Chapter 1

Most women wouldn't complain about being paid to observe attractive, sweaty men on a concert stage, but Chastity Michaels would have happily given up the assignment to anyone else. She crossed her arms, standing on the very edge of the crowd, just outside of the railing at the front of the stage. A security guard gave her a once-over before turning his bored expression toward the crowd. The small venue was standing room only and filling up fast. A woman nearby said something rude about her cutting ahead of them, and she briefly lifted her press badge so they could see she was there for a job, not enjoyment. Chastity didn't want to be there any more than the fans behind her wanted her there. Nevertheless, the complaints stopped, and the woman returned to vocally fantasizing about the band members in vivid detail that no one should have to hear spoken aloud.

Taking out her cell phone, Chastity checked the time. No opening acts were scheduled, which she considered a blessing, but for a band gaining massive popularity so fast, it surprised her. And if they didn't have an opener, shouldn't the band be on stage already? Chastity had better things to do than reviewing another mediocre rock band known for their wild theatrics, prosthetics, and sexually suggestive lyrics. She had been strong-armed into reviewing them in order to also get the assignment for a new stage production she'd been wanting to see that was opening here in Atlanta.

Her boss, Rex Tanner, wanted sex appeal for social media click-bait, and for some reason thought a woman reviewer for this particular band would give it the thirst approach. She'd had to look up what he'd meant by that. It made her feel cheap to be expected to lust openly for a band she had no interest in, but a job was a job, and she didn't get to like every aspect of it so long as she received a paycheck. So, she'd endure this particular torture and move on, as one did. Rex would be sorely disappointed when she didn't give him the article he wanted, but if he expected her to write a piece objectifying the men due on stage any minute, he didn't know her very well.

In the meantime, Chastity began to fidget. First, she checked her crossbody bag for her keys, wallet, phone, notebook and pens since taking stock of her belongings tended to ease her nerves. Then, once that was done, she was left to do nothing but wait. Her brief research told her very little about the band called A Mythical Dilemma aside from their strong European fanbase, especially in Germany, and the news that a member quit not long ago. Their singer. The lead guitarist had taken up the dual position of singing for the band as well as playing, and with him up front and center, their popularity had finally started to catch on here in the States.

Chastity began swirling her press badge around, twisting her lanyard and untwisting it again. The badge that gave her access backstage, where she was supposed to be right now. Part of her assignment was to see the band before and after the show, observe how they acted and prepared, though she was sure Rex only wanted word about the prosthetics. Supposedly, the costuming was so realistic that actual urban legends had arisen about the members. Chastity rolled her eyes. If people thought these guys were really who they dressed up as on stage, they deserved to be that gullible. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was watch a bunch of men getting dressed and basically cosplaying mythological creatures. Sorry, but no.

The lights dimmed dramatically as fog machines kicked on around the sides of the stage. The women behind her screamed like they were being slaughtered, and she grimaced. This was why she hated rock concerts. Not so much because of the music—that could be quite good—but because of how loud they were to see in person and the obnoxious fans. She mostly worked with stage productions, and she enjoyed that immensely. Something that told a story, not always through song, and the crowd could maturely watch without losing their minds.

The crowd chanted, A.M.D, over and over, as though the initials of the band name would make these people show up any faster, and the band was already—she looked at her phone again—twenty-seven minutes late to start. Faint outlines of figures moved around the back of the stage, preparing. Finally, the drummer took his seat, dressed as a troll. Probably due to his height and broad shoulders. Then the bass player pulled a guitar strap over his head to situate his instrument. Chastity could tell it was the bassist and not the guitarist since no signature ram horns could be detected. This guy was dressed as some sort of wolf or fox. Where was this Cyprian Agrios that made women swoon and lust for him like he actually was a satyr from Greek mythology sent to devirginize innocents and chase nymphs through the woods, or whatever it was satyrs did?

The lights flared to life and began strobing as the crowd roared around her. She noted that the bassist was using a regular guitar for this song as he passed in front. Definitely a fox, and he had nine tails. She would have to look that up. He was a good-looking man though, Japanese. His hair was longer on the left side than the right.

From above, a giant, wooden X that belonged in a BDSM chamber began to lower, and—seriously?—there was Cyprian, strapped to it and wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants over his prosthetic hoof boots. His long, dark hair was down, arranged wildly, and his ebony horns framed his face like some kind of beastly crown.

Ridiculous. Yet, he didn't create an unpleasant scene by any means.

As the X reached the platform on stage behind the drummer, two stagehands dressed like goblins of some sort rushed over to secure it, but left the singer bound to the thing. Now that he was on the stage, his microphone was visible, poking out from under his dark hair. So, he was going to sing while bound to a piece of wood, glistening abs on display. Her boss would be thrilled by this.

Yet, once Cyprian started to sing, her cynicism began to falter. He did have an amazing voice. Talent was clearly evident, but why all the spectacle? Surely they could have the same level of popularity without going through all this effort.

Wait, did he just sing the lyric, We would fuck for hours? Cue the hyperbolic compensation and unrealistic expectations. He looked terrific, but give him seven minutes tops, and he'd be snoring beside whoever he brought home with him.

As she continued to listen to the words, her face flushed. The song was about a night of wild sex and bondage. Chastity shouldn't be surprised, given his grand entrance, but somehow it still managed to take her off guard. The instrumental aspect of the song was good though, and she couldn't resist tapping her foot along with the beat. Not like she was enjoying herself or anything, because she wasn't…

When the first song ended, the goblin men finally released Cyprian from his bonds, removing the headset microphone. He then picked up a guitar and headed up front as the bassist switched instruments. Cyprian took up his spot on the left side of the stage where the larger mic stood about ten feet diagonally to Chastity's right. She turned her attention fully on him and sucked in a breath.

Eye contact. Or at least it seemed like it. As Cyprian scanned his audience, his gaze halted on her. He was probably looking at the person beside or behind her though. One of the women who would have no problem letting him do everything he promised in the last song to them. No big deal.

She swallowed hard.

His attention raked over the crowd a second time and came back to her. He grinned, like he could tell something about her from looks alone that he wanted to exploit, and the wicked expression made her breath hitch a second time. Then he went wild with the guitar, breaking into an even catchier song than the first. This one was about nymphs and a general metaphor of unattainable love freeing one of the darker aspects of a man's past.

Okay, so A Mythical Dilemma didn't suck, but that didn't mean they would get a great review out of her. What could they do that she hadn't ever seen before? She wasn't having a bad time, but could they wow her with something different than the average rock show?

One song bled into another, and Chastity quickly lost track of time as she listened to the words and the stories they told. Almost all about myths and legends, and many of them either erotic in nature or about the desire to be loved but failing at every attempt. In the middle of the band's set, Cyprian had an instrumental solo. However, it wasn't a guitar solo, which she expected. He retrieved a set of those flutes composed of multiple reeds bound from the shortest to the longest, no doubt because it brought an authentic element to his chosen onstage persona. When he started to play, the venue went completely silent as they listened to the melody. Chastity's mouth fell open, and she couldn't look away. It was as if he played solely for…her.

What a silly notion.

It was true though. She felt it in her blood. This song was for her. Even weirder, with each note, she became more and more aroused, which made no sense. A hot guitar solo—maybe. Drums? Sure… Pan flutes—what the hell?

She turned to look at the people around her, baffled. People were straight up making out, and others were getting way handsy. If she wasn't mistaken, the guy