Burn: A shifter and vampire rock star romance (Underground Encounters Book 4) Page 2

  I checked my lips for any signs of blood that the dark lipstick wouldn’t camouflage. Then I strode out with false confidence to compensate for my nerves.

  Maya touched my shoulder as she passed and said, “Break a leg.” I had to look up at her. Damn, she was tall. What I would do for long legs like that.

  Enough of that for now. I’d already reinvented myself twice.

  Hopefully, I wouldn’t need to do so again.

  Devon

  I ordered a beer at the bar from a sexy bartender and searched the club while I waited. Statues of gargoyles were perched both high and at floor level. I sensed they were more than gothic décor. If that was the case, they couldn’t see what I had in store for Layla. I’d have to lure her outside, away from watching eyes.

  A tingle of anticipation rushed through me, no different from when I took the form of a predator and engaged in a hunt. The only difference was that I was in my human form and the prey tonight was a vampire.

  “This is bullshit,” Some guy near me said.

  “What is?” his friend asked.

  “This whole fuckin’ night. I thought we were going to see Bloodlust Diamond play. Now they have some lame-ass chick singing. When did that happen?”

  I took a sip of my beer, pretending not to listen to the conversation.

  “Don’t be such a dick, man,” his friend said. “The other singer left. Went to rehab or something. Their new singer is a woman. So what?”

  “She’s going to kill the band. Change their entire sound.”

  “Relax, dude. Go hang out at the bar if you don’t want to listen.”

  “Good idea. You know where to find me.” He walked away in a huff.

  His friend noticed me and must have assumed I heard the whole conversation.

  “I don’t know what crawled up his ass,” he said, then focused his attention on the stage as three guys and then a woman came out. “Who cares if she can sing or not? She’s smokin’ hot.”

  I nodded. He was right. The photographs of her didn’t do her justice, and I had thought she was striking when I’d seen those. Now I was transfixed. Looking at the men staring at her with rapt expressions on their faces, I wasn’t the only one. She wore a heavy black trench coat that hid her body. Her large eyes sparkled and her cheeks looked so soft I wanted to touch them. Her lips with the perfect amount of plumpness, begging to be kissed.

  Not only had her presence commanded the attention of every guy in the club, but most of the women as well. What they couldn’t perceive, but I could, was she wasn’t human; her skin was far paler and her eyes much brighter.

  I examined the others in the band. Humans. Did they know their singer was a vampire?

  Layla greeted the crowd. “We’re Bloodlust Diamond, and we’re here to have a wicked time tonight. Who’s with us?”

  A bunch of people hooted and cheered.

  “Good. I don’t want anyone creeping around in the back of the room. Get up close. I want to see you. I want to hear you!”

  The crowd screamed again.

  “We’re going to start with some old-school Metallica.” She turned to the band and said “One, two, one, two, three, four.”

  The drummer launched a heavy beat, and the band joined in. Then Layla leaned close to the mic and sang the beginning lyrics to Am I Evil.

  I moved closer to the stage. As she wailed the lyrics, she left no doubt that she could sing. How a tough-ass voice came out of a petite body like that was a mystery. Even in her red stiletto heels and teased-up hair, I gauged her to be 5’ 3” at the most. The illusion of the heels and hair made her appear bigger than she was.

  For some reason, I pictured her freshly showered and wearing nothing but a towel. No hair done up or makeup on, no heels. All natural. She was probably a wee thing. I’d pull her on top of my lap to hold. And touch…

  Wait, why was I thinking stuff like this? I had a job to do—capture her. Not fantasize about her coming out of the shower.

  I studied Layla as she played, watching how she moved. She was a vampire, so she’d be fast, her reflexes even faster than mine. She’d be strong, but that’s where I had the advantage. I had more strength than humans, and once I transformed, I had the strength of whatever animal I shifted into.

  She would be tougher to capture than a human, but I loved challenges. Tracking humans was almost too easy. Throw a supernatural into the mix and that’s when the hunt turned exciting.

  When the band finished the song, I went to the bar to order a beer.

  The jerk was still complaining at the bar. “Oh great. A girl covering Whitesnake.”

  I ignored him even though I agreed with him about covers. Most bands that played covers killed them. They either tried too hard to copy the original and failed or went the other way and tried so hard to make it their own they lost the essence of the song. That’s not to say some bands didn’t kill it in a good way. Every now and then a band would play a cover that blew the original away.

  When I heard Layla wail out the first two lines of Still of the Night, I turned back toward the stage, compelled to see her again. Her voice stirred something inside me. She threw off her heavy black trench coat. When she leaned against the microphone stand in such an erotic stance, I tried to ignore my response. Her skintight black pants showed off finely toned legs, making me wonder what her ass looked like. Her black tank top was torn at the top, revealing some cleavage. Her pale arms showed definition as she clutched the microphone.

  She belted out a rendition that captured all attention with her voice alternating between a purr and a seductive wail—enchanting, leaving me as spellbound as the rest of the crowd. This vixen on the stage compelled every guy in the bar to watch her, listen to her, and fantasize about so much more…

  By the end of the song, I had forgotten that I had come to Boston for one specific purpose.

  Focus, Devon. Snap out of it. You have a job to do. Don’t let your dick get in the way.

  Right. I mentally slapped myself. Time to snap out of the spell and get in the game. Only one of us would be captured tonight—and it wouldn’t be me.

  Layla

  Joey went backstage for a quick change while the rest of us played. When he came back onstage, he’d added a button-down white shirt and tie to go with his black leather pants. Then he donned a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses. The ladies screamed their approval of the sexy, intelligent persona.

  While Joey distracted the crowd with a guitar solo, I escaped backstage to quickly remove the heels and spandex. I threw on a tiny schoolgirl outfit—plaid skirt, fitted white tank top, and chunky Mary Jane shoes.

  When I came back onstage, I took the mic. “Call it heavy metal, hair metal, or rock. We don’t give a fuck. We’re here to play music and have an awesome time. If you’re with us, let me hear you!”

  The crowd responded with shouts and hollers.

  “That’s what I like to hear. Now Rocco is going to start with a little drum solo I think you might recognize.” I turned. “Rocco.”

  He launched into the familiar intro to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher, and the crowd cheered upon recognizing the song.

  Joey joined in with the guitar, and I strutted over to him, dancing suggestively as I admired his talents. I mussed up his shirt a little and loosened his tie.

  Mark played bass guitar and I sang the beginning lyrics. Joey and I acted out our new stage personas with him as a tempted professor and me as a naughty school girl. At one point, I bent over in front of him, so he could catch a glimpse of my white cotton panties. He smacked me playfully on the ass.

  Mark wore a classic brown wool blazer and a pair of glasses to play the part of the principal. He stood between us as an authority figure, pushing his hands out to the sides to keep Joey and me apart while I reached past him to loosen Joey’s tie and unbutton the top buttons of his shirt.

  When Bloodlust Metal hired me to replace the previous singer, I decided not to copy his stage presence. Instead, I invented my own. Joey wa
s all for the concept of flirting onstage. The act added a fun, sexy element to our shows. Mark often posed as an opposing force, throwing obstacles in our way or even pulling one of us away from the other.

  So far, our performance was working well. We hyped the forbidden attraction, drawing the crowd into the act.

  By the end of Hot for Teacher, I’d managed to get the shirt, tie and glasses off Joey, leaving him bare-chested. The ladies loved this part, hooting as I stripped off his good-boy image to reveal the bad boy hiding inside the upright and proper professor. Rockstar Joey with his wild brown hair and lean physique then took over the role of seducing me with the sultry stances and bedroom looks he’d perfected; I thought a few women might rush the stage and knock me over to get a piece of him.

  The night was going well, as perfect as we’d planned. My earlier nerves had vanished. I was an ocean away from Stefano and had nothing to worry about.

  Devon

  As I watched the sexy way Layla ran her hand over the mic stand, I pictured her tiny hand running over my body. Down the front of my chest, over the muscles in my legs, in between my legs, increasing the mounting excitement.

  It’s just adrenaline building. Your body preparing for the capture.

  The hard press of my erection in my jeans told me I was full of shit.

  The music ended, jolting me back to reality. I wasn’t here to ogle her and fantasize about what she’d be like in my arms or in my bed.

  I forced myself out of the mindset of a male attracted to a female. She was nothing more than prey.

  She said goodnight to the crowd, thanked them for coming, and left the stage. Swarms of fans surrounded the band members to talk to them. While women jostled to get closer to the guys in the band, men vied for Layla’s attention. Unfamiliar jealousy stabbed me square in the gut.

  I could wait for her fans to subside. I’d wait for her to be alone or lure her someplace if I had to. No rush. Besides, I liked to take my time. Like a cat playing with a mouse. The thrill of the hunt.

  I smiled at that thought. Like a cat. Felines were one of my preferred forms to shift into.

  The dark-haired woman who’d introduced them came back onto the stage. “How about a hand for Bloodlust Diamond?”

  The crowd applauded with a bunch of hooting and hollering.

  “I knew they could play, but I had no idea how visually appealing they would be. A feast for the senses, don’t you think? Did you hear the way she sang? And the guitarist? Yummy.”

  More hollering and whistling from the crowd.

  “Lucky for you they’re coming back for another set tomorrow night. How many of you will we see again tomorrow?”

  More cheering. “Great. We’ll see you again. And now our awesome DJ is coming back to get all your hot bodies on the dance floor. Give it up for DJ Stark.”

  The DJ started up again with The Clash’s Rock the Casbah. People were already dancing back on the floor. I scoured the crowd for signs of Layla, but she’d disappeared. I’d check outside. The bouncer stamped my hand when I said I’d be right back. I opened the large wooden door and stepped out into the cool New England night.

  A few people who were smoking had congregated near each other. I walked down the alley to the main road, which was devoid of people. A black van, which was nondescript except for a few Bloodlust Diamond stickers on the back portion, had to be the band’s van. Oh, wait. Not necessarily. It could be some hardcore fans. I hoped for the former, as it meant Layla Costa had not escaped me.

  Although I wanted to hurry to get back inside the club, I resisted the urge to walk quicker. Part of the thrill was hunting her down, and I didn’t want the excitement to end just yet.

  Back inside, I searched the crowd for her, a petite woman with distinctive hair. One side was so blonde it was almost white while the other was black as midnight. On each side were strips of the other color. She’d be easy to spot in a crowd.

  There she was standing near the bar.

  Target in sight.

  She had a glass in hand and was talking to a few people.

  I walked closer while staying behind the crowd, so she wouldn’t see me approach. When I was in earshot, I tried to listen to their conversation. Even with my extraordinary senses, I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the sounds of a Siouxie and the Banshees song, Kiss Them for Me.

  How would I get her alone?

  She glanced up and noticed me. When her eyes found mine, I froze. Not only did I feel as if I was caught doing something wrong, but something else made my chest tighten. Her dark, inquisitive eyes searched mine as if trying to figure out my secrets. Beyond making me aware that she might be more difficult to capture than a typical human, I was also now aware of parts of my body responding to her inquisitive gaze. My lips felt parched and I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.

  She was a vampire and vampires had that special ability to mesmerize humans, but I wasn’t human, so she shouldn’t have any effect on me. What was going on?

  A part of me that was former military and current bounty hunter kicked in. Take control of the situation and seize any opportunity. Use whatever options you have to your advantage.

  Now that she’d seen me staring, I’d play the part of a fan idolizing a band. I strode over and ignored the people around her. Since I didn’t recognize them as the band members onstage, my plan might work.

  “Hi!” I said in an excited voice. “I just wanted to say how great you were tonight.”

  As her eyes focused on mine, I was drawn in. They weren’t black as I thought from a distance, but a rich brown the color of hot chocolate on the outer edge fading to a honey-brown toward the pupil. I’d never seen eyes like that. Could humans even perceive how Layla’s eyes appeared different from theirs? Utterly spectacular. Her eyes flashed excitement and hinted at mystery all at the same time. I glanced away briefly to break the eye contact.

  Vampire eyes, vampire eyes. You hate vampires.

  If she was trying to mesmerize me with her vampire charms, it was working. No, I was a shapeshifter, I reminded myself. Vampire tricks that worked on ordinary humans wouldn’t work on my kind. I focused on a bottle of whiskey behind the bar, took a deep breath to refocus, and glanced at her again.

  “Thanks,” she said, flashing me a megawatt smile that disarmed me once again. Her teeth were perfectly white, even and gleaming, showing no signs of fangs. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Whether she was sincere or could see right through me and was playing along, I had no idea, so I kept going with my act.

  “You put on a great show tonight.” Shit, I’d just said that. She was throwing me off my game.

  She eyed me with a slight smile playing on her lips. “What’s your name?”

  Brilliant. Perhaps she thought I was simply a nervous fan. “Devon.”

  “I’m Angelica.”

  No, you’re not. You’re Layla Costa. I know who you are and why you’re on the run. You’re nothing more than a common thief. I nodded like a devoted fan. “I know.”

  “Devon, you’re British?”

  “Yes. I live in London.”

  “I hope you didn’t fly all the way to the US just to see us play.”

  When she laughed, the sound echoed in my head with a magical quality that drew me in.

  Vampire trait, I told myself. Don’t be taken in.

  “Not exactly.” I didn’t come to see the band, but I did come especially for you.

  “What brings you over to this side of the pond?”

  “Oh, you know, I like to travel. You ever go to England?”

  A dark shadow passed over her face. “Not yet. I’d like to.”

  Liar. You lived there for years.

  She glanced at my arms. “Sick tattoos.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You get all those in England?”

  “Most. I travel a lot.”

  “For business or pleasure?”

  When she said pleasure, I glanced into her inquisitive eyes.
A flash of how we could experience pleasure together shaped in my mind and a bolt of heat shot through me.

  What the bloody fuck? Focus!

  “A bit of both.”

  “Interesting. What do you do for a living?”

  Hunt down criminals like you.

  A question I would avoid answering directly. “I’m self-employed.”

  She nodded slowly as if assessing my evasive reply. I still couldn’t figure out if my shtick was working. Was she humoring me as a fan? Or on to my ruse and playing with me? Time to turn the focus back to her.

  “Would you mind giving me your autograph?”

  “Do you have a pen and paper?”

  I looked in my pockets even though I knew I didn’t have them. “No.”

  “Go buy a shirt or CD or something and find me later.”

  After giving her a gracious smile, I walked away.

  Shit. That hadn’t gone as planned. But it hadn’t blown up in my face either. As I walked over to the display selling T-shirts, bumper stickers, CDs and all kinds of merch, I considered my next step.

  “What can I get ya?” a guy showing more tattoos than his actual skin color asked me.

  I grabbed a CD but then noticed it featured the previous singer. I imagined Layla wasn’t with the band long enough to record a CD. “One of these.”

  After paying him, I retreated to one of the back walls of the club and watched her. A few times I caught her looking around. A part of me hoped she was searching for me.

  She’d leave soon. I remained in the shadows, lurking and waiting for the right moment. The moment was coming soon. My fingers itched, ready to act. I ran them over the silver-reinforced rope in my jacket pocket.

  I prepared to pounce, already savoring the sweet capture.

  Soon…

  Chapter 2

  Devon

  The bartenders indicated it was the last call. Time was running out.

  She left the club with the rest of the band. I followed them as they walked up the alley to where the van was.

  I ran up to her. “Angelica, wait. I got a CD. Will you sign it for me?” I flashed a broad smile.