Page 26 of Claimed By the Rockstars: Part One
Nine
RAFAEL
Kyle has been running his mouth for exactly twelve minutes and I'm already fantasizing about shoving my bass down his throat until he chokes on the strings.
"...and obviously, the omega groupies are just part of the package, right?" He's leaning back in the folding chair like he owns the fucking studio, legs spread wide in that way guys do when they think their dick needs its own zip code. Kyle's definitely doesnot. "I mean, that's half the reason to be in a rock band. The music's great and all, but let's be real?—"
Phoenix shifts uncomfortably beside me, his massive frame making the leather couch creak. His face is tight with secondhand embarrassment and growing disgust. He's too nice to tell this asshole to shut up, but his knuckles are white where he's gripping his drumsticks.
"Let's focus on the music," Phoenix suggests, voice strained but still trying for friendly. "You said you knew 'Crimson Throne'?"
Kyle waves him off like Phoenix is the help. "Yeah, yeah, I know all the hits. But seriously, what's the groupie situationlike? I heard Rex Steele's got them lining up. Must be nice, having your pick of the litter every night."
Litter. Like omegas are fucking puppies in a pet store window.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and give him my best shark smile. The one that makes smart people remember they have somewhere else to be. "You know Rex doesn't really do the groupie thing, right?"
Kyle snorts. "Come on. Guy wears a mask, has that whole mysterious vibe. Omegas eat that shit up. Guys like him are drowning in pussy?—"
"He's not." My voice comes out flat, final. "Trust me on this one."
The idiot doesn't take the hint. Instead, he stands up and starts wandering around the studio like he's taking inventory of his new kingdom. His fingers trail over Phoenix's drum kit, leaving greasy prints on the chrome. Phoenix's jaw tightens but he doesn't say anything. Saint Phoenix, patron of lost causes and infinite patience.
"Nice setup," Kyle says, then his eyes land on something that makes my blood go cold. "What's this?"
Nash's notebook. Phoenix must have pulled it out earlier. He looks through it when Rex isn't around, runs his fingers over the soft worn leather. It's sitting on the side table, innocuous-looking unless you know what it represents. Unless you know Phoenix guards it like a holy relic.
Kyle picks it up.
Actuallypicks it up.
Phoenix goes rigid beside me. I hear his breathing change, that careful control he uses when he's about to lose his shit but doesn't want to show it. Because Phoenix doesn't lose his shit. Phoenix is the stable one, the grounding force, the?—
"Put it down." Phoenix's voice is different. Low. Dangerous.
Kyle flips through the pages, oblivious. "These lyrics aren't too bad. Kind of emo, but I could work with?—"
Phoenix is on his feet before I can blink, all six-foot-six of him looming over Kyle like the wrath of a vengeful god decided to take corporeal form. Vespyr’s gentle giant can be scary as fuck when he wants to be, I'll give him that.
"I said put. It. Down."
The temperature in the room goes frigid. Kyle finally seems to realize he's fucked up, but his pride won't let him back down. He tosses the notebook back on the table with deliberate carelessness.
"Jesus, chill out. It's just a notebook."
Wrong answer.
"It's not just a notebook," I say, standing up slowly. "That belonged to Nash Steele."
The color drains from Kyle's face as the name registers. Everyone in the rock world knows about Nash. The brilliant songwriter, the softer twin, the one who died too young and left a hole in Vespyr that we're still trying in vain to fill.
"I didn't—" Kyle starts, but I'm already done with this audition.
"You're not a good fit," I tell him point blank.
"What?" Kyle says indignantly, mouth gaping at me. "Because I touched some dead guy's notebook? That's bullshit. I've got the range, I know the songs?—"
"You're a disrespectful asshole who wouldn't survive five minutes in a room with Rex Steele," Phoenix grits out with an uncharacteristic growl.
