that.”

Dropping his gaze to his knee length, worn leather boots, Brave swallowed hard. “I suck as a brother.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Thanks,” Brave said, dryly. “What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re trying to make years of damage disappear. Alder needs you, but he also needs to heal.” Skull dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his boot heel. “And that won’t happen if he’s still trying to hold everything together for you. Fix yourself. The rest will come.”

With that Brave was dismissed. He headed inside as Skull ambled off to the roadie van.

Fix myself? Brave tugged the length of suede binding his hair, letting it flow loose as he reached the rehearsal room. He had no clue what Skull meant, but he didn’t have time to figure it out. The band was all he and Alder really had anymore. Maybe they could build on that.

Stepping into the room he spotted Alder with Jesse and Danica. On the makeshift stage, Connor was tuning his guitar, laughing at something Tate said to him from behind the drum set.

Off to the side, Malakai stood holding his guitar by the neck, his eyes on Sophie. The man rubbed one hand over his closely shaved hair, then let it fall in a fist at his side.

Had Sophie done something to piss him off? He’d been all onboard with her plan to replace Danica. Had the agent changed her mind?

That would make Alder happy. Brave had no idea what Malakai had against their dancer, but fuck him. He’d get over it.

Striding up to the stage, Brave grabbed his mic and let out a low growl, smirking when almost everyone in the room jumped. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, just warming up.”

“Asshole.” Malakai muttered before pulling his guitar strap over his shoulder. He glanced at Sophie one last time, then came over to take his place on ‘stage’.

With everyone in place, Brave began their set, starting with their new cover of Ed Sheeran’s Sing. He hadn’t been a huge fan until he’d heard his brother singing the song all slow and seductive to Danica.

After that, he must have listened to the song a hundred times, trying to figure out how to put an edge to it. Brave usually stuck to lyrics, then told Alder and Malakai what sound he was going for. They worked their magic and music was born.

With the cover, he’d heard the melody so clearly in his head, cut down, deepened to a twisted, seductive tone. He sang it once for them with no music, asking Alder to take the chorus because he had the smooth quality they needed.

A week later they recorded the song. The day it came out it was playing everywhere. Topping charts like crazy.

For the first time, the band truly came together. Everyone was happy. Danica had a new routine that had her gliding across the stage and grinding low in a way that made the fans drool. Watching her prompted Brave to create a silent new mantra.

‘Off limits. So fucking off limits. Damn hot, but stay far, far away.’

He’d noticed Malakai and Connor adjusting themselves after the first performance, so he didn’t feel too bad.

Halfway to the chorus, he braced himself for Danica’s entrance. Movement caught the corner of his eye even as she slinked up to his side. He glanced over and his mouth went dry.

Mirroring Danica’s moves, dipping low with one hand barely brushing his thigh, was a vision of exquisite beauty so pure he wondered for a minute if he was dreaming. A sleek spill of black hair with a hint of moonlit ocean blue. Pale flesh with a touch of gold. And her eyes…he could write amazing lyrics about her eyes. Which had to be the sappiest thing he’d ever considered, but he couldn’t shake the dizzying high that had him staring into them.

Like a star sapphire with true light trapped in the core, slowly fading to darkness before spilling out around it. And that light drew him in. Came from something deeper, beyond anything he could see. Her brief touch simmered through him and the whole world tilted on its axis. She locked her beautiful eyes on him for a split second, letting out a sharp breath as though she felt the shift too.

Fuck, this was crazy. He tried to focus on the song as Alder finished the chorus. Drawing away from Brave in a sharp spin, the girl lost her balance on her spiked heels. He dropped the mic to catch her.

The loud feedback SCREECH! of the mic hitting the floor snapped his brain back into reality. Where he was wide awake and everyone was holding their hands over their ears, glaring at him.

He looked down at the young woman in his arms, the way she trembled, face hidden against his chest, like ice water thrown in his face. She was fucking terrified, and at first, he couldn’t figure out why. All he’d done was keep her from falling.

Then his brain decided to function again. She was ‘the replacement’. The girl who’d take over for Danica.

But only if she proved herself here. Now.

And because of him, she’d failed.

Which he should want. Her failure gave Danica another reason to stay. To reject all the offers and be where Alder needed her.

Checking that the girl was steady on her feet, Brave eased back. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and swallowed hard.

He looked over to Reese, who’d approached the ‘stage’, lips thin.

“Is there a problem with the routine, Shiori?”

Shiori shook her head. “No. I just—”

“I tripped her.” Brave cursed internally as all eyes turned to him. Damn it, what kind of excuse was that? He rolled his shoulders, scrambling for something that made more sense. “I’m used to one chick all over me. Two takes some adjustment, but I’ve managed before.”

“Charming.” Reese frowned at him. “I didn’t see you anywhere near her feet.”

“I kicked her heel. Fuck, we doing this or what? I messed up. I’m a singer, not a dancer.” He glanced over at Shiori. “Sorry about that.”

Shiori’s lips parted. Then closed. She gave him a little smile that warmed his heart. “It’s okay. I’m not used to dancing around so many people. I should have stepped farther away.”

“No harm.” Brave met Reese’s eyes, brows lifted. “Should we start again?”

“Do S.L.U.T.” Reese sounded pissed, but she simply returned to her place against the wall by Danica’s agent, Sophie.

S.L.U.T was even worse than the routine for Sing. Most of the moves involved Danica dancing close to all the guys, and she put a different spin on it for almost every show now that she knew how to work the crowd. Shiori stuck with the original choreography, and he struggled to keep his eyes off her as she danced around the stage. The first time she came to him, grinding against him, careful not to actually touch him, he fucked up his breathing and went off-key.

No one seemed to notice. He took a few deep breaths during the guitar solo, pulse pounding in his ears as Shiori and Danica shimmied up against his brother. Alder divided his attention between them well, performing with ease and smiling like he enjoyed their touch.

The next growl Brave let out was a bit too low. A bit too real. Alder shouldn’t be messing with the girl. He’d fuck this up for her. Or make Danica jealous. Danica didn’t look jealous, but the chick was weird. She shared Alder with Jesse. Maybe adding Shiori to the mix was the next step in their twisted relationship.

Not my problem. Finish the damn song.

That he could do. He needed it to end.

But he’d forgotten what came next. Danica didn’t kiss him during this song anymore. Her coming close then dancing away was enough.

Pressing against him, Shiori pulled his arm around her, smoothly guiding him into his part of the routine. But the next move was his. He ground his teeth, not sure if he should follow through. Her touching him had fucked him up once already. Which made things harder for her. And for some reason he wanted her to pass this test. To impress Reese. Impress the band.

Could she continue if he finished as he was supposed to? If he kissed her?

“Please?” Leaning back, forcing him to hold her, Shiori gazed up at him, whispering. “Please finish it.”

Bending down he brushed his lips over hers, kissing her as the final chords faded away. The heat, the soft pressure, her little gasp, called to him. A taste wasn’t enough. She was so damn sweet. So tempting.

Giving in would be easy. Taking everything he wanted nothing more than he’d always done. He tightened his grip, flicking his tongue over her bottom lip. Her lips parted and he knew he could have it all. Taste her, pull her close until she could feel everything he wanted from her.

But they weren’t alone. And this was as much of a test for him as it was for her. Not that anyone expected any better from him, but he needed to prove he’d changed. That the man they thought they knew was gone.

The man he was trying to be wouldn’t screw things up for her. Not for the pleasure. Not even for his brother. Alder wouldn’t want to force Danica’s hand. Not like this.

Smiling against Shiori’s lips, Brave spoke softly, hoping he hadn’t already gone too far. “I’m impressed.”

Shiori frowned as he helped her straighten and drew away. “Why?”

“Danica slapped me the first time we did that move.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” She blushed and smoothed her little red pleated skirt. “Was it okay?”

“Very okay.” Lucky for him, she didn’t seem very experienced. If she’d been trying to mess with him, he’d be done for. As it was, her innocence was tearing him to shreds. That outfit shouldn’t be legal.

Aside from the tiny skirt, she wore a tight, white corset with a big, blue bow between her breasts that made him think of a show he’d seen, but couldn’t remember. Either way, her long legs and her pale breasts swelling above the neckline of her shirt were spoiling all his good intentions.

Also, they both seemed to have forgotten they had an audience.

“Danica wasn’t a fan. And she clearly knows how to handle you.” Reese sounded even more pissed off than before. “Sophie, this isn’t going to work.”

“Why? Because she has good chemistry with him? Reese, I’ve never known you to be this short sighted.” Sophie walked up to the stage, and Brave tensed at the excitement in her eyes. “So far Danica and Alder are the only two I’ve been able to truly shop out for ads. We’ve both been trying to find a way to use Brave more, but his reputation has made him unsuitable for most brands. For a moment he looked almost…sweet.”

“Sweet?” Reese wrinkled her nose. “Metal and sweet don’t mix. With Alder it works. He can play the dark hero with his beautiful lover. If it sells perfume and brings income to the band, fine. But Brave being the cold, unapproachable lead keeps them hardcore.”

“The music keeps them hardcore.” Sophie faced Reese, hand on her hips. “I thought you were willing to explore any possible exposure.”

“I am. But I also have to consider their image. We don’t want to alienate fans by coming across as sellouts.” Reese shook her head. “Brave, I know S.L.U.T is about ditching negativity toward female sexuality, but it’s not a love song. I’d almost prefer her slapping you.”

“I’m sure she can slap me if that’s what you need.” Brave latched onto Shiori’s wrist. “Here, sweetie. Slap me now so we can continue.”

Shiori’s eyes went wide. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” Reese’s tone sharpened. “Because at this point all I see is a star-struck little girl who won’t make it a week in the metal scene. I’m not willing to sign on a child who will run crying the second things get rough. And believe me, they will get rough. And violent. The crowd won’t be sweet.”

“Kiss her again, Brave.” Malakai came to his side, voice hard, grip tight on his guitar. “Kiss her like you kissed Danica. Like you don’t care what she wants.”

What the actual fuck? Brave stared at Malakai. The man who’d wanted to kill him for doing shit like that. For using people. People like Tate, who’d been ready and willing.

But still someone Malakai needed to protect from all of Brave’s fucked up shit. From his self-destructive attitude, when he did whatever he wanted without considering the consequences. Without a thought of who he’d hurt.

Brave knew he’d been an asshole. He’d almost destroyed the band. For months he’d been fighting to leave all that behind him.

And now the man wanted him to go back there?

“Don’t look at me like that.” Malakai glared at him. “This isn’t about you.”

Malakai was right. And while the rest of the band had checked out, ignoring the whole exchange, Malakai was the only one willing to tell him what he needed to do.

Because for some reason Malakai wanted Shiori to succeed

And whether or not Brave should, he did too.

Reese had a point. If Shiori couldn’t take him being his old self, the metal scene would bury her alive. He couldn’t protect her from it. And pretending he could wouldn’t do her any favors.

Letting the cold, detached emotions that had once been so familiar settle over him, he lifted his hand and wrapped it around the back of Shiori’s neck, dragging her close.

And just to make sure she had plenty of motivation, he whispered softly against her lips. “Whatever they think, I don’t care. The way you touched me told me everything I need to know. You’re desperate to be fucked. And when this is over, I’m all yours.”

He claimed her lips in a rough kiss, closing himself off from any feelings. From how careful he wanted to be. From how she whimpered at the brutal pressure. From how she struggled to twist free.

Her hand slammed into his chest. She threw her head back.

But instead of slapping him she nailed him with a swift punch.

Letting her go, he brought one hand to his eye. Blood slicked his fingers.

Chicks and their damn rings.

Her lips formed a wide O, but before she could say a word Danica grabbed her by the shoulder. Whispered something in her ear.

Shiori squared her shoulders and turned her back on him.

Good girl.

“I stand corrected.” A huge smile spread across Reese’s lips. “That was… Damn, imagine that live?”

How about no? Brave pressed his palm over his eye as the blood continued to flow and everyone kept talking. Reese called for a short break and took off with Sophie. Alder followed Danica and Jesse as they led Shiori out.

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder. “Come on, let me take a look.”

Brave let Malakai lead him to a chair, not sure what to say. Of all the guys Malakai was the last person he’d expect to give a fuck that he was bleeding. The man was honest about how he felt about Brave.

They weren’t friends. Hadn’t been in a long time.

“Shit, that was so fucked up!” Tate crouched in front of Brave, glancing at his eye with a wince when Brave lowered his hand. “She got you good.”

“Yeah.” Brave tipped his head back, ignoring the dull throb and the warm spill forcing him to keep one eye closed. “I guess being a complete dick pays off.”

Coming to his side, suddenly shirtless, Malakai held something against the cut. “Sorry. I thought we’d have a towel or something. Tate, go get the med kit from the van.”

“On it!” Tate scampered off.

Malakai’s darkly tanned, bare chest filled Brave’s vision. Fuck, the man was ripped. Not bulky like Connor, but every inch of him was carved with sharp definition. He folded his shirt over to look at the cut. “Damn. What did you say to her?”

“That I could tell she was desperate to be fucked.” Brave bit into his tongue as Malakai pressed down hard. “Ease up, man. I didn’t mean it.”

With a deep breath, Malakai eased the pressure over his eye. “I know.”

“Good.” Brave exhaled slowly. “I like her. She’s…she seems nice.”

“I think so too.” Malakai’s lips thinned. The sleek muscles of his shoulders hardened. “But you have to be careful with her. She’s walking on thin ice. Reese wants someone to take Danica’s place, but I think she’s looking for someone who will just look pretty up there. She talks a good game, but she doesn’t want another performer with other options.”

“Then why go to Sophie? Danica’s agent doesn’t hire shallow cookie cutter chicks.”

“Yeah, but Reese wants to keep Danica. Think of it. Even if Danica has other things going on, every time she comes back will be a big deal. While she’s gone we put on a great show with a decent backup.” Malakai checked the cut again. Took a knee at Brave’s side while still applying pressure. “The backup can’t overshadow the band’s ‘image’. She can’t be important enough to get too much attention.”

“I’m missing something. I thought Reese wanted another success story to play on.”

“Maybe she does, but she also doesn’t want to pay for another well-established model. She can’t have Danica and another star.” Malakai shrugged. “I could be wrong, but I think she sees something in Shiori. Something special. She’d rather lose her now than pay for her later.”

“But you want her to stay.”

“I do.”

Brave considered Malakai, not sure what to make of them being on speaking terms. He hardly knew the man anymore. To him, the bassist was the guy who wrote the music and acted like Tate’s guard dog. He had a fucking temper and when the band started had spent the night in jail a few times for fighting in bars.

They’d been cool back then. Hell, Brave had jumped into the fights a few times, even the ones Malakai started over stupid shit. They drank and smoked together. Picked up girls and ran a little wild.

But when Brave drew away from Alder, Malakai became distant. No huge surprise there. He wasn’t just protective of Tate. He had this thing for stepping up for anyone he thought needed him in their corner.

Brave never had.

The girl, however, would easily fit into the bassist’s hero complex. His concern could be all noble and pure. But what if he had alternative motives to get Brave out of the way?

“She’s about Tate’s age I think.” Brave kept his tone light, like they were discussing the weather or the pit stops along their route. “This has to be overwhelming for her.”

“Ya think?” Malakai shook his head. “I saw her on the bus yesterday. She gave Tate some candy while he was craving a high bad. She’s gonna have trouble fitting in, but she’s got a good heart. If she stays I’ll keep an eye on her.”

So far so good, but not enough. Time to stop beating around the bush. “So you don’t want to fuck her?”

Malakai dropped the bloody shirt and straightened, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at Brave. “What the actual fuck, man?”

“It’s an honest question.”

Letting out a cold laugh, Malakai inclined his head. “From you? Guess it is. Tate should be back soon. He can patch you up.”

“You’re not gonna warn me to keep my hands off him?” Brave knew he was pushing, but he couldn’t help it. Malakai hadn’t answered. The fucker had forced Brave to do something that would make Shiori hate him, while keeping his own hands clean.

And now he was gonna play like Brave was the asshole?

Fuck that noise.

The look Malakai gave him chilled him to the bone. Leaning close, one hand on the back the chair, his lips brushed Brave’s ear as he spoke. “Keep testing me. I dare you.”

Pulse quickening, Brave eased forward, letting his tone drop to the deep growl that filled his bed almost every night. “You’re hot all scary. Tell me what you’re gonna do. I’m already hard.”

“You would be.” Malakai shoved away, clenching his fist and staring at Brave like he was very tempted to knock him the fuck out. “We both know Tate will do what he wants. Hurt him and I’ll bury you.”

“I make no promises.” Brave smirked, arching a brow. Which wasn’t smart because, without the compress, it started bleeding again. He sighed and grabbed the shirt as blood trailed hot over his eye. “And the girl?”

“That you’re even asking proves you haven’t changed at all.” Malakai’s expression changed and Brave wanted to take it all back. Rather than anger, regret flashed in the man’s eyes before he walked away. Maybe he’d felt the shift in their relationship too and hoped things would get better.

With a few words, Brave had ruined any chance that they could be friends again.

But at least he knew exactly where things stood between them. Friendship with Malakai came with many perks, but Brave didn’t meet his standards in any sense of the word. And he didn’t need protection.

Keep your enemies close and all that. When Malakai saw him as a rival, as a threat, Brave could just be himself. He’d tried to change and it hadn’t done any good.

So maybe he should stop.

Hell, even Reese wanted the old him. Being wicked and reckless worked with the fans. Fit the music. Who he was on stage was all anyone cared about.

Who was he trying to impress anyway? He’d wanted to be better when he’d almost lost Alder, but his brother didn’t need him. Not when he had Danica and Jesse.

If that changed he’d do what he could, but he was done turning himself inside out for people who’d paint him with the same brush no matter what he did.

Even now he could hear Valor laughing at him for trying.

“This lifestyle doesn’t last, bro. And everything you put into it means fuck all. Today they love you. Tomorrow you might as well be dead.” Valor’s bloodshot eyes met Brave’s. Brave had just read a review about one of their songs and he needed his big brother to tell him they had something to offer the world.

The review had cut deep. He knew better than to read them but he couldn’t help it. He cared what people thought about the music he’d worked so hard to put out there.

“Why bother then? People hate us!” Brave dropped the magazine on the table and slumped in the seat next to his brother, looking around at the dirty motel room where they were spending the night. He hadn’t slept in days. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a decent meal. Probably last Friday, on his nineteenth birthday. Only the guys got him so wasted he hadn’t kept much down.

Brave sacrificed everything for the band. His relationship with his parents, his chance at a normal life. And hadn’t thought twice about putting his faith in his brother.

But that was back when Valor’s drive went beyond satisfying his addictions. The band’s earnings on the road barely covered gas money, but their sole album sold enough to cover travel and merchandise for another month. Brave had carefully worked out the budget, but Valor had trashed it in a day. He refused to let Brave’s plans cut into their drug money.

Feeding Valor’s vices limited the band’s opportunities.

Still, Brave struggled to find ways for them to succeed. His cut had gone to pay for their last recording. He’d scrimped on meals to save up for more studio time. They were putting out one song every six months. Not enough to keep them relevant. He wasn’t as strung out as the rest of the guys, but a few pills kept him from getting hungry. Valor didn’t mind sharing his drugs.

But if Brave passed out on stage again, would they leave him behind? He dropped his head to his hands. “Valor, what are we doing? We almost got signed last week, but you showed up late and—”

“And what? Dude, don’t start with me.” Valor snorted another line, then straightened. “You want to be a good boy? Go home. You want to be part of this band, how about some fucking gratitude? That pussy you nailed last night gave it up because you’re one of us. The drugs, the reputation, the fucking sweet ass lifestyle we get to enjoy? That’s why we’re doing this.”

“We can do more. Our music can—”

“Can what? Make an impact? Become classic shit?” Blood trickled from Valor’s nose. He swiped it away with a laugh. “You can’t pay the bills with those dreams, kid. Wake up. That legacy you want won’t happen. But getting that next high, that hot mouth on your dick? That’s today. And tomorrow. Enjoy it before you get old and regret not living it up.”

Brave stared at his brother, who already looked old. ‘Living it up’ had his eyes sunken in, his skin a sickly yellow and his long hair thin and greasy. Only twenty-four, but their father could pass as younger than him.

He used to admire his big brother, but there wasn’t much to look up to anymore.

The band meant too much for Brave to give up now, though. Jaw clenched, he met Valor’s unfocused eyes. “I’m grateful, but you’re not gonna have the money for all the shit you love so much if this keeps up.”

“So what do you suggest? I’m all ears.”

“We double our shows. Get a few new songs out.” Brave’s excitement grew as Valor nodded and motioned for him to go on. The man was actually listening. “If we practice more our sound will improve and we’ll get new fans. I could work out a schedule and—”

“Fucking ambitious, aren’t you?” Valor looked down at the white streaked mirror on the table. His eyes suddenly went wild. “What the fuck? Did you take my dust, man?”

“No, you finished it. You know I wouldn’t—” Brave’s blood ran cold as his brother’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard. “I wouldn’t, Valor. I swear I wouldn’t.”

“Not gonna try to save me, little brother?” Valor bent over him, tightening his grip even more. He let out a thin laugh as Brave clawed at his hands. “Because that would be stupid.”

“I know.” Brave’s eyes teared. Red spotted his vision. “Please stop—”

The band came in, shouting as they wrestled Valor off him. Skull helped Brave out of the motel room, cursing Valor under his breath.

His brother’s cutting laughter followed him long after the door slammed between them.

“He thinks he’s better than me. Thinks he’s better than us all.”

Pressing hard on his eye, Brave forced his mind back to the present. A present where he was so fucking lost. He’d proven he was better than Valor. Hell, not long after his brother attacked him, Brave stopped doing hard drugs. He’d practiced all the time, even though the rest of the band ditched him to party more often than not. Skull found him a vocal coach, stuck close when Valor was fucked up, and became his biggest supporter for years after.

Live On Satan’s Time never got big, but they’d gained a decent following. Had a good run before Valor died.

And now Brave had Winter’s Wrath fulfilling all his dreams. His hard work meant something. Fine, he and the guys weren’t buddies, but they shared one goal. Were all willing to work hard to accomplish it.

Beyond that, nothing else mattered.

The door opened and Tate came into the rehearsal room, carrying a big white box. Not the one from the van. “Sorry it took so long. The van was gone, but I hunted down the owner of this place and he gave me this.”

“That was cool of you, Tate. Thanks.” Brave dropped the shirt. “I’m good, though.”

Tate frowned at him as the cut proved him a liar and started bleeding again. Only a little, but enough to need patching up. “Sure you are. Shit, you probably need stitches. I ain’t no doctor. Where’s Malakai?”

“He’s not a doctor either.”

“No, but he’s smarter than me. He could figure out how to fix you.”

He could try. Brave shook his head. “I can do it myself if you don’t want to.”

“I want to, I’m just not good at anyth—”

“Stop talking shit about my favorite drummer.” Brave’s grinned as Tate ducked his head. Was hard not to love the kid. And, unlike the rest of the band, Tate didn’t need more than a little encouragement now and then.

That I can do.

“Check if there’s tape or something in there. Should work.”

“Okay…” Tate opened the med kit on the floor, rifling through it until he found a small box of Second Skin. He held it up. “This good?”

“Perfect.” Brave held still as Tate moved close, gently applying the clear bandage, legs framing one of Brave’s, practically in his lap. His thigh brushing Brave’s cock was a nice distraction from the throb of pain in his face.

That part of his body showing interest was bad news.

He tried to shift back.

“Hold still.” Tate murmured, pressing against him a little more. “Just need to smooth it out a bit.”

Shit. Brave wet his lips with his tongue, doing his best to ignore his swelling cock. It hadn’t gotten any action in a while. And clearly hadn’t forgotten how good Tate’s tight, hot, willing body felt.

But Brave had fucked Tate when he’d been on a downward spiral. When he stopped giving a shit about everything and everyone. They hadn’t even discussed that day since. Not alone anyway.

When he’d bared his damn soul to the band about Valor, about how messed up he was and what he was willing to do to fix shit, Tate had brought up them having sex once. Brave brushed the incident off as a one-time mistake.

Because using Tate had been a really bad idea. He’d wanted to hurt Jesse. Hurt Malakai. Not for any reason that made any damn sense, but what’s done was done.

The way Tate moved his thigh against Brave’s erection, he clearly didn’t feel the same. The contact wasn’t accidental. The kid wasn’t good at being sneaky.

“I think you’re done, Tate.” Brave took a firm grip on Tate’s arms when he wiggled even closer. “Stop.”

“You sure?” Tate flashed him a wicked grin and glanced down at the outline of Brave’s dick in his tight jeans. “No one’s coming back up here.”

“I’m sure.” Brave pushed to his feet, setting Tate away from him. “Why you starting this shit again? You know it ain’t happening.”

Tate’s grin faded. “Oh… I didn’t know you didn’t want me anymore.”

Damn it, now I feel like an asshole. “Tate, you’re fucking hot. Anyone would want you. And the right person will—”

“Shit, I’m not in love with you or anything.” Tate raked his fingers through the long spill of golden-brown hair at the top of his head, letting it fall over the shaved part and forward to cover one eye. “I’m not looking for ‘the right person’. Just figured we could have some fun.”

“You can have fun with any groupie. Find a cute girl. Or guy.” Why the hell were they even having this conversation? Tate knew how things were with the band. “I go near you and people get pissed.”

“No one needs to know.”

“The answer is no, kid. Sorry.”

“S’all good.” Tate shrugged and backed away from him. “But I saw how you looked at the new girl. You think the guys will be pissed if you mess with me? They’ll go mental if you touch her.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” And he really wasn’t. He was no good for her. Or Tate.

Or anyone.

“Okay. Understood.” Tate continued to the door. “But just so you know, the offer’s on the table.”

Long after the drummer was gone, Brave simply stood there, staring at the closed door. And picturing the one Tate had left wide open.

He should slam it shut. Forget about it.

The band was his priority. The one time he’d let his focus slip, he’d almost lost everything. He couldn’t risk going there again.

But he couldn’t deny Tate’s offer was tempting.

“No one needs to know.”

He’d been good for so long. Sure, he still fucked the odd groupie, but he was tired of the same old routine. Picking some random guy or girl for a quickie. Fuck, the last few times he didn’t even get off. It was nothing but another performance. Another service to the fans.

For once he wanted pleasure that wasn’t tied to who he had to be every minute of every day. He didn’t know who he was beyond the band. He didn’t have time to figure that out.

But some time with someone who didn’t give a shit what his name was? Hell, even if they were using him, it would be a nice change.

Tate could give him that. No questions. No expectations.

For some fucked up reason, he remembered Malakai, leaning over him, whispering in his ear. That hard body that could hurt him bad. How fucked up was he that the idea turned him on?

If he was getting hard thinking about Malakai, one thing was very clear.

He needed to get laid. The way he used to.

No limits.

No holds barred.

And no fucking regrets.