Sinful Serenade

Chapter 11

Danielle

I blink, processing what he just said. "Where are we going?"

"To Raleigh. Our next gig is in Florida, so I'll pick up some sunscreen and s**t if you don't have it already," he replies casually.

I cough out a laugh. "You're kidding, right? You're going to kidnap me, too?"

He tilts his head, his eyebrows drawing together in a look of confusion. "Kidnap you? Nah, you'll be coming willingly."

My mouth drops open. "I'm still tied to my bed. It sure looks a lot like kidnapping to me."

"Oh, right," he murmurs, sounding almost apologetic. He starts untying each knot, taking his time. His eyes stay fixed on mine, watching my every move as If I might suddenly react violently. I really should punch him in his face for what he just did to me, but between the hangover and intense orgasm, I can hardly f*****g move.

He flicks on my lamp, and I finally get a clear view of him. He's wearing a faded Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, and high-top sneakers. His eyes are lined with dark liner, intensifying his haunting blue eyes. I can't help but notice the black snake bite piercings on his lower lip, the metal glinting in the light. I practically salivate. I've seen the piercing holes in pictures, but I've never actually seen the studs. It's sexy as f**k.

Did he perform tonight...and then come straight to the party to stalk me?

"Are your wrists sore?" Kenneth asks abruptly, grabbing my arm. His touch sends goosebumps dancing along my skin.

I shake my head. "A little, but-"

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little jar. I watch warily as he rubs the cool gel on my wrists, soothing the dull ache from the restraints.

"Uh, thank you," I murmur, meeting his gaze. I can feel my cheeks burning up, but I hold his eyes, feeling a strange mix of intrigue and embarrassment.

He turns away, and afraid he might leave, I grab his hand. "Wait!" I blurt out. He spins back towards me, seizing my wrist, hissing as if I've just bitten him. His jaw ticks, anger flashing in his eyes. I flinch away, instantly regretting my actions. "Sorry," I mutter, tugging at my wrist, but his hold only tightens.

I can hear his breathing slow, his chest rising and falling as he works to calm himself. Finally, he lets go, exhaling sharply. "No, I'm sorry. I should've told you that the only reason I restrained you is because I don't like being touched."

I raise an eyebrow at that. He doesn't like being touched, yet he seems perfectly comfortable having his hands all over me.

One sided, much?

I wonder why he's like this. Maybe it's due to crazy fans, or his f****d up childhood. But I should be on the phone with the police right now instead of wanting to dig into his personal issues. He tied me up in my sleep, then gave me the best orgasm of my life. And now, despite the very obvious red flags, I'm aching for this same psycho to touch me again.

I clench my fists on my thighs. "This is insane. Kenneth, I can't go with you."

"What's stopping you? I can have your bags packed within the next ten minutes."

"I...I have choir rehearsal tomorrow." I mean it's not a lie, but why am I making excuses anyway? I shouldn't need to justify not taking off in the middle of the night with some famous guy I barely know, who clearly has issues.

Kenneth snorts. Like what I just said was the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. His eyes narrow a bit as if he's trying to decide if I'm joking or not.

"I-I'm serious," I stammer. "I told my mom I would be there." The words come out flat, lacking conviction, like I don't even believe them myself. I might show up to choir rehearsal tomorrow, but it's not like I'll enjoy it.

His eyes darken. "Your mom? You mean the woman who was banging on the door a minute ago, threatening to remove it like you aren't a grown ass woman?"

Shame floods my chest, and I blush. I can't come up with a response, so I just look away, wanting to disappear more with each passing second.

Kenneth grabs my arm and pulls it closer, inspecting the self-inflected wounds etched into my skin. Anger and something that looks like concern flicker across his face. "Is she the reason you do this?" he grits out.

Yes. Is it really that obvious?

Tears gather at the corner of my eyes, blurring my vision. "I don't need you to save me!" I snap, my voice trembling with emotion. He doesn't understand that I have no choice but endure her cruelty, that I would have nothing without her and she makes sure it stays that way.

Kenneth doesn't flinch. "Oh, trust me, baby. I'm not trying to be your savior. I came here to confirm something, and now I'm claiming what's mine."

"Confirm what?" I ask, f*****g confused about what he's talking about.

"To see if you're who I've been waiting for. If you can handle the darkness inside of me," he answers with conviction.

My mouth falls open in disbelief, as I glance at the bed, trying to process his words. "And you determined that from what you just did? I didn't exactly consent to that."

"You didn't fight it either. You were such a good little slut taking what I gave you." The arrogance lacing his words sends a shiver down my spine.

Good little slut.

The feminist in me should be appalled right now, but instead, I feel a rush of arousal flood through me, pooling in all the places it shouldn't. Everything about this situation is wrong, yet my body seems to have a mind of its own.

I shake my head in frustration. "What is even going on right now? I went to one f*****g concert with my friend, and now you're in my room demanding that I leave with you!"

Kenneth leans back against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm not demanding it. It's more of an invitation, really. Do you really want to stay here, miserable with your bitchy-ass mom, slicing up your f*****g arms every night like you're at a hibachi restaurant?"

I look down into my lap, feeling a rush of shame wash over me. "No," I admit quietly, my voice barely audible over the roaring pulse in my ears. But that doesn't mean I can just up and leave with him. I don't know him, and I definitely don't trust him. He could be planning to sacrifice me to a cult or worse.

"Would you tell me if you're in a cult?" I whisper, trying to mask the fear in my voice.

"A cult?" he repeats, amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Like the Illuminati? You think I've sold my soul to the devil for fame and fortune?"

I shrug, feeling a bit stupid for asking, but still curious. "I don't know. You tell me."

He chuckles, the sound low and gritty. "What makes you think I had a soul to begin with?" He says it playfully, but then he laughs at the look of shock on my face. "I'm kidding. Besides, I'm surprised...you don't seem like the type to believe in s**t like that."

Still sitting on the bed, I narrow my eyes at him. "I don't personally, but I know others do, and I know people can do some pretty f****d up things in the name of their beliefs. My mom's already trying to force me into one cult, so I don't really want to be sacrificed in another."

"You think I plan to sacrifice you?" He grins, the sight sending my heart racing. "Don't worry, I'll make sure your body and soul remain intact while you're with me."

That seems to ease some of my anxiety, but there are still unanswered questions. Like why he chose me when he could have any other girl he wants. Maybe the answer won't make sense to me, but I decide to ask anyway.

"Why me?"

His eyes bore into me. "I like you, and by the way you just came all over my face, I think we'll get along just fine," he answers casually, toying with one of his piercings with his tongue. "I want your company for the rest of the tour. As long as you're not clingy and crazy, we'll have our fun, and then you can come back here in time for fall semester."

Seriously, how does he know I'm in school? And I'm still wondering how he knew about the party. To what lengths has he gone to find these details about my personal life?

I should be running...far, far away, but I can't believe I find myself seriously considering his offer. It could be because I'm desperate for a break from my mom and this suffocating life. Or maybe it's because when he touched me, his red flags felt more like a f*****g thrilling ride at Six Flags.

Either way, I think I need this. I need the freedom to breathe without feeling like my will to live is being crushed every single day. I just hope this doesn't turn into a fatal mistake.

Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. I glance at Kenneth, who's still leaning against the wall, watching me with intensity. "Before I decide anything, can I invite Maeve?"

He shrugs, deadpanning. "I don't care. Just don't bring that guy you were dancing with."

He saw that?

"I was just doing my friend a favor," I say quickly, justifying my actions once again for no reason.

"I know," he murmurs. Then, he looks down at his phone and says, "We have three hours until takeoff. So what's it going to be, little trouble? Are you coming or what?"

His words hang in the air, daring me to make a choice. My nerves buzz with uncertainty as I weigh my options. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into, but I know one thing for sure—I can't stay here any longer.