Page 50 of Dark Verse

The last time our lips met, it was a harsh and sloppy mess. There were more teeth on my part than I initially remembered, my inhibitions and grace both nonexistent at the time. Now our tongues meet in a languorous tangle, the oxygen trading between us for several glorious minutes. Knox’s touch has an unexplainable familiarity as he grasps my hip, his squeeze firm and steady.

As we crawl out of the space back onto the main floor, I feel changed. The last few minutes have shifted something fundamental between us. Knox smiles at me, reaching for my hand. I welcome the gesture, our fingers curling into each other in a perfect fit.

“Oh, hey, are you Knox Knight?”

We both turn at the question.

A woman about my age is approaching us, her smile wide. The space is fairly dark, but I can see she has brown eyes and brown hair. The strands are wavy and tousled in a way that makes me wonder if her hair had been in a bun right before she approached us.

“Gill Wilson, huge fan!”

“It’s always nice to meet a fan,” Knox says, his tone and expression polite.

“Oh my God, I saw on your socials you were in the area doing some shows, but how crazy is it running into you in the real world?”

“Even the humble musician needs a night off here and there.”

I scoff at his word choice of humble. Knox Knight is not humble when it comes to his musical abilities. He glances back at me, squeezing my hand lightly.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could I get a picture with you?”

“Sure.”

Gill pulls out her phone, leaning into Knox. After a few snaps of close-ups of their faces, she looks at me.

“Would you mind?” she asks.

Her expression is hopeful as she holds out the device.

“Sure,” I say, using the same polite tone Knox did. I know my tone hides my annoyance.

This Gill has no idea that she is messing with the afterglow of an earth-moving kiss, and I try not to be too angry about it. After all, this is the exact thing I want for the Nightshades and the Heirs. Fans, followers, and future concertgoers. I genuinely want Gill to be the first of many positive interactions for him and the rest of the Nightshades…

Starting tomorrow.

After a few more moments of exchange, Knox encourages her to make sure she’s following him on all the socials.

“It’s really the best way to stay informed of all our upcoming shows,” he says, his long fingers wrapping around mine once more.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m following.” She flips her hair over one shoulder, batting her dark eyes at him. “I actually heard you play years ago, here in Denver.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gill says, her expression becoming even more animated. “Gosh, now I can’t remember the name of the venue, but it was downtown. Mission something or Orven Theater or… actually now that—”

Gill’s words are caught off by one of the many sound makers in here, a custom-built organ that is the size of a building that I’m tempted to go play. I try to catch her words, but whoever is playing the organ is enjoying their jam session.

“Awesome, well,” Knox says when there is a break in the sound making, “I hope to see you at another one of our gigs soon. Have a good one.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but Knox is already turning and moving in the opposite direction. Something pulls at the back of my psyche and draws my attention back over my shoulder as we leave the not-so-soundless Soundless Subspace. Gill still stands there, watching us until we turn the corner.

“Very smoothly done,” I observe.

I’m relieved to have his focus fully back on me.

Huh. Turns out I am strangely possessive of this man and his attention.

“Honestly, Via and Zeke are the social butterflies and total naturals in the band, but I’ve gotten plenty of practice over the years at running into all sorts of fans. The totally obsessed but playing it cool fan. The I’m just here for the music fan. The here’s my underwear fan…”