Devoured

“For the love of God, shut up for just one second so I can think,” I snap. I hear a sharp gasp for air on the other end, and I immediately feel horrible for barking at her. In all the time that I’ve known Tori, I’ve never once raised my voice at her.

I’ve never spoke to anyone like that besides Lucas Wolfe.

“Tori . . . I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She sounds dazed when she speaks. “I’m actually hovering somewhere between really f**king irritated you told me to shut up and being impressed. Sienna, what’s really going on? Please . . . I’m your best friend.”

I cry as I tell her. I leave nothing out except for Lucas’s sexual habits, and when I’m done all she’s able to say is “Wow” over and over and over again until I tell her that she’s giving me a headache.

“You’ve got to be the most . . . selfless and ridiculously awesome person I know. To be doing something like that with someone like him.”

I don’t like the way her tone implies that he’s a bad person. Hell, I don’t like the way I’m so willing to jump to his defense, but I do it anyway. “He’s not all bad,” I say, my voice sounding totally convincing.

“Oh. My. God.”

Thinking that there’s been a new article put out about me and Lucas, I frantically refresh Google news search I have open on my screen. “What? What?”

“You’re in love with him.”

The second those words come out of her mouth, sounding like an accusation and a curse and a crime all at once, I wish she had said there was a new set of rumors instead. I’m not in love with Lucas. Completely in lust, yes, but not in love.

Never in love.

“That’s ridiculous I don’t know him well enough to love him.”

“Then, he’s got to have the most—” Tori’s words are cut off mid-sentence by the sound of my cell phone beeping. I pull it from my ear and my heart launches into my throat, gagging me, when I see that it’s Seth. God, this can’t be a good thing.

I promise Tori that I’ll call her back and she warns me that she’ll fly to Nashville tonight, spending our rent money and leaving us homeless, if I don’t. When I click over to Seth, he’s already cursing. Seething.

“You lied to Gram so you could go f**k the douchebag who bought her house?”

“Seth, I—”

But he doesn’t want to let me get a word in.

“You’re disgusting. Guess you’re more like her than you let on, huh? Don’t worry . . . what you’re doing won’t ever be big enough news to reach Gram and I sure as hell won’t tell her. Maybe if you’re lucky he’ll—”

My heartbeat picks up wildly when Lucas plucks my phone out of my hand and jabs the END button. “You’re going to sit there and let him talk to you like that?” he demands. “That’s your brother, right? The skinny little prick with the big mouth from court?”

I never realized Seth had ever said anything to Lucas, and I glance down at my lap, at my hands. “He was angry,” I whisper.

“That’s no excuse for him treating you like shit.”

“We’re all over the Internet,” I say. “You and I are everywhere because of last night.”

Even though he shrugs, I can tell it gets to him, too. That he regrets having ever looking at me while he sang. “It’s not a big deal. And stop changing the subject. We’re talking about your brother speaking to you like you’re nothing.”

“He’ll—” I want to say that Seth will get over it, but I don’t even know how to defend him to someone like Lucas. My brother hadn’t even said very much to me but somehow managed to take a pair of scissors to my self-esteem.

Lucas kneels down in front of me, on his knees, and places his forearms on either side of my body so that they’re almost brushing my hips. He bends his head toward my lap and a primal ache stretches across my belly. “Call him back and stand up for yourself.”

I shake my head, my long hair sweeping back and forth over his face when he looks up at me. “No,” I whisper.

His eyes narrow. “You’re going to have to one of these days. Stand up to your brother and your mom. You don’t have to take shit from people. You don’t have to try and explain yourself.”

He climbs to his feet, looking down at me with almost sad hazel eyes. “Today’s the first day of filming for the documentary and I’ve got some studio work that needs to be done. Take the day off.”

“Bu—”

“Take the day off,” he orders. “I can’t—you can’t expect me to be able to be around you like this when I want you so bad. When you’re not willing to let me have you.”

And now—now I think I fully understand why he’s encouraging this. Because Lucas Wolfe thinks that if I take on the things and people that I always back down to, I’ll allow him to conquer me.

†

The sound of a piano awakens me a little after 1am. I had stayed up until a few minutes short of midnight waiting up for Lucas and texting Tori as she hopped from night club to night club.

After I slide a short cotton robe over my t-shirt, I follow the noise down to the lowest level of the house. Once I hit the bottom step, I let the scent of what Lucas is smoking guide me. I’ve always hated the scent of pot because it reminds me of Preston, of the people who used to hang around my mom’s house, and I automatically wrinkle my nose. Lucas doesn’t look up when I open the door to the piano room, but I know he knows I’m in here because his back straightens and his shoulders tense up. I sag against the doorframe, listening to him, drinking this moment in. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that ride low on hips. Lucas Wolfe is all muscles and tattoos and sexiness, but it’s his music that has a way of getting to me. It strips me down.