from USA Today-Bestselling Author Blair Babylon!
The music calls Georgie.
Every night, she stands offstage, watching rock star Xan Valentine and his band, Killer Valentine, set fire to the crowd with music until they would burn down the city for him. His music wraps her until her fingers dance, desperately wanting the piano, but her terrified legs could never walk onto a stage.
Most nights, when Xan Valentine strides off the stage, his dark eyes shift, blurring, and he becomes Alexandre de Valentinois again.
Sometimes, Xan won’t let go.
Some of the other band members, Rade and Grayson, are caught in a death spiral of booze, drugs, and groupies. The drummer, Tryp, is too infatuated with his new wife to do more than show up to play.
Xan is the only one who can compel them onto the stage. He’s holding Killer Valentine together with the force of his will.
This can’t go on.
Something has to break.
Wild Thing is the second book in the Georgie and Xan series.
Haven’t read the first one yet?
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Excerpt from Wild Thing
Riding in the back of the limousine on the way to the sound check, Georgie watched Alex, or Xan, or whoever he was.
He reached over and held her hand. The hard calluses on his fingertips scraped her fingers. The sympathetic interest in Alex’s dark eyes made her feel like the chaos of the world out there had quieted.
As they neared the venue, gliding through the light traffic hours before the arena began to fill, Alex’s body tensed.
First, his far leg began to twitch.
His strong fingers tapped out a complicated rhythm on the armrest on the door.
As the venue came into view—a huge arts complex like a pile of white boxes surrounded by lonely fields of empty parking lots—Alex tugged her hand toward him, and he leaned over for a kiss.
At first, his lips caressed hers, drawing out her response, an intimate and tantalizing kiss that promised more. His lips parted, and Georgie opened hers. His strong arms clamped around her waist and the back of her neck, grabbing a fistful of her long hair. He stroked her tongue with his until she felt a moan shudder in her throat, and he chuckled against her skin as he drew away.
When he lifted his head, his dark eyes held the predatory gleam of a hawk, and his lips were pinker with the blood rushing through him.
He dragged her across the car seat.
His burly arms caged her, and he pinned her against the seat and kissed her again, opening her lips with his and bending her to fit against his hard body.
She flattened her hands against his chest.
He lifted his head, looking down at her. A smile curved one side of his mouth. “We’re almost to the show, anyway.”
She couldn’t quite catch her breath. “Yeah.”
He uncoiled his arms from around her, still keeping one hand resting on her back, and he stared out the window at the arena.
His posture on the seat was wider, more possessive of the space, and his body nearly vibrated with energy.
If she hadn’t seen the change for herself, several times, she might not have believed it. It seemed more like black magic than psychology.
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