COMPLETED: a Devoured novella
It’s official—I’m completely obsessed with listening to Lucas Wolfe perform. There’s something about watching him on stage, electricity that crackles through the sea of gyrating bodies and hits me full force. Flames curl through my stomach as I watch him lean away from the mic, signaling the end of Your Toxic Sequel’s encore. Applause and screams thunder around me. I hear everything from women simply calling the band’s names—Lucas’ name—to flat out declarations of love. The corners of my mouth tug into a smirk.
You’re all mine, Wolfe, I think a little too smugly as he offers the sold-out crowd a cocky, teasing grin. It’s the same sexy expression he gives to his fans every night at the close of the show, and I start to stand from my spot between Lucas’ sister, Kylie, and my friend, Tori. Getting through the crowd is a real bitch, so I’m anxious to get backstage immediately.
“I don’t do a lot of acoustic shit,” Lucas’ deep voice says, freezing me where I stand. Whipping my head back toward the stage, I lift a confused brow, watching him take a guitar from a stagehand that brings it across the stage. A moment later, a second crewmember comes out with a tall wooden stool. Lucas bows his head to both men in gratitude, his shaggy dark hair falling over his bronze face for a moment.
What the hell is going on? When I verbalize this, glancing over at Kylie, she lifts her bare, tattooed shoulders.
“Acoustic shit,” she answers with a little smile. Twisting her head to the side so that her hair skims the blackbirds peppering her pale skin, she drums her fingertips on her rounded stomach. “Your guess is as good as mine, babe.”
I narrow my eyes at her brother, who responds by winking a hazel eye. “And I sure as fuck don’t usually do covers,” he drawls into the microphone. “But this is the last stop on a tour that seems like it’s gone on for months.”
That’s because this tour truly has dragged on for months. It was supposed to wrap a few months ago, but Lucas’ ex-wife’s death put a halt on that. Like always, thinking about Samantha Wolfe—the tortured woman who’d been married to my love, the woman who had harassed us both until we were close to breaking—causes my throat to constrict. It was all over now, but I hated the way it ended.
I shove thoughts of Sam out of my mind and hug my arms tightly around myself. Tilting my chin, I focus on what Lucas is currently saying to his fans as he slides effortlessly onto the stool and stretches his long legs out in front of him.
“—Spend my life with her. I want to start and end every tour looking at her face. And I want everyone here tonight to know that. She’s it for me, always has been. It just took me awhile to get through all the bullshit and figure that out.”
Even if I wanted to look away from him, hearing him say those words aloud took away my ability to see anything but him. He’s talking about me. He’s sitting on that stage, his hazel eyes reaching out through thousands of people to connect with mine, and he’s telling his band’s fans about me.
I fall in love all over again.
I suck in a deep breath of air. When I release it, I register that beside me, Kylie is chuckling quietly. She moves as close to me as possible, her breath tickling my ear. “Twenty bucks he’s going to ask you to marry him.”
“Shh,” I hear myself hiss, and this time, her laughter is slightly louder.
“Just wait and see.”
Sitting on the edge of my seat, I listen to Lucas’ version of Tonic’s “If You Could Only See.” I’m a mess as I reflect on everything that’s happened between us this last year. Though we’d initially met nearly three years ago, it wasn’t until he reentered my life in February that I found myself tumbling hard for him, that I found that my attraction to Lucas Wolfe was more than just lust. And it wasn’t until a few months back—after I’d reluctantly turned down Lucas’ marriage proposal—that I allowed myself to picture a future between us that wasn’t built on lies.
But everything is different now.
If he asks me again, I’m ready.
If he asks me again, there’s nothing standing in our way.
As if on cue, he sweeps his gaze over me, the look of blatant adoration giving my heart a rough tug. God, I love that man. “I’m going to be a dick and put you on the spot, Sienna. Marry me.”
The request—if it can even be called that—is so like Lucas.
On one side of me, I hear Kylie’s slow, approving clap and on the other side, Tori is grasping my leg like she’s the one who was just proposed to. I’m bobbing my head up and down before I’m able to move my lips into a firm “yes.”
And sitting there, with Your Toxic Sequel’s fans cheering and applauding, I realize that I’ve just agreed to become Mrs. Wolfe to the world.
Chapter One coming Saturday night