Chapter 6
Elinor
He’s here.
I’m sure of it.
A whisper of his spicy, exciting scent drifts past my nostrils.
I spin around, heart pounding as my gaze flits around the darkened venue.
I can’t see him.
No one is as tall, as broad-shouldered.
As ridiculously sexy.
For days I’ve been getting this feeling that Blake is watching me. At work, around Perdue. But when I turn around, he’s never there.
Maybe I’m paranoid. Worried he’s going to try and take revenge on me or something.
I’m working at the Umbilicus gig, and the band has been keeping me busy all evening. Treating me like I’m their personal assistant or something. Sending me to the bar to order them a gazillion rounds of JD and coke. Getting me to pass on all kinds of special requests.
I mean, I’m not complaining. All work is good work. But it’s not really what their manager hired me to do.
And every moment, I’m in danger of monumentally screwing up, because I can’t quit thinking about my bully and what he’s doing here.
Is he stalking me? Trying to intimidate me?
Is he even here at all? Ever since he crashed back into my life, my head has been in a real weird place. I won’t be so surprised if I’ve started hallucinating.
“Hey, girlie—!”
I don’t acknowledge the lead singer’s loud, insolent voice. I’ve told him my name a bunch of times.
“Hey!” Even louder. “I’m talking to you, goddamnit!”
My bird’s feathers ruffle, and I finally flip around before something ugly happens.
I plant my hands on my hips. “Excuse me, Elinor.” My voice drips with sarcasm.
“Yeah—” He holds out his empty glass, shaking the ice cubes so they clink around like a bell. “Told you to keep our glasses topped up.”
I clench my teeth. He’s already drunk. They all are. And before they go on stage, they’ll probably snort another bunch of coke to wake themselves up. This was not what I signed up for. At all.
But… money. I force myself to think of Carolyn. Of the appointment she had earlier today. We were real hopeful that the specialist would be able to help her, but, like all the others, he couldn’t find anything wrong.
“Another round of JDs coming right up,” I mutter between my teeth, and I snatch up the glass, resisting the urge to toss the ice cubes in his face.
Umbilicus are a bunch of fucking entitled pricks.
I’ve already had to ignore the lines of coke racked up on the coffee table, and the fact that one of them was literally screwing a groupie in the corner of the room.
I push my way through the crowd to get to the bar.
A warm-up act is playing and the place is heaving, mainly with kids too young to buy alcohol.
I yell my order across the bar, tell the bartender they’re free drinks for the band.
He raises an eyebrow, since it’s at least the tenth round tonight, but loads up a tray for me.
I carry it back, dodging flying elbows. Thank goodness I’ve had plenty of practice dealing with the rowdy shifters at Sinner’s.
Off to my left, three teenage boys are jumping in time to the music. Arms around each other’s shoulders… boing… boing… boing…like a big, clumsy missile. They’re getting closer and closer to me. Far too goddamn close.
“Watch out!” I yell, but my voice disappears beneath the music.
I try to scuttle out of the way, but the place is rammed.
There’s nowhere to go. Boing! Another jump brings them right in my path.
I turn my back on them to protect the full tray of drinks, at the exact moment that all three of them crash into me.
“Argh!” I yell, as the impact knocks me off my feet.
Smash! go ten quadruple JDs and cokes, a split second before I land right on top of them.
Fuck.
Just then, the lead singer’s head pokes through the door that leads to the backstage area.
He takes me in, lip curling. “Where the fuck have you been?” he bellows.
I stare back at him, stunned. I’m sitting in a pool of fizzy liquid, and my ass is prickling from the broken glass.
“Are you freaking kidding me—?” I yell back, but the end of my sentence is drowned out by a feral roar.
It’s coming from behind me.
My bird heart pounds in my chest: It’s him.
No question, no uncertainty this time.
I twist my head around.
Blake Waldgrave is standing right there, behind me. His massive arms are holding two of the teenagers by the scruffs of their necks. Their feet are barely touching the ground. Guess that’s why they didn’t land right on top of me, I think dazedly.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he roars. “You want to jump around like that, you go to a mosh pit.” He shakes them hard. “Look what you’ve done to her.”
Three sets of eyes stare at me, wide with terror.
“I’m sorry,” one of them says.
“Yeah, I’m real sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Be more careful,” Blake tells them. “Not everyone’s as big and dumb as you are. Especially women.”
They nod fearfully, and he dumps them in a heap, like discarded garbage. Then he comes to me, hands outstretched. “Elinor, come here.”
Despite the fact I’m sitting in a sticky, spiky puddle, I’m not planning on accepting his help.
But, suddenly, one arm is curling around my back, the other is tucked behind my knees, and he’s sweeping me up.
He doesn’t set me on my feet right away, but continues to hold me, gazing deep into my eyes. His breathing is ragged, like he’s been running, and his scent fills my nostrils. It shouldn’t feel this good to be close to him.
My heart is pounding so hard I might pass out. I’m helpless in his arms. Hypnotized by the magnetic power of his animal.
Mate.
What?
The word appears in my brain, fully formed, and my whole body spasms. Did my bird say that? It never speaks—to me or anyone else.
“I’m good,” I tell him. “You can put me down.”
“Are you sure?” His voice is tender, and it sends a thrill right through me.
“Yeah. Nothing a change of clothes won’t fix.” I give a dry laugh.
He gently deposits me back on the ground. “Are you hurt?” he tries to turn me around, check the back of my pants.
“Stop—” I pull away with an embarrassed laugh.
“Get me another round!” a loud, stupid voice slurs.
Both our heads snap toward the leader singer, who’s still lounging in the doorway.
“Are you kidding me?” Blake roars.
The guy blinks. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
Blake moves so fast, he’s a blur of denim and leather and black hair. One second he’s standing right beside me, the next he’s pinning the leader singer against the door frame by his throat.
“Don’t you dare speak to Elinor like that, you piece of crap,” he growls. “You think she’s here to wait on you? You think that’s why she was hired?”
The singer’s bloodshot eyes bulge and he grunts something. Blake releases his grip on his throat. “What?”
He grabs at his throat. “She’s the promo chick,” he wheezes.
“Exactly. She’s here to help you sell more albums, not to run around all night bringing you drinks. You ever speak to her like that again, I’ll rip your throat out. Literally. You hear me?”
The singer nods vigorously.
“She’s not working for you anymore, so you can give her a nice severance package.”
“I need her, though,” the singer stutters. He turns his head, looking for me. “Elinor, I’m sorry, okay. I’ll get my manager to give you a pay rise or something.”
Blake roars. “Get the hell out of my sight!”
He doesn’t need telling twice. He dashes into the backroom, slamming the door behind him.
“What the fuck?” I shout, my voice all shrill and bird-like.
Blake turns back to me, eyes still full of fire.
I plant my hands on my hips. “Thank you for scraping me off the floor and all. But you have no right to quit my job for me.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not working for him anymore.”
“You don’t get to decide that—”
“You’re working for me.”
What?”
“I need you, Elinor.” His voice is throaty, raw, and suddenly he drops, and he’s on his knees in front of me, amid all the glass and spilled drinks. He’s so tall that we’re about on eye level. My heart thumps at his closeness. At the way his lush lips are inches from mine.
My breath catches in my throat. I should not be feeling like this.
I shake my head to get rid of these thoughts. “Have you forgotten what I told you the other day?”
Now, his gaze falls away from mine, and his big chest swells. “I’m so sorry for what I did. For the way we hurt you. I know I’ll never be able to make it up to you. But if you give me a chance, I want to try.”
I gape at him. “I thought you hated me. That’s why you ran away from Sinner’s the other day.”
“Hated you? What for?”
“I stopped you and your buddies from going to college.”
He gives a snort. “We stopped ourselves. We were the bullies.” He closes his eyes for a beat.
When he opens them again, they’re full of pain.
“I’m not letting myself off the hook, Elinor, you have to believe this.
I take full responsibility for my actions.
I was an asshole. An immature prick who didn’t have the courage or the smarts to break away from those assholes I called my friends.
But when I found out that you were all being bullied into writing our essays for us, I wanted no part of it.
“And afterward, when you blew the whole thing open, I should’ve stopped, it but I didn’t. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
I stare at him, my head spinning.
There’s a crash of drums from the stage behind us, and the lead singer struts on, screaming to the audience.
“Come on.” Blake straightens up again, reaches for my hand.
“Huh?”
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I’m so stunned, so knocked off balance by what I’ve just heard, that all I can do is slide my hand into his huge one, and…
Follow him?
He leads me across the dancefloor, using his free arm to make sure no one else smashes into me. Guys scatter as he faces them down with his bulk. Female eyes turn in his direction. I’m not surprised. He’s the hottest guy here by miles.
He brings me to the female washroom, and with no hesitation, walks right in.
There are two girls in there, doing their eyeliner in the mirror.