Page 8 of The Devil and His Sparrow

And the most intoxicating, deep, sensual voice began to sing.

Fire lit my skin and swept through my entire body as lights lit up the stage, and the man singing swept his red-slitted eyes over the crowd.

My mouth dried at the sight of him.

He was everything parents warned you about. Tall and broad, he had to be well over six feet tall. He wore a long-sleeved button up, but half the buttons were undone, exposing a sculpted chest covered in tattoos. Ink covered his hands, which gripped the mic, and the dark images trailed up his arms. His ears, lip, and eyebrow were pierced, and a voice in the back of my head wondered if that was all he had pierced.

Then there were the demonic horns and eyes that he wore as part of his costume.

Every part of him dripped sex, sin, and seduction.

Something between my legs throbbed as he continued to sing softly into the crowd about silk sheets, ripped clothes, and sleepless nights. My breath hitched as images flooded my mind with the lyrics, and I clenched my thighs in an effort to expel the thoughts and feelings coursing through me.

It was then that his gaze moved over the crowd, and like before, it seemed to find me. His lips lifted ever so slightly. It was such a fleeting look that by the time I blinked and found him looking elsewhere, I wondered if he’d been looking this way at all. Though it had to be real, because my entire body felt that gaze as though it were a physical caress.

I bit my lip and groaned inwardly. This was going to be a long night.

MY LIMBS TINGLED WITH THE lingering effects of the heavy, loud music. People shuffled out of the stadium while still singing, gyrating, and screaming their approval of tonight’s performance. Even I found myself having a really good time watching the members of the band lose themselves to their songs. I couldn’t sing along, but that didn’t stop me from holding onto Nahla and jumping up and down with her while she sang.

“What a phenomenal night,” Nahla said with a content laugh. “And it’s just getting started.” She held up her black-and-red VIP pass. “Now we get to meet them.”

Still feeling the high of the excitement from during the concert, I followed after her with a pep in my step. We weaved through people and stopped near the rear of the stadium where a crowd had formed. Barricades were set up with very large men stationed around it. That didn’t stop people from milling about, trying to steal a glimpse of the members of Sinners Do It Better.

A trio of people—two girls and one boy—approached one of the guys standing guard. They flashed him what looked like the passes Nahla and I had. The man moved part of the barricade to let them through, making sure to keep others back as he did.

“Guess that’s how we get in,” I said to Nahla.

We pushed our way to the front of the crowd and showed our own passes to the same man. He wordlessly let us in, and we moved to where the trio who’d just gotten in stood, talking to the bald man who’d given us the passes.

The bald man noticed us approaching and smiled. “Hello again. I was just telling these three that the band is on their way to the meeting place now. The limo that’s picking you guys up should be here momentarily. The security team will help you get in and keep the crowd back.”

My eyebrows shot up in alarm. The others didn’t seem surprised by the news, instead giggling and bouncing on their feet.

The manager stepped away to speak to a guard.

I dropped my voice and leaned into Nahla. “Limo? We’re not meeting them here?”

“You don’t know?” one of the girls from the trio asked. Her blonde and pink hair sat high on her head in two pigtails, and her makeup was dark and elaborate. She wore a black bralet, leather shorts, and a choker with a pendant that read, “BITE ME,” which rested against her cleavage.

“Know what?” I questioned.

She smiled wide. “Sinners Do It Better doesn’t do backstage meet-and-greets like other artists.” She held up her VIP pass. “This gets you so much more. We’re about to go spend the whole night with them at some hotel or something.”

The guy of the group, who was shirtless with only black cargo pants on, held his hands together as if in prayer and pleaded, “I really hope I get to suck one of their dicks. I’ve heard they’re so big.”

Pigtails laughed. “I’m sure that will be allowed, considering what the rumors say.”

My breath got shallower, and my heart picked up tempo. “Rumors? What rumors?”

Before she could answer, a limo rolled up to the barricade. The bald man came back over with a throng of people wearing shirts labeled, “Security.” They ushered the five of us to the waiting limo.

“Nahla, do you know what’s happening?” I hurriedly whispered to her.

Her eyes shined with excitement. “I know what I hope is happening. Holy shit, I can’t believe my luck. I hope I get to see Dante naked.”

My stomach was in knots as I walked alongside Nahla and processed what little info I’d been given so far. We were being taken to some place to hang out with the band, and rumors suggested that … sexual acts … were done during that time? I mean, their music had definitely been suggestive and encouraging, but was I about to waltz into an orgy or something?

I bit my lip, unsure of what to do. If I followed along with the group and got into that limo, I might see, hear, or become involved in things that were completely outside my realm of comfort. I was a homebody, an introvert who stayed in the lines. This seemed very beyond my lines.

---