Page 228 of The Encore’s Crown

“Okay, listen.” I glance at him. “You and Fre—”

“Bud.” Ronan holds up one hand like he’s stopping traffic. “Freja and I do not get explicit in front of you.”

“Nothing about this is explicit.”

“I can see your massive rager from here.”

Natalia makes a strangled sound and buries her face against my chest, shaking with laughter. Ronan points at me harder.

“Now I’m blind. I came here to check my kit, not receive psychic damage from your trousers.”

I can’t help it. I laugh, tipping my head back, one arm still locked around Natalia’s waist while we both lose every trace of maturity.

“We’re musicians,” I say. “Music makes us horny. It's not the first time you’ve encountered the concept.”

“It’s not the concept I’m encountering. That’s the problem.”

He throws his hands up and turns away.

“Now I have to find some fucking bleach to rinse my eyes with,” he mutters, scooping up his drumsticks as he heads toward the riser.

Natalia slaps a hand over her mouth, but it doesn’t help. Her laugh spills through her fingers anyway, brilliantly wicked, and goes through me like a live wire.

I watch her.

At the flush warming her cheeks. The shine in her eyes. The way she’s trying so hard not to make it worse and failing beautifully.

For months, every good thing between us had to be hidden, interrupted, explained, or punished.

Now she’s here.

In my arms. Backstage and laughing loudly enough for everyone to hear.

And nobody is making me to let her go.

Right before we go out and tear the festival apart, Rafe comes up beside me backstage.

I barely notice him at first. Natalia is across the way laughing with one of the photographers, camera hanging from her neck, festival pass bouncing against her hip. She throws her head back at something he says, somehow completely at home in the chaos already. I smile before I even realize I’m doing it. Rafe’s hand lands between my shoulder blades, then slides up to squeeze my shoulder.

“I had the wrong myth.”

I glance at him. “What?”

He’s looking at Natalia too.

“You’re Dionysus. She’s Ariadne.” He shakes his head slowly. “I’m disappointed in myself, actually.”

I stare at him.

“Am I supposed to know what the fuck that means?”

His mouth twitches. “I don’t know, man. Is there anyone else you’ve ever wanted to throw a crown into the sky for?”

“I hate when you talk in this bullshit, we don't all eat Greek mythology for breakfast.”

He laughs and leans closer, lowering his voice.

“Since Ronan isn’t near enough to haunt us with commentary, I’ll translate.” He nods toward Natalia. “I think she turned our resident party boy into a man who can’t wait to tell the entire fucking world about her every chance he gets.”