Heavy Metal Heart by Nico Rosso Page A

it on a little thick.” Fuck, things had fallen apart fast. She wanted to cry. Or punch him. Just a shower and her own apartment would be some kind of sanity. “Save it for your groupies.” Saying the word covered her in a cheap sweat. “Because I’m not a damn groupie. I’m... This was...”
    “All that doesn’t matter. We’re way beyond that. Just listen.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been alive for thousands of years.” He stood on the bed, naked, completely exposed. “I make music and the energy of the audience keeps me alive.” His words were crazy but there was no madness in his eyes. “The Vandals I knew weren’t the kids who throw bottles off freeway overpasses. The Goths I’ve seen didn’t brood in black lace, they made war. And I’ve played for all of them. I’m a demon, born of the elements.”
    She backed to the door, then twisted to find the handle.
    “Misty, look at me.”
    The handle turned in her hand. One last look. She had to. Maybe it could end whatever relationship she’d had with him and his music. A clean break might not hurt so much. But she knew that wasn’t possible. The pain sank deep, pushed by betrayal. So just look at him , she told herself. See that he’s a just a man . Then she could start trying to forget any of this happened.
    Trevor still stood on the bed. But he was only half-man. The other half was beast. His legs were covered with thick hair, and he had cloven hooves for feet. The same dark fur that covered his legs was also thick on his forearms. The muscles of his chest were the same. And his eyes still reflected his energy and intensity. Above them, short horns curled from his forehead.
    He reached a hand out for her.
    She threw the door open and ran.

Chapter Five
    The music in the hotel suite screamed at her as she hurried through. Wolfgang and his girls were a tangled mess on the floor. Lee still sat in the chair, his woman curled on his lap. They were all motionless. They could be dead. At least they were human.
    Fucking high-heeled shoes slowed her down. She slammed out the front door and skittered to the elevator. It opened right away. She kept punching the lobby button until the doors closed again.
    What the hell was in that room? Her drink had been spiked. She was tripping. But she had cracked the seal on the bottle herself. There were still ways to drug her. That was the only explanation. Everything else looked normal. The elevator was still too damn slow.
    And when the doors opened, Misty anticipated the inferno. Cauldrons of hot oil, boiling the flesh off sinners. The devil with Trevor’s eyes. Tempting her to destruction.
    He had been talking crazy. Now she felt like the one going mad. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Monsters like that didn’t exist. Man/beasts belonged in fables and myths, or painted on ancient urns.
    The elevator finally creaked to a stop. She bolted out the doors before they were completely open. The old woman behind the main desk only shook her head sadly as Misty hurried across the lobby.
    At least it wasn’t a blazing ring of hell. And no monster’s hooves thundered after her. Yet. She shook the thought out of her head. It was a hallucination. Some kind of drug and hot sex and the fantasy that she had some kind of real connection with a rock star brought it all on.
    Night air blasted coldly through the open front door. She was back to reality, running down the street in ridiculous heels. She half expected to be joined by a hundred other women in impractical shoes trying to put distance between themselves and bad Hollywood dates. The nightly walk of shame. Counting herself among that stereotype pushed a blush of anger into her cheeks. But this was so much more than a busted one-night stand. Which made the fall to the reality that much more painful. She’d been so free with him. And with herself. It really did seem like something had changed in her.
    For the worst. She’d made up emotions where there were