Chapter 4
AXL
‘TIS THE SEASON FOR MILD PANIC
“Okay. Nobody freak out,” I say as I pace backstage the same way Travis did earlier. Only for a completely different reason.
Shiloh Fox saw us play.
Correction. Shiloh Fox was standing in the front row while we played four songs off an album written entirely because none of us are even remotely over her, and fuck!
She’s so goddamn pretty. I had to do a double take because the Shiloh we remember was not the person we saw standing in the crowd.
No. The woman we saw was exactly that—a woman.
She stole all the air from my lungs, even if the lighting wasn’t the brightest, and for the first time since we started the fucking band, I fumbled. Badly.
“Baby, come here,” Zane says, his deep, calming voice like a sedative.
I walk over to the couch where he sits, his brow raised, because I am literally the only one who’s freaking out.
I shoot him a glare before taking a seat beside him.
“Go get her,” Phoenix says to Travis, who stands there with a confused look on his face.
“Oh, no. We are not doing that.”
“Then I’ll go out there and bring her back here myself.” Phoenix turns, but Travis stops him.
“Fine, asshole. I'll go get her. I swear to fucking God if this ends up on the internet, Nina will be so pissed, and it won't be you she aims her wrath toward. It will be me.” Travis storms out of the room, mumbling something under his breath, but not one of us cares what he feels at the moment.
The dude is shit scared of Nina, our publicist guru, who was supposed to be here tonight, but instead, she's stuck at an airport because of the weather warnings.
“She's… different,” Zane says, and I flick my gaze to Phoenix, staring at the wall, no doubt processing the fact that the girl we've all been hung up on since we were a bunch of teenagers was standing in the front row, no more than an arm's length from the stage.
“She’s perfect,” my brother finally says, scrubbing a hand down his face and turning toward the door through which Travis disappeared.
We each say nothing. It's all I can do to act natural as we sit and wait for Shiloh to walk in.
I've imagined seeing her again at least a million times in a million different ways since she moved away, and each time, I was a lot less panic and way more disco.
“Are you gonna tell her?” Zane says, reaching for my hand. Oh God. We have to tell her? Is that what's happening? I am so unprepared. Our masks are still on, and before
I can remove mine, my brother shakes his head.
“No. Not yet. She thinks she's meeting the band.”
“She is meeting the band,” Zane points out, and my stomach dips with apprehension and anticipation all rolled into one. I feel like I'm a teenager all over again.
There were moments when we were younger that we’d talk ourselves into asking her out, but whenever one of us went to do it, we’d choke.
As the years went by, we were no longer the innocent boys she once knew, and instead, by some strange twist of fate, we had actually become popular.
With everyone except the parents and adults around here.
Eventually, we rolled in different crowds, and when our relationship with Zane grew to more than friends, we were as good as riff raff to the folks around here, and we couldn't drag her into our bullshit. God, Shiloh’s father would literally cut all our dicks off if he knew of all the depraved and nasty things we wanted to do to his daughter.
Life isn’t what it used to be. We’re not naive kids anymore. We learned the hard way that hesitation costs you everything. Now, when we want something, we don't fucking flinch. We don’t apologize. We go after it.
And we want Shiloh.
Every goddamn piece of her.
The sound of footfalls fills the quiet room, and I go completely still.
Zane straightens beside me, and even though he's usually the calm to our chaos, I can sense the wave of nervous energy hit him like a bucket of ice water.
Phoenix leans back against the wall, nonchalant as always, but he's not fooling fucking anyone.
When Travis opens the door, he stands to the side, making room for Shiloh.
My mouth goes dry, and I clear my throat as the prettiest woman I have ever laid eyes on comes into view, walking into the room like a fucking angel.
I don't breathe.
“Don't be too long. We've gotta wrap this up in about thirty minutes. I'm staying upstairs because the highway is closed.” Without another word, Travis walks out, closing the door behind him.
Words.
Somebody say words.
“Hi,” Shiloh says, her voice as smooth as velvet, dripping with a layer of warm honey, and holy fucking shit, she is covered in tattoos. Mr. Fox’s good girl has gone bad, and my cock is well and truly awake, straining against my jeans.
Not now. Do not fuck this up for me!
Her hair, so long and black it's almost blue, shines beneath the glow of the fluorescent light, and my eyes follow the strands down, down, before settling on her exposed stomach. Fuck me. She's even got tattoos there.
I think I'm having a heart attack.
She's got curves in allll the right places, and I can tell just by her demeanor that she can hold her own in the bedroom.
There's just something undeniably hot about a woman knowing who the fuck she is, what she wants and doesn't apologize for it.
The thought of Shiloh taking what she wants from us has my balls fucking aching for her.
“Hi,” Phoenix finally says, his voice all husky and awestruck, and I relax a little now that the ice between us is broken.
“It’s… uhh… nice to meet you,” he adds, extending his hand to shake hers.
Oh, real fuckin’ smooth, Nix. She shakes his hand, a shy smile tugging at her gorgeous face as she looks up at him with her wide, ocean-blue eyes like he hung the moon in her darkest sky.
“Likewise. Honestly, thank you for taking the time to meet me.
I didn't think I’d get to… with the weather, and all that.
I'm Shiloh, by the way.” Zane and I watch, hanging on to every word that escapes her full, red-painted lips, and I have to check myself because now all I can think about is how they'll look tasting our cocks.
Zane rises from the couch, the lazy grin never leaving his face, as he crosses the space between them with effortless swagger. I want to sock him for abandoning me. Instead, I trail behind him like a lost puppy, and inwardly tell myself to get my shit together.
This isn't exactly my usual charm card. My A game has clearly left the building.
“Hey, I saw you out there. Nice ink by the way.”
Nice ink by the way? What the fuck was that? I'm on a one way fucking ticket to the friend zone.
Shiloh chuckles.
“Thanks. I'm actually an artist.”
“No fucking way?” Zane says, and I'm grateful for his ability to make shit less awkward. On the other hand, I have zero chill tonight.
They start comparing ink, talking about her tattoo shop in the city, Lady Death, which I think is a fitting name for a killer like her.
As if she wasn't already perfect before, hearing how passionate she is about her work, and watching her eyes light up when she talks about it makes her even more beautiful.
I don't remember the last time it felt this easy to talk to someone. Fame has really fucked us as far as normal interactions go. Especially after a show. But this feels… natural. Effortless, despite my heart beating a thousand miles a minute. Yet, there's a calmness in it somehow.
The moment breaks with a sudden bang as the door slams open.
Travis stands in the doorway, shirtless, chest heaving.
“Guys, you gotta go. Storm’s hitting in less than an hour.
All the main roads are shut down, but the route to your cabin is still open.
It won't be open for much longer. There's a police escort waiting. Get your shit and move.
We all blink, a little caught off guard.
“Wait! I have to get home,” Shiloh says, turning to grab her coat that's resting on top of an old guitar amp. “Thank you so much for everything. Your songs literally saved my life,” she says frantically pulling her coat on.
“Stay,” Phoenix chokes out, his arm reaching out to touch her forearm. Shiloh pauses, looking from the place where they're connected, and up to meet his masked face. She studies him for a long moment, and an electric heat charges through the room around us.
She knows what stay actually means.
Question is, does she want to?
Her gaze flicks from my brother, to Zane, then to me, before settling on Phoenix.
“Come back with us,” Zane says, his voice thick with innuendo, and the next words out of her mouth shatters the tension that’s been simmering between us. She tilts her head, and a knowing, seductive smirk teases the corner of her lips.
“And what exactly would I be coming back for?”
There it is.
My time to shine.
I step forward, my hands shoved casually in my pockets, leaning down just enough for my words to brush against the shell of her ear. “You have about ten seconds to decide how your night ends, baby… and one of those choices better involve those greedy red lips of yours wrapped around our cocks.”