Inside the little shop, I imagine Anna flitting along the rows, admiring all the baubles, and my chest feels as if it will cave in.

I never got to say good-bye.

In the aftermath of the summit, we’d sought each other. She’d wanted me at her side. Does she know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be? That it’s killing me to stay away? That I love her in a way I never believed possible?

I reach for a postcard and a pen at the counter. I’ve memorized her address. There’s too much I need to say. I stare at the postcard so long the lady at the register starts to look at me funny.

Finally I scratch, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I found you and introduced you to our cursed world. I’m sorry you fell in love with me. I’m sorry we can’t be together.

I’m sorry for everything, Anna.

PART TWO

SWEET PERIL

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Los Angeles

“They’re all around me, circling like vultures.

They wanna break me and wash away my colors.”

—“My Demons” by Starset

I’m racked with severe pain every day that first week. I get the fucking shakes like a junkie when anyone lusts for me. It doesn’t help that we’re not in the studio yet. I hit the gym twice a day, for as long as I can stand it. Then I return to my apartment and blare my music as loudly as possible. At night all I want to do is drink myself into oblivion, but I’m trying to stay clean. When I’m drunk or high my finger hovers above Anna’s name on the screen of my phone. I cannot afford to do stupid things. I changed my number to keep her safe from me, and I have to stay strong.

I check out all the hot spots with my bandmates, meeting loads of industry people and sexy groupies, but my heart’s not in it. I’m filled with constant loss. The only time I talk to girls is when a whisperer is lurking. And when the demon spirit leaves, so do I.

This is no life. Even with the changes I’ve made, there is no satisfaction. Only emptiness, and fear that lingers like a bad habit I can’t kick.

Michael, Raj, and Bennett have a house together where I keep my drums, but I opted for an apartment alone. We practice every other day, but it’s never long enough for me. Michael is confused the day I stay after to see the songs he’s working on. I’ve never taken an interest before, but I can’t stomach going back to my place, where my thoughts eat me alive.

One of his discarded songs is only one stanza, but it fills my head and keeps going with new words of my own. I grab one of Michael’s chewed-up pens and hunker over the paper, writing furiously. When I’m done Michael snatches it up.

I feel strangely nervous. I tap the pen against my leg and watch as Michael’s head begins to bop back and forth and a grin stretches across his face.

“Dude, this is hot.”

I shrug. “I don’t want credit for that. Just a one-time thing, mate.” The lyrics hit way too close to home. I can’t have anyone knowing I penned it.

“What else you got?” Michael asks.

I shake my head and lie. “Nothing.”

“Yo, Raj! Bennett! Getcha asses in here and listen to this. I think we got a winner.”

We finally get to visit the studio and learn the ropes. I’ve no clue if we’ll get a recording contract, since it’s so competitive, but our manager is frat brothers with some bigwig’s son, so he says he’s got an “in.” We’ll see.

We’ve decided to record the single I mostly wrote, but Michael is more than glad to take credit.

We’re taken into a room where a girl with straight, honey-blond hair is setting up mics and checking the sound. She’s incredibly cute and has a kind contentedness in her aura that stabs at my lungs. She looks up and beams when we walk in.

“Hey, guys! You’re right on time. I’ll bring you some waters, and you can let me know if you need anything else. I’m Anna Malone, by the way.”

The ground seems to rock under my feet. Bloody hell . . . why does the world hate me? Why?

She shakes the other guys’ hands, and when she gets to me her aura flares bright orange with a red streak. Her eyes search every feature of my face and then she blushes. I quickly let her hand go and stuff mine in my pocket, looking away.

This is fantastic. Just what I need.

She leaves us and Raj punches my stomach. “She wants you, dude.”

Michael raises his chin. “Told you you’d be getting all the ass you want here.”

I shake my head. “I’d rather not mix business and pleasure.”

“For real, though.” Bennett snorts, and musses his blue hair. “We don’t need any Kai stalkers up in this studio.”

“Exactly,” I mutter.

Anna, the studio girl, ends up being one of those girls with more male friends than female. She’s all natural with a great sense of humor. She’s the type of chick you don’t mind hanging around. Well, the other blokes don’t mind, but I keep my distance. It becomes harder when she begins spending more and more time with us, coming to frequent practices and ending up at the same clubs. Raj has a definite thing for her, and though she flirts innocently back at him, it’s me she’s got it for, no matter how I avoid her.

It’d be easier if she weren’t so bloody nice. Or if I didn’t have to see her nearly every day. Or if she didn’t remind me in so many small ways of my Anna. Or if I weren’t craving sex like a deranged mad dog.

Seriously. I keep hoping it will become less difficult to deny my body, but it hasn’t. It’s a constant ache. It would be so easy to give in. To give myself release with the dozens of willing girls who light up with lust for me.