Sirens - The Gripping Beast Part 1

The Gripping Beast.

by Charlene Teglia.

This book is dedicated to my own real-life hero, Pat, who bugged me for years to finish it so he could read it, and to Crissy and Angie who bought it so I had to. Thank you!

Prologue.

"Stop, start over. It's too slow. You're dragging by almost a full quarter-beat." The usually smoky, sultry voice rang with annoyance.

"I am not. You're rushing," snapped another feminine voice in response.

"Lorelei never rushes, everyone knows that," a dry alto interrupted in defense of the first voice. "She has a metronome in her head. If Lorelei says you're off, you're off. Pick it up and start from the top."

The snare snapped a down-beat and the ba.s.s and lead guitar swung in, perfectly coordinated this time. The slim, raven-haired lead vocalist nodded in approval and came in on cue.

It sent chills through their listening manager. Lorelei's music was riveting. She composed complex rhythmic structures that demanded perfectly timed execution. Combined with clean licks and soaring vocals that covered a full three-octave range, she'd sent the Sirens straight to the top of the charts from their very first release.

A release date she'd insisted on.

It was frustrating, but she dictated when to release a song or an alb.u.m and when to tour. The other members protested from time to time, but in the end they always went along with her, because she was always right.

He'd never forgotten the one time he'd tried to insist on a concert Lorelei didn't want to do. "Bad idea," she'd said. And she wouldn't budge. In a freak storm, the stage they would have been on was struck by lightning, but Lorelei and the Sirens were unscathed- because they weren't there.

After that, he didn't argue with Lorelei, either.

As always, listening to the band perform was an experience, even for a seasoned pro. In addition to perfect timing and impeccable rhythm, Lorelei had an ability to project emotion through music that came through even in a recording.

Live, it was nothing less than electrifying. She made an audience feel everything she felt, from tears to laughter, and it was an industry joke that with the trademark sultry finish, hotels near any stadium the Sirens played did a brisk business after the concert.

Tonight would be the final performance of their celebrated Legends tour, with their opening act, Thor's Hammer.

Everything was in place. Everything was going perfectly. The show was sold out. He should have been a very happy manager.

Instead, he was distinctly nervous, because something was bothering Lorelei. And when Lorelei was on edge, something was about to go wrong.

Chapter One.

"Lovely Lorelei, come and while away the time with me."

Lorelei Michaels stopped short at the invitation and let her eyes travel over six feet and four inches of buff, blond babe. Dane La.r.s.en was two hundred and twenty pounds of scrumptious Scandinavian s.e.x appeal in very attractive packaging. Muscles to drool over, a face to dream about, a throaty voice and that warm glint of humor in his eyes didn't hurt, either.

She looked at him and wondered what was wrong with her that she couldn't fall in love with a certified hunk like Dane.

"Come on," he teased. "I'll give you one of my famous back rubs. You're so edgy I could use you for an envelope opener."

She had to smile at his description. "Am I that bad?"

"Well, personally, I like a woman with sharp edges," Dane kidded. "It makes life interesting. But if you go on like that, you'll project it to the crowd and we'll have a riot instead of the usual Siren-induced love fest."

She shot him a killing look that he only laughed off. "See? You've misplaced your sense of humor. Come on, I'll cheer you up." The ba.s.s player flexed his strong fingers invitingly.

A back rub sounded wonderful, actually. She was tense. A ma.s.s of jangling nerves, to be more specific. And there was no obvious reason for it. The Legends tour was going so well. She knew without a hint of ego the alb.u.m was going to go platinum. It was her best work to date, and every stop on the tour they'd played to a sold-out crowd.

She was nearing the pinnacle of achievement in her career. She had success, recognition, money. She had youth, health and beauty. She had a gift and the joy of using it as it was meant to be used, to give others pleasure.

She should have been happy.

Instead, she was increasingly lost inside, edgy and restless. Looking for something and she wasn't even sure what.

No, if she was honest, she was looking for someone, and beginning to wonder if he existed. Why couldn't that someone be Dane? He was nice as well as gorgeous and they'd become good friends on the tour. Today wouldn't be the first time the ba.s.sist for their opening act, Thor's Hammer, had soothed her nerves and teased her back into good humor. In fact, Lorelei didn't know how she would have gotten through the grueling schedule without him.

"Dane, that's an offer I can't refuse." She smiled and fell into step with him. They slipped companionable arms around each other as they walked.

"So what was it today? Meghan off on the dragged triplets again?"

Lorelei groaned. "Oh, did you have to bring that up? Yes, I don't know why she falls off tempo on those, but I hate to take them out. They add so much to the texture of the song."

"Cry For Me", one of her favorites, had a particularly difficult opening that had the ba.s.s carry the melody in a series of minor dragged triplets. Meghan Davis, the Siren's ba.s.s player, seemed to have a mental block on that section and fluffed it repeatedly. Lorelei supposed she could always invert the ba.s.s and guitar parts and have Paige carry it, but she'd written it for ba.s.s for a reason and it irritated her to have to settle for anything less than her original composition.

And thinking about it wasn't doing anything to soothe her nerves or improve her mood.

Giving in to impulse, Lorelei jumped and landed in Dane's arms, knowing he'd catch her. "I don't want to talk about work. I want to be distracted. Distract me, Dane." .

He smiled back at her and swung her in a dizzy circle before returning her to her feet. "Gladly. And I have just the thing for you, too. You're going to love it."

"A surprise?"

"A fabulous surprise. It'll knock you out. Come on, I'll show you."

"What? What?" She danced beside him in excitement. "Give me a hint."

The tall blond slanted a gleeful look at her. "You want a hint? I'll give you a hint, but you'll never guess. Never, never, never."

"Ha! Try me."

"You asked for it. Here it is: the gripping beast." Smug satisfaction sounded in Dane's voice.

"Gripping beast? What's that? Is that a hint?" Lorelei demanded.

"That's all the hint you're getting."

"No fair! What kind of a hint is that? I demand a real hint."

"That's a real hint. You just don't know what it is and you won't guess, either," Dane gloated.

She fumed and shot him fiery looks. To no avail. Then she tried softening and coaxing. "Please, Dane. Please, please, please. Give me another hint."

He was unmoved by her wheedling. "No, you got one hint and that's all you get. Do you give up?"

"Never! I don't give up. It isn't in my vocabulary."

"Yeah, I know. But you aren't getting around me, so either take your best shot, or concede defeat." He smirked at her.

She considered him narrowly. "Gripping beast. That's what you said, right, the gripping beast?"

"Uh huh."

Lorelei ran through her mental repertoire of mythology, legends, folklore and music, but came up dry. Much as she hated to admit it, Dane had her stumped this time. But pride demanded she at least take a shot at it. "A new kind of glue."

He shouted with laughter, almost deafening her in the process. "Wrong!"

"A guitar stand."

"Way wrong."

She frowned. "What really old peanut b.u.t.ter becomes."

"Give it up, Lorelei, you don't know and you won't guess."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Okay, tell me."

He grinned at her. "I have to tell you a story first."

She brightened. "A myth?" She loved myths. She was an avid student of folklore and drew on cultural myths and legends frequently for musical themes. With her mixed heritage of Algonquin and Irish, she'd grown up hearing stories that never failed to delight her. She often wished she had the talent for storytelling, but since she didn't, she settled for reading everything she could get her hands on and listening to oral traditions every chance she got.

"Yeah, a family tale of weirdness sure to thrill you."

"Oh, a skeleton in the family closet? Tell away," Lorelei invited, intrigued.

"Not a skeleton, a lack of a skeleton, actually," Dane mused.

"You've got me hanging. I'm all ears."

"Lovely ears they are, too. Well, come into my dressing room." He opened the door and indicated she should precede him.

Lorelei threw herself full-length onto the convenient couch, face down, her head pillowed on her folded arms in preparation for a phenomenal back rub.

She wasn't disappointed. In fact, as Dane flexed his fingers and kneaded her shoulders, she shot him a questioning look. "You? Is that the answer to the riddle?"

He smiled back. "No, it's not me, but I'm forever flattered that you thought of me in terms of a beast." He continued to work along the line towards her neck. "With all this tension, you should have a raging headache. I thought you were still working out to relax."

"Um, doing tai chi. I am, and it helps. You should try me when I miss a day." The wry note in her voice served as an admission of her awareness that she was less than pleasant to be around these days.

"Just think, you can give Meghan a toss over your shoulder if she messes up again. That should relax you."

Lorelei smiled unwillingly. "That's a terrible thing to say. Although I can't deny that it's crossed my mind on one or two occasions. But really, a band is a team and she's good. It's not her fault I'm so on edge."

"And why are you on edge?"

Eyes closed, Lorelei missed the look that fleetingly crossed her friend's face. A look of longing and resignation quickly masked behind a smiling facade.

"I don't really know," she answered slowly. "Well, I do, but it sounds so ridiculous. Everything is going right. But the more it does, the more I get the feeling that it's all wrong somehow."

He paused, serious for a moment. "Do you have one of your feelings about tonight?"

She opened troubled eyes to meet his. "No. Not exactly. It's more about me, and it keeps getting worse." She hesitated briefly. "All right, I'll tell you but you'd better promise not to sell the story to the media. Inquiring minds do not need to know."

Dane's face took on an expression of wounded innocence and she made a face at him. "Cut it out. Okay, Dane, here it is. Lorelei Michaels, seductive temptress and siren singer of love and pa.s.sion, is a fake."

He pretended to consider that and prodded her side with one finger. "I don't know, you feel pretty real to me."

She grinned as much at his tickling as his teasing. "Fool. No, really, all these songs about love and desire and heartbreak are probably my repressed libidinous urges finding an outlet."

He gave her a wicked look. "Oh, is this a personal problem I can help you with? As a devoted friend?"

Lorelei laughed. "You're so generous. But really, what's wrong with me that I can't respond to anybody? I remember all those rumors about Jim Morrison, how his s.e.xy act was all a show and in real life he was impotent. At least in his case it could be explained by drugs. What's my excuse?"

As she put it into words, she felt the hurt and self-doubt all over again. At first she'd told herself she just hadn't met the right person. She wasn't ready. The chemistry wasn't right. The timing wasn't right. But time went on, and nothing changed.

Don't say it, she warned herself, don't even think the "f" word...frigid. She couldn't really believe it. She had pa.s.sion. It came through so clearly in her work and in her overall approach to life. So why didn't she feel it for a man?

Dane stopped and pushed her over to make room on the couch before he joined her. "Lorelei, what makes you think anything's wrong with you? So you aren't a megas.l.u.t. That's bad?" He went on jokingly, "Okay, maybe to the male fans, it's bad. There are a lot of disappointed men in your life. But why is it wrong to want to wait for something special?"

Lorelei curled against his side. "Because it's probably a cop-out. Emotional cowardice. I'm holding out for perfection so I never have to take a risk," she muttered in self-condemnation.

Dane laughed dryly. "I think you're pretty rough on yourself. I've never known a musician who pushed harder and took more risks. You don't do anything by traditional methods. If you think it might work, you go for it, and you don't hold back. It's what's made you so successful. And I think some day, some lucky man is going to make you want to risk everything and give your whole heart and soul." He gave her an affectionate cuff on the shoulder. "You'll do it, too. You never do anything halfway."

The warmth and caring concern mingled with admiration in his voice did as much as the words to comfort her. An answering warmth welled up and she hugged him. "Thanks. You're some friend, you know that?"

She didn't see the sadness in his eyes as he looked down at her bent head.

He would have given almost anything to be the one Lorelei was looking for, but he knew very well it would never be. She would never see him as anything but a friend. Still, her friendship was worth a lot and he was willing to settle for being her buddy. If all she wanted was a friend, he'd be that friend. Out loud he said only, "Yeah, I know that."

He went on, "As your friend, I promised you a stunning distraction. Prepare to be amazed."