Darkness screams my name
Memories come in waves
Trick my mind into thinking I miss the pain
The misery and death in life you gave”
Chris grinned back at her. He loved seeing her this way; empowered, fulfilled, and stronger than she probably ever thought she would be.
They had been best friends since forever. Had gone through and confided everything to each other, only gradually distancing when Leah started dating her ex—LeTurd—back in college. Nine years older than her, that asshole of a bass player with mighty looks had lured her into a dark web of lies, like the poisonous spider he was, and broken her spirit.
Six years had gone by since. It was water under the bridge now. Almost. Her worst fears had materialized and come back to bite her again just after she’d allowed herself to open up to someone new. Even so, Leah kept fighting against all riptides, getting up every time she was pushed down.
She was a pain in the ass; retorted with sarcasm to every dirty, obnoxious joke Chris cracked, which made him cherish her that much more. Though, some days, her grumpy mood ruined the atmosphere on the bus to the point he’d been close to telling Søren—the love of her life—why she’d broken up with him two months before without a fucking explanation.
The dude was also a musician, a famous one in the metal scene, who happened to be the frontman of Dark Omen, a headliner in this touring festival. He wanted them to talk and fix things, but it wasn’t his story to tell. And she would take that step whenever she was ready, anyway. No matter how hard she tried to conceal her feelings, each time she crossed paths with that man, Leah looked at him with such fervor it was sickening. Plus, she got all kinds of anxious and weird, and sigheda lot.
Jealous?Maybe.
Chris was a total scoundrel, always up for a fuck and chuck. Big tits, small tits, two chicks, him and another guy working together for a woman’s pleasure. No shame. He loved sex, the aroused blush, the filthy wet sounds, and the taste of his partner’s orgasms. Knowing you could make someone reach the sky while satiating your own urges was the epitome of these carnal interactions. That was all, though. A temporary bliss that soon died in the hustle of his lonely routine.
With her brows creased together, Leah tilted her head. She was still singing, putting on a great show, but she had definitely read the turmoil going on inside of Chris. She always did, which he hated. At least she wasn’t nosy and let him be when he didn’t want to talk.
Winking at her to escape the silent yet inquisitive interrogatory, the guitarist walked towards the edge of the stage. He had a perfect excuse as the instrumental part—where the three men in the band could snatch the spotlight from her—broke. Not that she overshadowed them. Together, the four musicians were like a flawless machine working in the same direction, making the whole fucking world rotate with them. But Leah’s presence when they performed was hard to ignore.
His fingers slid up and down the neck of his guitar, shifting between chords that interlaced with the brutal sound of the bass drum.
Chris smiled to himself while offering the best of his skills to their audience. Erik was the master of puppets. He never hesitated, never missed a beat, and even when the guitarist was lost in his head, he always dragged him out of that turbulent sea. Yet it was Marc’s attitude, his long hair waving behind him, that cocky smirk and those dark eyes fixed on Chris while he approached him playing some ominous bass licks, that pulled his strings with a force he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
This dude was so playful when they were on stage. The complete opposite of what he was like off of it. It was as if he was afraid to let that mischievous creature run free, only feeling confident enough to do it here. Today, however, with the sun caressing the skin of his arms and highlighting his chiseled features, he looked exceptionally imposing.
A note flew off-key, pulling Chris back to the real world.Fuck.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he was absent-minded. Could be the jet lag still lingering or simple exhaustion. They had landed in North America six days before, attended the festival opening party, and with this gig, had already performed four times. Whatever it was, he was more out of himself than in. It was so damn uncomfortable.
While a cradling tempo took center stage, the guitarist mentally smacked himself and tried to focus on the enraptured crowd with anticipation shining in their eyes.
In Germany, Buried Alive had been building a reputation for a few years and they were pretty well known by now, but he’d never imagined people across the globe would be so eager to watch them live, too.
“Syracuse, if you know the song, sing along,” Leah taunted the audience as she sat on the platform, her chest rising and falling hard.
Warm, melodic, almost lullaby-like, she breathed out the next lines. How she steadied her voice when she was so clearly out of breath was beyond Chris. “Come on, this part ain’t so difficult…”
“The poison slips inside my veins
As winter cries, freezing my breath
Lost direction and flashing signs
Yet another battle to fight…”
Letting the last word trail as their fans sang what was left of the bridge, she stood up and made a heart with her fingers.
This track was a journey full of valleys and slopes, guiding them, becoming rugged and precipitous as they neared the end. It was a song they were proud of, and every time they played it, the crowd lost it.
When Leah hopped up on the platform again, smiling and sending the guys a knowing look over her shoulder, Chris flashed her a lopsided grin. He was counting Erik’s soft jazzy strokes on the snare and hi-hat until they vanished into the air, foreshadowing the savagery that was about to explode.
Spinning on the spot, his pick scratched down the strings of his guitar with ferocity, then up again as Leah projected all her rage into the atmosphere between mind-blowing belting notes and growls.
