Free My Heart's Bliss (Hard Love & Dark Rock #3) by Ashley Grace Page A

watching the green lights glow.  I turned to Sara, to Micah, to Sergio.  And looked back at Joey, and nodded my head.
    He counted off the tempo, and Sergio and Sara came in together, as solid and well-synced as a single mind in two bodies.  I closed my eyes, nodding my head in time, letting the music flow into me as the crowd grew quiet.
    Micah started his lead, bringing us deeper into the song, hypnotizing us with those eerie notes.
    I thought of Anne.  I thought of the way her dark hair framed her face.  I thought of the luscious feel of her curves under my hands.  And I thought of her beautiful eyes looking into mine, the way her soul seemed to shine through those beautiful eyes, the way that the light in her gaze seemed to remind me of my own soul.  I thought of the way she made me feel: alive, again.
    My left hand clutched the guitar's neck, my fingers pressing a chord.  My right hand came up, striking the pick across the strings.
    I turned around, bringing my mouth to the mike, getting ready to sing.
    I didn't look at the crowd.  I didn't need to.
    I thought of Anne, and sang for her.
     
    No matter the state of my life
    I'll love you
    No matter the joy or the strife
    I'll love you
    No matter if sick or if hale
    I'll love you
    No matter the cost of the sale
    I'll love you…
     
    A commotion in the crowd drew my attention.  Was someone trying to start a pit?  This wasn't exactly one of our harder-edged songs.
    But even as I watched, I kept singing.
     
    My love and my life, I give them both
    This is my Heart's Blood Oath
     
    Something white flashed in the crowd, vibrant in the black-light glow.  A second later, I realized it was a pair of panties.  People were stepping back, clearing the way, in order to not get hit in the face with them.
    Panties thrown on stage was common for our shows.  But seeing them waved around in the crowd like a flag—not so much.
    My heart made a crazy leap in my chest.  My eyes followed the arm down, saw Anne's friend Becca making her way through the crowd.
    And there behind her: Anne.
    I ripped the strap off my neck, dropped my guitar, and leapt off the stage.
    The band kept going without me, but I was already climbing the barricade that held the crowd back.  Dozens of hands reaching up for me like stalks of wheat in a field.  I got another glimpse of Anne—big-eyed and lovely—before I plunged forward into the mob.  Bodies surging and moving all around me, trying to touch me, their hands clutching at my clothes.  I made my way forward as gently as I could, my body turned sideways and my shoulder acting as a wedge, moving the bodies aside.
    And then a gap opened up in front of me—Becca whirling like a dervish, her panties swinging at eye level.  She saw me, grinned a wild grin, and then stepped to the side.
    And there was Anne.
    I moved toward her, she moved toward me.  And then we were together, catching hold of each other in the midst of that crowd like shipwreck survivors in a stormy sea.
    "Anne," I said, feeling my heart thundering in my chest.
    "Trace," she replied, her eyes shining in the dark.
    I pulled her body against mine, and pressed my lips to hers, and kissed her with all of the love and hope that I felt surging inside of me.
    And she kissed me back.
     

Chapter 13
    Anne
     
    Trace got us up on the stage, and we waited at the side, watching the show from the best seats in the house.  It was an incredible show, even better than when they'd played in San Francisco.  The Belletrists were on fire, playing with an intensity and a passion that had the whole crowd in a frenzy.  Even Sara Sounding and Micah looked focused and inspired.  And, with us in the wings, Bernstein beamed with unmistakable happiness.
    The high-spirits continued after the show.  Joey and Sergio and Angel were excited to see Becca, and she jumped in the limo with them and the rest of the group.  The rest of the group except for Trace and me, that is.  We got in the towncar.
    As