Chapter 12: Sweet Tooth - Hunger & Harmony

“Eww, are you listening to SYRE?”

I have to completely pull out my earbuds to make sure I heard Lorelai right.

“What? You think they’re ew?”

She scrunches her nose in pure disgust.

“They’re way too pretty and superficial,” she says, tongue out and head shaking.

My jaw hits the tour bus’s floor. Pretty being used as an insult is new to me.

“I actually think they’re unique for a boy group,” I say, not needing to be defensive. I have the pop fan certification to back my claim.

“There’s just nothing redeeming about pop music.”

When she’s the one with bubblegum pink hair? With cute trinkets weighing down her purse and an aesthetic lock screen to match her phone case? She’s the first person I would assume to be a fan!

“Well, good thing it’s in my ears, not yours,” I say, trying my best to keep my tone light.

Nothing peeves me more than judging personal taste. Who cares if someone likes something you don’t? Lorelai seems to, as she crosses her arms and flicks her bangs out of her eyes.

“Not to mention you’re listening to that crap on Arteria’s tour bus.”

Crap?! My right eye twitches.

“Knock it off, Lo.”

Before I can launch into my rebuttal, Ezren’s voice slices through the bus. My wide gaze finds him across the couch, jaw tight and eyes closed. I didn’t even realize he was there.

Lorelai clicks her tongue.

“I’m just messing.”

I’m not feeling generous enough to believe that, but my attention is far from her. My brows slide together as I stare at Ezren.

How still he is rings every alarm bell. He wasn’t even this devoid of emotion in New Lure. When his eyes open, it’s like staring into fire. A shiver zips down my spine when I realize he’s not looking at me, but through me.

Before I can even open my mouth to ask what’s up, the bus slows to a stop. I peer out the window to see we’ve made it to rehearsal.

Redmare’s venue represents its city well. Dusty and menacing, the angular architecture reads more like a modern colosseum than a typical arena. Sleek sports cars whiz by without regard, and Arteria fans line up beyond where I can see. Despite the dry heat, heavy leather and aristocratic costumes adorn each eager attendee.

The desert doesn’t obey the rules of autumn like New Lure or Velhollow. It’s odd to be back in a t-shirt, especially with evening settling in.

“Alright, listen up.”

Niko’s voice has my heart forgetting a beat. When I face him, his gaze finds mine before anyone else, and a half-smile tugs at his lips. It’s a secret expression, only for a moment.

Only for me.

If I weren’t still floating from the other night, I’d be right back in these sparkly, pink clouds anyway.

I don’t want to get ahead of myself. These are early days, right? There’s still something undeniable humming between him and me. Thankfully, not wrong notes.

While I cling to this feeling, uneasiness hangs in this tour bus like a dense fog. Once everyone is paying attention, Niko’s expression darkens.

“We are in Hunter territory.”

My stomach drops. Ezren’s foot starts tapping, and his terse attitude makes sense. His siblings. His own life. All because of Hunters, and now we’re in their city. At their mercy, even?

“The Order of Ash has made it clear not to overstep.”

Ezren’s lips curl in a silent snarl, his fangs lengthening before my eyes. A flash of fear punches my gut, and I watch as the green of his irises dissolves into vermillion. His ivories sharpen, and my alarm doubles at how plainly dangerous he looks. Like a predator. Like a . . .

Shame washes over me, and I force my gaze to my shoes. What am I thinking? This is Ezren. My friend! A guy who has every right to feel how he does.

“They’re not human. They’re not like you.”

I squeeze my hands into fists. No, I won’t think like Viola. She can keep her prejudices to herself. I’ve just never seen him like that before. It doesn’t matter differing from Ezren. My eyes slowly rise to Niko, his mouth moving even if I don’t register a word.

It doesn’t matter differing from Niko, right?

Swallowing down my turmoil, I will myself to tune back in.

“So, let’s get going. Focus on the fans above all else,” Niko looks each of us in the eye, lingering on me as he says, “Focus on the good.”

* * *

It would be just my luck to get mixed up in Hunter territory.

I swear, Lorelai said it was just past the elevators and the door to the stairs. This arena might as well be a maze, though, and I think I’m looping in circles. The distant rumblings of cheering fans and sound check remind me that I’m at least not completely stranded in these winding hallways.

Checking my phone again, I curse when I see the connection struggling.

“Ugh, all this for some paperwork?” I grumble to myself.

I volunteered to hand over documentation to the Order of Ash, and took an elevator deep into the underground offices. The neutral meeting zone is supposed to be around here somewhere. Selene said I could drop the stack of papers off and come right back. The longer I wander around this basement floor, the more jitters crawl under my skin.

Has Viola ever wandered halls like this? Looked over her shoulder and jumped at every slight noise like me? She’d definitely call me stupid for stepping into this task with eyes wide open. I don’t know if she’d be wrong to say it.

Is this a trap? Not that the Order could accomplish much with a human assistant. More likely, I just screwed up the directions.

I pull out my phone again when a distinct, woody scent catches my attention. It’s only a moment before I notice wooden crates lined up a hallway I didn’t see before. Security tape crosses the entrance, marking it as prohibited with bright red letters. The shadowed hallway isn’t exactly inviting. Which, of course, means this is where I need to go.

“Uh . . .”

Tiptoeing towards the forbidding tape, I peer around.

“Hello!” I call out. “I have some . . .documentation, on behalf of Arteria.”

Silence. Almost deafeningly so. I shift my weight and clutch the folder tighter.

“Hello? I’m here on behalf of Arteria!”

A rustle sounds, but I’m too late to back up before a man appears in front of me. I screech, nearly losing the folder and my own footing.

He’s dressed like an old-time detective, with a dark brown suit and a black trench coat fitted to his lanky body. Hollow eyes move from my frightened face to what I’m holding between shaking hands.

Dark leather gloves extend towards me.

“Are you . . .?” I ask, to be sure.

His frown deepens, and I wonder if he sees mortal or monster. The employee in New Lure thought I was a vampire. Surely a Hunter would know better, right? He’s undoubtedly part of the Order, a shiny badge gleaming on his chest and a wooden stake strapped to his hip.

A chill runs through me when he nods curtly. Weird. As he takes it from me, I wonder why. After he fades into the shadows, I’m left with my disquieted thoughts.

When I think of a Hunter seeing me as the human I am, why does disappointment find me first?

There’s so much I don’t know. Questions I’ve never asked. Not just for the vampires that employ me. Not even my parents or best friend.

Blending my world and Niko’s is planting doubt in my heart. Over what? Where my true feelings lie? Or . . .where I even belong?

My shoes drag across the vinyl flooring. The fluorescent lighting flickers harshly as I wander back to the elevator.

Where do I belong?

“I appreciate it,” Selene says, and her voice brings the world back into focus.

“Huh?”

I glance around, only now realizing I made it back to the backstage lounge. Ezren paces, his drumsticks tapping along the moody teal wall. Niko and Ryel converse quietly on one of the velvet couches. My eyes find the wall clock, and I see how much time has passed. There’s only thirty minutes before the show starts.

“You can be an airhead sometimes, but you pull through,” she says, and I realize this is her clunky way of complimenting me.

“Oh . . .” I shake off the lingering unease and nod gratefully. “Thanks! I try my best.”

“You do.”

Her icy gaze remains on me, like she’s staring beyond my forced smile. I swallow hard. Are my thoughts plastered to my forehead like a billboard or something?

“Ez,” she says, turning from me.

“Hm?”

She crosses her arms and angles her chin.

“Come with me.” After a pause, she then looks at Ryel. “You, too.”

“Is there something I need to⁠—”

“No,” Selene says, cutting me off as she locks onto Niko.

Bewildered, I glance between them as a silent conversation takes place. Ryel crosses the dark floor first, a sour expression twisting his face. He stares like he’s waiting for me to fuck up, but not wishing for it, like usual. After peeling himself from the back wall, Ezren shuffles over, too. I offer him a smile, but only get a half-hearted attempt back.

With a flick of his hand, Niko dismisses all three of his bandmates. My head feels like it’s spinning with how fast Selene ushers them away. The door closes with a resolute thud, leaving Niko and me alone. While it’s not a small room, the lounge seems far more intimate with just us.

“Everything okay?” I ask, mostly to the empty spot Selene just occupied.

My attention turns when Niko’s hand comes up to rub at his neck, his bashful tone so uncharacteristic that it pulls a confused smile out of me.

“Well . . .”

I blink at him. Why is he being so adorable?

“What?”

“Selene has a good heart,” he says slowly. “If not an awkward one.”

My confusion doubles, and I tilt my head.

“Huh?”

“She wants me to comfort you.” He gestures to me, trying so hard to be nonchalant. “She could tell you came back . . .distressed.”

“Oh, I’m fine, I just . . .”

I bite my lip to suppress a bigger grin. If he keeps staring at me with those attentive, concerned eyes, I might have to kiss him.

“Well, since she put you on duty, I won’t say no,” I settle on, and he laughs sheepishly at my cheesy wink.

“So, uh . . .”

He gestures for me to follow him across the room. I have the urge to scoot closer when we’re sitting on wine-red velvet. Knees brushing, and in the stillness of privacy, the Hunters, his title, and even my mortality seem irrelevant.

“What’s your plan to comfort me, then?” I ask, unable to help my teasing.

It’s endearing how flustered he is. Subtle to anyone else, but I’ve learned his mannerisms.

“Do you want a snack?” he asks.

I gawk at him.

“A snack? Of what, blood?”

How could I politely suggest he’d be a good alternative?

“No, no,” he assures me, leaning over the arm of the couch to get his personal bag. “I think I have something in here . . .”

After rummaging around, he then pulls out an entire chocolate bar. I have to keep from giggling uncontrollably as he lifts it to my face. It’s not that I’m laughing at him. He just really meant it when he mentioned wanting to eat for pleasure, not survival.

“I haven’t even opened it,” he says, offering the pristinely wrapped chocolate.

“I appreciate it, but . . .” My shoulders lift, and I giggle apologetically. “I don’t like sweets.”

His brain visibly short-circuits.

“What? Humans can dislike it?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say. There’s something so charming about how he slowly puts the chocolate down. “My favorite candy is sour. The harsher, the better.”

He processes my words, mulling them over for a good long moment.

“Why would you waste your taste buds like that?”

“Your Majesty!” I whine, and he holds his hands up in defense. “It’s not a waste if I like it.”

“Okay, okay,” he says. “I guess I always envisioned that I’d like chocolate and sugar if I could eat human food.”

“It’s not a given that humans all like the same things,” I say, and he hums thoughtfully. “Not every vampire likes the same blood type!”

Another smile finds his lips after he nods. Even the walls join me as I playfully lean in.

“What? What’re you smiling about?” I ask, and he responds without missing a beat.

“You can be my sweet, then.”

It catches me off guard, and warmth quickly blooms over my face. I give his arm a light push, unable to handle how cute he is.

“What? You’re very sweet,” he says, his sincerity starting a flurry of butterflies in my stomach.

I roll my eyes playfully, turning from him like I don’t believe it. How could I not, though?

“See, look,” he murmurs, his knuckle brushing past my hair and along my jaw.

My eyes widen as I snap back towards him. His left hand captures my chin, and he angles me to better glance over my red-hot face. It’s my turn to be the shy one, and his eyes crinkle with delight when the heat spreads.

“Look at your cherry cheeks,” he says, his honey voice deepened by visceral desire.

He’s not just looking at my blush. I’m breathless as he leans in, eyes roaming from the tip of my freckled nose to the fluttering heartbeat trapped in my throat. When his gaze drags back up to my eyes, I find my voice.

“Aren’t cherries tart?”

My delayed whisper seems to snap him out of his trance. He chuckles quietly.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

His fingers linger on my feverish skin just a moment longer before he releases me. I’m left wanting more, willing myself not to hop right onto his lap.

“You’re still sweet. Cherry cheeks and all,” he says, and I let the yearning simmer down into something softer.

I don’t know where I fit in all this. Within his world, or just his heart. Maybe I don’t have to figure it all out.

Scooting closer to him, I take his hands in mine. They’re large and strong, and the calluses from his guitar strings are pleasantly rough against my fingers. He doesn’t protest or pull away. His fingers lace with mine, and an assuredness settles into my body as we let the soft silence do the talking.

I need to trust the look he’s giving me in the warmth of this backstage lounge. The caress of his lips on the top of my hand.

If he's offering a seat beside him, maybe that’s enough. I just need to trust him.

Even if I don’t know how long I have to do so.