Page 7 of Sangre
Rough Creek Records had been wooing them ever since the record company’s rep had seen Iris Blue perform at the Ohana Festival in Dana Point, California, seven months before. The band had been more than excited, and then she’d crashed. “A breakdown from nerves and exhaustion,” her doctor had said. Even though her bandmates hadn’t said much, she’d sensed their disappointment, anger, and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It was a huge compliment that the record label was still interested in them after so many months of non-performance and her publicized meltdown. Now, the last thing she wanted was to fuck up an opportunity to sign on with them.
“I don’t want to miss the chance either. We’re almost done recording, and I’m sure Rough Creek will be happy with our new album. I think it’s our best one yet.” Isla pulled away from Benz.
For a split second, his gaze flashed with anger then dissipated so quickly that she thought she might have imagined it. “I agree. I told the rep we’d be done with it in a month or less. You know, we need to get back on the road after that. If we sign with them, we’ll be touring most of the year.”
Panic tangled around her nerves. “I know,” she said softly. “I just wish I’d stop getting those damn letters.”
Benz came over and tugged her to him, holding her close. “That’s why we need to blow this fucking town. You didn’t have any of this shit before you got here. I told you I didn’t trust small towns. There’s a reason why most horror movies are set in them. And there’s not a damn thing to do around here. How the fuck did you survive living here as long as you did?” He tilted her head back and leaned in, his gaze fixed on her mouth. She turned and pushed away from him. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he planted his fists on his hips and watched her, his brown eyes sparking. “What the fuck’s your problem?”
“I’m just tired.” An awkward pause ensued as Isla picked at the dry skin around her thumb, and Benz shifted from one foot to the other. She cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. “It was great performing tonight.”
“It kicked ass! It felt fucking awesome to be back on stage,” Gage said, coming up to them.
Warmth spread through Isla. She loved how upbeat Gage was all the time—a direct opposite to Benz’s brooding moods, Arsen’s childish tantrums, and Jac’s one-word conversations. The band had lucked out when Gage answered the ad they’d placed for a rhythm guitarist the year before. At twenty-four, he was the youngest member, but he acted more mature than the other three guys combined.
Relieved to have Gage as a buffer to soften the unspoken tension between herself and Benz, she laughed softly. “I can always count on your energy. Is Melody able to come for a visit next week? I know how bummed you were that she couldn’t be here tonight.”
Melody was Gage’s girlfriend, and she’d moved to LA from Ames, Iowa, when Gage had joined the band. They’d known each other since high school. Isla loved seeing them together even though Benz thought they were “fucking nauseating,” and Arsen couldn’t comprehend “why a dude would want to settle for only one chick when there were so many who wanted to fuck a rock star.” A part of her envied the love and connection Gage and Melody shared, wondering how it must feel. It was something that hadn’t happened to her yet—falling in love—and she’d begun to give up hope it ever would.
“Yep. She’s coming out next weekend. I told her I’d take a day off recording to hang with her. You guys are cool with that, right?”
Isla nodded at the same time Benz grunted and shook his head. “We’re here to finish a fucking album. The band comes first, dude.”
“One day isn’t going to set us back,” she said. Benz threw her a scathing look then took out a cigarette and lit it. She ignored him, knowing she’d overstepped an invisible line he’d drawn between him and the other band members whenever any of them contradicted him. Benz was super protective of Iris Blue since he’d started it right out of high school. The only one who could get away with arguing with him was Arsen; he’d been with Benz since the beginning.
Shoulders slumping, Gage quirked his lips. “I guess Melody can hang with us at the studio.”
Isla gripped Gage’s shoulder and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Take the day off. We’ll make it work.” She met Benz’s hard look without flinching. “I’m going to make sure the roadies got my microphone.”
“They get fucking paid to make sure things are right.” Benz blew a puff of smoke at her then smirked.
Real mature, asshole.“Yeah, well, we know that it doesn’t always work that way. How many mikes have I lost? I’m not taking the chance on this one. I love it.” Without waiting for his reply, she whirled around and walked to the stairs.
The first thing she did when she got on stage was look to the side, hoping the sexy guy would still be there. Disappointment wove through her when she realized that he wasn’t.Did you really think he’d be hanging around like a damn groupie? Anyway, so what if he’s not here. Just because he’s the hottest guy you’ve seen in a—
“Good show,” a voice said behind her.
She spun around and her gaze fell onhim—with his masculine, square chin and eyes that burned as blue as the hottest part of a flame. His gaze raked over her body slowly, taking in every detail of her appearance before returning to her face. Suddenly, she was aware of herself in the most nerve-wracking way: tongue-tied and feeling like an idiot. Then he hopped up on stage and her mind went blank.
Standing close to her, he looked at her intently. “You really rocked it.” His voice, low and gravelly, stroked her senses like velvet.
Say something!“Thanks. I just came out to check on my microphone. I wanted to make sure the roadies packed it. It’s my favorite one, and I don’t want to lose it. You’d be surprised on how often equipment gets overlooked. I’ve had that happen a few times with the microphone. It’s my instrument, you know.”Stop rambling. Fuck.She watched as he bit back a smile. She willed her breathing to slow down.
“Is that the only reason you came back out?” He leaned in closer.
“Yeah,” she managed, breathless and blushing. “Why else?”
A sly smirk ghosted his face. “Well… you were checking me out after the show.”
As he looked at her with a mischievous twinkle in his gaze, she sucked in her breath, crossed her arms, and took several steps away from him. In less time than it took her to exhale, her nervousness lifted. His cocky tone and easy manner pissed her off.He thinks this is an amusing game. Asshole!She tilted her head sideways. “As I remember it,youwere the one checkingmeout.
“So, you did notice me.” His smoldering eyes burned right through her, sending a wave of prickling heat along her limbs.
When she stepped farther away from him, it felt like he was undressing her in an appreciative yet animalistic way; his intense gaze left trails of burning embers across her skin. Pressing a hand against her chest, she tried to calm her pounding heart. Before she could reply, a tall, buffed guy with short hair walked toward the stage.
“Yo, Sangre!” he yelled.
The stranger turned around and jerked his chin up. “What’s up?”
