Nights Embrace: Chapter 1

Nights Embrace

Copyright 2014 Brandy L Rivers


Chapter 1 Preview

Late to another gig, Roxy climbed out of her brother’s ancient blue van and slammed the door. The current band’s song swept over her, pulling Roxy under the singer’s spell. She found herself moving toward the entrance, ignoring Jordan’s incessant call of her name.

The rich accented baritone spoke to her soul, enthralling her instantly. Then he started to climb the notes and she nearly melted into a puddle of goo.

Vinnie shook his head, one dark brow arching as his eyes swept over her. “Hey, Roxy. Thought you said something about getting here early tonight?”

A sneer twisted her lips as she cast a sharp glare back at the van. “Yeah, so did I. A certain asshole thought it would be better to stop for a few drinks before leaving.” She was getting really tired of Jordan always insisting on drowning himself in vodka to loosen up for his gig.

“Maybe next time you’ll come on your own?”

She lifted a single shoulder in a shrug and looked toward the door. Curiosity was a bane, but she was intrigued and needed to see the face that went with the gorgeous voice.

Trying to let go of her irritation, Roxy smiled sweetly. “Who are they?”

“Lunar Storm.” He opened the door with a grin. “I’ll stall Jordan for as long as I can.”

“Aww, thank you, Vin.”

She slipped past him, and onto the wings of the stage. Her gaze fell on Mr. Voice who was tall, dark and smokin’ hot.

Holy shit, I want to lick him.

Scuffed combat boots were laced up over black leather pants which clung to muscular thighs, and his black shirt molded to the most impressive set of abs she had ever seen. Roxy wanted to trace the ridges with her fingertips.

He turned, his voice dropping low as his eyes locked on hers. His words enveloped her. “… you’re the only one.”

Her heart paused a beat, before slamming into her chest at a rapid pace. His full mouth lifted into a grin that spoke of confidence as he held her complete attention. Entranced, she fell deep into his eyes and the world stopped.

Until a drumstick hit him in the head. He looked over his shoulder and shrugged sheepishly at his band mate before turning back to launch into the next verse.

Mikey gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, Rox, come on. We have to warm up.”

Her head bobbed in a nod at her brother, but she didn’t move. “Yeah, give me a minute,” or longer.

As if he heard, Mr. Voice glanced over and winked at her before the next song started. “Blinded by beauty, falling at first sight, head over heels…” There was raw passion in his voice, and she couldn’t help wishing he was singing about her.

Someone wrapped their arm around her waist and her head whipped to the side. “What the fuck?” Roxy spat at Jordan.

Jealousy burned in his cold blue eyes. “Come on, space-case, time to warm up. Stare at pretty boy on your own time. He sucks anyway.”

“Fuck you,” Roxy whispered harshly, pulling out of his arms. Her eyes narrowed at Jordan before she brushed past him and climbed the stairs.

Mikey squeezed her hand.

She looked over at her brother, one corner of her mouth lifting. “Did you guys hear them? They’re killer.”

Doug laughed. “I was beginning to think you’d sworn off men.”

“Whatever. The band was primal, and gripping. I want to hear more,” Roxy insisted.

Mikey nudged her shoulder, and gave her an affectionate smile. “They’re pretty good.”

“They are,” Doug admitted. “You’re still drooling over their singer though.”

“Did you lose your taste in music?” Jordan snapped. “They were terrible.”


* * * *


Sneaking a glance, Trevor watched as a man wrapped his arm around the sexy brunette. His need for her was so damned intense he nearly stalked over to stake a claim on the woman who had captivated him. He held his breath a second, but her eyes sparked as she turned to glare at the man behind her.

He could hear the heat in every word. Sounded to Trevor like maybe once the two had been together but she’d washed her hands of him, and now he was trying to get her back. Relief settled in and he threw himself into the music.

Before long he heard someone running down the stairs and then onto the wings of the stage. No one in the building, save the band, would have heard her over the thumping music. He glanced over and nearly lost himself in her unusual eyes. Even with his heightened senses, he couldn’t quite tell their color in the dark.

Her long shapely legs seemed to go on forever, up to a little leather skirt that accentuated her curves. A corset completed the package, pushing her ample bosom up and out. One dark brow cocked as her lips tilted in a smirk. She knew he liked what he saw.

Another thunk of a drumstick hitting him in the head reminded him to sing. Fucker’s gonna die for that shit.

He glared back at Joey, who flipped him the bird with a jovial grin. Trevor motioned for the song “Fated Love.” One of his oldest friends, and the band’s guitar player, had written it when he found his mate. If Trevor had his way, it was the perfect song for the temptress in the wings.

Trevor gave her a smile as he launched into the song. He was willing to bet he was looking at Roxana Nights, whom the staff raved about.

Then again, if it was her, he had his work cut out for him. Rumor, according to the doorman and bartender, was that she didn’t do musicians of any type after leaving her cheating ex, who happened to be her drummer.


* * * *


For the first time in years, Roxy was wet and ached in a way that had trouble written all over it. The singer was like a drug she craved—he was the fix she needed. She shouldn’t indulge, but she didn’t believe she possessed the strength of will to resist after one long-ass dry spell.

Then he started to sing about the first time making love to his woman. That full baritone caressed over her, painting such vivid pictures she could almost feel his hands on her body, his mouth on hers.

Doug chuckled. “You’re going to piss Jordan off with this infatuation. Oh, who am I kidding? You already have.”

Roxy shrugged. “You hear him, right? God, his voice is equivalent to hours of audio foreplay.” She looked away, her cheeks flaming.

She caught the wicked grin the singer shot her way… like he heard. Yeah, and I’m losing my freaking mind. No one could hear anything over the band and his divine voice.

Unfortunately, the song ended, and the singer started saying his thank-yous. Oh lordy, he had an Irish accent, her absolute favorite. Now she craved a long conversation with him. She could listen to him speak for an entire day and maybe the night. Hell, for the whole year.

Mr. Voice ignored the drummer who called out, “Trevor, yo dumbshit, you gonna help?”

She even liked his name.

With his sights set on her, he made his way over.

“They warned me Roxana Nights was enchanting.” His eyes traveled down her body and back up so damn slowly she had to wonder what he was thinking. “I never imagined they were underestimating your beauty.”

Flattery didn’t normally work, but his jade green eyes seared into her, burning the truth of his words on her soul. She couldn’t help but fall under his spell.

“Oh, but you are incredible,” Roxy gushed. “I’ve never heard anyone quite like you. Your range is amazing.” His growls were raw and powerful, his lows resonated, his highs took her soaring. He could even go soft and gentle.

Trevor opened his mouth to reply, but Jordan grabbed her arm and pulled her past him, onto the stage.

Her gaze cut up to Jordan, who had no right to touch her and had, for the second time that night. “Let me the fuck go!”

His eyes rounded as he jerked his hand back with a pained yelp. His face darkened with a sneer. “We’re on. Stop wasting our time.”

She whispered harshly, “Oh, you don’t get to bitch about wasting time after making us late, again. Next time, if there’s one, I’ll be driving myself.”

Trembling from a mix of lust for Trevor and anger at Jordan, she grabbed her mic, and turned back. Trevor was gone.

“Remember,” Jordan whispered in her ear, “you swore off musicians.”

“He’s the singer,” she countered, wishing it actually made a damned bit of difference. Jordan was right. He was the very reason she had sworn off all musicians. Unless he was completely blind, Trevor had to know he was gorgeous. Chances were he was the worst kind of asshole, and it was best to remember that.


* * * *


“Come on, Trev, we’ve got to go.” Joey nodded at the fiery redhead who sat at the bar downing a shot of Jameson. “Sorcha needs me,” he waggled his brows as he looked toward his mate.

While the big lug was distracted, Trevor slipped into the crowd and made his way to the front. A few people tried to engage him, but he was focused on the siren who had taken the stage and instantly captivated the crowd. He was tempted to throttle the prick who’d dragged her around, but the woman had fire. With one cutting glare, the arsehole had backed off.

Still, Trevor barely managed to stop himself from teaching the bastard a lesson on how to treat a lady. Probably a good thing. He had a feeling beating that lustful gaze off her drummer’s face was a good way to land himself on her shit list. That was the last thing he wanted.

Roxana faced the audience and asked, “After that killer performance by Lunar Storm, are you guys sure you want to hear us?”

The crowd erupted with a, “Hell, yeah!”

Her eyes flicked to Trevor and stayed as a grin spread on her face. “First, give it to the guys of Lunar Storm. They put on an amazing show.”

Trevor heard her drummer’s snarl before he started a hard beat.

Her eyes blazed as she shot a glance back at the tatted blond. He returned her dark look and she flipped him off. Roxy turned back and launched into her song about love gone wrong. On the cutting lyrics, her gaze sliced to the drummer before swinging back out to engage the audience. More often than not, her eyes locked on Trevor.

Each song told more of her story, and he suspected a lot of it was based on her and the drummer’s broken relationship. If so, how could any man be such a fool? She had trusted him, and he burned her time and time again.

The more he listened, the more he wanted to carry her away so he could banish her ex and all of his wrongs from her memory. Something about her called to him, branding him. He needed more of her.

For an hour, he was swept up into her life, her words, her very essence, and he wanted to lose himself in her world.

Nights Embrace’s set ended. The lights went off as the curtain came down, but Trevor stood frozen, waiting for her to make an appearance. It was only a matter of time.

“Hey, asswipe,” Joey growled. “Time to go. You’ll see her around.”

“I need to talk to her,” Trevor insisted.

“You’ve eye-fucked her enough for one night. Let the girl go for now, and find her tomorrow. Seattle is not so big you won’t run into her again.”

Joey was right. Her scent of cherry blossoms in the rain was permanently embedded into his memory. Still, he didn’t want to leave. “I could walk back.”

“Are you going to make her yours tonight?” Joey taunted.

Trevor paused, reality kicking in. What if she didn’t want his life? What then?

“Don’t worry, Trev.” Sorcha grinned as she stepped up beside them. She swept her bright red hair behind her ear. “She’s half in love with you already. I saw the way she watched you. What woman wouldn’t be?”

He snorted. He wasn’t interested in most women. “She knows nothing of us. Roxana may not want what we are. She may not handle it half as well as you did.”

More doubt crept in as he followed his clan out the door. He climbed into the back of Joey’s battered red Jeep. Staring blindly out the window, he spent the trip obsessing over Roxana’s iridescent, pale blue eyes, longing to hear her enchanting voice.


* * * *


Roxy tossed her cables into Mike’s van, slammed the banged up back door shut, and booked it back to the stage. She peeked around the black velvet curtain, but she didn’t see him. Her heart fell, and she stepped onto the stage to take a better look at the thinning crowd.

Damn. He’s gone.

She let out a heavy breath and dragged her feet on her way back to the guys.

Mikey met her halfway. “You really thinking about taking a chance on Lunar Storm’s singer?” Caution was written all over his expression.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s not there.”

Mikey shook his head. “Look, I saw his drummer trying to get him out of the club before we went on. He snuck away just to watch you. They probably dragged him out the second we finished.”

“Like I said, doesn’t matter,” Roxy muttered and stepped around Mikey.

“Hey, Sis. He is into you. Just be careful.”

She looked away. “He’s not here. So drop it. I’m not going to go looking for him.”

“Maybe you should,” he answered simply.

Her gaze snapped to his and there was accusation in her tone. “And maybe you should grow a set and tell Isadora what you really want.”

He growled back, “We were never together. We fuck, we dance, but we don’t work well enough for her to love me. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know the guy, so drop it.”

Mikey threw his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’m just trying to help.”

Roxy’s eyes narrowed to slits as her hands landed on her hips. “Yeah, well I’m an adult in case you haven’t noticed, and I do all right on my own.” She stormed out of the club.

There was no avoiding the trip home, and she felt like a fool. She climbed into the back of the van and threw herself into a seat.

If they weren’t down on the waterfront, with fifteen blocks of steep hill to climb in five inch heels, she would walk her ass home to avoid dealing with Jordan and his bullshit.

He was already wasted, and she had made no attempt to hide her obvious attraction to a singer of all things. It was inevitable, Jordan was going to slide into major ass mode.

Doug climbed in beside her. “Don’t be so hard on your brother. He worries about you. And for once, he was trying to encourage you to go for what you want.”

She dropped her head back. “Shit, can we drop the singer? I just want to get home and sleep.”

Mikey climbed into the driver’s seat and gave her a sympathetic look. Jordan took shotgun and turned in his seat to look at her. “You’re coming over, right?”

“No. I’m done. I’m going home,” she answered coldly.

“You never come over anymore,” he complained, and she caught the hint of sadness in his voice. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t keep him from being an asshole. She had recently grown immune to Jordan’s whining, begging and the insults that were sure to follow when she didn’t give in.

“I have no reason to, Jordan.” She turned to stare out the window, and all she could see were Trevor’s jade eyes. Why wasn’t he there when she went back? Did I completely misread him?

The ride to Doug and Jordan’s took a few short minutes. She managed to ignore everyone.

Mikey pulled up, and she saw the three skanky girls sitting on the steps outside Jordan and Doug’s old brick building.

Definitely time to bail. Waiting for Mikey to unload their stuff would mean listening to Jordan begging her to stick around while girls blatantly came on to him.

Her patience had already run out. Roxy quickly hopped from the van, and started for home.

She wasn’t fast enough. Jordan was in her face, his hands wrapping around her waist, too tight. “Come on, Rox, stay the night. There’s plenty of me to go around.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Go play with your trash, but don’t expect me to join in.”

“I’ll send them home, and you can pretend I’m your singer,” he whispered harshly.

Her hair stood on end when she slapped him hard enough to whip his head to the side. She could have sworn she saw a flash of spark a millisecond before her hand made contact.

Jordan stumbled away, pressing his hand to his face as she turned, hurrying home, and away from the shit.

A slam echoed, and Doug sounded pissed. “Let her go, dumbfuck. Whatever you said was the wrong damned thing.”

Roxy didn’t bother to look back, but she corrected Doug with, “Everything he says is the wrong thing.” She quickened her pace.

Mikey caught up. “Please, Sis, give me a minute to unload their shit. I’ll leave it on the sidewalk, then drive you home?”

“I need to walk. Go ahead and stay. Have fun. I need to be alone.”

Mike stopped and she kept going. “Be careful, Rox. You’re still my baby sister.”

Tears threatened to spill, but she reined them in. “Night, Mikey.”

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