Heavy Metal Heart: A Bad Boy Rock Star Romance (16 page)

Soon the tour would be over and they'd all go home. What then? He wanted nothing more to move Helena into his house, but would she want her old life back? Her normal life, not the one where she has a rock star by the heart strings. Would she want that change, and could she handle it?

He smiled to himself, thinking back to her reaction when he stripped naked inside her house. He remembered her tentative agreement to join him in this adventure. He knew she'd be someone up for adventure.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" A heavily accented voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned to its source. In front of him was the bartender they saw earlier when they arrived.

"Buna," he greeted in Romanian, one of the few words he knew.

"Your em, girlfriend? She is drunk and I must work," the woman continued in English.

“Where is she?" Torsten demanded, panic rising in his voice.

The bartender ushered him over to her stall, where he found Helena in a barstool, slumped over the bar.

"Thank you." In his worry, Torsten forgot his Romanian as he fished into his pockets for some bills and handed them over to the bartender without bothering to count. Her mouth turned up into a smirk as she accepted the cash and stuffed them in her cleavage. Torsten would have been enticed if his girl wasn’t passed out with her head down on the bar.

She wasn't moving. Torsten shook her arms gently, trying not to be rough despite his panic.

"Helena? Can you hear me? Helena?"

"Uhmmm." She groaned and began sliding off the bar stool, her legs barely able to carry her.

"Easy. Easy now." Torsten picked her up as if she were a feather and made his way through the gathering crowd of vendors and media members back to the great hall. The doors would open to the public in a mere few hours.

"Torrrrstennn...," she slurred.

"You're safe, love." He kissed her forehead and his panic began to subside. It appeared she wasn't drugged, just drunk. 

What a relief I don’t have to murder anyone. But I last saw her barely two hours ago. Why would she drink so much so fast?

Once inside, he spotted the woman who took Helena to their room the first time. "Show us back to the room," he barked at her.

The woman's eyes widened when she saw the half-conscious woman in his arms, but she smartly said nothing. "This way, sir," she said, turning on her heel and leading him through the maze of the castle's interior.

They reached the room quickly, where Torsten laid Helena carefully on the wide bed. He dug through the mini bar and pulled out a bottle of water.

"Can I help with anything?" the woman asked hesitantly at the door.

"We're fine, thank you," Torsten snapped. He tilted Helena's head up gently and placed the water bottle at her lips. He poured slowly and carefully, making sure she didn't inhale any of it.

"Torsten...," she murmured again, her eyes fluttering open.

"What happened, love? A bit early to get shitfaced, isn't it?" He moved strands of hair away from her face. Her lips and cheeks flushed with that delicate pink when she was either tipsy or aroused. Even drunk and disheveled, she still looked beautiful.

"You don't love me," she blurted.

Torsten blinked, taken aback. "What?" He felt a knife’s tiny stab in his heart.

"You like fucking me but you can't say three fucking words. You won’t tell me shit about you." Her eyelids drooped heavily and her words slurred together. She definitely wouldn't remember saying these things in the morning.

"Darling, you're drunk. You should sleep it off. We can talk about this another time." Torsten attempted to squeeze her hand, but she yanked it away.

"Don't placate me. I know you're better than me, how could I not fall in love with you? You're so hot, and travel the world and make me come all the time. You know all about me but I don’t fucking know you! Am I just here to stroke your ego, like why the fuck do you even want me here?"

Torsten sat and listened as best he could to Helena's slurred ramblings. He felt a stab in his chest because he knew it was the truth. These were her uninhibited thoughts tumbling out of her brain. The alcohol took her filter away and she bared her raw heart to him.

"Helena... you're not an ego stroke. You are so much more to me than that. But I want to talk about this while we're sober."

"See, three fucking words. You can't say them. You can’t even tell me what cereal you ate as a kid. You say all this other bullshit instead."

Torsten sighed. This was the moment he feared most would happen. 

At some point or another, she’d want him for the long haul. She fell hard and wanted commitment and she deserved that. He had to choose whether to push her away, let her find a nice, normal guy and keep his skeletons in his closet, or tell her everything and admit how deep his feelings truly went for her. To do that, he had to be vulnerable. He didn’t allow himself to feel vulnerability since he was twelve years old and beaten within an inch of life. 

Seeing her, the woman he loved so heartbroken because of his selfishness, gutted him. He made his choice the moment she spat out those words that stabbed him right in the heart. She was right. Despite her horrible experience with her ex, she opened herself up to him and put her heart on the line. She deserved the same in return. 

But baring his truth to her while she was drunk and emotional could not be a worse idea.

He leaned down to kiss her, but she rolled away. She hugged a pillow to her chest and inhaled a deep sob. Careful not to touch her, he laid down beside her.

"I promise we'll talk about this. We'll lay everything out on the table tomorrow. But, my love-,"

"Stop fucking calling me that! You don't love me, you can just say it!" she cried with painful gasps.

All the anger and frustration Torsten felt from soundcheck-- compounded with Helena’s stubbornness-- reached its boiling point at that moment. He grabbed her shoulder and forced her to face him. Tears streamed from her eyes and her face contorted with hurt.

"Yes, I do! I love you, Helena! I love you more than any woman I've ever met. I love you more than Lars ever fucking did and that's why I brought you with me. That's why I come back to you every single night. That's why I'll make you come until my cock falls off. I'm completely in love with you."

Helena shut her eyes tightly as another sob wracked her body. Torsten pulled her tightly against him and this time, she allowed him. She collapsed into his chest, sighing and shuddering deeply as he rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"He hurt me... so badly. I was... so broken... until you...," she choked out between sobs.

"I’ll make it better, my love." Torsten murmured into her hair, stroking it gently away from her face. "I’ll tell you everything about me, what I’ve never told anyone. I fucked up and I won’t do wrong by you again. I’ll do whatever I need to prove that I love you and I'll never leave you."

"You just did...," she whispered into his shirt.

"Hmm? What do you mean, love?" When she didn't answer, he shook her gently. "Helena?" He pulled away to see that her eyes were closed and her lips parted slightly. No longer sobbing, she breathed deeply and evenly. 

Torsten sighed, then chuckled. 

Passed out cold.

He laid her down gently and covered her with blankets.

Should've listened to me, love. I knew you'd be out cold any minute.

He took one last long at her angelic, sleeping form before closing the door behind him. As he strode down the hallway, he clenched his fists a few times. Not because he was still angry, but he was still in protective mode over Helena, and had to get his head back in the game. 

She'll be fine. She's safe. We just need to get this show going. Then we can talk, and get everything out in the open.

As he crossed the threshold from the hallway to the great room, his face hardened and became all business. In that moment he transformed from an ordinary breathing man into the Heavy Metal God of Norway. 

He’d bare his soul to his woman and be there when she needed him, but right then his only job and purpose was to put on the most killer metal show Romania had ever seen. 

Helena woke to a pounding headache and muffled noise echoing throughout her room. Her whole mouth felt as dry as raw cotton. She grabbed an open bottle of water on the nightstand and poured it down her throat. After quenching her thirst, she sat up and tried to make sense of the world through the pain in her skull. 

She looked at her watch. It was after midnight. That sound vibrating throughout the room was undoubtedly the concert in full swing. All the stone distorted the sound as it echoed, but even her hungover brain could tell it was music. 

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to remember everything. She went to the bartender in the courtyard determined to get drunk, after deciding in her mind that Torsten didn't love her. Helena cringed as she remembered the bartender, an attractive woman in gothic clothes and makeup, advising her to slow down as she downed shot after shot. 

By the time she got cut off, all the alcohol hit her at once. 

"You're pretty hot. You're probably Torsten's type," she'd drunkenly slurred to the bartender. 

Ugh. I am such a hot mess when I drink.

She didn't remember much after that. How did she get to their room? She glanced around in confirmation that it was indeed the correct room and she didn't stumble into someone else's suite.

As she stretched and drank more water, the hazy memories began taking more solid forms.

Oh God, Torsten! Oh my God, I could fucking die…

Even though he wasn't there, she dove under the covers in embarrassment. The strongest memory was his warm, spicy smell. He carried her back here and he smelled so good, she could get intoxicated his scent alone. 

She remembered crying and being held by him. His words soothed her, as they always did. Trying to make sense through the painful pounding in her brain, she strained to remember. 

Did he actually say it? Did he say he loves me or did I dream that?

She concentrated as hard as she could, trying to fit the pieces together, but couldn't. Exasperated, she sighed. 

Well, if he comes back here after the show, it's possible he does. If he up and leaves me in this spooky-ass castle, I guess that's an answer too.

A sudden knock at the door made her jump out of her skin. She listened carefully. Music still drifted and echoed off the walls, so it wasn't Torsten coming back. 

She approached the door hesitantly. "Who is it?"

"It's Crina, miss! Just stopping by to check on you and bring you some refreshments." 

Helena blushed, wondering how many people saw Torsten carrying her drunken carcass through the castle. She smoothed out her hair and tried to put on a friendly smile as she opened the door. 

"Thank you! That's very--," 

A gloved hand shot out of nowhere and covered her mouth tightly. She didn't have any time to feel panic or fear. In a flash, another arm attached to a massive, strong body wrapped around her waist and began dragging her away from her room down the dark hallway. 

The hallway was coated in pitch black. All the wall sconces along the castle corridors had been turned off.

Oh my God, I’m being fucking kidnapped! 

Pure fear swam through Helena's mind as she blinked and tried to gather any information on who just snatched her from her room. But nothing. She faced backward as the man pulled her roughly through the castle passageways. She couldn't get a glimpse of his face, shoes, or anything that could help her. 

With every attempt Helena made to stand and walk on her own, her kidnapper hoisted her off her feet to continue dragging her. 

"If you try to struggle or call attention, I'll have him beat you unconscious," hissed a heavily accented female voice. 

Helena recognized it as Crina and choked back a muffled sob. Where were they taking her? Why were they doing this?

She cried out in pain against the man's hand as they suddenly descended down a flight of stairs. Her feet dragged and bounced on the cold, hard steps. A door opened and the man dragged her through. 

Finally, a light came on and Helena blinked. The man pulled her roughly to a chair in the middle of the room and forced her to sit down. She felt cold, biting metal handcuffs shackle her wrists to the chair. 

Glancing around, Helena observed she was in some kind of storage room. Metal file cabinets lined the walls. Shelves held a variety of office supplies. A simple desk and chair sat in one corner. Trembling, she raised her head slowly to get her first look at her captors. 

There stood Crina, as she expected, looking smugger than the cat that ate the canary. Her partner was an extremely tall, large man covered in black from the mask over his face to his steel-toed boots. He looked like he could knock her off her feet with one slap.

"No need to be afraid, dear," Crina said, venom dripping from her voice. "We just need your boyfriend to pay us and you'll be back with him in no time." 

Helena sucked in a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts more clearly. "You're holding me ransom?" 

"Mmm. Such a harsh way to put it. But if that's what you insist on calling it." Crina's dark lips turned up in a nonchalant smirk. Neither she nor her hulking companion seemed nervous at all.

Helena shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position with her arms pulled behind her so tightly. 

It doesn't seem like they'll kill me. But I have to make them talk, make them expose some kind of weakness. Bide some time.

"So you've done this whole kidnapping thing before?" She tried to make her voice sound as nonchalant as Crina's. 

"Only when absolutely necessary. Do you know how hard it is to make a living in Romania?" Crina stepped forward and knelt directly in front of Helena. "I have three children to raise on my salary alone and no rich, famous boyfriend to bail me out." She stood, her face contorting into a hard scowl as she looked down at Helena with disdain. "How nice it must be."