Page 47 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
"Look," I say, setting my own mug down with more force than necessary. "You should probably stay here. Long term, I mean. Since Stephen somehow survived having his face turned into hamburger meat."
Bells's head snaps up. "What?"
I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. "He won't come here. He knows better than to show his face around Vespyr’s territory."
"You sound pretty sure about that."
"I am sure. Because if he steps foot within a mile of our penthouse, Rex will finish the job." I let a dark smile cross my face.
Bells stares at me for a long moment, and I can see him processing this information. Weighing whether we're serious. Whether we'd actually protect him.
"You'd do that?" he asks warily. "For me?"
"Of course. You're part of the band now. And we protect our own."
"Thanks," he murmurs.
"Don't thank me yet. You haven't experienced Phoenix's cooking. Or Rex's moods," I say, turning back to the fridge to grab eggs, peppers, and cheese. If we're going to have an uncomfortable conversation, might as well do it while I cook. "Trust me, you haven't seen anything yet."
That startles a laugh out of him, small but genuine. "I'll take my chances."
"Rex does hate guys like Stephen. Especially alphas," I continue. "He's fired a few singers over inappropriate behavior. So that checks out. Although I'm kind of surprised he defended another guy."
Bells gives a choked laugh and finally takes a long sip of coffee. "Will he be okay?" Bells asks, setting the mug back down. "Rex?"
I pause mid-crack of an egg. "Why do you care?"
"I don't. But if this is because of an infected cut on his face, it's from me. That's why the doctor pulled me aside. We got in a fight and I... uh. Slashed him."
The egg I'm holding drops into the bowl more from shock than intention. "Youwhat?"
"Slashed him," Bells says again. "With my knife. Couple weeks ago."
I stare at him. Then I start laughing, because he's saying it with a casual air like he's talking about the weather, and what the fuck else am I supposed to do with that information?
"You stabbedRex, dude?" I manage to croak.
"Slashed," Bells corrects, and now his lips are tugging into a tired smile too. "There's a difference."
"Oh, excuse me. YouslashedRex fucking Steele. My mistake." I'm still laughing, whisking eggs with more force than necessary. "What did he do to deserve that?"
I can think of approximately a million possibilities.
"He was being a dick."
"That's not exactly a rare occurrence."
"A bigger dick than usual." Bells takes another sip of coffee, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "He was spying on me."
The laughter dies in my throat. "He what?"
"I followed him into the maintenance tunnels. We had a... disagreement about personal boundaries. My knife slipped."
"Slipped," I repeat flatly.
"Slipped," Bells confirms, and there's steel in his voice that says the conversation about what actually happened in those tunnels is closed.
I let that drop, too, focusing on finishing the omelets. I slide one onto a plate for Bells and keep one for myself.
