Dana picked up a classy red designer bag off the floor and climbed over Kite’s long legs that were stretched out and perched on the coffee table. “Good thing I brought clothes for you.”
Shit. And double shit. If they were anything like Dana was wearing now, short black skirt and skin-tight red V-neck that had slits under both arms and a thin strap for sleeves over her shoulders.
“Don’t un-nun her too much. She gets . . . cold,” Crisis blurted out.
I ignored him, but Dana didn’t. “Oh, she won’t be cold when the guys see her and can’t keep their hands of her.”
“Ice hates hands on her,” Crisis called after us.
I walked upstairs and heard a smack come from the living room. I was uncertain if it was Crisis smacking Kite or the other way around.
Dana dumped her bag on my bed then faced me, her eyes wide, mouth gaping. “That’s Crisis. Crisis from Tear Asunder. I swear I peed a little when he answered the door. And then. . . . Holy crap, Kite . . . that tatted-up pierced pack of muscles is a God. I didn’t know which one to drool over first.” She stomped her foot and crossed her arms. “How could you keep this from me? A month I’ve known you and not once did you mention you lived with Tear Asunder.” Her brows lowered over her dark walnut eyes. “Wait a sec . . . why do you live with the band? And they live on a horse farm? That is so . . . well, weird. I expected some mansion downtown or a penthouse at a hotel with raving parties. What’s the deal?”
I shrugged. “I don’t want who my brother is to be all over school and—”
Dana screamed. “Oh. My. God. Who is your brother? Kite? There is no way Crisis is. That guy was looking you up and down like he wanted to tear off your clothes.”
“He looks at all girls like that.” And according to the internet, he did a hell of a lot more than tear off their clothes.
Dana snorted. “No. I’ve seen enough of him on social media to know his looks. Yeah, he flirts and plays them up, but the way he looked at you, even dressed like that, it was different.”
Crisis had never hidden from me that he was a man-whore who didn’t keep it in his pants. And why should he? But, I hadn’t seen any of that. At least not on this tour. Any pictures I’d seen with him and chicks were older.
Dana unzipped her bag and threw articles of clothing on the bed. “So, is it Kite? He’s kind of mysterious and quiet. I could see him as your brother. Anytime he’s quoted, it’s composed and polite. He reminds me of a hot businessman without the suit. I’m betting he’d look hot as hell in a suit and knows how to make a girl—”
“Dana. Stop.” I walked to the bed and shifted through the clothes, or rather the small scraps of material. There wasn’t a chance I was going out wearing any of this. I was showing as little skin as possible. “Ream’s my twin brother.”
Dana dropped the black silk item she’d been holding up to her chest like a top, although to me it looked like panties. “Holy crap. Ream’s your twin?”
I nodded. It was kind of weird him being famous and having a girl freak out over him. The last time we’d been together, we were huddled in an old lady’s shed, starving, dirty and probably smelling like garbage. We ate enough of it that it must have leaked from our pores.
“He is smokin’ hot. Oh, my God, and Sculpt . . . Jesus, that guy is intense and gorgeous.”
“And taken.” Logan made it clear that Emily was his fiancée one night on stage. Supposedly, it had been all over social media within minutes, although he’d proposed to her privately in bed. I knew about it because Kat told me one of those times when I sat outside on the porch and she came and joined me to talk. I listened. “And my brother is too.” From what I’d seen so far of Ream with Kat, he was over-protective and possessive. I had a good feeling he was that way because of what had happened to me. Ream always felt responsible and I knew he carried guilt for not seeing what was happening with Gerard.
But he was finally happy and that was the best gift I could ever receive.
And Gerard . . . I hated him. I wanted to kill him again and again for what he did. For the loss of more than myself. Of a part of me I’d never get back. I wish I’d been able to reach the gun before Ream smashed the statue down on his head. It should’ve been me who killed him, but I’d been pathetic back then.
“Are you okay? You’re shak—”
A hand came down on my shoulder and the violence inside me erupted as I swung around and knocked Dana back with both my hands to her chest. She stumbled backwards, the bed stopping her momentum as she crashed into it.
“Haven?”
But her voice had become another’s, one I hated . . . Alexa. One who locked me up in a cage in the dark when Olaf wasn’t around. Unable to stand, sitting cramped in a metal cage that was at the end of her bed. I was her pet to let out when she felt like it. Of course, I was always released when Olaf was home. He was tolerant of Alexa’s abuse of me because she ‘looked after’ him, but there were limits. I was the one who made them money.
“What’s wrong?”
It was Alexa’s voice again, weeding her way back into me. I knew she was dead, but I couldn’t stop the feeling as if she was holding me down.
Alexa was leaning over me, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she yelled at the doctor . . . oh, God, the doctor. He was here.
I shook my head, trying to clear the vision. Desperate to bury it again, but it was like a movie on fast forward, playing a jittery black and white scene.