Page 12 of Mine

The man wore black jeans with leather boots, a studded belt, and a black leather mask. It covered the lower half of his face, with space for part of his mouth to still be seen. Enough space to not fuck with the mic while singing.

Then tension curling through Beaumont’s was unreal. Even as jaded as I was, I could see what Tommy was talking about. His presence was ethereal. It was devilish. It was very much out of place in a city like Nashville, where everyone sang country music, Americana, and bluegrass.

“It’s just him and a guitar,” I said to Tommy. “And a bar full of people who want to party. This is silly.”

“They don’t want to party, Pepper. They want to kiss that guy’s boot. Be patient,” he said without looking back.

“Good evening, everyone.” His voice was deep, an orgasmic ripple of excitement rolling through me. It was familiar, too.What is wrong with me?“Thank you to Beaumont’s for having me tonight. My name is Salt.”

A few shouts and hollers echoed through the venue.

His nimble fingers moved over the strings as he started playing his guitar riff, and despite not wanting to look away, I closed my eyes. Because humans were chameleons. Anyone could be masked and buff and primed and primped, but not just anyone could create music thatmoved.

His music moved.

It was an original song, which was typically a terrible way to open a set on a Friday night. Especially without a band. It shouldn’t have worked. Everyone at the bar should have shifted attention back to their conversations, but that didn’t happen. Like an incubus, he sucked up the energy of the room, funneling it into blues-inspired hooks.

And then he opened his mouth again.

His voice reverberated through the room.I swear I know his voice.I couldn’t place it. I didn’t have a spare thought to even consider where I’d heard it before, completely consumed with the sound of him. He knew how to play and was clearly talented, but it wasn’t as smooth as some of the seasoned musicians I was used to hearing. But that edge worked in his favor.

The music was sexual, thirsty,hungryfor touch. Forsomethingdeep and carnal and dirty. The lyrics were full of pain. He was drowning, dying, begging to be rescued. By me. By the listener. He was begging to be saved. To be seen.

I knew that feeling all too well.

My eyes snapped open, and even from across the room, I swore he was looking right at me.

Tommy stiffened and then glanced back, raising a brow.I fucking told you,he mouthed.

I ignored Tommy and swallowed hard, my gaze locked on Salt. Was he looking at me? He wasn’t. It had to be a trick of the light.

Every nerve in my body was alive. Yearning.

A bass note dropped and I realized therewasa band. They’d come on stage some time during the first verse.

The beat dropped for the chorus, followed by shouts and whistles, people grinding together. Heat crept through me as I watched the floor come alive—a cult of Dionysus, and he was our god. His performance was good alone, but with the rest of the band, it created something irresistible.

“Goddamn,” Dan said. “Baby, I want to dance.”

Tommy nodded and held out his hand. “We’ll be back, Pepper.”

“I’ll be here.”With his music.

Tommy tugged Dan close, the two of them getting lost in a kiss before slipping out of the VIP area and onto the dance floor. I watched them for a moment, then turned my focus back to him.

Salt.

What kind of a name was Salt?

Ironic, coming from me. Regardless, every part of me knew exactly what I wanted.

I want his music to be mine.

FOUR

SALT

I saw her.

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