on, but Ryder had hypnotized me with one of his paralyzing looks again and I was helpless against his power.
“Soccer stuff?” I clarified since I kind of felt like Ryder was speaking a foreign language.
“Yep. Let’s go,” Ryder commanded and then turned his back on me. “They’ll come up and find us when they’re done.”
“Up?” Somehow Ryder had reduced me to one word replies. I was turning into a caveman.
“To Phoenix’s room.”
And then he was gone, through the kitchen, the dining room and to the staircase in the living room that led to the bedrooms. I gulped loudly but no one was left to hear me. Released from Ryder’s hold I glanced in the backyard to take note of the heated argument between Chase, Phoenix and a scruffy Jesus-impersonator with long hair and barely filled in facial hair, who I could only assume was Nick Barrett.
“Let’s go Pierce,” Ryder called from halfway up the stairs.
I gulped again but obeyed. Shouldn’t someone besides me be concerned that I was going to a quiet bedroom with Ryder alone? I mean, right? I could not be trusted. Not at all.
A million different excuses ran around in my head, all vying to be the first one spoken out loud. But instead of doing the right thing, the smart thing, I snapped my mouth closed and followed Ryder up the stairs and said a quick prayer that Chase would follow soon.
Chapter Sixteen
Phoenix’s room was the last room down of four, just past a bathroom and linen closet and completely overstuffed with furniture. A single bed, two dressers, a tattered love seat, an old school plywood TV stand and box TV set that I wasn’t even sure was in color and then a battered oak desk with swiveling computer chair. The door to the walk in closet hung open, revealing a space a quarter the size of his bedroom, an enormous amount of clothing for a guy or really anyone hung haphazardly on plastic hangers and a full and obviously well-used drum set. Posters of bands from the eighties till now were tacked up around the fake wood paneling and the door frame was decorated with ticket stubs I went ahead and assumed were from concerts.
I pressed my lips together, trying to hide my equal disgust and intrigue in the space. My first instinct was that the room was filthy, but spinning around so I could take it all in I got the feeling it was cluttered but clean. Ryder bent down to fiddle with the DVD player and I walked into the closet to better inspect Phoenix’s drum set.
I was a musician of sorts. Not like Ryder and Phoenix, not like in a band kind of musician. But my mother had followed the traditions of our circle and I had taken piano and singing lessons since I could walk and talk. Nix firmly believed music was in inherent part of what made us and so I had been classically trained in both.
I wanted to hate my lessons, hate my skill…. my talent another reminder of what my life dissolved into. I was a showpiece, a trophy wife, a worker bee if gender roles were reversed, sent out into the world to make money and bring it home to our king. I shuddered at the analogy.
But I decided a long time ago that I couldn’t hate music. Even though it represented every ancient curse I wanted to run from, it was as much ingrained in my soul as the desire to live was. And it had become an escape. When I played the world disappeared behind me, melted into the recesses of my mind and I existed in a way that I normally didn’t.
Music felt like something I could control, my fingers went where I wanted them to, commanded the keys and created something beautiful. When everything else in my life felt out of my control, this was the one thing I owned. And something I needed to keep breathing. I had to be careful that I never used it along with the curse, but that wasn’t a problem for me since I despised the curse more than anything. More than even Nix.
“Is this where you guys practice?” I teased when I felt Ryder behind me. I stood just inside the doorway to the closet; the space was big but cramped with the drum set taking up so much room. Ryder’s heat was on my back, his breath floated over the nape of my neck.
“Just Phoenix,”