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attentiveness and willingness to please.”
    * * * * *
    The crowd parted, giving Arbor a clear view of one of the men on stage. His sandy blond hair and amber-colored eyes were even hotter in person than in the magazines and on TV. She’d never considered herself to be the kind of person who would be star struck, but damn. Lyric Wynters was a million times more of everything in real life. For a second, Arbor was scared of her heart. The way it longed for him to look at her was a step beyond frightening.
    As if the universe decided to test her will, he leaned toward the microphone. His gaze lifted from the guitar in his hands and met hers. The place was so fucking packed Arbor could barely breathe, but she wasn’t mistaken. It wasn’t wishful thinking. He was looking at her. She’d been waiting forever to see Exile in concert. They were playing her favorite song. It was their signature piece and everyone was singing along, except for Arbor. Her throat wouldn’t work beneath his stare. Lyric smirked as he sang the words every woman would love to hear him say to them.
    “It was your smile that doomed you to this lifestyle. Defiled. Exiled. I swear I’m worthwhile. Come live with me in exile.” She would. God help her. Arbor would do whatever he asked of her.
    The stage faded away and Arbor found herself sitting on a park bench with Exile’s song still playing in her head. A slight buzz lingered from the overpriced beer. She was going to feel like shit tomorrow. No doubt she should’ve gone home already. The stars seemed brighter tonight than usual. She didn’t want to go home. She was restless in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. The wind kicked up, causing chill bumps to form on her skin. A sigh rose in her throat. It was too cold to stay out much longer.
    A warm weight settled on her shoulders, almost causing her to jump out of her skin. Her heart slammed against her chest. That is, until she tilted her head back, meeting the gaze of the man who’d wrapped her in his jacket, then it stopped beating completely. If Arbor thought Lyric Wynters was hot on stage, it didn’t hold a candle to seeing him up close.
    “Thank you.” Fuck. She deserved an award for the delivery of that one line. He smiled. Angels sang.
    “As long as you are well, I’m better for it.”
    Arbor blinked at the ceiling. The lasts wisps of the dream hung in the air, already forgotten. She knew without having to look that Killian was gone. The knowledge didn’t help the pain in her chest when she glanced over, confirming it. Arbor caught a glimpse of the chair sitting at the foot of the bed. Her cheeks heated. Lord. She was going to hell. Lyric’s jacket was still hanging on the back. A smile touched her lips. She would see him again. The idea lulled her back to sleep.
    * * * * *
    Lyric paced the floor, hovering on the edge of insanity. The blood smearing his knuckles did nothing to calm his rage. Trey had let it happen. He’d taken his beating like it was his due. It was, and then again, it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be punishment enough. There was no black and white here, or anywhere, for that matter. A solitary person rarely held full blame for anything. This was no different. Every stick of furniture in his home was the same as it had been back then, but everything was different now. By the time Killian came through the door, he was almost scared of himself. One look at the man’s expression had his hands shaking even worse than they already had been. Their gazes met. There were no words. Killian bent at the waist, bracing his weight on his knees and audibly sucking air into his lungs like a man who’d almost drowned. Lyric made it one step in his direction before Killian exploded.
    Spinning, he slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a hole behind. Obviously, it wasn’t enough, because he did it again. Killian’s shoulders heaved as he flattened his palms against the hard surface and set his forehead between