Wicked Harmony

Chapter 29 | Sin

Chapter 29

Sin

G ig day has finally arrived, and Hawk Arena is like an anthill in motion.

Everywhere I look, people are whizzing around with clipboards and headsets or are hefting equipment around to finalize the set up which the team has spent the past couple of days working on. It’s a chaotic mess of noise and movement. People are yelling from one side of the massive stage to the other and I don’t know who’s in charge, but it seems like everyone has a job and they’re getting on with it.

There’s a buzz to the air that’s contagious. Part nerves and part excitement for what’s ahead.

I spot Julia at the side of the stage, dressed all in black. She’s also wearing stilettos, sharp enough to pierce flesh and a hard expression that seems to soften to be slightly less murderous when I head over.

“Two hours to finish setting up and then we break for lunch. This afternoon, we’ll do a full run through without the boys. That work all right for you?”

I nod. I’m better with a deadline than if I have endless time to tweak and tinker with my creations. I’ve worked with the stage managers and the lighting guys enough that every one of my devices is cued up to hit specific beats of the show.

Plus, I’ve got a manual override for them all, in case things overrun or don’t fit to time .

I’ve already been working flat out for the past few hours, but there’s still loads more to do. Taking a deep breath, I head over to unpack my next crate of devices and get them in place, ready for the run through.

Then I jump in with both feet.

Exactly two hours later and I’m a sweaty mess. My hair is sticking to my forehead and I could do with a change of clothes and a shower. Glancing around the room, I see a lot of tired but cheerful faces.

My stomach rumbles and I jump down from my spot in the eaves and head along to the area where they’ve set up the catering for the gig staff. Even that’s a mammoth job. There are so many hungry people to feed and the queue is massive.

I’ve almost reached the back of the queue when Dorian appears in front of me, halting my progress by putting his hands on my hips.

“I’m stealing you for a couple of hours,” he says with a cheeky smirk.

“You’re... what?”

“You’ve never seen much of Hawthorne before, right?”

I nod, eyes drifting to the piles of food behind him. “Right.”

“Well, unless we go right now, you’re never gonna see any of it. Please, Sin, let me take you out.” He shifts his hands until he’s running them up and down the bare skin on my upper arms, leaving goose pimples in their wake.

I have a shit ton of stuff left to do, but something in his expression is making me want to say yes. He looks almost nervous, and Dorian doesn’t seem to get nervous about much at all.

“Is this a date?” I ask.

“Yep. I’m going for a second attempt. I’ll try my best not to give you pneumonia this time.”

I snort. “I don’t think you can blame yourself for the weather, Dorian. ”

“Still.” He links our hands together and tugs me along. “I want to try again. You had a good time last night with Micah and Cal, right? Until things turned weird, at least? And you enjoyed your late night trip to the stadium with Iri?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you competing or something?”

He blows out a breath, cupping the back of his neck. “I don’t want you thinking the only dates I take you on suck.”

I roll my eyes at him. Last night’s date with Cal and Micah wasn’t exactly smooth sailing, either. And after my time with Iri, I spent most of the night feeling physically sick to my stomach with the nerves over seeing the size of this place when it was empty.

“Two hours. Lunch. That big brain of yours needs a break because we both know you're going to work until you drop today.” Then he reveals his trump card, pulling off his shades and revealing those gorgeous eyes that only I get to see. “Please?”

“All right then.”

“Yeah?” He steps back and beams at me and it makes my insides flip over.

He’s annoyingly gorgeous.

And persuasive.

Charming. Surprisingly sweet... yeah, I like him a lot.

“Yep. You win. Come on, you need to feed me before my stomach eats itself.”

He’s still beaming as he leads me out into the sunshine outside. I blink at the brightness, and Dorian doesn’t miss a beat before pulling a spare pair of shades out of his pocket. His own are back in place and he carefully places the second pair on my nose, pushing them up with a satisfied nod. They fit perfectly and see my grin reflected in his matching pair.

He then takes hold of my hand again and we make our way down the busy street, weaving through the crowds of people. Dorian keeps a firm hold on me, his other hand on my hip as he shifts his body so he’s between me and the road. He points out landmarks as we pass, as well as his favorite restaurants. It turns out he’s one of those people who categorizes every place he goes into very specific groups.

“That place does good hangover pancakes.”

“This little bistro place is run by a demon chef. He’s insanely talented. Makes the best food for a Tuesday afternoon when you wish it was Friday already.”

It’s strangely adorable.

We don’t stop at any of the restaurants, though. Instead, we walk for about ten minutes, until we step onto a street by the riverside that’s lined with food trucks, all gleaming in the sunshine.

“What do you fancy?” he asks, gesturing around. “Pick one or as many as you like. We’re going to be eating on the move.”

I eye the trucks and rub my stomach, pausing once my nose fills with the delicious scent of spices.

“Falafels.” My mouth is already watering as I head over to the truck. Within a couple of minutes, we’re both holding a foil-wrapped flatbread with tangy yogurt covering the perfectly crispy balls of deliciousness.

Dorian gets the same and we both stand there, moaning at the taste for a moment before he swallows and adjusts his food in one hand, before putting his free arm around my waist.

“Did you know that Hattie Morgen was from Hawthorne?” he asks.

“The engineer?”

“The Gorgon engineer,” he corrects with a slow grin. “The first after we integrated with humans. My mom had a book on her when I was a kid and she’d read me bits when I was growing up.”

I don’t know a huge amount about how the Gorgons came to be here or how hard it was for them to integrate with the mostly human society. But what I do know came from what I read from Hattie Morgen .

“I’m pretty sure I had that book,” I tell Dorian. “Back when I first realized how much I enjoyed taking things apart and then building them up again. I was ten years old, and I used to borrow it from the library all the time.”

He lets out a little huff of breath. “Thank fuck. I was hoping you’d like this. We can do a landmark tour that’s based around her. It’ll take us all around the city—places she worked and lived or that were influenced by her.”

I’m quietly blown away by how thoughtful this date is. It’s exactly my jam, and Dorian somehow gets that, even though we haven’t known each other that long. I don’t tell him that, because I’m not sure how he’d take it. But I’m fighting the urge to squish his cheeks together and plant a kiss on his perfect, sculpted lips.

“Let’s go.”

We spend the next hour wandering around the city. Dorian shows me the shitty apartment block where Hattie lived for the first twenty years of her life, where an enormous piece of graffiti now adorns the outer wall. It depicts her working at her bench while simultaneously the snakes on her head chew on a bunch of severed dicks.

“That’s, er, striking imagery,” Dorian mutters. “Maybe this tour isn’t as romantic as I thought it was going to be.”

Then he takes me over to the university, where they named the engineering department after her. We continue on to the manufacturing district of the city—where every factory still uses at least one of her machines. Finally, we pause beside a massive metal sculpture of Hattie, which reminds me of Micah’s work, and I turn my body toward Dorian.

He nods toward the sculpture. “She kind of reminds me of you, you know? Not just how your minds work, how you see the parts that make up the whole, but also because she worked damn hard and was smart as hell and— ”

I can’t stop myself from kissing him. Something inside me draws me closer and my inner voice is screaming that if I don’t get the taste of his lips on mine right now, then I’m a fucking idiot.

Our lips make contact gently at first. His breath warms my face, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine. He cups my jaw with his palms and pulls me closer, parting his lips and letting out a guttural groan as I slide my tongue into his mouth and twine it with his. He sucks on my tongue and the movement goes straight to my clit, causing me to squirm. Then, as he cups my ass, I have to fight the urge to writhe all over him.

When we pull back, we’re both slightly breathless, staring glassy-eyed at each other.

That’s the moment I realize we have eyes on us.

Someone’s filming on their phone, or taking an extensive set of pictures from the other side of the street.

“Oh, shit.”

In fact, a bunch of people have their phones out, like we’re some kind of spectacle on display. Fucking dickheads without boundaries. Who takes pictures of people in a private moment like that?

“Fuck this.” Dorian grabs my hand. “Shall we try to lose them?”

I nod mindlessly. Seems like my brain’s not quite recovered from the kiss yet, but right now I’d go anywhere with him.

“Come on.”

He tugs on my arm and we set off at a run, heading down one side alley and then another. In the back of my head, I hope we’re heading in the right direction for the stadium, but I trust Dorian will get us there.

“Is it always like this?” I ask when we come to a stop, panting for breath. After last night’s date with Micah and Cal, and now this, it’s frustrating as hell .

Dorian grunts. “Can be. People go a little crazy, especially when we’re on tour. I guess they’re going extra nuts because we’re not here for long.”

“At least it wasn’t a rainstorm this time.”

He wraps his arms around me tight, despite us both being sweaty messes. “This was supposed to be cute and romantic. To make up for everything that’s come before today.”

“Dorian—”

I don’t get to finish the sentence because there’s someone else at the end of the alley. Watching us. Taking photos with their phone out.

It’s a young girl who calls out, “Hey, it’s Dorian! Can I have your autograph?”

“No you fucking cannot,” Dorian mumbles, shifting our bodies so he’s shielding me from view. “How the hell are they finding us wherever we go?”

I let out a sigh. “We should get back to the arena, anyway,” I say. Then, going up on my tiptoes, I grab his face so I can pull him down into another kiss.

“This was a perfect date. Before the fans descended, anyway.” I pepper kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. “And I had an amazing time with you.”

He frowns down at me. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Definitely not. This was fun. Informative. Interesting. And I got to spend time with you.”

His beam hits me in the gut and makes it hard to breathe, especially when he pulls off his shades and stares down at me with something like wonder in his expression.

“Fuck, you’re sweet.” He presses his lips to mine. “And I’m lucky as hell.”

“Don’t you forget it, sugarplum. Now, we should get back. We’ve got a gig to prepare for.”