Page 36 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter Thirty Three

Dreya

I wake up warm.

Not from sunlight—because the curtains are still drawn tight—but from the weight of the blanket tucked around me, the soft give of a pillow under my cheek, and the unmistakable scent clinging to the fabric of the hoodie I’m wrapped in.

Alix.

I blink slowly, adjusting to the dim light in the room.

My back’s pressed into the cushions of the couch, and someone’s definitely tucked this blanket around me with care.

I stretch, sluggish and reluctant, and the hoodie shifts against my skin, oversized and worn-in and so him it makes my heart ache.

There’s no chaos. No noise. No rush.

Just low, soft strumming in the corner of the suite.

I lift my head slightly and see them.

All four.

Takoa’s seated cross-legged on the floor, brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbles something into a notebook balanced on his knee.

Bash is sitting backwards on a chair, strumming his guitar in rhythm with the quiet drumbeat Alix keeps tapping against his thigh with one drumstick.

Kaiser’s holding his bass close to his chest like it’s part of him, fingers moving in time even when his eyes are closed.

They're creating something. Us, maybe.

None of them have noticed I’m awake yet, and I don’t want to interrupt the moment—not when they’re so them, so locked in that magic they chase with every breath.

I watch, heart catching in my throat.

This is what they look like when they’re in their element. Hair tousled, voices low as they hum or mumble lyrics or toss out riffs and corrections. It's messy and instinctual and so beautiful I could cry.

Alix glances up first. His eyes find mine in an instant.

The corner of his mouth lifts. It’s not a smirk. It’s softer than that. Like a secret smile only meant for me.

He nods toward the coffee mug on the table. Steam curls from it faintly.

“I made that for you an hour ago,” he says quietly, like raising his voice might break the spell. “It’s probably cold now.”

“I like it cold,” I whisper, voice still scratchy with sleep.

The others turn to look at me now. There’s no frenzy. No rush to say anything. Just small smiles and the kind of silent greeting that doesn’t need words.

Kai tilts his head, eyes trailing down the hoodie I’m wearing. Alix’s hoodie. “You’re a walking billboard for bad decisions right now,” he teases, voice low and affectionate.

I grin. “You’re just mad it wasn’t yours I grabbed.”

Bash winks. “She knows how to stir trouble, even half asleep.”

Takoa doesn’t say anything. He just offers a slow, knowing smile and taps the notebook once, like the answer’s already in the music.

I sip the lukewarm coffee, settling deeper into the blanket.

And for a moment, I let myself believe this is real. This soft thing we’ve built in the cracks of a loud, messy world. The hoodie, the cold coffee, the melody they’re building together like it’s sacred—it feels like home.

Like love, in slow motion. Like how the song by Cigarettes and Sex describes it in their music. Or the way Cecilia describes it in The Ravenhood trilogy.

I sip the cold coffee again, the taste a little bitter but familiar. Comforting. Their voices drift like low thunder, each note a hum in my chest, even when they aren’t playing yet.

Then Alix sets his drumstick down and stands slowly, brushing his hands on his sweats as he makes his way over. He crouches in front of me, eyes locked on mine, like I’m the only thing that exists in the room.

“You good, Darlin?”

I nod, lips parting—but nothing really comes out. Just a breath. A feeling. Whatever this is swelling up in my chest, soft and stupid and huge.

Alix brushes his fingers against the blanket. “Come here. We want you in this.”

“In what?”

Alix tilts his head toward the others. “The song. The one we’ve been working on while you snored so sweetly in my damn hoodie.”

I narrow my eyes playfully, but my heart skips. “You wrote something?”

Kai grins from the floor. “We didn’t just write something, Siren. We wrote you.”

“You can say no,” Bash adds, but his tone is all tease, his dimple peeking. “But you’ll crush four fragile musician egos.”

Takoa’s voice is quieter. “Sit with us, Muse.”

That’s it. Just that.

An invitation.

An offering.

And I can’t say no.

I unfold from the couch, hoodie sleeves too long, hair messy, coffee still in hand—and they look at me like I’m the main event at a sold-out arena. Like I’m everything. Like I’m theirs.

I settle onto the rug between Bash and Kai. Alix moves back behind the small kit they’d set up against the corner wall. Takoa picks up his guitar again, his fingers already moving.

And then it begins.

The first note is a slow, low hum of bass. Kaiser, head bowed, eyes closed, plucking each string like he’s touching skin. Then the guitar slides in—Bash’s sound slick and sinuous, like smoke curling beneath a closed door. Takoa follows, deeper and richer, layering warmth like a second heartbeat.

Then Alix. That steady, sensual pulse of rhythm. It’s not loud—it’s felt. In my spine. Between my legs. In every breath.

They don’t say a word.

They just let the music speak.

The lyrics start soft, barely above a whisper.

"You walked into the silence, lit a match to all our dark

Barefoot in the chaos, with a lion in your heart."

Takoa’s voice. Velvet and grit, every word sliding over me like honey and fire.

Then Bash picks up the second verse, his voice smoother, almost teasing, like a smirk against my neck.

"You laugh like thunder, cry like rain

Got us crawling back just to feel that ache again."

Kai’s harmony joins in, and I swear my soul shudders.

And then Alix. He takes the bridge—voice low, rough, like gravel soaked in wine. His eyes never leave mine.

"You’re the reason we breathe in the dark

The sound behind our silence, the ink in our scars."

My lips part, breath catching.

They’re singing me.

Not an idea of me. Not some image or version. Me. The mess. The fire. The fear. The chaos I try to keep hidden behind thick skin and too many layers of silence.

And they see it all. Still want it all.

When the last note fades, no one moves.

No one speaks.

I blink fast, trying not to cry, because fuck, I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn't ready to feel this seen.

Kai breaks the silence first, voice gentle and hopeful. “So… do you like it?”

“Like it?” I whisper, throat thick. “You wrote a goddamn love letter and set it to sex.”

Bash whoops, grabbing his guitar and clutching it to his chest like a fake swoon. “I told you she’d get it.”

Alix just watches me. Quiet. Serious.

“You’re ours, Darlin. Every note. Every word. Every fucking song from here on out.”

I swallow hard, staring at all of them, my chest aching in the best way.

“Ask me again,” I say, voice shaking with a smile I can’t contain. “But this time, do it right.”

Takoa sets his guitar down and stands. Bash follows. Then Kai.

And all three of them close in, surrounding me where I sit on the floor.

“We want you, Songbird,” Bash says, brushing a kiss to my temple. “Not just in passing. Not on weekends.”

Kai presses his forehead to mine. “We want your mornings and your laughter and your bad moods, Siren.”

Takoa’s hand slides around my waist. “We want you real, muse.”

Then Alix moves in last, crouching in front of me again, just like before. “Be ours,” he murmurs. “All in. No apologies, darlin.”

I look at all four of them.

My men.

My band.

My heart.

My Salvation.

I nod, barely able to speak. “You better write more songs like that if you expect me to survive this tour.”

Kai grabs me into a hug so fast I squeak, and then I’m laughing, and then Bash is climbing onto my other side, and we’re a mess of limbs and tangled heartbeats and unspoken promises.

And in the corner, the record player crackles to life—Cigarettes After Sex filling the room, soft and aching.

And it’s perfect.

Because this?

This is something I could never have imagined when I won those tickets three weeks ago. Happiness, someone that wants me.. and only me.