A Little Bit Dirty - Jenika Snow Page 0,2

And then, right there in the center of the stage shone a single spotlight. The fact that the band was performing at Rosco's, the largest, yet still small by average standards, bar in Brookstone, was a bit surprising. This "limited engagement" was only for the residents of the band’s hometown. Tanner supposed it was a nice tribute to where the guys had once called home.

Sweat trickled down the space between her breasts, and she exhaled slowly. And then there they were, four bodies taking the stage like they owned it, and Tanner supposed they did, in every way possible. The crowd should have gotten even rowdier, but instead the room grew eerily quiet as the guys took their places.

Tanner couldn’t see their faces with the shadows all around them, but she knew each and every Twisted Feather member as well as she knew herself—or at least she had.

Beats took up residence behind the drum set on the back of the stage. Marcus “Five” Rafter slipped the strap of his bass over his head and stood on the left hand side of the stage. Matthew “Matty” Boston had his rhythm guitar in hand, and then her heart stopped when she saw the lead singer of Twisted Feather take center stage.

Once Jacks was in place, right behind that microphone with his head lowered and his guitar draped across his chest, Tanner swore the air chilled in the room. For a solid minute none of the band members moved, and the spotlight had dimmed enough that it only gave a light glow in front of Jacks’s feet.

He lifted his hand, and that was when the crowd went wild. Absolutely-fucking-wild at this small gesture. The lights came on full blast then, and the band started playing their newest number one hit, “A Red Winter”.

Zoe was singing to the song right beside her, and nearly everyone in the bar had their hands up in the air. Of course Tanner had heard this song, as she had every single one of their numbers. The lyrics were twisted, frightening in their intensity, but also so beautiful.

She looks upon the stars, her heart resting in her hand.

The whiteness of her blood, seeping to the land.

She is no longer there, just a soul, an empty shell.

A life now void as she rests with the devil in hell.

A Princess of the darkness, a Queen of the dead.

A whore for the devil, as she lies beside him in bed.

It was almost depressing in the way Jacks belted out the lyrics, but so damn enthralling at the same time. It was like he was staring right at her, singing just for her. She supposed everyone in this room probably felt the way she did, and that was why these concerts were so intoxicating.

It was like her own private show, like she was standing in the center of a deserted room, staring at Jacks as he lifted his hand, reached out for her, and stared right into her eyes.

She was drowning in the sensation moving through her. Jacks had this deep, soulful voice, one that was almost tangible as it reached out to all of the audience. Jacks closed his eyes and grabbed the microphone. His dark hair was on the longer side, swooping along his forehead, but keeping his eyes still visible to the public.

Tanner could remember his eyes, ones that were soulful, expressive, and had looked right into her own while he took her virginity and her heart.

Even though she was more toward the back of the bar and his eyes were closed, Tanner knew that the color was so blue, and as clear as the Caribbean. With his black hair and light eyes, the combination was a striking contrast. That was the first thing that she had noticed on him when they had met in elementary school: the dark and the light, the mysterious and the clear.

He looked bigger all these years later, like maybe he had been working out. With his plain white t-shirt formed to his chest, outlining his muscles, and showing off the full sleeved tattoos that covered both of his arms, she could feel the remembrance of his touch along her body.

He hadn’t had any ink when she’d left right after high school, and although she had known he had gotten all of that done in that last five years, seeing him the same yet so changed was a shock in itself.

Beats was already sweating as he pounded on the drums in this steady, yet consistent