1. Molly
1
MOLLY
I couldn’t remember where I was.
I frowned and tried to zero in on something, but all I could see around me was the fog. Bright, hazy white with a smattering of dead grass underneath, the color drained from the world and an eerie, horrible feeling that I was alone out here.
Then the boy who’d been chasing me came pounding out of the fog and I turned and ran again, heart pounding against my ribs and a scream caught in my throat. I’d thought I had outrun that kid and had hoped I’d lost him in the fog, but something had given me away. Some sound–maybe the sobbing in my throat or the pounding of my heart–had drawn him right to me.
I didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was what he was going to do to me if he caught me.
I sprinted into the whiteness, praying that I could find the set of trees that surrounded the land where I’d been hiding from him. I could climb faster than the boy after me, and if I could just reach those trees–if I was actually running in the right direction–I thought I’d be okay.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d lost him by sprinting for the trees and getting up into the highest branches. The ones he was too heavy to reach.
It wasn’t the first time he’d chased me.
Unless I could find those trees, though, this would be the first time he caught me.
I pushed my legs to move faster, my feet to fly over the ground, and started praying. The boy was right behind me now, close enough that I could hear the breath in his lungs and the laughter in his mouth as he started to realize I wasn’t going to get away. My face pulled into a grimace of horror at the thought, and something surged through me, forcing my body to move even more quickly.
Then I hit the trees, and the roots that came with them.
My foot caught in the first root it found and slid through the loop emerging from the ground, and that was all it took. I slammed to the ground and grunted at the impact, unable to breathe or think for a long moment.
Too long.
Angus was on top of me within seconds. He flipped me over and slammed me back to the ground, his laughter harsh and threatening. And I knew this would be the end. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen–I was only six, and didn’t have any idea what boys could do to girls–but I knew it was going to be bad. I’d seen this boy with a stray cat, once. I might not have understood my own body, or his, but I knew what he did to creatures too small to defend themselves.
I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream and kick and scratch his eyes out. But my body wouldn’t obey me. Something was wrong and my brain couldn’t control my hands or feet. It was like my brain had already given up.
So I shut my eyes, hoping it would be over quickly.
And then Angus’ weight was just... gone. He was holding me down one moment, his body pushing me into the ground, and I closed my eyes, waiting...
And he disappeared.
I shot up off the ground the moment I realized it, ready to run again, but when my eyes opened, I realized I didn’t have to. Because Angus was on the ground now, and someone else was on top of him. Someone with floppy blond hair and a scrawny back. He was fighting like a scratch cat, though, landing blow after blow on Angus’ face, and Angus was screaming like he was being murdered.
At the second scream, my unknown hero jumped to his feet and screamed himself. “You think it’s cool to pick on kids younger than yourself?” he screeched. “You think that’s okay? Think no one’s going to stop you?”
Angus didn’t answer. He was too busy scrambling to his feet and sprinting away into the fog.
I watched him go, confused. What was going on here? One minute I’d been on the ground ready to die, and the next...
I looked from where Angus had disappeared to where the blond boy was standing, trying to get my brain around the change. Who was that kid, and where had he come from? Why had he come after me?
When he finally turned to me, I gasped.
Because the boy was so beautiful, I thought for a moment I’d been saved by an angel. Blue eyes, set wide and deep in a face that couldn’t be real. A sharp nose and even sharper chin. Hair that draped across his forehead, and an expression that indicated both annoyance and concern at the same time.
He was glowing.
I realized later, of course, that he hadn’t actually been glowing. That had been a trick of the fog. And he wasn’t any sort of angel.
Though for years, I thought he was.
I jerked awake and opened my eyes, caught on that thought. Noah Michael. My angel. My rescuer. He was four years older than me and practically a god, as far as I was concerned. The boy who ran after me into the fog when he saw another kid chasing me.
It wasn’t the last time he rescued me from a bad situation.
I tipped my head on the thought and put it away, though. Because the ceiling I was looking at wasn’t mine. I didn’t know that ceiling fan–my room didn’t have one–and the window was definitely on the wrong side of the bed.
Shit.
I lay very still, trying to remember what the fuck had happened last night and how I’d ended up where I was. I looked right and then left, using just my eyes, and saw that I was correct; the window was on my left, and that didn’t make sense for my room. And the sheets around me were black.
No hotel in their right mind used black sheets. Or rather... Well, maybe some did, but not the sort I usually stayed in. The only person I knew who used black sheets...
Shit. Double shit.
I bit my lip and prayed I was wrong. Maybe I’d just forgotten that I was in a hotel that used black sheets. I’d had some sort of personality change yesterday and suddenly decided I was goth, and then left the tour we were currently on and went out and found a hotel that specialized in black sheets, dark glass, and chains. I’d turned into some sort of costume-wearing girl who stayed up all night and slept during the day.
I knew I hadn’t. But you can’t blame a girl for wishing. Because the alternative was a whole lot worse.
I heard a deep, heaving breath to my left then, and turned my face slowly in that direction.
Noah Michael lay dead asleep next to me, his hair still spread across his forehead–messier now–and one heavily tattooed arm draped above him.
Oh God. We hadn’t, had we? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The problem was, I couldn’t remember. When it came to last night, my mind was a complete blank. We were at the start of another tour, I knew that much. Global Authors were going on a bigger nationwide tour this time, starting on the West Coast and traveling eastward toward Nashville, our home base. We were in a hotel in Nashville, though and the tour hadn’t started yet. We were in the lead up, where everyone gathered and did what the managers called ‘team building.’
I was here as a roadie for the Authors. Same as always.
Why the fuck couldn’t I remember anything more than that? How the fuck had I ended up in Noah’s bed?
Then it all came sliding back. We had dinner last night with the whole band at one of Rivers’ favorite restaurants. Then Noah and I came back here to work on some business ideas for the band. They wanted a new record deal–with a new company–and Noah had some thoughts about how to do it. Something about new songs. He’d wanted my feedback on his ideas before he took them to the band, and I’d said yes.
I wasn’t in the band, but they were my life. These boys were my brothers. And Noah was my best friend. If he needed help, I would have sold my soul to give it to him.
We’d worked into the night, going back and forth on different possibilities, and at some point, I’d fallen asleep. Here in bed.
With Noah.
I ran my hands quickly over my body, suddenly panicked, but I was still fully clothed. Jean shorts and a t-shirt. My bra was digging into my side. Nothing had happened.
Of course nothing happened , a sharp voice in my brain said. Noah doesn’t think of you that way. He brought you up here to work on an idea. Not as a conquest. You’re his friend and nothing more.
The voice was right. If Noah had been interested in me, we wouldn’t have wasted any time working on a business idea. And I definitely wouldn’t still have my clothes on.
Look, the guy was my best friend and I’d been on tour with him three times. I knew how he operated. I knew how easily he got girls into bed... and then forgot about them the next day.
I cringed at the thought and sent it away as quickly as I’d had it. Noah was my best friend. My big brother. I didn’t need to know what he did with other girls, and I didn’t want to. And I had absolutely never wondered what it would be like to be one of those other girls. I didn’t want to know how it would feel for him to look at me like I was more than just a shoulder to cry on. Someone to run his errands and give him feedback. A girl to keep his schedule for him and tell him when he was due on stage. I’d never wanted him to look at me like I was worth the world, and then drag me into his bed. Ravage me like he’d been waiting years to get his hands on me. Hold me down and kiss me as if his life depended on it.
Take me to heights I’d never imagined.
I shook my head and stopped thinking about it. Because I knew him, and I knew he’d never do any of that. If he did, it would be the end of our relationship. He didn’t keep those sorts of girls around. And I didn’t want that for myself. Even if he wanted me, I’d have said no. I was better than that. I knew better than that. Noah was my friend, and nothing more.
And at that moment, he rolled over and took me in his arms, nosing into my neck and breathing softly like he’d just found the very thing he was searching for. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes, and when he scooped my body back against him, he was hard and throbbing, his hips rocking like he had only one thing on his mind.
And God, I wanted him. This boy–this man–had been my first real friend at the orphanage. The first one to take any notice of me, and once he did, he never stopped. He kept me by his side at all hours, making sure I was safe and as well-fed as possible, and on the rare occasions when he was sent to a foster home for a weekend, he made sure one of his friends was watching out for me. He’d been everything to me from the moment I met him.
He groaned, his hand moving down my body to my hip and pressing me more firmly against him, and I gasped when his cock slid between my legs, hard and ready. God, was he fucking naked ? My shorts had never felt smaller or tighter, and my body took over. I arched my back and rocked my own hips, and he gave me a growl colored by a smile.
Holy fuck, I was wet and aching so bad I could hardly stand it, and that was what brought me back to my senses. What the fuck was I doing? Noah wasn’t for me. I had never been one of the girls who dressed up and pranced around in front of him. I didn’t flirt with him or tell him how great he was. I didn’t play his games, and he’d never wanted me to.
Laying here with my ass pressed against his cock, his fingers trailing down my belly, was a huge mistake. I had to get out of here now, before we did something we would both regret.
Luckily, I didn’t have to do that on my own. He woke up and jerked away from me like he’d had the same thought. There was a long, mortifying pause, when I was sure he was wondering why the hell he’d brought me to his bed, and then he chucked softly.
“Been years since I’ve seen you this early in the morning, Bug. Did we fall asleep working?”
Of course he would assume that. Turn this all into some big joke. Because the alternative–that he’d wanted to take me to bed–would never have occurred to him. He probably didn’t even remember most of last night. He’d been full of ideas but too drunk to write many memories, and he wouldn’t have thought he needed to.
After all, I’d been there to remember everything for him.
I closed my eyes again, put the mask I always wore back on, and gave him a sleepy smile over my shoulder. “We must have. I’m going to go have a shower. Remember we have a meeting with Taylor at 10, in the restaurant. Try not to be late.”
And I slid out of bed and made for the door, not bothering to look for my shoes. I’d come back and find them later, once I put myself together again and shoved my feelings back down where they belonged.
Once I remembered how to be around him without wanting to either stab or kiss him.
Because either one of those would get me into trouble, and I just wasn’t in the mood.