Riffs That Ruin (Survival Records #2)

32. Raina

M y gaze snaps to Keaton’s eyes in the mirror. Maybe he needs a family like the rest of us. I’m not sure how Keaton realizes it before me, but having it click in my brain has me shooting to my feet and striding from the room after Darius.

By the time I make it to the hallway, he’s turning at the end. I rush past roadies and call after him. “Dare, wait!”

My feet slip out from under me as I try to take the turn too fast, only to smack against a chiseled body. Darius’ reflexes are much faster than mine apparently, because he uses my momentum to turn us and press me against the wall.

The force of it knocks the breath from me, made all the worse when he gazes down at me, his nose brushing mine. I’m so used to him always having an infectious smile that it feels odd to find him so serious right now with his eyebrows pinched together.

“Hey,” I huff out.

“What are you doing?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I… I’m not sure.” I drop my stare, but it ends up on his chest. His muscles are covered with his shirt, but I know what’s underneath. I don’t have long to imagine his hard body before his finger lifts my chin.

“Come with me?” It’s a statement, but he says it like it’s a question, a thread of hope in it.

“Yeah, okay.” I nod my head and lick my lips, suddenly nervous. His hand grabs mine once more, banishing that previous sensation of missing his touch, making me instinctively grip him tighter.

I don’t overthink it; I let him lead us through the backstage area until we’re on the other side, where it’s not as busy. He tucks us away into a dark corner where we can see into the crowd. Carmen is on stage, but I tune the sound of her voice out, refusing to let her intrude on my time with Darius.

“What are we doing here?” I ask him.

“Just watch,” he whispers in my ear. His front presses against my back and his arms come around me, embracing me in a warm hug. Fans are making their way to their seats, an excitement filling the auditorium as they wait for me to get on stage. I’m secretly happy to find that they barely pay Carmen any attention. They don’t seem to like her at all, which is slightly surprising since she’s performing the same type of songs I built my name on.

“Dare,” I say, barely loud enough to be heard. I move to turn around, but his hold tightens, keeping me where I am. I wanted to talk to him face to face, but I won’t let this stop me from having the conversation.

Regret fills me for the miscommunication in the greenroom. I know it came off as an attack, but the guys are mostly concerned about the situation, not about Dare himself. Sure, we were all suspicious at first, but he’s too genuine of a person to be working against me.

“They didn’t mean it the way it came off,” I tell him, leaning into his hard body.

He shakes his head, the added side effect of his cheek brushing against mine in a soft caress. “No, it’s okay. They had every right to question me.”

“No, Dare,” I interject, my heart pounding fiercely against my ribs. His words stir something fierce within me. Perhaps it’s the weariness in his voice.

I turn to face him fully. This time he lets me, and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him against me. “They weren’t questioning you,” I start, my voice soft but firm, “they were questioning the situation.”

“That still doesn’t make it feel any better,” he mutters under his breath.

The honesty in his voice shakes me. My throat feels dry and I swallow hard before speaking again. “Maybe not, but it’s hard not to want to demand some answer that makes the pain dull. That’s all they were doing.”

“I hate seeing you in agony like this. I feel like I can’t do anything to help you.” His eyes trace over me like a soft caress. “Do you know how much I wanted to scoop you onto my lap yesterday to hold you while we experienced the betrayal together?”

His confession has my heart skipping a beat. “Dare,” I whisper, fairly certain the word is swallowed by the sound coming out of the speakers. “I’m in a relationship.”

“I know.” His hand cups my face, and my eyes flutter as I fight the urge to lean into it. “I just want to be someone you can lean on. Someone who you share your pain with. Yesterday didn’t have to be something you experienced alone. Hell, it didn’t even need to be me. You have three boyfriends who adore you and were desperately wanting to do something.”

Okay… he’s acting a little too much like Keaton, making me face my fears. Because that’s what this one is. I’ve been alone for so long, I forget that I now have people who won’t let me down. I suppose deep down, I’m terrified to test the strength of our connection.

The only recognition I can give is to nod my head, unsure of how to articulate my fear, my confusion, my exhaustion from all this uncertainty.

“Dare, I can’t help but feel you want something out of being a part of the band.” I search his eyes, trying to see if I can find the answer there, even though I have a feeling I know the answer.

He leans closer until we’re a hair’s breadth away. Any slight movement will have our mouths brushing against each other in a move that’s too fucking tempting when there’s this much chemistry between us.

“I recall you asking me something like this before. Was it too late for you to remember?” he teases, reminding me of the talk we had in the middle of the night.

A small laugh falls out of my lips and he sucks in a sharp breath with the feeling of it brushing across his full lips. My body responds to the sound pressing against him. A beat later, his hands slide along the sides of my body.

What would his touch feel like on my bare skin? Shit. No. Bad Raina. Focus.

“You were sad when we seemed distrustful, and—”

“Shh,” he soothes, his lips brushing against mine more effectively shutting me up than the sound he makes. I’m frozen in place. “You were all distrustful. Don’t lie and try to make it more palatable.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” I wince and close my eyes, hating that I’m fucking this up. His forehead lands on mine and one of his hands cups the side of my neck, his thumb moving back and forth. Why is his touch so damn tempting? It shouldn’t light me on fire the same way my guys do. This isn’t part of the plan.

“I told you that what I wanted was you, Raina. That hasn’t changed.”

Nerves rush through me, a weird mix of giddy excitement and dread. I suck in a breath and lean my head away from his, gaining some much needed fresh air.

“Maybe what you really want is a family,” I suggest. “People that are there for you, who care about you and, most of all, who never have to doubt you?”

“That does sound pretty nice,” he admits. I’m a little worried that when I meet his eyes, I’ll find hurt in them from me putting space between us, but what is shining there instead is determination. “Are you offering to give me a family, Raina?”

My body seems to light up at the way he asks. Goosebumps flow from my neck down to my toes, my nipples pebbling and my core clenching. The question was innocent, yet my mind made it dirty as fuck.

I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah, I think I am.” Keaton already seemed to know that was the plan before I did—we just need to ensure the others are on board.

Darius’ powerful hands unexpectedly spin me around, plastering my back to his front again. “We can talk about that later, but for now, I want you to see this.”

The unexpected change in topics has me confused. “See what?”

“Remember when I said I was a little too dialed in on StormChasertok? Well, I saw some videos about your loyal fans’ thoughts about the stolen song.”

I’m reminded of the team hashtags and want so desperately to ask about Tristan, but I’m distracted by a shift rippling through the audience. They abruptly go silent and stand from their chairs, turning their backs to the stage. A dark shadow travels over them, but after a closer look, I realize black garments of all kinds are draped over the fans.

Scarves, sweatshirts, T-shirts, all come out to disguise any color from showing. The lights on the stage make it hard to see the audience, and the in-ears dull the sound so much you wouldn’t be able to tell, but there’s still an energy you can feel from the stage, and it’s clear as Carmen performs the stolen song from me, that she can sense something is going on.

I can’t believe after one show, my fans have organized a boycott, standing up for my song—songs now that she’s started into another new one that I work extremely hard to ignore—that was stolen and making sure their objection is known.

It feels like I’m in the middle of a tornado of emotions. I never thought in a million years my fans would be this invested, but it seems it’s being proven to me over and over how much my music means to them.

“Raina,” Darius says in my ear, his voice soft but firm. “This situation is hard on everyone. And it’s more than okay to be scared and confused.” His thumb brushes against my cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear I hadn’t even noticed had fallen.

“But we’ll figure this out together,” he continues. “As a band... as a family.”

His words stir something inside me, an ember of hope amidst all the chaos. We shouldn’t have to deal with stolen songs, fake romances, or scarily obsessive fans choosing teams, but there’s a chance we’ll come out on the other side of things as a tightly knit family.

That’s something I’d be willing to suffer for.