Wicked Harmony

Chapter 33 | Sin

Chapter 33

Sin

A s soon as we’re onboard the private jet, Jules takes my phone off me and refuses to give it back.

“Hey.” I swipe at her, trying to get it off her.

“What? Do you have a ton of messages to respond to or something?” She shoots me a flat look, like she already knows the answer.

Besides Elara and her daily updates on her ever-increasing brood of dogs, everyone I would even consider messaging is right here with me.

“I just like having it on me,” I mutter.

We both know it’s a lie. My fingers are itching to scroll through more of the comments, to see what people who don’t know me are saying.

It’s the worst kind of curiosity. One that I know would eat me from the inside if I let it. And I have enough of the Herald’s vitriol and bullshit stuck in my head already. So I guess it’s a good thing I can’t spend the next few hours doomscrolling through the dozens of articles already published that have my picture plastered all over them.

Every time I think about my face being out there, my stomach cramps and my hands start to shake. The press might not have connected my name with my picture yet—at the minute I’m only the faceless woman plastered all over all four band members—but it’s only a matter of time until they discover my identity .

Whether they uncover my past at the same time is a whole other issue.

There’s also the minor issue of this whole thing being proof of life. If the Herald sees the pictures, he’ll know that not only have rumors of my death been exaggerated, but also exactly where to find me.

That man has the power to fuck up my reputation, and my future all in one fell swoop.

You’re mine, darling Saint. You should remember that. I’ll always be here, watching over you. Ensuring you don’t step away from The Path.

Heading for a couch at the far corner of the plane, I sit with my legs tucked up as I try to work through the unease and anxiety that’s formed a knot in my gut since I saw those pictures.

Thankfully, no one pushes me to talk to them. And after about an hour of fretting by myself, Dorian plops himself beside me with Micah’s cuff on his wrist. He grasps my hand in his and we sit together quietly.

I appreciate the space and silent support more than he can possibly know. Right now, I need to work through all the messy thoughts going through my head.

It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into by getting involved with the guys.

Kind of, anyway.

I guess at some point I stopped thinking about who they are to other people. How big a deal they are.

I guess this is my first taste of the less shiny side of fame.

I’ve already experienced the fancy hotel rooms, the private jets, the staff on call at all hours. Now, I’m getting the full experience. People talking about us like they know us, invading our privacy, wanting a piece of the guys and not caring how they get it .

I stroke my finger along Dorian’s callused palm and I feel him gently squeezing me back, shooting me a lazy smile. Snuggling down in my seat, I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

The flight is long. Over eight hours. And while I kill the first half alternating between brooding and snoozing, eventually my bladder drags me away and I have to disentangle my fingers from Dorian’s. He’s fallen asleep, his head resting on the back of the chair, and I take a second to gaze at him softly, no doubt with a sappy expression on my face.

I didn’t miss how he saved us all last night. It was clear how uncomfortable he was with his powers, and yet he used them without hesitation to protect us all.

My skin crawls at the memory of all of those people clawing at us like mindless zombies.

Things could have gotten pretty nasty if he hadn’t been there.

I catch Micah’s eye as I head to the back of the plane. He glances over at Dorian and then shoots me a smile and a wink that flips my stomach over.

While I’m in the bathroom, I decide that Dorian really should have his own version of Micah’s cuff, just in case they both need comforting at the same time. I head back to my seat, ready to get to work but I’m distracted by the hissed argument going on at the other side of the cabin. It looks like Iri and Jules are having a furious argument at a level barely above a whisper.

I pad over to them and they abruptly cut off as they spot me, causing a lick of unease to travel up my spine. Jules’s fists are clenched and blanched white, and Iri is looking at her with his dark eyes narrowed, like he’s two seconds away from chucking her out the window.

“What’s going on?” I slip into the nearest seat and tuck my legs under me, eyeing them both warily. Whatever they’re arguing about, I’d put money on it having something to do with last night or the articles from today.

“Nothing you need to be concerned over,” Jules replies airily. “Just your man here being a stubborn fuck.”

“Not a man,” Iri mutters, although he doesn’t correct her about being mine, which makes my stomach clench, but not in a bad way.

“We’re hiring twice as much security for our next show and I’m going to fire anyone who doesn’t wear their pins,” Iri tells me. “Do you think you can make enough before the next gig?”

I nod. “Sure. It’s like a thirty-second job now that I know what I’m doing.”

“Good. Great.” Jules lets out a deep sigh. “Now, I’m going to get some sleep while I can. When we land, girl, we’re going sightseeing. No males allowed.”

“Uh, okay. Sure.”

She gets to her feet and saunters off to the other end of the plane, leaving just me and Iri. He looks frustrated and kind of like he’s unraveling. His t-shirt has a tear in it and his arms are still pretty scratched up after last night. I’m not sure he’s changed, or showered, since then.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He lets out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck and focusing those intense eyes on mine. “I’m... struggling with how far things got out of hand last night. I don’t like not being in control.”

Those words in his gravelly voice hit me differently than he might expect, and I clench my thighs together. Shit. I wonder how accurate my filthy dreams are when they come to him. He’s always slightly to the side, puppeteering my body and telling the other guys exactly how to position me to drive me wild.

It’s hot as hell .

I can feel my cheeks heating as I shift in my seat again. Iri quirks an eyebrow as I try desperately to tamp down the feelings he can no doubt feel rolling off me.

I’ve always had a high sex drive, that’s for sure. One that I spent a long time hating and fighting against.

But this is ridiculous. It’s been less than six hours since I last got railed six ways to Sunday and yet I’m getting wet all over again.

His eyes scan over me with barely banked heat.

And then he puts a dampener on my lusty feelings.

“If you feel uncomfortable continuing with the tour, let me know. We’ll ensure that you can move on and live a quiet life somewhere no one will find you.”

I suck in a breath as a stone drops in my gut. Clenching my hands together under the table, I push through a wave of uncertainty, straight into unfiltered irritation.

“Because that worked so well last time,” I snap. “Is that what you want? My influence went a bit far last night, so you’re done with me? I mean, it’s a bit late to send me home since we’re already in the air.”

His eyes bore into mine and I feel like I’m being flayed alive. Iri’s intense at the best of times, and right now it feels like he’s using his gaze to see right into my soul.

Too bad I don’t speak the language of his eyeballs.

“You wouldn’t need to leave the tour, unless that’s what you want, Sin. You’d still be paid in full if you elected to leave early. I just want you to know you have options.” He sighs heavily. “I should have anticipated how things might go. I should have hired more people. Better people.”

“And I should have predicted that the last dose of elation might drive some people over the edge into mania, but I didn’t. We’re adapting, Iri. No one got hurt.”

I can see he’s trying to carry everything on his shoulders, the same way he seems to carry everything else .

“I’ll spend the next couple of days tweaking things so we can run through things again before the next gig,” I tell him firmly. “But I’m not done here unless you are.”

There’s a double meaning to my words, and he seems to get that, if the way he reaches out to squeeze my forearm is anything to go by.

That little connection sends a spark of electricity through me, and I suck in another sharp breath.

“I just... I’m second guessing things, and it’s not a sensation I’m used to. I’m wondering if this was all a selfish move, and I forced you into joining us. What if it’s not the best thing for either the fans or for you?”

He looks so damn lost and raw right now. It’s the most honest conversation we’ve had. Iri’s usually so slick and controlled, with no hint of vulnerability. But weirdly enough, I quite like seeing that he has weakness and wobbles, just like everyone else.

“It’s not selfish. You’re not selfish,” I tell him. “Now, tell me one small thing and a big one,” I say, sitting back. “And they have to be about you, not anyone else.”

He smiles and my breath catches in my chest. Genuine smiles from Iri are few and far between. Usually I’m treated to a smirk or a lip twitch, but this feels more genuine.

“I’ll go first,” I tell him. “I think Elara was my first ever female friend even though I’ve only seen her in person twice and we mostly communicate by one-sided GIFs that I ignore. Aaand, I can’t stand most people’s toes.”

Iri lets out a chuckle before letting out a raspy hum. “I may have spent the past few weeks trying to catfish Cedar Orlog so I can work out his location and pass it along to one of my mother’s contacts in a demon-led gang he owes money to. And I spend most mornings jealous of those muffins you like to eat. You moan every time you take the first bite, and it always leaves me rock hard.”

I blink, shifting in my seat again .

I’m suddenly hot. My cheeks flame at the sheer raw intensity in his tone, especially when he licks his lips and my eyes follow the movement greedily.

... and then the first part of his confession barges its way to the front of my consciousness.

“You’ve done what?”

He grunts and rubs the back of his neck again. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything. It won’t make any sense to you.”

“Iri, just tell me.”

“I want you to be safe, Sin,” he rasps. “I want you to feel safe, too. Not always looking over your shoulder or waiting for the other shoe to drop. I realize that now those photos are out there. We might have fucked things up for you, but I’m going to fix it. If I have to crash every online media outlet’s website, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Right. Okay.” My mind is reeling with all of this new information.

Iri... he cares. A lot.

I knew he cared about the band. He works harder than anyone and I’m fairly certain his motivations are focused more on the others’ happiness than his own.

But this sounds a lot like he’s drawn me into the fold as well, even though it hasn’t been a full two months since we’ve known each other.

“You fit with us. You made everything better almost immediately without even realizing it, Sin.” He spreads his arms out, like he’s laying himself bare for me. “We needed you. None of us knew we had a hole that needed plugging, but we were sinking anyway.”

I snort. “I’m the plug?”

“You’re the whole damn life raft,” he replies earnestly. “You’re a tropical island when we’ve been stuck at sea for a decade. A respite and a future.” He shakes his head, not aware he’s absolutely steamrollering me with his words .

My heart is pounding in my ears and I clutch my fingers together under the table.

“But,” he says softly. “I’m not so sure that me barging into your life has been a good thing for you.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “You know, I decided as soon as we left Willow Ridge, I was going to stop hiding. Quit burying my head in the sand and acting like I couldn’t do anything about the shit going on around me. Even if I hadn’t escaped with you, I wouldn’t still be at Grizz’s and I sure as hell wouldn’t still be in Willow Ridge.”

“Media vultures or overzealous fans wouldn’t be tearing you apart, either,” he growls.

“True.”

He flinches and I reach over to squeeze his forearm, feeling another spark go through my fingertips at the contact.

“But I’m happy to be here. You need to quit worrying about things you can’t change. I know you have this whole Band Daddy thing going on, but we’re all fine. Quit worrying, it’s annoying.”

His eyes flick to my lips as his own part, and I watch as his tongue darts out to wet them. “Band Daddy, huh?”

“Yep. Now, tell me more about how you’ve been catfishing Cedar Orlog and how your mother knows a gang...”