Page 32

Time ticks away, another month passing as we press on through the tour. The last few days have been long as we make our way to Chicago from California. I’m eager to be back in my hometown, ready to spend time with my parents and Sam, regain some normalcy in my life again.

The long stretch from the West Coast to the Windy City is brutal at best. We’re all riddled with cabin fever.

Khaos and I have even bottled up our resentment towards each other for the sake of the guys, saving them from losing it completely.

We bottle it up so tightly that some nights we lay there side by side, just fuming with unspoken fury.

Our breaths rabid, our chests heaving, but not a word.

Not a single touch either, not since he came down my throat.

But as I lay there in bed some nights, it’s all I can think about. The way he took control, the sound of his pleasure, how he etched himself inside of me.

“You can’t erase the taste of me, Eris.”

His words haunt me. I can still hear them, still feel what he was doing to me as he said them.

I hate that night after night I find myself squeezing my thighs together, wishing he’d just cave and touch me.

I know I told him that what we did could never happen again, but I lied.

I’m feigning for his rage, for his punishing hands, for anything really.

I can’t stand this plateau we’ve come to find ourselves on. Like two ghosts co-existing in the same space. The tension between us is as taut as a stretched rubber band and I’m just waiting for it to snap.

As a way to avoid opening Pandora’s box all over again, I busy myself with work. I stand by the leather couch while the four of them sit at the table, staring into my camcorder.

“So, I’m curious. Is there an underlying meaning to your song, The Light?” I ask.

They all look to Khaos, since he’s the one that writes these songs. He looks hesitant to answer, so I simplify the question.

“For example, in one of the versus you wrote –

“Death is just a friendly face, an old acquaintance.

Never here to stay or take you to those promising places.

Red rivers of blood and walkways of bones

On the pads of torn feet, you bare this journey alone

Following the light to the hell you call home.”

"It’s obviously metaphorical.” Khaos answers me.

“Thanks genius.” I snark. “What I’m asking is what does it mean? To me, I find the lyrics to be extremely suicidal. You’re in that dark place between life and death, but you never quite finish the job, so you pull through just to come back to your shit reality.”

Khaos rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Wait, was I right?” I press .

He grunts, “Kind of.”

“What or who is the light in this song? What is so significant that it forces you to choose life again?”

Khaos shoots pleading eyes over to Hypnos, who clears his throat.

“It’s a sensitive topic.” He answers.

“I realize that, but Khaos wrote it. It’s out there and we want to know what it means. What were you feeling when you wrote it? Take us through that journey.”

“How do I put this?” Khaos struggles. “I had a horrible adolescence.” Than pats his shoulder reassuringly.

“There were so many times that I’d slip under, lose consciousness from-” He pauses, “Beatings, and each time I thought this was it. I was so sure I was dying and each time I still woke up to live another day, another beating. Through all of it, I found a single source of light and I just held on until it eventually stopped.”

Golden amber eyes meet mine as I shut the camera off, placing it behind me.

I felt this surge of discomfort and even though this is my job, this is the content I’m supposed to get, I just didn’t feel right exploiting it.

Despite my every intention to keep the old Ash at bay, she’s demanding a reappearance.

There’s a solemn energy sucking the air out of this bus.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, unable to think of what to say.

Suddenly, his eyes light up, a smirk beneath his mask. “Look at her face guys!”

My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

“Did you get all that because it was gold.” Khaos laughs, nudging Than beside him.

I look at Hypnos and he just shrugs, laughing it off.

“So, that was just a load of crap?” I can feel my hands curling into fists. “God and to think I almost felt sorry for you!”

“I don’t need your pity.” Khaos laughs .

“Do you always have to ruin everything?” I accuse, planting myself next to Hypnos.

“He can’t help it.” Than answers for him.

Hypnos throws an arm around me, and I lean into him. I’ve been waiting for days to shake this bottle of pent up Khaos and let it explode all around me. He’s just begging for it now.

“If you’re not going to tell me what happened to you to turn you into this broody monster, then drop the dramatics. It’s like leading up to an orgasm that never happens.” I snap.

“Look at you, knowing what an orgasm feels like. You’re welcome.” Khaos counters.

The rest of the guys gave up long ago, bearing their naked faces whenever we’re all alone. It’s been an ongoing battle between them and their lead singer, but when you’re outvoted, there’s not much you can do.

“It was so long ago I hardly even remember. Maybe Hypnos can help refresh my memory.” I wink at him, and he wiggles his brows.

“Yes please!” He smiles.

He has a pretty face, a light scruff that coats the lower half, all soft features with a California surfer charm. These men are all gorgeous, but none of them make my heart stutter.

“Good news for you, I’m on birth control now.” I whisper in his ear, my eyes glancing over to Khaos.

“Damn, Ash.” He shoots Khaos a nervous glance, knowing that it’s his nuts on the line.

“Don’t... say another word.” Khaos stops him.

Hypnos’ arm retreats and he throws both hands up in surrender. There’s tension in the air so thick it’s choking everyone. It’s the storm that’s been brewing between me and Khaos, the clouds dark and heavy. His eyes like lightning that strikes the sky before the thunder cracks .

“This just got weird again.” Kokytos sighs, scooting out of the booth and to his bunk.

“Yeah, I’m out.” Than agrees and follows.

It’s the three of us now, mostly because I’m blocking Hypnos in and he’s too afraid to say anything without one of us snapping.

“So now you’re on birth control? Planning to fuck anyone?” Khaos snarls.

“Oh God, I don’t want to be here.” Hypnos finally stands up and climbs over me to seek cover.

“Maybe.” I shrug.

He pushes out a sardonic laugh, “You are trouble, aren’t you, Eris?”

My shoulders sag as he gets up from the table, grabbing the bottle of Patron and popping off the cork. He chugs a few times and slides the bottle my way.

This isn’t at all the storm I was anticipating, it’s like the clouds split in two and passed right over us. Only I’m in a killer drought and was desperately relying on that rain.

He nudges his head towards the bottle, urging me to take a sip, so I take five. It burns like boiling water, but so does being near the devil.

“I hate you.” He says as I place the bottle back on the table.

I nod, “I know.”

“Everything about you drives me insane. I hate that you only wear sundresses. I hate that your lips are always glossy and pink. I hate that everyone likes you. I hate that I have no real reason to hate you other than I just do. Most of all, I hate that every time I look at you, I want to fuck you.” He rants, frustration etched in the line between his furrowed brows.

“Well, I hate that you wear that stupid mask all the time. I hate that I’ve never even seen your lips. I hate that despite the fact that you’re an asshole, everyone seems to think there’s more to you. And I loathe the fact that maybe I do too.” I glower at him.

“Good, now that that’s out of the way. Come here.” He demands, patting the seat next to him.

I roll my eyes. “I think I get enough Khaos in bed.”

“Hardly. Now, unless you want me to drag you across this table, I suggest you listen.”

I can’t help the smirk that plays across my face, my arms crossing stubbornly. “I’d like to see you try.”

Like with every challenge, Khaos doesn’t disappoint.

He climbs to his feet, rounding the table to my side, and towers over me.

I can see every ab muscle beneath his tight black T-shirt, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin.

I want to rake my nails down the front of his chest and watch him bleed.

He inches forward, forcing me to scoot along the booth, my back hitting the bus window. I’m caged in with nowhere to go, Khaos crawling toward me. His hands, donned with silver metal rings, grip my thighs, ripping them open.

I squeal, shoving the skirt of my dress between my legs, but he quickly swats me away.

“I was just looking for a nice, friendly conversation, but you just had to disobey.” There’s an air of danger to his tone.

“You and friendly, HA! That’s a combination I never expected.”

He settles himself between my open thighs, his body pressing one of my legs into the backrest of the booth, the other against the table. With fingers made to torture, he slowly pushes the edge of my dress up, revealing wet panties.

“Is this what you’re looking for, Eris?” He asks as he tickles my bare skin.

A shiver rushes through me, spiking excitement and fear all at once. I answer him with a daring glare, only it feels more like a pleading invitation .

“It’s been so long since you’ve gotten off, hasn’t it?” He taunts, his fingers gently graze the fabric covering my center. My hips involuntarily lift, pushing into his touch and he chuckles. “So eager.”

My body is flush with heat, the pressure in that bottle too much to hold onto. Khaos slides my panties aside, dragging his finger through my slit. “So wet.”

“Stop.” I pant. “What if someone sees?”

He withdraws his touch, tilting his head to the side, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Then they’ll know who owns this pussy.”

Khaos slips his fingers underneath his mask, coating them with his saliva before plunging them into me. A sound between a scream and a moan threatens to expose our misdeeds, but my hand quickly catches it as I cover my own mouth.

“Nuh-uh. Let them hear.” He rips my hand away as if it’s the most offensive thing he’s ever seen.

“Oh God,” I groan, my head lolling to the side as he thrusts his fingers, jackhammering into me.

“That’s better. Now look at me while I fuck your cunt with my fingers.” He demands, turning my face to meet his.

A sudden train of humiliation hits me as I realize what is happening, what I’m letting happen.

He has me wrapped around his finger, literally, begging for release.

The balance between self-preservation and an unquenchable lust teeter dangerously, tipping in the wrong direction.

I’m weak when it comes to Khaos, to what he can do to me, what he makes me feel.

I am raw, I am angry, and I am destructive, and he allows me to be all those things.

He wrenches his fingers from inside of me, both hands gripping my waist and hoisting me up, slamming my back against the table.

The tequila bottle jumps from the force, nearly toppling over.

I cough out the breath in my lungs as I land on the hard surface.

Khaos plants one knee on the table beside my thigh, leveraging himself as he stuffs me again.

His other hand presses down against my belly, trapping me to the table, pumping vigorously.

My hips thrash against the palm of his hand, desperate for an escape, but he doesn’t relent. I’m gasping for air, his brutal torture stealing my breath from me.

“Say my name.” He demands. “Tell everyone on this bus who’s making you come.”

I bite my lower lip, desperate to keep myself from giving in, but as that familiar heat coils inside of me, I unfurl.

Betraying myself, his name barrels out of my lips on a moan loud enough to wake the dead. My fingers frantically find the closest thing to hold onto, twisting themselves into the sleeves of his shirt. His eyes boar into mine, stealing this victory without any shame.

I lay there, mortified with myself, Khaos’ hand slowly leaving me.

He bends down next to my ear, “What I said earlier? It wasn’t a lie.”

A cold front replaces the heat from his warm body as he leaves me there on top of the table, panting, wet, and so confused. I flinch when the bedroom door slams shut, embarrassment seeping into my core.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look any of these guys in their face again. They’d have to be deaf to not have heard what we did just feet away. However, Khaos’ little truth bomb has my mind in a wreck, thoughts crashing and colliding into one another.

After sliding back into my panties, I tiptoe past the bunks, avoiding everyone and slip through the bedroom door. Khaos sits against the headboard, one knee tucked to his chest with an elbow resting atop, his gaze fixated on the moving cars outside the window.

“Can we talk about it?” I ask shyly as if he wasn’t just knuckle deep inside me.

“About what? How I made the girl that loathes me scream my name?” He scoffs, bringing the Patron up to his lips. I missed the part where he swiped it before storming off.

I roll my eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “About what you said earlier. About your adolescence.”

“Hard pass.”

“Off the record,” I promise. “Please?”

There’s a long pause as he toys with the idea of indulging me, but finally relents. The nod of his head is forced as he turns his gaze towards me. “What do you want to know?”

“About the beatings.”

Khaos pats the space next to him on the bed and I crawl over.

“They started off mild when I was younger, but the closer to an adult I became, the closer to death I found myself. And if the beatings didn’t kill me, I considered ways to just end things myself.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Your parents?” I ask.

He shrugs, “Sure.”

If I were beaten to the point where I didn’t want to live anymore, I don’t think I would consider them my parents either.

“I’m sorry.” And I am even if he’s been a jerk the entire time I’ve known him.

Hesitantly, I rest my head against his shoulder. His muscles tense beneath me, but then relax as I thread my fingers through his, twisting the metal ring with a cross on his finger.

“It’s over now, in the past but makes for some pretty good song material.” He chuckles .

“That’s one way to look at it.” I smile up at him, surprised by his take on his trauma.

Granted, the tarry residue left behind from the hell he’s crawled out of has smeared itself deep inside of him. So deep that it’s engrained in his being, making him who he is. That anger he lashes out so often proof of it.

He slings the tequila bottle between us, “Now drink up so you can forget everything I’ve told you.”