Sinful Serenade

Chapter 2

Danielle

"Maeve, I can't believe you scored front-row seats for the 'Devil's Knights'!" I exclaim, raising my voice above the crowd as we push through to the VIP section of the 5th Street Beach stage in Virginia Beach. The atmosphere crackles with anticipation for the impending performance. Despite the late hour—it's nine o'clock at night—everyone seems to be wide awake and buzzing with excitement.

To be honest, when Maeve mentioned going to see this metalcore band, 'Devil's Knights', I had no clue who they were. But after listening to a few tracks, I have to admit, they're pretty impressive. Though I find the lead vocalist, Kenneth, really f*****g creepy, his voice is undeniably beautiful, hitting octaves I could only dream of reaching.

Not that I can really sing, anyway.

"I'm so hyped for this. What a great way to start off our summer break!" Maeve shouts back, her pretty brown eyes gleaming with excitement. Her black hair, adorned with purple streaks, adds to her edgy vibe.

She was my college roommate freshman year, and we sort of just clicked and became best friends. After my brother moved out to live with my dad following my parents' divorce, it's comforting to have a sibling-like bond with someone again.

I've never met another black woman who listens to the kind of music I do, which is basically anything that sounds good. Whether it's R&B, rap, rock, pop... hell, I'll even vibe to anime theme songs. It wasn't until I left for college that I truly felt free to embrace my individuality, and meeting someone who shares my eclectic taste has been incredibly affirming.

As the concert begins, flames erupt from the stage, casting an intense glow across the venue. Once the smoke clears, the band materializes seemingly out of thin air, and the music ignites the atmosphere with its electrifying energy.

I recognize the song immediately: Screaming Silence.

I vividly recall it, as it echoed like a desperate plea, a potent blend of agony and fury. I've heard that Kenneth is primarily responsible for writing the songs; I really hope he's in a better place than he was when he wrote this one.

I don't know all of the band members, but I do know Kenneth, and his brother who's on the guitar. Their drummer is a woman, which I think is really awesome.

Kenneth commands the center of the stage, his short, silky black hair styled in a wolf cut, partially veiling his piercing blue eyes. He's adorned in a black leather jacket, leaving his muscular, tattooed chest exposed, paired with black jeans and boots.

He begins with a menacing growl of 'f**k you,' sending a chill down my spine as the crowd erupts in excitement. Glancing down at my arm, I notice goosebumps rising in response.

Holy s**t!

"This song is amazing, don't you think?" Maeve nudges me with her elbow. I absentmindedly nod, murmuring a quick "uh huh." My attention is consumed by the lyrics as I gaze at a broken man, pouring his heart out while the crowd dances and sings along to his trauma.

During the guitar solo, Kenneth's eyes lock with mine, and they seem to blaze with blue flames. For a fleeting moment, it feels like the world around us fades away, leaving just him and me in our own private universe. But as quickly as it happens, reality rushes back in when his gaze shifts back to the audience.

"Maybe I'm just imagining things, but did he really look at me?" I shout to Maeve over the music.

"Oh s**t, he was definitely staring and liked what he saw!" Maeve replies, excitement evident in her voice.

The rest of the hour seems to fly by, with the band delivering ten or twenty more songs. I lose count after a while, my gaze fixed on Kenneth the entire time. The raw emotion in his gravelly voice captivates me, every growl and roar drawing me in deeper. Though I know it's likely just me being delusional, it feels like his eyes find mine multiple times throughout the set, even though I'm sure he's connecting with several members of the crowd.

As the performance comes to a close and the crowd starts to disperse, the security guard, a towering figure in black, approaches us. "You've been called backstage, ladies," he announces in a gruff tone.

Backstage?!

He hands us two wristbands and informs us that we can meet the entire band and choose between taking pictures or getting something signed. Maeve squeals with excitement, reminiscent of a young girl at a Justin Bieber concert, while anxiety surges within me. Are we really going to go through with this? I've never been in a situation like this before, but then again, I've also never been to a concert. My mom was quite strict when it came to parties and boys. Now, apparently, I'm about to experience both simultaneously.

Maeve's expression shifts from excitement to concern as she turns to me. "I don't want to push your boundaries. I know it was a big step just going to this concert in the first place, so it's okay if you don't want to do this," she says, her voice tinged with understanding.

I have this nagging feeling that I shouldn't do this, probably because of my mom's constant lectures. She always says, "If you wouldn't do it at church, don't do it at all." I'm not sure what that means, considering she has two children and she cheated on my dad, but okay.

It's summer break though, so maybe I can afford to loosen up a bit. Right?

Torn between my mother's warnings and Maeve's enthusiasm, I hesitate for a moment before agreeing to go backstage with her.

"No, I want to go," I reassure Maeve, a smile playing on my lips. "I mean, as long as they're not hosting some wild party with orgies and sacrificing virgins, like my mom seems to think all bands do, I'm good," I add with a nervous laugh.

"Oh yeah, we're both dipping if they start doing weird s**t," she agrees.

We follow the bodyguard to the backstage area where there is a line of people that were also invited. I'm guessing they give out a certain amount of wristbands so the band doesn't get overwhelmed.

Anxiety settles in the pit of my stomach as we inch forward in the line. Finally, we reach the front, and I can see the band interacting with their fans. Despite maintaining a profound, grumpy frown throughout each interaction, there's still a sense of appreciation in Kenneth's demeanor.

If not, he's certainly a convincing actor.

When it's finally our turn, it feels like my heart is going to explode out of my chest. Locking his eyes on me, Kenneth uses two fingers and beckons me to him. "What's your name, little trouble?" His voice is raw and gritty, with a rough edge that sends butterflies straight to my core.

I think I'm pregnant. Is it possible to get pregnant from a voice?

"Danielle," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Danielle," he repeats, a cocky smirk spreading across his face. "What can I do for you?"

With the suggestive tone in his voice, I'm not entirely sure he's only referring to a picture or autograph. I've likely been delusional this entire night, though.

"Definitely both!" Maeve exclaims besides me.

We quickly gather for a group picture with all five band members before Kenneth suggests taking one with just me. Nervously, I stand beside him, feeling his intense gaze piercing through me as the photographer snaps the picture.

As we provide our email addresses for the pictures, I accidentally cut my finger on the autographed band picture that Maeve hands to me.

"s**t," I hiss. Great, a f*****g papercut. I've endured far worse, but for some reason, papercuts sting like hell.

Kenneth strides over to us, his expression unreadable as he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, gently running his tongue over the bleeding wound. A surge of desire courses through me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me slightly stunned with my mouth agape in astonishment.

What. The. f**k.

He hums. "Sweet, just like I imagined."

I'm sorry... did he just say he imagined what my blood tasted like?

"Kenneth, please don't sexually assault the fans!" A man with glasses perched on his head and a phone pressed to his ear shouts from across the room, his tone stern and laced with frustration. From his authoritative tone, I'm guessing he's his manager.

Kenneth responds with a dismissive roll of his eyes, displaying a rebellious attitude akin to a teenager talking back to his father. "Relax, Julio. Her finger was just bleeding," he retorts nonchalantly.

Julio's face flushes with exasperation as he rushes over to us, his hand slapping over his face. "That's what Band-Aids are for," he mutters, so the other fans can't hear. "I'm sure she didn't want your saliva inside her wound."

He pulls out a band-aid from his pocket along with some antiseptic. "May I?" he asks politely. When I nod, he gently wipes the wound clean and wraps it up. "I'm sorry about that. Kenneth can be a bit... much, sometimes. You girls continue to have a great night, okay?" His tone is apologetic as he addresses us.

As Maeve grips my arm, her concern evident in the tightness of her grasp, presuming I might be uncomfortable with the encounter, I'm shocked to realize that I'm not. The whole situation feels surreal, yet strangely exhilarating. Nonetheless, Kenneth flashes me another smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Kenneth," I manage to say with a nervous laugh, trying to maintain some form of composure.

He lifts my hand and presses a gentle kiss to it, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I'm sure we will meet again, little trouble," he says with a wink before releasing my hand.

As we make our way out of the backstage area, the surreal encounter with the lead vocalist replays in my mind like a bizarre loop. Maeve's voice snaps me from my thoughts. "Are you okay? That was so strange," she murmurs, her expression twisted with worry.

I offer a silent nod as we walk together towards her car.

Kenneth Knight licked my finger.

I can't help but think, this is sadly the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me.