Chapter 16 – Kincaid
Chapter Sixteen
Kincaid
When she smiles, Lumen is stunning. She’s always beautiful, but seeing her lighten up and enjoy herself is strangely cathartic.
I’ve been disappointed a lot in my life by the people I was supposed to be able to count on.
My own parents couldn’t stand to have to raise me.
They dropped me off with my grandma so often that I basically lived at her house.
Hell, even when they didn’t, I used to ride my bike over there just to get away from them.
She died when I was in tenth grade, and it fucked me up for a while.
By then I was able to take care of myself. I worked an after-school job to keep the lights and water on, and luckily, our house was paid off from what my dad got when my grandfather died.
I told myself I’d never fall into addiction like they did.
That fell to shit about the time I started working four to midnight when I had to be at school the next morning at seven-thirty.
The line cooks at the restaurant I worked at could get anything, and coke gave me the energy I needed to do it all.
While my high school buddies were smoking weed and getting blackout drunk, I was planning the perfect balance of having enough energy to make it through my shift while knowing I had to crash by one-thirty. If I didn’t, there was no chance I was waking up in time for school.
When you live in poverty, life is all about the grind. There’s very little joy, and drugs are a quick escape, even if that high always fades. Understanding my parents doesn’t make the resentment burn any less. They didn’t even try to be there for me in between their benders.
A fear of turning into them is why I keep such tight control over myself. It’s a tightrope, but I haven’t lost myself yet.
I take breaks, and if I start craving something, I cut myself off cold turkey.
You’re rationalizing again.
Fuck.
I probably am.
Lumen laughs at something Malcolm says, swaying along to our music that plays in the background to keep the crowd hyped.
Mal has done a solid job of keeping Lumen entertained while also not ignoring the fans. That’s another tightrope. He’s fixated on her, and eventually the masses will notice. He’s always been flighty, so seeing him focus on anything for more than a day is impressive.
I’m just not sure how long it’ll last.
Lumen has triggered my instincts, and that’s messy for all of us.
I’m a fluke of genetics.
An alpha born from two betas, and that goes back at least two generations on each side. It was a shock to everyone when I presented.
Not having grown up in a pack, I have no idea how pack dynamics work, but Mal and Riser are as close to packmates as I’ve found. That still doesn’t mean Malcolm will react well when he finds out I’m equally drawn to Lumen.
She trusted me to walk her through her panic attack, and it rewired my fucking brain chemistry.
The woman who’s been inching closer on the couch makes her move, climbing onto my lap.
I frown, and my hands fall to her waist as she wobbles. “Careful.”
“Can I get a selfie?” she asks, beaming. “I love you guys so much. ‘Echoes’ and ‘Heartbreaker’ are two of my all-time favorite songs.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely.
The fans are why we’re here. The hard part comes in when there are so many of them in comparison to us. It can get overwhelming, especially the ones who act like they know us personally because they like our music.
I get it.
We’re a once-in-a-lifetime experience for them, and I can make or break that with my attitude. It’s thirty seconds of my day, but to the fans, it’s something they’ll talk about long after I’ve forgotten her face.
“Sure, we can do a selfie,” I say, nodding. “It’ll be easier if you’re next to me.” Pulling my hand off her waist, I pat the couch, trying to lure her off me.
It doesn’t work.
She spins around on my lap, lying back against my chest. Her phone appears, and she snaps a handful of pictures.
“You’re so much nicer than I thought you would be, based on what I’ve read on the forums. I must have caught you on a good night.” She laughs awkwardly. “Can you introduce me to Malcolm?”
“Thanks.” I chuckle as she climbs off my lap. “Go on over. He doesn’t bite, I promise.”
See?
This is the kind of interaction that I can stand. It’s when someone climbs into my lap and has to be physically removed by security that pisses me off.
Those are only topped by the ones who try to shove their hands down my pants. With how tight my jeans are, they never get very far, but it’s still uncalled for.
The woman waves and heads over to Mal while I refocus on Lumen. She’s talking to a man I’ve never seen before, and he hands her a red cup. She takes it, holding it as she smiles and nods.
My head tilts, and my brow furrows so deeply I can feel it. No woman should ever take a drink from a man she doesn’t know.
Does she know him?
He could be a long-time fan of Tangled Desires.
And he what?
Came to our meet and greet after theirs?
That is a possibility, but I’m going to guess they don’t know each other.
Malcolm is busy taking his own pictures with the persistent fan. Riser is with the reporters, and I don’t even need to check on Tennyson and Parish to know they aren’t going to step in.
That leaves me.
This is why people think I’m an asshole, but I guess it’s time to live up to my reputation.
I slide up behind Lumen, wrapping my arm around her lower back.
The guy frowns, and I offer a shitty smirk. I couldn’t care less what he thinks.
“If you’ll excuse us,” I say, prying the drink away from Lumen’s grasp with my other hand. “I need to borrow her for just a minute.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, but the tightness in his jaw conveys his displeasure.
I tug Lumen away as she peeks up at me, confusion written all over her face. We make a quick stop at the drink station, and I hand off the cup to one of the attendants.
“Toss this.”
“You got it,” he says, nodding.
I could have been a real asshole and dumped the thing in one of the trash cans, but I have more respect for the janitorial staff than that.
Once Lumen and I are as far as we’re going to get from anyone else, I release her and step around in front of her.
“Do you know that guy?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
“Not before ten minutes ago.” Her head shakes. “I think his name was Brett or maybe Brad?”
“Do we need to have a lesson about why it’s dangerous to take drinks from men we don’t know?” I ask, trying to keep my frustration from spilling into my tone. “Because I’ve got a few minutes to go over why that’s the case.”
Her nose wrinkles, and the smattering of freckles along her nose and cheeks catches my attention. Her foundation couldn’t hold up against the heat, and that fucking red mark on her cheek is visible. My fingers twitch as I hold myself back from brushing over it.
“I wasn’t going to drink it,” she says, rolling her bluish-gray eyes. “I was distracting him with my amazing personality, and I would have tossed it the first opportunity I got.”
An unexpected bark of laughter escapes.
Dammit.
I like her.
A lot.
The women I interact with never glare or roll their eyes. Occasionally people do when I’m out in public, but that’s because they don’t like my style. They see the tatts and piercings and assume I’m dangerous or a delinquent.
When it comes to the ladies in my orbit, I run into two types. Either they bat their eyelashes and forget how to speak, or they slide into predator mode while we’re their prey. They want to fuck a rock star with the chance of landing one of us permanently.
It’s a dream that the label, the press, and the industry, in general, push to ensure the fans stay feral.
I’ve always enjoyed the chase and having to work for a woman’s affection. It can get boring when I don’t even have to try, and women are falling over themselves to be available.
That probably makes me a dick, but it’s a personal preference.
I’m an alpha.
I enjoy hunting.
“Next time, be less polite,” I tell her with no remorse. “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”
“Kincaid, can you introduce us?” a male voice asks.
Before I turn around, I know it’s a reporter.
“That’s the woman from Savannah,” another chimes in. “Are the two of you romantically involved?”
Great.
The remaining reporters who were over with Tangled Desires have migrated to our after-party.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Introduce us to your girlfriend.”
“Do the two of you have plans to bond?”
“Can we get a photo of Liminal with Tangled Desires?”
The cacophony of voices doesn’t stop there, but Lumen gets so much more frantic when her ex’s band is mentioned.
Goddammit.
They’re going to scare her away.
“You didn’t have to leave with me,” Lumen says, keeping pace at my side as we follow Kasey out of the building.
As soon as we step into the night air, it gets fifteen degrees cooler.
“I know,” I admit. “But I was sweating my ass off in there. I also didn’t want you to have to walk out by yourself.”
“I’m not alone,” she says, gesturing at Kasey.
“Yeah, but once you’re on the bus, she’ll call it a night.” I shrug. “I figured it was better to have someone to keep you company.”
“I’m just thankful we got out of there before Tangled Desires came in,” she says softly.
Yeah, I could tell.
The look on her face was full-blown panic.
It figures that the first woman Riser, Mal, and I are all interested in equally is coming out of a relationship.
Breakups are messy.
She’s still in love with him.
No one wants to be a rebound.
Dammit.
“Over here, honey,” a male voice calls out, making my head whip up as I follow the sound.
“That’s the woman they stopped the show for,” another paparazzi yells through the fence. “Who is that, Kincaid?”
Aww, fuck.
Those aren’t the label-approved reporters. The members of the press who come backstage have guidelines they’ve agreed to follow—mostly regarding not asking lewd personal questions or purposely trying to bait us into reacting.
The paparazzi on the outside of the fence don’t have those same considerations.
“Are you a Liminal fan, sweetheart?”
“Come on. Give us something.”