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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


 


             With a name like Shadowside, it was little surprise the mansion Kei Matsuya called home was located in the highly exclusive neighborhood of Sea Cliff where most of San Francisco’s wealthy elite lived.  And no wonder.  One couldn’t beat the area for some of the most spectacular views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the bay.  I’d read that Danielle Steel lived here and I well could believe it as I drove down El Camino del Mar past homes that would make Beverly Hills envious.


            GPS be damned, it took a few wrong turns and some curious looks from a few obvious denizens before I finally located the damn place.  If Kei Matsuya didn’t want you to find him, you weren’t going to.


            Once I saw it however, I was tempted to say forget it and have him meet me at a hotel.


            Shadowside truly lived up to its named and then some.  It looked like something out of Dark Shadows, complete with crawling ivy and gargoyles.  As I drove through the entrance, I half expected to see Barnabas Collins balefully gazing down at me from one of the mullioned windows and I shuddered.


            Why the hell couldn’t he have lived someplace normal like a nicely ostentatious Mc Mansion?  Then again, he was a rock star.  This was normal.


            For a moment I sat idling the engine, my heart racing in my chest.  My imagination was starting to run away with me, but there was no escaping the fact that Shadowside was fucking eerie.  Surrounded by a huge wrought iron gate and thick foliage, including some huge trees with branches that looked suspiciously like arms, it was big and beautiful in a creepy sort of way, but also a reminder as to why black people were seldom in scary movies.  If a place looked like a psycho axe murderer’s hangout, we were smart enough to stay away. 


            I took several calming breaths and chided myself that in spite of the fact that the place would be perfect for the next Freddy Krueger flick, there were no such things as ghosts and Kei Matsuya just had some deep-seated guilt issues he needed to deal with.


 


            Shutting off the engine, I stepped out of the car and stood up when I noticed a dark blue BMW parked in front of the marble steps leading to the very gothic-looking front door.


            Before I could put one foot in front of the other, I felt a hand grab my arm and I nearly jumped out of my skin.  Terrified and annoyed, I wheeled around and came face to face with a pair of assessing green eyes that were not in the least bit friendly. 


            I glared at her, pissed that she’d scared me shitless.  “Excuse me but do I know you?”       “You’re Eva Vincent, right?”  She raked me in as if I were a potential rival.  “I’m Jessie Chastain.  Kei Matsuya’s girlfriend.


I hadn’t been here for more than five minutes and already there was going to be drama.  I wasn’t in the mood, standing out here in front of Hammer Horror central.  “That’s nice dear.  I still don’t know you and the next time you put a hand on me, I will chop it off at the wrist.”


I had to give her credit. She didn’t even bat an eyelash.  “I just wanted to see what you looked like.”


“Well know you know, so if you don’t mind, I’ve got a job to do.”


“Just make sure you remember that,” she replied haughtily.  “Don’t get any ideas about him.”


She had to be kidding me? 


“Oops, maybe your position isn’t as secure as you’d like to think, sweetheart.”  


Her green eyes glittered with hate, but she’d brought my inner bitch to the fore.    


“I’m not here to take Kei away from you, darling, though if I put my mind to it you’d be yesterday’s news.”  I smiled at her evilly.  “I’m just here for a consultation.  I may be gone by tomorrow.” 


“For your sake, I think you should be,” she said then whisked by me to ring the doorbell, which thankfully rang like chimes and not Tubular Bells. She cast a scathing glance over her shoulder as we both waited for the door to open.


When it did I expected Lurch the zombie butler to open the door and welcome us to Shadowside in the just-from-the-grave baritone.


What I got was an eyeful of a six-foot tall, gorgeous piece of man-flesh with the most incredible cascade of blue-black hair that flowed down a little past his waist and a pair of wicked almond eyes that looked like sex and which caused my tongue to almost drop to the ground.


Holy shit, the man had looks that could kill and for a quick second I thought what a lovely way to die.  No wonder the chick in front of me was so sprung.


I also didn’t expect for him to look at the other woman like something he’d stepped in.


“What the hell are you doing here,” he spat coldly.  Now she flinched and for a minute I felt sorry for her.  “What part of ‘we’re done’ did you fail to comprehend?”  Then that dark gaze fell in my direction and the look changed completely.  He eyed me the way a starving man did a seven-course meal.  “Your website photo doesn’t do you any justice, babe,” he drawled silkily while mentally undressing me on his front steps.  “Damn woman, you are smokin’ hot and I may have a hell of a time keeping my hands to myself.”


Okay, I admit it but I just couldn’t keep from an arrogant toss of my head as Kei ushered me inside.  I spared a brief look behind me as Jessie shot daggers in my direction.


 


 


Once inside, Kei took my hand in his as if he owned it.  “I apologize for the fucked-up welcome.  We dated for a while, but decided we didn’t suit.  She’s the type who likes being attached to famous musicians but doesn’t quite understand that practice and gigs come first.”


 “I’m here to work Matsuya, not to get in the middle of your love life.  But you’d better tell her the next time she comes at me like that, I’m going to rip out her throat with my teeth!”


Kei laughed, shaking his lean frame.  The dark eyes, ringed with the longest and thickest lashes ever seen on any human being were full of amusement and those lips I’d seen pictures of were even more dangerous close and in person.  “It’s my lot in life, Eva.  Women just can’t seem to contain themselves.”


“Oh here we go again, the ego has landed,” and the tension caused by Jessie had dissipated.


He was still holding my hand and though it felt very nice, I had to maintain my professional distance.  Seeing Kei Matsuya this up-close and personal, I wondered if it were possible.


The man oozed feral sexuality and jaw-dropping charisma.  He even smelled like sex.  Every look, the way he moved, he was like a silken predator.  Even with a face that was both beautiful and masculine, he was pure unadulterated male, no additives, fillers or preservatives.  Neither a line nor a wrinkle appeared on his smooth, ageless features.  The only way possible to tell his age was in the deep well of his fawn brown eyes.


The jeans he wore hung low around his hips, barely held in place with a studded leather belt that had seen better days and the tight wife-beater emphasized his sculpted abs.  I swore that I could see the puckered tips of his nipples through the thin material.  I sucked in air and too late realized my mistake. 


Yes, indeed he smelled like sex; the good kind, hot, sweaty and dirty.


It had been years since any man had affected me in quite so primal a way.  I should have known; if just talking to him on the phone had gotten me hot and bothered, the man himself had to be the epitome of seductive.


He didn’t seem too ready to let go of my hand as he guided me through his home. 


“Everyone thought I was nuts to buy this place,” Kei said as we moved from room to room, obviously proud of this gothic monstrosity and I had to admit, it was rather beautiful with its Victorian décor mixed in with the traditional gothic touches.  There were brass candelabrums, wall sconces and even several suits of armor.  “It was definitely a money pit, but there was also something that called to me,” he continued softly.  “It was lonely and needed someone to bring it back to life since it had pretty much been left rot since the 1950’s.  Not to mention, I have all the privacy I could ever want.”


He opened the door to the library and I nearly came in my panties.  It was my fantasy library, complete with floor to ceiling shelves and a sliding ladder.  It smelled warm, used, and much loved.  I could easily see him curled up on the antique sofa with a cup of tea and a good book while the fire cracked merrily in the hearth.


 “Miki calls me a hermit because I’d rather hang out here than hit the streets, but once you’ve done as much partying as I have, there’s really nothing new about it.”  Dropping my hand he walked towards the thick velvet curtains and drew them back, letting in the bright sunshine.  Turning to face me he said, “Feel free to hang out here if you want.  My house is yours.”  His smile was warm and genuine and I gave him a nod.


The tour ended with the guitar room.


There could have easily been well-over one-hundred guitars hanging in brackets on the wall. Some I actually recognized, others looked as if they’d never been played.  I pointed at the Flying V.         


“You used that one in the video for Crescendo, and that one,” indicating the ESP Edwards which was a custom build exclusively for the Japanese market, “That was a gift from your manager if I remember correctly, though I have to say it kind of looks a little like Tommy’s BC Rich.”  Kei just looked at me as if I’d sprouted three heads, then started grinning like an idiot.


“Okay, I surrender.  You really are a fan.”


“I’m the weirdo who reads the liner notes after reading the lyrics.”


“Yes, I’m true to the breed,” Kei admitted, obviously very proud of his collection.  “The irony is that only a few of them go on tour with me.”  He pointed out a black one sitting on a stand.  “That’s my baby, the Strat.  I’ve had her for over twenty years.”  He picked up the guitar as gently as he would a child and caressed it lovingly.  “She’s not fancy but when I stroke her just right, she sings like an angel.  I’ve written some of the band’s best songs on her.”


I was trying not to think about his previous words—stroking and singing—but the blissful look on his face while caressing the strings wasn’t helping much.  He looked up and I tried to look at anything but him.  I was pretty sure that he’d be able to read my wicked thoughts written all over my face.


He replaced the guitar as gently as he’d first picked it up.  Come on, “I’ll show you to your room and you can relax if you want.  I’ll grab your stuff from the car.”


I waved away his concern.  “Don’t worry about it.  I want to get started on some ideas I’d sketched last night as soon as possible.”


“Eager for me to say no aren’t you,” he half-teased.


Kei Matsuya’s saying no wasn’t the issue.  It was my sudden desire to say yes to this man that was making me nervous.  I had to remember who he was and who I was.


I also needed to remember I was in a haunted house that Dracula would have loved.


I couldn’t wait for this weekend to be over.


I had the feeling things had only just begun.


 


The room that Kei ushered me into was wonderfully cozy, furnished in cool shades of teal and beige.  There wasn’t anything fussy about it, but the French windows had a wonderful view of his backyard, which had been sculpted into a tea garden and from there I could look out over China Beach and the bay.  It was an amazing view although the garden surprised me as I was expecting some overgrown wilderness filled with hemlock and wolfsbane with a dried up fountain.


“It’s my sanctuary,” he said pointing out the garden below.  “The first place I come to when we’re back from the road.  I decompress out here for a few hours and the peacefulness helps to ground me.”


Kei Matsuya was turning out to be a lot more than some sybaritic rocker with a massive ego.  There were obvious depths to him that few people knew about.  Understandable when one lived their lives in a fisheye lens, as Rush would say. 


I happened to glance down at the bed and it didn’t take but a minute for me to envision him in it…with me.  This was bad.  Maybe Kat had been right after all, when she kept telling me that I needed to get laid more often.


  “So, welcome to my home Eva,” he said taking my hand in his once more.  I was getting used to that sensation of heat coursing through me from his touch and hell, I liked it.  “I hope it’s for longer than a few days.  It’s actually nice having someone here who’s corporeal.”


Oh shit.  Kei’s ghost.


I tamped down my nervousness, choosing instead my typical smart-assed response.  “I guess I’m supposed to say thank you, but I have an allergy to hot and cold running spooks.”


 


After he left I started unpacking my travel bag and wondered if my sudden desire to get naked and do naughty things to Kei had to do with my sublimating creating costumes for sex.  I mean, it wasn’t that I’d never had the drive or the desire.  It was just that my business had managed to be all I wanted.  Truth to tell, I hadn’t felt the need to sleep with anyone for over a year just because I enjoyed my solitude and I hated breakup drama.  Seeing how Jessie Chastain acted, there was obviously a method to my madness.  On the other hand, if I’d made more of an effort to be more sociable, I wouldn’t be lusting over a man that millions of fans would sell their souls for.


Well, I would simply have to take things as they came.  I’d make damn sure not to make the first move, and I would do everything I could to be professional, but if anything did happen, I’d accept it and move on.  I’d also make a point to not telling Kat anything.  I’d never hear the end of it and knowing her, she’d probably go viral with it on Twitter or something.


Once I had myself somewhat together, I headed downstairs in search of my host.  The sooner I got things rolling, the sooner I might be on my way home. Then I stopped at the top of the stairs and gave myself a serious reality check.


This wasn’t me.  From the very moment I decided to become a costume designer, I’d gone headfirst into the wind, allowing nothing to stop me.  This was my life, being creative, seeing the fruits of my imagination and labor brought to life for others to enjoy.  Why was I getting so hung up on this? 


Fine, Kei Matsuya was a damn sight better looking than his pictures and videos portrayed. Fine, the man had a voice that could make me forget common sense.  He was also still a man, albeit an extremely hot one.  He would also be, if things worked out, my boss.  On the other hand, while he might love my designs the rest of the band might think I was full of shit.             And what if they ended up liking my ideas?  Was I going to run away because in spite of all the modern conveniences like electric lights and hot and cold running water, I felt as if I’d landed right in the middle of my own personal Jane Eyre? Maybe I should look for a madwoman in an attic.


Hell, it wouldn’t be the end of the world to enjoy the eye candy that was Kei Matsuya.  The most important thing was AlterEva Designs being seen by millions of people worldwide on the members of Dominion’s End.


And even if anything were to happen, so what.  I was a grown-up and I certainly didn’t expect anything like a relationship.  It could and would remain a nice and pleasant memory.  After all, when was the last time I really let myself go and just said ‘fuck it’?


 


Kei was camped out in the living room, a laptop on the massive glass and iron coffee table.


“Here,” and he handed me an MP3 player.  “This is the final mix of our new CD.  I figured it might give you some inspiration.”


I couldn’t keep the excitement from my voice as I let out a whoop.  I was going to be one of the very few to hear a brand new Dominion’s End project.  Kat was going to be so jealous.


“So what’s it called?”


A Ceremony for Black Roses.”  When I looked at him quizzically he just shrugged.  “No, not a concept album this time, I’m afraid.”


“Okay, I’ll give it a listen.  I brought my sketchpad with me so maybe I’ll come up with some more ideas while I listen.”


“I know I said it’s the final mix, but I’m never happy until the last minute.  Tsuchiya hates that about us.”


I smiled in understanding.  “You really are a perfectionist.”


He didn’t bother to hide it.  “That’s how Dominion’s End got where it did.”


As suggested, I plopped down on a very comfortable black leather sofa and tried not to imagine anything hot and heavy going on.  I popped in the earbuds and turned the mp3 player on.


I was expecting Devynn’s heavily orchestrated intro that was not just Dominion’s End’s signature opening, but quite a few metal bands were very much into this trope.  This time however, Dominion’s End came in full-bore, not silent in the least but extremely thunderous.  Kei was known for his fast riffs and sweeping melodic lines, but this first song sounded like he’d been chugging down Red Bulls and chasing them with Monsters.  Chris’s double-bass drumming kept time, and for a moment seemed to actually lead.  Tommy’s steady bass playing didn’t even lose tempo, then Miki’s vocals blended in.  No, they didn’t blend in; they smashed through like a wrecking ball.  He seldom used his darker growls, save for emphasis, but this time he went all the way.  It was old-school Slayer with a progressive twist.  I didn’t know all the technical terms, but I knew what time changes were, and the song seemed to have a lot of those.


As I listened, this album seemed a lot more experimental and definitely a lot darker—almost gothic/industrial—than their previous stuff.   I actually was digging the harsher yet still sexy sound.  Miki’s more aggressive singing style might turn off some older fans, but for those of us who still ate and slept metal from the heavier side of the street, it was pretty awesome.


With my eyes closed, I envisioned what images the music was trying to convey.  Ironically, the title track, A Ceremony of Black Roses was stuck in my head, and I begun sketching something that resembled deconstructed tuxedos with black roses running down the lapels.


One song in particular started out with some backmasked strumming, then Miki’s husky whisper, then kicked in with Chris’s thundering drums.  I hit the repeat switch and listened to it over and over; the song was slow, heavy, dark and a perfect soundtrack for a bondage club, especially when Kei’s guitars were added to the mix, making the song crunchier and heavier.


For some strange reason, the image of Kei holding the black Strat wormed its way into my consciousness and lodged there.  The way his body seemed to melt into the wood, his hands sliding slick and sure over the frets.  I could see him onstage performing this song, working his body in time to his playing, practically gyrating against the instrument.


Leather was always expected, but lace was not.  And AlterEva Designs excelled in the unexpected.


I saw Kei in lace.  Black lace, sheer enough to taunt and tease with hints of the sleek skin beneath, but dark enough to conceal what needed to be hidden so as not to get him arrested for indecent exposure.


Pants made of lace with a panel made of leather that would resemble a corset.  Yeah, that might do it.  I could see him on stage strutting arrogantly, the sex-god of guitarists.


 


“The look on your face means you’ve come up with something.”


I nodded, while removing the earplugs, still in dream-mode.  “How do you like sort of an apocalyptic goth dandy look?”


I showed him the rudimentary sketches for what I had in mind, the words racing from my lips in an excited rush.   I was so busy, the charcoal flying over the paper, that I paid no attention to Kei’s proximity.


His amusement was clear.  “I swear Eva, you are trying to get Dominion’s End banned, and I like it.”


“I think I’ll do something a little different for Chris since he’s the drummer.  His outfit needs to be both sexy and functional.  He’s going to need freedom of movement.”


I continued sketching, pausing to erase lines that didn’t work or add shading where needed.  I could feel Kei looking over my shoulder, his mouth close to my ear.  It should have disturbed me, but I was in my own little world now.  This was safe territory.


“I’ll get dinner ready,” I heard him say, but didn’t acknowledge him.  I was too excited to really care.  Besides, I certainly didn’t want or need him hovering around me.


Tight-fitting lace pants with a corset-laced fly that could easily be adjusted to suit his girth—oh hell.  Just the thought of seeing him in these slammed into my brain.  I could easily imagine what they’d do to the rest of the world.  The thing was, they would be perfect for a band who played with sexuality as well as they did their instruments.  In spite of their progressive pedigree, Dominion’s End had never shied away from the sex part of sex, drugs and rock n’roll.  I would just be giving them what they wanted and sold anyway.


I rose and stretched, and smiled.  I’d accomplished a lot today and in spite of some earlier misgivings, I was happy.


 












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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.