Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About the book

  -1-

  -2-

  -3-

  -4-

  -5-

  -6-

  -7-

  -8-

  -9-

  -10-

  -11-

  -12-

  -13-

  -14-

  -15-

  -16-

  -17-

  -18-

  -19-

  -20-

  -21-

  -22-

  -23-

  -24-

  -25-

  -26-

  -27-

  -28-

  -29-

  -30-

  -31-

  -32-

  -33-

  -34-

  -35-

  -36-

  -37-

  -38-

  -Acknowledgements-

  -Also by Madelynne Ellis-

  -About the author-

  Copyright © 2023 Madelynne Ellis. All Rights Reserved.

  Cover Design by Madelynne Ellis

  Cover images from depositphotos.com & periodimages.com

  Edited by Dayna Hart of Heart to Hart Edits

  First Published in 2023 by Incantatrix Press.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or to events or places is coincidental.

  www.madelynne-ellis.com

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  Refrain

  When your past collides with your present and you wind up broken, so you walk away, lest you break everyone else.

  Rock guitarist Spook Mortensen has spent a decade hiding from his traumatic past. Now everyone knows his secrets, and their judgement leaves him broken inside and out. To avoid destroying everything that matters to him, Spook leaves both Black Halo and the woman he loves.

  But there’s no running from the demons that lurk in the darkest corners of your soul, because they hitch a ride with you wherever you run.

  There doesn’t seem to be a path out of the darkness, until the band’s irresistible, sex-addicted, bad boy frontman swoops in determined to stage an intervention.

  Xane’s prepared to do whatever it takes, no matter the sacrifice, to mend the hole in Spook’s heart and ensure he returns to where he belongs – Allegra Hutton’s arms and the Black Halo line-up. What neither of them expects is how intense the bond between them will become.

  Refrain is an angsty, spicy, heart-wrenching rockstar romance with flawed characters, broken and damaged souls, intense friendships, all the feels, and a lot of bed sharing.

  It’s complicated… okay?

  Content Warning: This book contains material that may upset some readers. Subjects include mental illness, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, past physical, mental, and sexual trauma, self-harm, and suicidal ideation. This book contains graphic sexual scenes and strong language. It is written in British English and uses British slang.

  -1-

  Xane

  Early June. Southampton, UK.

  “Don’t die. I’ll never fucking forgive you if you die.”

  The miserable rain wouldn’t let up. It dripped into his eyes and hammered incessantly against Xane’s head and back as he folded himself over Spook’s prone form. The cacophony of it drummed in his ears in place of the heartbeat he was frantically trying to detect. “Spook. Goddammit. Please.”

  What did he do? What the fuck did he do?

  Why wouldn’t his fingers work?

  He managed to wrestle his phone from his pocket. “Ambulance,” he barked at it. So many questions. Too many that he didn’t have answers to. The moment the operator ended the call he hit speed dial for Luthor. “Shipping containers about a hundred yards from the bus. Spook’s out cold. He’s been attacked.”

  “Badly hurt?” his boyfriend asked.

  “There’s blood everywhere. He’s a fucking mess.”

  “Tell me you called an ambulance first?”

  “Course. Fucking get here. Please.”

  “Hang tight. I’m already on my way.”

  Luthor continued to talk to him, but Xane dropped the phone, so that he could strip off his leather jacket and gently cover Spook’s shoulders. It did little to keep off the rain. Fucking weather never cut you a break when you needed one. By the time Luthor skidded to a halt beside him, Xane was wet through and shaking so hard he could barely communicate.

  His lover dropped the bus’s first aid kit between them but didn’t bother opening it. Sticking plasters weren’t going to cut it. He fell onto his bare knees and entwined Xane in a rough hug. “Ash is watching for the ambulance. Help’s coming. Who did this? Xane… Who did this?”

  “I don’t know,” he croaked into the warmth of Luthor’s shoulder. “Is he breathing? I don’t know if he’s still breathing.”

  Heedless of the dirty red puddle, Luthor leaned right down so that his cheek was on a level with Spook’s mouth. “He is. He’s still with us, Xane. He’s hanging in there. What he needs is for you to do the same. Take a breath for me, eh?”

  His hand touched Xane’s face, bringing both focus and comfort.

  “Steve,” he blurted. “He wasn’t nearly this badly…” That event was imprinted directly over the top of the present. Steve, blood erupting from his nose in a gush outside the casino in Monte Carlo. Red everywhere. Red as the pool they were kneeling in. Red as the rivulets coursing over Steve’s parted lips and mingling with the hairs of his designer scruff. Red as spilled ketchup. Red as the entire right side of Spook’s head.

  He should have stayed with him. Should never have taken his eyes off him.

  “Xane. It’ll be okay.”

  The gleam in Luthor’s mismatched eyes was too bright. “Don’t promise me. You don’t know that.”

  “What happened to Steve was a freak accident. He was alone. This isn’t the same. We’re right here and you don’t have to let Spook out of your sight, not for a second. Nothing’s going to spirit him away. You can ride with him to the hospital. They’ll be here soon. But only if you keep it together, otherwise you’re no use to him. Do you understand me, Xane? Nod that you understand.”

  “I get it. Yeah.”

  “Yeah?”

  He shivered, desperate to rid himself of the clammy sensation creeping over his skin. “I’m good.”

  Luthor squeezed his arm. “Another few minutes, that’s all.”

  The sound of running feet had them both turning. Rock Giant’s moss green hair settled like fronds of seaweed over his eyes as he slid to a halt, sending a spray of water into the air. “Which bastard did this?”

  Ronnie Bush shunted in behind him, canopying them with a corporate golfing umbrella. “Shouldn’t we get him out of the puddle?”

  “I don’t think we should move him.” Luthor reached a protective arm over Spook’s prone form. “Let’s leave it to the experts, eh? He’s not at risk of drowning, only of getting cold.” On cue, Rock Giant shrugged off his coat, and spread it overtop of Xane’s jacket. “Where’s Alle? Has someone told her?”

  Alle. Christ, yes. Xane hadn’t given so much as a thought to Spook’s girlfriend. Hard to think of her as that, after watching his friend actively avoid relationships for the best part of a decade. Someone ought to tell her what had happened. “I have her number in my phone, if you want to call.”

  “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Ronnie passed the umbrella to Paul then hunched against the shelter of the nearest shipping container to see his phone screen. It was more likely that Alle would pick up a call from Ronnie. While she’d taken what had gone down between him and Spook back in Gothenburg a darn sight better than his girlfriend, that didn’t mean she wasn’t holding a grudge. Fuck, it was all a right bloody mess in an all too literal sense.

  “I’m not getting a reply. I even tried calling—went straight to voicemail.”

  “Could just be shitty reception,” Luthor griped.

  An electronic chirp sounded nearby. “Did you hear that?” Xane asked.

  “Hear what?”

  The answer was evidently no.

  Rock Giant mushed his lips together, which lent his jawline an extra granite-like quality. “Wasn’t she hanging out with Dani and Mrs Gore today? Maybe give one of them a try.”

  “Luthor?” Xane prompted his lover. Dani had barely said a word to him in the last twelve hours. It was unlikely she’d take his call, and being used as a messenger service to reach Spook’s girlfriend was going to go down like a lead balloon regardless of the emergency.

  “I’ll try.” Luthor rose and backed away from their little huddle. His absence left a chill down the side of Xane’s body. The shakes hit him again as a continual tremor. “Paul, will you try Ginny?”

  “Would do,” the big guy said. “If I had her number.”

  “Why don’t you?” He had been in possession of it. They all had.

  “Ash purged it from my contact list before the wedding. Something about unnecessary schmoozing. Seriously, he’s lost his marbles since they cut that cake. All I asked was whether she had a spare pair of fishnets I could b—”

  “Not now, eh?” Luthor cut in. “I’m not getting a response.”

  “I’m still not having any joy either,” Ronnie remarked. “And I’ve set it to auto redial.� �

  Xane swore he heard another electronic chirp.

  Luthor re-joined Xane on his knees, having stuffed his phone back into one of his many pockets. “Dani’s going straight to voice mail. Wherever the ladies are, it’s obviously a reception dead zone.”

  “Maybe Ash—” Rock Giant began.

  “Let’s not distract him.” It was far more important that Ash directed the paramedics to the right place. Xane didn’t want them delayed, even by a second.

  Time drizzled on. Xane wound his fingers around Spook’s wrist. There was a certain measure of relief in feeling the steady rhythm of Spook’s pulse. He’d frozen in place by the time the paramedics arrived, breaking the stillness that had settled around them like a shroud. He had to uncurl each finger separately, then his legs protested him rising too. Bits of gravel clung to the skin of his knees. He knew he ought to feel sore, but he couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. He’d stopped being cold, though evidently, he was still shaking as someone wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

  “Is he okay?” Xane asked.

  One of the paramedics shone a light into his eyes.

  “I want to go with him,” he blurted as the ambulance crew were hopping into the interior with Spook strapped to a trolley.

  “Maybe get dried off and follow.”

  “No.” Xane threw off the blanket. “I need to be with him.”

  Luthor wrapped him up again. “It’s important,” he told the woman.

  She inclined her head as if to say your call, but you’re gonna stay wet. Like he cared about that. Steve had died because he’d let him go. There was no way he was leaving Spook. “Fine, just stay out of the way. She pointed him at a seat. Buckle in, don’t move.”

  Luthor slipped Xane’s phone back into his hand, then kissed him goodbye. “Keep us updated. We’ll find Alle.”

  “And you’ll explain to Dani.”

  “She’ll get it, Xane. No explanation necessary.”

  He didn’t quite have Luthor’s faith. Maybe she’d understand that Spook needed him right now, but maybe it’d be confirmation that he cared more for Spook than he did for her. It wasn’t true. He didn’t rank the people he loved.

  What she had to understand was that while he’d apologise for his actions as many times as she liked, he’d never regret making them. Time over, he’d do the same thing again. And, if he was really the man she wanted him to be, the man worthy of her love, she’d never ask him to do otherwise.

  The slam of the ambulance doors snapped him out of his thoughts. It didn’t matter. None of it did. The only thing of importance right now was Spook. He clasped his friend’s ice-cold hand. “Stay with me, eh?” The words were as much for his benefit as Spook’s. He wasn’t even sure Spook could hear him.

  Spook came round as they reached A&E, but he only croaked his name to the paramedics before falling back into silence. He held onto Xane’s fingers through the bars on the bed as they wheeled him along the hospital corridors from one place to the next. X-rays, CT scan, a stream of nurses and doctors pushing needles into his veins, taking bloods, and attaching monitors. There was no brain bleed, no cracked skull, so no surgery needed, just a vicious cut that glue couldn’t hold together. Xane had to turn his head when they got the staple gun out; even the sound of it made his guts churn. By the time they were done, Spook was paler than the bedsheets. Leastways, the bits that weren’t a motley of reds and purples. One of his eyes was glued closed, half his face swollen almost to the point of him being unrecognisable.

  “He’ll be fine,” one junior doctor reassured him. They all introduced themselves, but Xane couldn’t remember a single name. “It’s all soft tissue damage. It’ll heal. It looks bad now, but there shouldn’t be any long term issues. Just a scar you won’t see under all that hair.”

  Funny how no one mentioned the psychological scarring, though there were plenty of questions about how it had happened.

  Xane had endured enough counselling in his life to admit there were benefits, while still retaining a degree of scepticism over its worth. Spook had once likened his time in therapy to the Cold War, but maybe it was time to start addressing the fundamental issues that had got them to this point. Playing hedgehog did nothing for the internal bruising. The truth was that they were both so riddled with scar tissue it was a wonder either of them ever managed to get out of bed.

  It seemed to take forever for them to wind up in a bed space. Graham Callahan, Black Halo’s formidable manager, appeared and exchanged some words with the staff. That eventually bought them some privacy; an isolation room at the end of the main ward. A visit from the cops followed. All to no effect. Xane told them what he knew, which was nothing, and Spook continued his unnerving silence, only making the odd indrawn hiss when someone fussing over his wounds applied a little too much pressure.

  “Perhaps questions could wait a while,” the doctor advised when the coppers started getting impatient. “He has concussion and multiple other injures. It’s going to hurt to talk right now, and while I appreciate you want answers, the last thing my patient needs is agitating.”

  Some sort of drip got wired up to feed him a steady supply of pain relief.

  Xane understood the officer’s frustration, he was on edge waiting for answers too. Spook’s silence, if he was honest, scared him more than the injuries.

  Evening rolled around before they got any time alone. Spook refused anything to eat, even a jelly pot. Xane didn’t have much of an appetite either, but he’d been shown the vending machine, and was on his third cup of horrible coffee and half-way through a packet of cheesy puffs. “What the hell happened? I was only gone a couple of minutes. Did you see them? How many were there? What did they want?”

  Given the press piece that had landed that morning, it was hard not to draw conclusions.

  Spook turned his head so that Xane was left staring at a patchwork of bruises. He got up and walked around the bed. “Get real, Spook. I’m not the police. It’s me. Who the fuck did this to you? Do you know?”

  The heart monitor made a sudden bleat, and Xane watched the trace on the little screen climb. Spook didn’t turn away this time. It probably hurt too much. But he did pull his gaze away from Xane’s.

  “You know. I know you know. Okay, you don’t have to say, not if you don’t want to. Probably hurts to talk, right?” The wounds he could see were bad enough, and shit, he didn’t want to open old ones, but— “They didn’t do anything more, right? Not more than this?”

  Spook’s one good eye lasered him. He clasped Xane’s shirt front, reeling him in until his ear was only a hair’s breadth from Spook’s lips. “Alle?” he croaked.

  The dry rasp sent Xane into a dichotomous state of rapture and despair. Hearing Spook speak, even a single word was good, but the rusty croak leaking from his windpipe, that…that was troubling.

  “The guys went to find her. They’ll bring her.”

  “No.”

  The alarm on the monitor started pinging again. “Eh? Hold up. Are you—are you worried about her? Was she—Spook, was she with you?”

  She couldn’t have been. There’d been no sign of anyone else. Xane pulled his thoughts back to the rain-drenched shipyard, the rusty tang in the air, seagulls screeching overhead, worn concrete hard against his knees, and the guys gathered around trying to reach her.

  And that burr on his senses, the twittering little chirp.

  It was obvious what it was now. He’d heard it every time one of them dialled. A terrifying vision of her sprawled out, just as broken as Spook only a few paces from where they’d all been assaulted him. Shit! He reached for his phone, only for Spook’s fist to tighten on his shirt again.

  “Wasn’t…” He shook his head the tiniest degree. “Don’t… bring her here.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Spook?”

  Another tiny head shake.

  “Okay, but I can guarantee she’s going to want to see you. I know you’re not at your prettiest, but in these sorts of circumstances women don’t give a shit about that sort of thing.”

  “Promise me.”

  “Always, but you realise your girlfriend’s as stubborn as a fucking mule. I’m not sure no is in her vocabulary, so short of physically restraining her, I’m not sure—”

 

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