Chapter 1: The Collision
The air was thick with the aftermath of a Sleep Token show, a heady mix of sweat, beer, and raw energy pulsing through the crowd at the venue. I wasn’t in any rush to leave, letting the lingering vibrations of the music hum through my bones as I weaved through the sea of bodies. That’s when it happened—a solid, unexpected collision. My shoulder slammed into someone, and I stumbled, catching myself with a sharp curse under my breath.
‘Watch it,’ I snapped, turning to glare at the figure in a dark hoodie. But then I saw his eyes—stormy, intense, and achingly familiar. My breath caught. It was him. Rhys, or IV as the fans knew him, the guitarist whose riffs had just shredded my soul on stage. Even under the hood, trying to blend into the crowd, those eyes betrayed him. I knew. And by the way his gaze locked onto mine, he knew I knew.
‘My bad,’ he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the chaos around us. He stepped closer, the heat of his presence cutting through the noise. ‘Didn’t mean to knock into a force like you.’
I smirked, folding my arms. ‘A force, huh? You’re lucky I didn’t knock you flat, rockstar. What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be backstage, basking in glory?’
His lips quirked into a half-smile, a flash of mischief in his expression. ‘Sometimes the crowd’s where the real show is. And right now, I’m looking at the headliner.’ His voice dropped, teasing, daring me to bite back.
I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. ‘Smooth. But I’m not some groupie who’s gonna swoon over a line like that. Try harder.’
He chuckled, the sound dark and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. The noise of the venue was deafening, conversations and laughter clashing around us. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. ‘Can’t hear a damn thing out here. Follow me.’ His finger pressed to his lips, a silent ‘shh’ that felt like a command wrapped in velvet. My pulse kicked up a notch, but I wasn’t about to let him see me falter.
‘Lead the way, mystery man,’ I shot back, my tone dripping with challenge. ‘But don’t think I’m following just because you’ve got a pretty face under that hood.’
He grinned, turning to carve a path through the crowd, and I followed, my curiosity—and something hotter—burning under my skin. He led me down a dimly lit hallway, away from the chaos, the thrum of the show fading into a distant heartbeat. We stopped near a secluded alcove, the air between us charged, electric.
‘Better,’ he murmured, turning to face me, his hood still up but his eyes searing into mine. ‘Now I can hear every sharp word you’ve got for me.’
I stepped closer, closing the distance, my voice a low purr. ‘Oh, I’ve got plenty. But I’m more interested in what you’ve got for me, Rhys. Or do I call you IV when we’re playing games like this?’
His gaze darkened, a flicker of raw hunger flashing through. ‘Call me whatever gets you hotter, love. I’m all ears—and more.’ His hand brushed my arm, a deliberate, slow graze that set my nerves alight.
I laughed, sharp and bold, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. ‘Careful, guitarist. I bite back. And I don’t play nice.’
‘Good,’ he growled, his voice rough with want as he backed me against the wall, the cool concrete a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him. ‘I don’t want nice. I want fire.’
My breath hitched as his lips hovered near mine, the tension snapping tight. I could feel the hard edge of his desire pressing against me, and damn if I wasn’t already wet with anticipation. This wasn’t just a backstage fling—this was a collision of two storms, and I was ready to let it rage.
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