Refrain (Soul Series Book 3) (15 page)

IT’S NOT MORNING SICKNESS SWIRLING NAUSEA
in my stomach. The eggs and cheese and vegetables of my omelet may as well be tar in my mouth. Every time I try to swallow, I see that shirt again, slashed and covered in pig’s blood. I feel that blood soaking through my tank top and sticking to my skin. See it washing crimson down the drain of our shower from my body and from my hands. I’ve been reciting my little verse, leaning on it for strength, but ever since we arrived in Vegas, the comfort I drew from the words seems dimmer. I keep trying to recapture that confidence, but for whatever reason, being here in Vegas has made it harder.

So here we sit at The Park, the high-end hotel where the showcase will be held tomorrow night. It’s one of the newest and most extravagant hotels on the Strip. The Parker Group owns hotels all over the world, but they’ve just added Vegas. Hosting our showcase here is a real coup. We arrived at different times last night, so Bristol’s using this breakfast to brief everyone about the agenda, which is full. I know I need to eat, but I can’t seem to manage more than a few bites before I’m assaulted by the smell of that blood and the stickiness on my palms.

“Pep, you okay?” Rhyson leans close to ask. “You’re not eating. Is it morning sickness?”

I glance around the table to make sure no one heard him. Rhyson and I agreed to keep the pregnancy to ourselves until we’re closer to the second trimester.

“I’m fine.” I hope my smile looks genuine, but I can tell by the concern on his face he knows something is off. “Guess I’m not hungry.”

“If it’s morning sickness, then—”

“Shhh.” I make sure everyone else is paying attention to Bristol and not to us. “What happened to keeping it quiet?”

“You’re right.” Rhyson nods and continues with a slightly softer tone. “I have some meds, though, in case you need something.”

I turn surprised eyes his way.

“What?” He shrugs like it’s normal for him to carry nausea pills for pregnant women. “I asked Dr. Allister for recommendations, just in case.”

“How-what-why?” I shake my head, confused. “When did you ask Dr. Allister?”

“We chatted after the appointment while you were getting dressed. She gave me her cell number.” He tosses a blueberry into his mouth. “She told me to call her anytime, night or day.”

“I just bet she did,” I grumble. “I guess the whole rock star thing comes in handy sometimes.”

He offers me a pitying glance over his orange juice like I couldn’t be more wrong.

“Pep, come on. She’s a professional, not a fan, and just doing her job.”

“Somehow I don’t think she’s giving most patients her personal cell number. I—”

“So sorry to interrupt,” Bristol sprinkles sarcasm like the powdered sugar on her French toast, “But do you two have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

Rhys and I exchange a chagrined look before giving Bristol our undivided attention.

“Thank you.” She looks pointedly from her iPad to Kai. “What I was
trying
to say is that Ella arrived and is already in your suite setting up. She’ll get you ready for the meet and greet.”

“Oh, good.” There’s so much testosterone since I’m the only girl, it’ll be nice to have another chick around.

“For the meet and greet at noon, you’ll each have your own table.” Bristol gives her brother a wary glance. “Rhyson, you might not like this, but hear me out.”

“Listening.” He folds his arms across his chest and waits.

“I’ve separated everyone into their own quadrant so there’s plenty of space to accommodate your lines.” Her shoulders are already squared and braced for his response.

“I’m at Kai’s table.” Rhyson returns to his meal like a debate isn’t about to ensue.

“That doesn’t make sense, Rhys.” Bristol slumps back in her seat and leans her forehead into her hand. “Your lines will be longer than everyone’s. You need the most space, and I’ve already arranged a separate quadrant for you.”

“Then unarrange it.” Rhyson fixes his sister with a stony stare. “You’re lucky we’re even here. Whoever left that shirt on my car is still out there, and we’re no closer to finding them than we were last week when it happened. I’m not leaving Kai that vulnerable with so many people unless I’m right there.”

“Don’t overreact. We’ve dealt with stalkers before,” Bristol reasons. “You know how this works.”

“I’ve had stalkers before, yes,” Rhyson says. “But I didn’t have Kai before.”

My cheeks burn under everyone’s sudden attention. I try to smile, fail, and settle for spearing a mushroom with my fork.

“Gep, please talk some sense into him.” Bristol rolls her eyes and takes a bite of her eggs.

“We’ll have someone from the team at Kai’s table, Rhys,” Gep’s gruff voice tries to soothe.

“I don’t give a damn what you’ll have,” Rhyson explodes, his fork clanking loudly on the plate when he tosses it down.

The table, everyone seated around it—Grip, the guys from Kilimanjaro, Luke—all go silent, dropping their eyes to the remains of their breakfast. A cautious glance around the room confirms that other people are staring. They know who he is, who I am, who we all are.

“Guys, if you’re done, Tammi, our new assistant, is upstairs in my suite waiting for us.” Bristol’s smile is a fraud betrayed by the anger in her eyes. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a little bit.”

The guys from the band stand and make their way to the elevators. Luke and Grip linger a few moments longer. They’re not just Prodigy artists. They’re Rhyson’s friends, and their concern is evident in the careful way they watch him.

“You sure you okay, man?” Grip’s serious demeanor is at odds with his typical good humor.

“Yeah. I’m cool.” Rhys nods jerkily and splits a look between Grip and Luke. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, I just . . .

His words fade and his eyes shift to me. I don’t know if they detect the helplessness, the fear hiding under Rhyson’s frustration, but I do. It took a lot to get him here, and now that we are here, the same second thoughts seem to be assailing him that plague me. I reach for his hand under the table and give what I hope is a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, we’re used to it.” Luke laughs and chips away at some of the tension encircling the table. “If you
weren’t
being an asshole, we’d be worried.”

Rhyson surrenders to a natural smile and fist pounds them both.

“We’ll see you upstairs.” Grip nods toward the elevators.

Luke bends to drop a kiss on my hair and whispers in my ear, “Hang in there, kiddo.”

I smile up into his blue eyes before returning my attention to the combatants seated at the table. Gep and I are simply innocent bystanders and possible referees at this point.

“If you could refrain from making fools of us all,” Bristol says, irritation creasing her pretty face, “I’d really appreciate that. The last thing we need is bad publicity right before tomorrow’s showcase.”

“I don’t give a damn about publicity, Bris.” Annoyance tautens the skin over Rhyson’s high cheekbones.

“What a shame since that is the absolute point of this trip.” Bristol leans forward, lowers her voice, and levels her eyes on her twin brother. “We’ve worked hard, Kai included, to get ready for this showcase. I understand you don’t have anything left to prove or to lose, but these guys do. Each of them signed with Prodigy trusting you to make decisions in their best interests. Don’t abuse that.”

“I would never.” Rhyson scowls down at his plate. “I’m not.”

“You have a responsibility to all the people who are working hard to get Prodigy off the ground,” Bristol continues, undaunted, “Who put their futures in your hands.”

“When have I ever neglected that responsibility?” Rhyson’s eyes clash with Bristol’s across the table. “But I also have a responsibility to protect Kai.”

“Rhyson, I’ll be fine.” I say it to reassure him, but there is a part of me that is not fine. The part that can’t take a bite of my omelet without smelling blood and tasting fear.

“I know you will because I’ll be right there with you.” Nothing about Rhyson’s face yields. “Bris, it’s not a big deal. There’s too much left out of my . . . out of our control. Maybe it won’t make a difference, but it will make me feel better.”

She should just give him what he wants. I honestly don’t care if he’s at the table with me or not. Rhyson’s female fans probably won’t be thrilled to see his fiancée there as part of the package, but they’ll get over it.

“Compromise. Separate tables in the same quadrant.” Bristol raises her brows into a perfectly arched question. “Deal?”

Rhyson nods reluctantly, wordlessly.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Bristol sips her mimosa, humor suddenly lighting up her eyes. “My life would be so boringly perfect if we didn’t have these occasional battles.”

“Well, I don’t need the drama.” His face relaxes and he forks a square of French toast to his lips. “So just give me what I want without a fight every once in a while.”

Gep and I surreptitiously exchange the look we’ve shared on more than one occasion when the siblings fight. The storms blow through so hard and fast with these two. They’d do anything for each other, but sometimes it seems they fight just so they don’t get out of practice.

“Eat just a little more, Pep.” Rhyson aims his fork at my still-full plate.

“I’m not that hungry.”

Rhyson stops mid-chew, assessing my face.

“You sure you feel up to all this today?” Concern narrows and darkens his eyes. “It’s going to be really hot.”

“We’ll be inside.”

“There’ll be lots of people.”

“Won’t be the first time.”

He dips his head until his mouth caresses my ear and his words are only mine.

“If we skip, we could make love on the balcony, fifty stories up,” he rasps against my neck, stirring urges we don’t have time to indulge. “Someone might see.”

I turn my head until our noses touch. Ignoring Gep, Bristol and anyone in the dining room who might give a damn, I touch my lips to his. It’s just a brush of lips, so tender and hot and sweet that a lump fills my throat. I have no idea where this feeling comes from except this connection always simmers between us, waiting for the slightest touch to flare to life. It affects him too. He makes a hungry sound in the back of his throat, following me with his lips when I pull back. He cups my neck, his fingers wandering into my hair. His mouth settles over mine, chaste to any observer, but rich with our private passion.

“I’ve always felt this way about you,” he whispers, his eyes so warm my skin heats. “It started the moment I saw you. It was smaller then, but there has never been a time when you didn’t affect me more deeply than anyone else ever has.”

“Why do you think that is?” I whisper back, glancing across the table to find Bristol and Gep reviewing the security team’s plans for the meet and greet.

“I’ve never quite understood it myself.” His eyes are alive with laughter and bottomless affection. “Lucky for us we’ve got the rest of our lives to figure it out.”

“I LIKE YOUR HAIR LIKE THIS.”

I turn my head toward Rhyson’s softly spoken compliment. He’s leaning into the corner of the elevator, Gep a few feet to his left. His full lips tip up at one corner as he eyes the hair falling from a deep side part, bone straight and past my shoulders.