James crept back onto the tour bus, trying to keep as quiet as possible, though the haze of Lucifer’s blood made everything feel surreal. He wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, or how long he’d been gone. The high was still fresh, buzzing under his skin, intoxicating and impossible to resist. His clothes were rumpled, hair wild from the night out, and his steps were uneven as he moved deeper into the bus.
He paused when he heard the unmistakable sound of music still playing, the soft thrum of the bass reverberating through the walls. Lestat and Stacee were still performing. James squinted, a little unsteady on his feet, trying to remain unnoticed as he peered toward the stage area. He could see the faint silhouette of Lestat, his maker, his graceful form, completely absorbed in the music.
For a moment, James just stood there, watching, almost mesmerized. His mind fogged, so the sight of Lestat performing, looking so free, so alive, stirred something inside him. Forgetting he was trying to be discreet about his return as he stood ...staring.
@manyimaginativemuses
