Page 2 of Give Me What I Want

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ronan growled, his huge hands wrapping around my arms, pushing me back into the dark corner just enough so that he could look down at me. His brows were pulled so tightly together they almost morphed into one, and a vein in his neck pulsed in time with the grinding of his too damn sharp jaw.

“Get off,” I ground out, wriggling in his hold, but he only tightened his grip and dropped his head, his face dipping into my hood as he whispered in my ear.

“You’re in big trouble, Beatrix. Get your ass backstage now, before I drag Mav out here, and we both know you don’t want him to know what you’re doing.” His breath was hot against my ear. It made me squirm and thrash, managing to break free of his hold.

“Don’t threaten me,Ro. I’ve done nothing wrong.” I slammed my shoulder into his chest as he straightened up. I attempted to pass him, but he stood firm. Too tall, too strong.

“Nothing,” he said with a harsh laugh. “Do I need to remind you what happened in Brighton? It was acharity show, Beatrix. The last thing you should have been doing was dancing on fucking tables.”

“No one was complaining.” I pushed up onto tiptoes and rolled my tongue in my cheek. “And this isn’t the same.”

“He’s a mess, he doesn’t need you to start acting up and letting him go into hero mode again. Things with Steve are—”

“Steve is fine,” I almost shouted, managing to rein my temper in enough to only shove his chest lightly. “Mav is fine,” I gritted out.

Ronan laughed again, it was a cold sound that had me balling my fists and glaring up at him as he spoke so quietly that I almost didn’t hear him. “Nothing is fine right now, but all you care about is your fucking reputation. Gotta be seen as the queen, don’t you Bea? The queen does what she wants whenever she wants. Let’s guys grope her just to see which one of us will jump in to protect you. We all love you, but fuck, it’s getting harder and harder to like you.”

“Fuck you, Ronan. I did notletthat guy grope me, and I had it handled, Mav was just…” I had no idea what Mav was. What he had been. Back in Brighton when we had played a charity show that had gone to absolute shit thanks to my best friend pulling some weird thing with his bandmate’s girl, I had let loose.

After our set, instead of my usual routine, I stormed off to the main bar, and for the first time in years, I got myself drunk enough to dance on a table. I wasn’t the only one letting go, the whole night was wild. Wild people, wild music. It wasn’t like me, but that night I had needed an outlet. The majority of the people there after our set didn’t seem to care about who I was, most of our fans had left after our set, replaced by the venue’s regulars, only our die-hard fans had remained, and I was free to do as I damn well pleased. Then some guy started getting handsy, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. I was fine though, I could defend myself if I really needed to, but before I could act, Mav had thrown himself at the guy and all hell had broken loose. He went too far and got himself arrested. Things had been tense between us all since that night. But I refused to believe that my coming out here for a drink would piss him off. This was not the same as that night. This was two shots, not ten. And with the stories of his arrest now classed as old news, we were getting back to normal, slowly.

“Mav was just what?” Ronan asked, cocking his head and folding his arms, thick biceps on full display in his baggy black tank top.

“Having a bad day,” I sighed.

“Which you knew before you got up on that table, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, his tone was sharp, scolding. Ronan spoke to me like I was a child. Like he was in charge of me, us, everything. The power battles recently between me, him and Mav had been off the charts, but this was one I wasn’t backing down from.

“We all knew, and we wereallhaving a bad day, whether we plastered smiles onto our faces or not, but you do not get to make out that I manipulated anyone into playing the hero, and you sure as shit don’t get to stand in my way when all I did tonight was grab a quick drink, likely my only one of the night since our dickhead manager doesn’t give a crap about me. Only you. Saint Ro-ro.” I sneered, curling my lip back before mimicking Garth. “Can I get you a drink, Ro? Shall I pop to the shops and get your hair products, Ro? Want me to suck your dick, Ro-bear?”

Ronan’s eyes turned fucking black as he glared at me, but I wasn’t waiting around to hear what he had to say. I shoved past him, hard this time, and stormed through the crowd, tugging my hood further over my face as people started to whisper, finally noticing the hulking, world-famous bassist standing near the bar, looking like he might snap the neck of the next person to meet his eye.

I made it to the backstage doors and threw my hood off just as the two security guys threw them open. I frowned up at them, wondering if I hadn’t been quite as sneaky as I’d hoped, but something slammed into the back of me as I paused.

The big, minty-smelling bastard shoved me through the doorway, muttering in his father’s tongue. It was a dialect that I didn’t understand, but I wasn’t dumb enough to think the words were complimentary.

The doors began to slowly close behind us, and as I turned, he muttered a single word in English.Brat. I lost all control. I screamed. I screamed and shouted until my throat burned and my eyes stung. Because fuck him. Fuck him and the way he made me feel. I might have been a royal pain in the arse, but I wasn’t a brat.

“Stop it, the pair of you!” Maverick snapped, and the moment he did silence fell. It fell, and so did my tears. Because the look on his face, as he shook his head, broke my goddamn heart.

My shit with Ro meant nothing. Not when one of the boys that I had built my life with looked at me that way.

Disappointed. He was fucking disappointed.

2

The crowd was going crazy, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t enjoying it. We had put on one hell of a show tonight in Bristol, I should have been on a massive high, but I wasn’t. Instead, I was sitting on two days of silence from Ronan, minus a few grunts of approval or dismissal each time heneededto answer me. I was uncomfortable and bordering pissed off.

Maverick was in a better mood than he had been a couple of nights ago, so that was something, but I could tell that he was still mad. Maybe not just at me and Ronan though, because last night he had climbed into the bed at the back of the bus with me and snuggled up to me all night, holding me tight until morning, then he stretched, yawned loud enough to wake me, and slumped off for his morning run.

The others were on edge though. Probably waiting for one of the three of us to explode again. Cole’s jokes were half-assed, and Jordan had kept to himself while watching us carefully. I couldn’t really understand why. Ro and I butted heads constantly and fought like cats and dogs. We always made up. Usually with edible peace offerings. This felt different though. Like my usual batch of brownies—the only thing I can bake better than he can—wouldn’t cut it.

We gathered at the side of the stage for a minute, out of sight while the crowd started a steady chant. I greedily gulped down an entire bottle of water as Mav switched guitars, and then we made our way back out onto the stage, ready to grace the crowd with our standard encore. We’d play “In Limbo”, starting off with just me and Mav, a slowed down, gentle, acoustic version of our greatest hit, then midway through Cole would come crashing in with an epic drum solo, and the others would join in, switching back to our roots, playing the song fast, loud, and heavy. And I’d spin around in the middle of the stage, fall to my knees, and hold a high note that would make Mariah Carey weep while Ronan sang over me, rough and low, a battle so much like the ones that we had behind closed doors. Except unlike the private battles, this one would always end with my panties soaked, my heart racing, and my fingers twitching in the best goddamn way.

Breathless, I stepped out into the backstage room, followed by the guys, and for the briefest of moments, I felt the high of that final song. I felt excited and relaxed at the same time, and I was genuinely smiling. Until Garth came storming over, phone in hand, eyes wild.

“You were caught arguing, they saw you,heard you,” he roared, gaze darting between me and Ronan, then fixing sternly on me.

“What?” I asked, not having a clue what was going on.

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