There’s no way I can tell Dex no.
And he knows it.
Shit.
I catch the security guard’s eye, and then he’s there, taking my arm, guiding me to the edge of the stage. Dex smiles, and the crowd loses their minds when he reaches for my hand and pulls me up onto the stage beside him.
Lowering the mic, he leans in to whisper in my ear, “You can punish me later, Little Monster.”
I grab the chain hanging from his hip, use it to pull him closer. Over the sound of screaming, I say, “You better get these chains ready.”
His laughter makes my stomach flip in a wholly delicious way.
A stage assistant hurries out from backstage, holding an electric violin. He puts it in my hands, then vanishes again, leaving me standing there under the lights.
I look at Dex. I am absolutely going to kill him.
“Let’s give Nora a warm welcome!” Dex yells into the mic. The crowd reacts immediately, screaming for us.
Lucas is near enough to give me a fist bump. “Kill it,” he mouths.
Sebastian hits the snare while I tighten up my bow. The last thing I see before the lights dim is Dex’s face, his lip ring, the silver cross hanging from one ear.
Michael’s bass bleeds through the speakers, and Sebastian’s kick shifts to the familiar four-four rhythm of “Ghost.”
I don’t even have time to be scared out of my mind.
Because then Lucas and Dex come in on their guitars, and sparks explode from the stage behind us.
The lights flash blue, bathing the stage in cool tones. Dex looks up, meeting my eyes. I lift my bow to the strings.
And I smile.
The electric violin screams along with the crowd. My body is on fire, my blood simmering beneath my skin as the lights send strobes of blue across the stage. The sequins on my dress shine so bright that I feel like a supernova. Behind us, the screen shows clips of our music video, with me and Dex descending the staircases, then me straddling him in the bed.
He keeps his eyes on me while he sings, and I stare right back.
It almost feels like we’re the only two people in this entire stadium . . . even as seventy thousand people roar in the darkness.
Now my solo is coming up.
But instead of wanting to disappear backstage, I step forward.
I shred.
My notes blast through the speakers, and I close my eyes, feeling the heat and the intensity of the crowd as my fingers tear across the strings.
The audience sings along with Dex as he rips on his guitar, screams for me, for us.
And when the song ends, right there onstage in front of everyone, Dex grabs me around the waist, pulls me in, and crushes his lips to mine. I can taste the salt on his lips, relish the press of his metal against my mouth.
“You’re stunning,” he says against my lips. Quickly turning to the crowd, he lifts the mic and asks, “Isn’t she a fuckin’ monster, Cali?”
They respond with an emphatic fuck yes.
Dex looks at me, eyes bright blue and shimmering, and mouths, “I love you, Monster.”
I’ll be his monster.
I’ll be his everything.
epilogue
Six Months Later
WHEN DEX TOLD ME HE’D never seen snow, I knew I had to take him home for Christmas. I’m on a short holiday from the orchestra, and since LGC finished their tour in September, nothing has been the same.
I threw caution to the wind and sold my condo. I couldn’t bear being separated from Dex, hated the feeling of waking up without him in my bed.
So Margot and I moved in with him in October, and now it’s common for me to come downstairs in the morning to find her sitting on the gleaming marble countertop, rubbing her face against his stubbled chin while he drinks his first cup of coffee. She adores the space, enjoys looking out the massive sliding glass doors at all the birds that perch in the trees. Dex is her new favorite person. And I couldn’t be happier about that.
It’s the morning of Christmas Eve, and Denver blessed us with an overnight snow. It’s the type of snow that’s light and fluffy, the Hallmark version of a Colorado winter. Dex was like a kid on Christmas morning seeing it, and his eyes are still twinkling with wonder as we meander slowly around the big frozen lake, hot cups of cocoa in hand.
He’s wearing a gray beanie that turns his eyes an even brighter shade of blue, and though I’m pretty sure a few people have recognized him—including the barista at the coffee shop—no one has bothered us. It’s different here compared to LA, slower, calmer. And there’s no paparazzi following us or yelling obscene things in an effort to get us to react.
There’s just the cold air, the glimmer of snow in the bright morning sunlight, and Dex’s body next to mine.
“So, this is where you used to walk when you were younger?” he asks, shifting his gaze to look out over the frozen lake.
