Sinful Serenade

Chapter 15

Kenneth

The roar of the crowd is a palpable, electrifying hum in the air. Backstage, I take a deep breath, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. My heart pounds in sync with the bass already thumping from the stage, the vibrations echoing through the walls.

I wait for my cue, which is after Andy goes out on stage. As I step in the tunnel leading to the stage, the noise crescendos, enveloping me like a tidal wave.

The lights are always blinding at first, a stark contrast to the dim light backstage. But then, I see them—my fans. Thousands of faces—a sold-out arena tonight. They hold their hands to the sky, screaming and calling my name, as if I'm their god. The energy they radiate hits me like a physical force. It's the most exhilarating feeling ever. I drink it in like a drug, savoring every moment.

I walk to my mark, each step measured as I approach the mic. I stand there for a full two minutes as fans scream and chant my name. I hear a bit of Gage, Nolan, and Roxy in there too. The fans care about Andy as much as I do. Their voices blend into a chaotic symphony, a testament to their unwavering love and support.

My eyes quickly rake through the crowd until they land on my little trouble and her friend sitting in the VIP section, her full attention on me. Danielle's presence grounds me, even more than music usually does. Although I adore my fans, I wouldn't mind if I were just putting on a private show just for her right now.

I'll even admit that my obsession with her is bordering on unhealthy, but f**k, I can't help it. Every cell in my body craves her. I just can't wait until I can have more than a mere taste. I need more, so much more.

I finally grab the microphone. "Good Evening, Jacksonville!" I shout, my voice amplified and carried to every corner of the arena. The response is a deafening wave of screams. This is the s**t I live for. Although, now I have my girl that has breathed a new purpose into me.

As the music for "Screaming Silence" begins, I roar out a "f**k you". It riles up the crowd further, and the moshing begins. I don't mind it; that's what you do during a metal concert. But most times, security has to get involved because some drunk asshole has started a brawl.

I sneak a peak back at Danielle. To my surprise, she's singing along to the lyrics, her fingers clutching the pendant—my pendant. The one I had custom-made when Devil's Knights finally made it big.

I would do anything just to hear her sing. Ever since Maeve revealed that little secret to me, I want to hear it for myself. In my greatest fantasy, I would pull her up on stage, and have her sing with me. The thought of her voice blending with mine sends a thrill through me.

But there's no way in hell I would do that. Not when I don't want the media in my business. But I'll have to find a way to get her to sing in private, just for me. It will happen. There's plenty of time before the summer ends, and she thinks she's going back to that hellhole where her mother resides.

As the music takes over, I lose myself in the rhythm, the melody, the raw power of the performance. Each note, each beat, is an extension of my soul, a testament to the emotions I pour into every song.

Halfway through the performance, I notice Danielle running out of the arena with her phone to her ear. A surge of anger courses through me. Who is she talking to? Who could be more important than me at this moment? The sight watching her leave while I'm singing for her fills me with possessive fury.

But I can't just jump off the f*****g stage and chase after her, despite the voices demanding I do it.

Instead, I do what I do best, and pour all of my rage into my performance, letting each note and scream carry my frustration.

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Backstage, after the performance, Maeve comes alone. "Wow, guys that was so amazing!" she grins, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Thanks, I was thinking about you the whole time," Gage replies with a flirtatious smile. "Girl, you saw me looking at me, right?"

She blushes, letting out a girly giggle. Oh, God. I'm going to be sick.

"Where's Danielle?" I ask Maeve, keeping my voice steady, though a whirlwind of emotions tear at my insides. Gage and Nolan share a worried glance but say nothing.

"She texted me that she wasn't feeling well, and she was going to rest. She wanted ya'll to know that you did great tonight, though."

"Who was she on the phone with when she left?" I ask, my voice tightening.

"Oh, you saw that?" Maeve's smile falters as she meets my gaze.

I simply stare at her, waiting for to answer my question.

She bites her lip. "Uh, her mom. I guess she started blowing up her phone. The conversation was coming, I wouldn't worry too much. She can handle herself."

Yeah, I know how she handles it.

I pull Gage aside. "I need to go handle something. If Julio asks where I went, tell him to shove a dildo up his ass."

He snorts, but then his eyes narrow. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Kenny. She's not like your usual groupies that worship the ground you walk on. The s**t you're into, she might not like."

He doesn't know s**t about her, but I'm too focused on getting to her to get pissed off about him prying in my business. I'd wish he'd just f**k Maeve already, so he can get some business of his own.

I quickly head to the hotel. Instead of going to their room at the end of the hall, I walk straight to my room. I bet she's in there. There's no way she'd risk her best friend seeing what she does to herself.

Just like I thought, the bathroom door is closed and I can see the light underneath the door. As I come closer, I can hear her sobbing, I can smell the metallic scent of her blood.

I knock on the door. "Open the door, little trouble. I know you're in there."

She sniffles, but the door opens a minute later. The long-sleeves of her shirt are pulled up, and streaks of blood flow from the cuts on her arms. She glances up at me with bloodshot eyes, her emotions palpable. She's in f*****g pain, and she needs me.

"If she's your trigger, why did you pick up the phone?" I ask, gritting my teeth, trying to keep my anger in check so I don't upset her more.

It doesn't make any sense. I've saved her mother, yet she's still letting her mother's toxic bullshit affect her.

She wraps her arms around herself, her face contorting with guilt and shame. "She made the assumption that Maeve influenced me to leave," she says in a low voice.

I raise an eyebrow. "And why did that bother you so much?"

"Because I don't want her judging anyone else because of me," she answers, with a bitter laugh. "When I answered her call, she proceeded to tell me how much she wishes I wasn't born and how I'm going to hell just like my father."

My jaw clenches. Her mom is a f****d-up individual, and she's determined to break my girl until she just slits her goddamn radial artery open and kills herself.

I won't allow that to happen.

"And your father, where is he?" I grit out. I wonder if he's any better than her mother. How could he leave his daughter in such a toxic environment?

"They got divorced and my brother ran off with him. He's a saxophone player, touring the world with his band."

I hum. That's...interesting. So music runs in her blood like mine. If only I can help her become comfortable with her talent again, but I'll have to undo all the trauma her mother caused first.

"Let's get you cleaned up," I say, grabbing her hand and studying the fresh cuts. "You went a little deep this time. Do you need medical attention?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm okay," she answers softly.

I feel like I failed her. I couldn't stop her from harming herself, and that bothers me so f*****g much. It reminds me of when I couldn't save my mom.

Lifting her wrist to my lips, I sweep my tongue across it. Groaning, I keep going until her wrists are clean, making sure to stay away from the actual cuts this time. f**k. I don't like the way this happened, but I can't resist the taste of her blood.

Her eyes widen as she watches me, dilating with lust. "What does my blood taste like to you?" she whispers, the question surprising me.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" She opens her mouth to ask how, but before she can speak, I crash my lips to hers. Her lips part in a soft gasp, and I delve my tongue into her mouth, showing her just how good she tastes. It's been so long since I've kissed someone, but she makes it feel natural. Like we've kissed many times before.

Wrapping my hand around her throat, I deepen the kiss. She moans, and I almost regret swallowing the sound; I want to hear all of the moans and screams that I drag out of her.

She suddenly moves her hands to my shoulders. Her touch makes my skin crawl, but the f****d up part is that I don't want it to. I just don't know how to...fix it. Fix me. Something in my f****d-up brain hates physical touch. It's always been like this since I was little.

I know if Danielle would've kissed me first I would've spazzed the f**k out. It only feels right when I initiate s**t, when I'm in complete and utter control.

"Sorry," she murmurs against my lips, realizing her mistake.

"That's okay," I say, but I still step away from her. I need a f*****g minute to let the panic subside. For the first time, I feel a new emotion—shame. Am I ashamed that I can't handle her touch, even though I desperately crave it?

Bottling my own emotions, I reach for my duffle bag on the bed, and retrieve a small metal case. While she rewraps her arms, I light up the blunt and sit at the top of the bed, taking a blissful puff.

"You ever smoke before, little trouble?" I ask curiously.

She gives me a pointed look. "Does it look like I have?"

I shrug. "Don't know. You also don't look like you have an abusive mother, or cut yourself over and over again, or that you're constantly drowning in your emotions, while you help everyone else with a goddamn smile on your face."

Her eyes flash with emotion, but instead of responding, she sits beside me and takes the blunt from my hand, careful not touch me again.

Too boldly, she takes in a deep inhale. "f**k," she spits out, followed by a long coughing fit.

I chuckle. "Not like that, baby. Like this." I show her how to do it, and she copies me. I usually don't smoke, but for the first time in a long time, I'm not craving scotch after a show.

Weird. It's like Danielle's company is all I need to wind down.

"I can't believe I'm really smoking weed with Kenneth Knight right now," Danielle says incredulously, taking another puff as she leans back against the headboard.

Shit, I still can't believe that she's here with me. My pretty obsession.

I give her a mischievous smile. "This is just the beginning of a summer of corruption, little trouble."