Page 45 of Verses Of Us

On second glance, the eerie way he stared at Ciarán made her stomach drop. He wasn’t a roadie exchanging a guitar or microphone. Something wasn’t right. And before she could react, the man bolted across the stage, the megawatt speakers drowning out the warning cry that burst from her mouth.

Too stunned to move, she just stared as the man charged at Ciarán, shoving him to the ground. The music screeched to a halt, a frightening hush dropping over the amphitheatre. The security guards reacted instantly, jumping up on the stage, some coming in from the sides, wrestling and restraining the man.

The crowd booed as the guards escorted him off stage. Petrified, Alexis’ body shook. Her brain told her to hurry over and help Ciarán, but she couldn’t move. The incident couldn’t have lasted long, but it felt like ages.

Ciarán stood up, dusting off his pants and, as if he hadn’t missed a beat, waved for the band to pick up where they’d left off. Thrown, the band members didn’t hide their worry, but played, anyway. Ciarán found his microphone and returned to his song, his brow furrowed, a weak smile pulling at his lips. But his eyes kept darting around nervously. He put on a brave front and things returned to normal, except Ciarán never looked at Alexis again.

The audience watched him with awe and respect, acknowledging his strength, as if understanding he could have walked off and put an end to the show. No one would have blamed him. But he hadn’t. He’d stayed.For them.

“Merci, Montreal!” Ciarán thanked the city, his voice thick with emotion.

The band members joined him for their bow. Ciarán waited while the band trickled off the stage, then offered one more wave to the fans before running off, heading straight for Alexis.

LETTING HIM IN

Alexis

Ciaránpushedthroughthesmall group of roadies, all staring with mouths agape. They shouted, asking if he was alright, but he ignored them.

With his sharp glare fixed on Alexis, he reached for her, his arms winding around her body, then crouched down, nuzzling his face into her neck. Afraid she’d startle him, she didn’t dare move, but as soon as he trembled, she wrapped him tightly in her arms.

“Shh, it’s OK.”

His breathing was uneven, and though she couldn’t hear it, she felt him sniffle. Even covered in sweat, his body was icy to the touch, and his forehead clammy against her skin.

“Come. Let’s get you out of here.”

She guided him toward his dressing room. Clark walked ahead of them, throwing cautious glances over his shoulder, but he remained quiet, as if knowing better than to chase her away.

Once they reached the room, Ciarán went in ahead. Alexis tried to shut the door, but Clark wedged his foot in the doorway.

“Hang on. We need to talk to him,” Clark said.

Alexis glared back, seething. “You can wait a couple of fucking minutes and let the guy calm down. Why don’t you find out who that guy was instead?”

She slammed the door, locking it, then watched Ciarán fall into the sofa, wiping his face with a towel. The room was a mess, but the quiet was a welcomed reprieve and her nerves soothed instantly. Unsure what to offer, what to do, she sat next to him and ran a hand up and down his back. His body still shook, but his breathing settled.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking hot in here.” He bolted up and paced the floor, then stopped suddenly, ripping his soaked shirt off, bunching it up and throwing it across the room.

Unable to look away, she took in his body. His muscles rippled and tensed as he walked. The sheen of sweat exaggerated their definition, and strangely, her fingers twitched with the need to trace the tattoos on his back. Repulsed by her lustful and inappropriate gawking, she turned away.

“Jesus.” He rubbed his face with his hands, then ran his fingers through his hair, tugging.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sure. This happens, I guess,” he answered, rubbing his bare arms.

He searched the snack table, the mini fridge, glancing around to nowhere in particular. His exasperated sighs told her he wasn’t finding what he needed. Finally, his eyes darted to a bottle of whiskey. Twisting the cap off, he didn’t bother with a glass, drinking straight from the bottle instead. His Adam’s apple bobbed, profound concern falling over his face with every swallow.

“Woah, take it easy.” Alexis eased the whiskey from his hand. “Don’t go killing yourself.”

He grabbed her wrist. The bottle teetered as she set it down. Then he tugged her against him, his hands slipping to her waist. “See? I knew I’d need you here.”

The heat of his palms melted her skin like butter, but her busy brain refused to give into his soothing touch. “Ciarán…”

He closed his eyes, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. “Do you know how much I’ve missed the sound of my name coming from your perfect lips?”

When he reopened his eyes, he locked them on her mouth, biting down on his lower lip. His pupils dilated as he took another deep breath, sending the warmth from her waist up to cover her entire body.

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