Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(22)

Wait. Bring someone up onstage?

He’d better fucking not be talking about me or he’d find that gorgeous black guitar of his smashed over his head.

“Tonight, we’re bringing up three.”

Haley and Sara gripped my hands, and I was trying to back away, but they wouldn’t let me move. Traitors. All of them were traitors.

Logan nodded toward someone offstage who we couldn’t see, and two roadies hurried out onstage holding three low stools between them. They deposited the chairs in the center of the band. A second later, the crowd parted, and two burly security guards stopped before us. “Casters want you ladies up there with them,” the first one said, his eyes flat as annoyance seeped out of him. “Please don’t touch the band. They’re not animals for you to pet, no matter how much you want to.”

Haley snorted so loudly that she had to cough and cover the sound with her hands.

“I think we’ll manage,” I shot back dryly. “But what if we don’t want to go up?”

Logan, who stood near the middle of the stage, couldn’t have possibly heard me over the crowd, but he wore an amused expression as I continued to display my reluctance. My protest died off at how incredibly delicious he looked, sweat dripping across the bare skin of his chest revealed by the torn-up shirt.

“Come on, Precious. Live a little.”

The crowd lost their fucking brains, chanting “Precious” in time to his guitar riff, and I knew that refusing was only going to make this worse. Sara tightened her hold on me and Haley, and all but dragged us after the security, who directed us toward a set of side stairs.

“Fuck,” Sara whispered, when we reached the stage, star ing out into the thousands of faces packing the warehouse venue. “I think I’m going to puke.”

Haley was the one now to drag us along and deposit us on the stools.

“Ladies,” Logan said, towering over us as he moved closer. “Welcome to the stage.”

I nailed him with a glare, anger soothing my nerves. He just chuckled, completely unintimidated by me, even though he should be at least a little worried. I could get very creative in my revenge plans.

“We always serenade with one song during a show,” he explained, before he looked over his shoulder and winked at the crowd. Yeah, they lost their minds again—at this rate, no one in the audience would have voices by tomorrow. “We usually sing ‘Heart Chords,’ but tonight . . . tonight it’s going to be ‘Pact.’”

That song clearly meant something to the fans, but the title alone sent shivers through my gut. I squirmed on my stool as Tobias moved toward his microphone. “I know this is a fan favorite, the unicorn song we only perform once a year, so hold on to your fucking knickers, ladies. Dudes, you too, if you’re wearing any. Because we’re about to rock them the fuck off.”

Tobias had a British accent, smooth and deep without Logan’s rasp. He stood right before me, and this close I could see the slight glow of the magic around their painted faces.

Logan got very close, leaning down to stroke a single finger across my cheek. “This one’s for you, Precious,” he murmured, his mic broadcasting those words to the crowd.

His speed picked up on his guitar, the black pick in his fingers gliding across the strings. It was an intricate melody he wove in what was clearly a rock ballad.

Noah’s drums started a beat later, and the layers added by Tobias’s bass had tingles tracing down my spine to leave goose bumps across my skin. The feeling swooped through my gut and settled low in my body, until I swore my clit throbbed at the sensation.

Logan wasn’t touching me, but with each chord, it felt as if he did.

Especially when he started to sing.

The three of us were captured in the essence of their magical music, mesmerized as Logan wove a tale of a pact between soulmates. They died together in the end, wrapped in each other’s arms, only to be reborn to love again.

It was just a song. But it destroyed me.

Logan’s eyes were on me the entire time, and as hard as I fought the tears, there was no holding them back. The stage lights blinded me from being able to really see if the rest of the crowd were bawling too, but the choked silence after the final chord told me there were more than a few tears.

Noise exploded around us as the bubble burst, and I turned to find Sara’s and Haley’s tear-streaked faces staring at me. “I’m dead,” Sara sniffled. “That bastard.”

Logan brushed away one of my tears, giving me another second of his full attention before he returned it to his audience. “I know, I know. It’s our emotional ballad, and that’s why we rarely play it. But with such beautiful ladies, we couldn’t resist.”

He strummed his guitar again, moving on to a faster beat. He didn’t look our way as the security guards returned to escort us off. When we reached the side of the stage, we were told to wait. “The boys will greet you after the show.”

Sara and Haley pushed in on me as soon as the guards were gone. “What. The. Fuck. Paisley Hallistar?” Sara’s grip was just short of painful. “What’s going on with you and Logan? That song was for a motherfucking soulmate. A soul mate. He was dead serious when he called you mate the other night? Like . . . no sarcasm?”

“He sang to all three of us,” I shot back weakly.

My ex-besties blinked at me before they laughed their asses off, and I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to murder them with my gaze. “Whatever you want to tell yourself,” Sara shouted when she caught her breath. “But I think it’s better if you’re honest about it.”