wondering if I’d heard him correctly.
“You ever sang into a mic?” he asked, his eyes flashing with challenge.
“Lots.” I straightened my shoulders.
“In front of an audience?” He gestured while continuing to hold me. “One this size?”
“No.” I gulped a nervous swallow.
“Thought not. You’re trembling, babe.”
I was, but not because of the audience.
“It’s as easy as breathing.” War dipped his chin, shining strands of his dark and light caramel-brown hair sticking to the darker stubble on his jaw as he stared down at me. “If in front is where you’re supposed to be.”
“Have you?” My pulse racing, I licked my dry lips, and his gaze dipped to them. They tingled from his regard, making my stomach flip. “Sang in front of this many people, I mean.”
My thoughts were like sand in a desert. Too many and too fast to contain inside the dust storm I suddenly found myself in with him.
“Talent shows. After-school functions. A couple of frat parties. I have experience.” War’s gaze lifted. His eyes weren’t merely brown like strongly brewed tea. They were pixilated with copper, swirling as if stirred by a metal spoon.
“You have a lot of experience,” I said softly. Like with Bryan, we’d segued into another topic, and my heart sputtered at the memory of War in the bathroom with those two girls.
“Not ever with someone like you.”
Stunned speechless, I blinked at him, telling myself I must have misheard or misinterpreted his meaning.
“Diz!” War barked his name so suddenly, I startled. “Let’s play some fucking music.”
“’Bout time.” My brother strummed the opening chords.
Jaws in the crowd dropped. Eyes widened. My brother played from his soul. The music he coaxed from his instrument was as beautiful as he was.
Accustomed to hearing him play, I smiled. The people in front of us, not so much.
I drew in a breath, hoping to regain my equilibrium before it was time for me to sing. But the air was heavy with War’s cologne. I’d gotten only a tantalizing whiff of it earlier. I imagined it came in a dark green bottle shaped like a bomb. It certainly detonated my senses, reminding me of damp earth and thick foliage. A jungle, a canopy overhead, the broad leaves blocking all but the tiniest sliver of moonlight. And a predator, War, on an earthy floor . . . stalking me.
Suddenly, a countermelody split the darkness, the chords blazing, parting the canopy so I could see the night sky and a brilliant shooting star. My eyes rounding, I shifted to look at Bryan, but he didn’t notice me. His eyes were closed, his brow earnestly creased as he made love to his instrument.
My lips parted and my breath grew short. I felt it between my legs, each deep chord as if he were focusing that intensity on me.
“It’s been seven hours . . .”
As War sang the first words, I shifted yet again. The ground beneath me seemed to slant me in his direction. Ditto for everyone in the crowd. They leaned forward too. His singing voice was sexy and seductive, like Chris Cornell’s baritone crossed with the throaty growl of Eddie Vedder.
War placed his hands on my shoulders, gently turning me to face him. A beat passed as he gazed at me expectantly. One of his dark brows rose.
Shit. It was my turn.
I turned my head toward the mic, and War released me. I began hesitantly. But I felt the energy of the crowd, harnessed it, and wrapped it around myself like a mantle. Finding my courage and my voice, I dug deep and belted out the words.
At first, my focus was the people in front of me, but the man at my side couldn’t be ignored and came in on the next line. Draping his strong arm around me, War caught me, and not just physically. His voice and his talent captured me, and there was something else I hadn’t yet identified.
Moving his hips in a sensual rhythm, he seemed to be reaching deep too. He took the simple words and elevated them. Squeezing his eyes shut, he went to high tenor, the ease with which he did it and the sound that emerged was like nothing I’d ever heard before.
Opening his eyes, he found me looking at him, spellbound. He beckoned with his gaze for me to join him. I moved forward and placed my lips to the mic. It was all that separated us.
Our voices melded together, our eyes locked, and our breaths mingled. His was warm and minty fresh,