12. Chapter 12 Damon

Chapter 12 Damon

" D amn woman! Are you trying to kill me with that dress?"

My eyes raked over Phoenix's body, drinking in every curve hugged by that sinful gold fabric.

The dress shimmered in the low light, barely reaching mid-thigh and teasing me with a tantalizing slit up one leg.

Her legs, Christ, those endless legs, were accentuated by strappy heels that made me want to throw her over my shoulder and say fuck it to our plans.

"You like?" she purred, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Phoenix giggled, rising on her tiptoes to press a kiss to my lips. The brief contact was like a livewire, sending sparks skittering across my skin.

"Ooh! You are trying to kill me," I groaned, my hands itching to touch, to claim.

"Well, what would you like me to wear?" she asked innocently, but the wicked curve of her mouth told me she knew exactly what she was doing to me. "I wore this dress for you. "

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to say ‘fuck it' to our plans and keep her all to myself. But we had obligations, expectations. The world beyond this room still existed, no matter how much I wanted to pretend otherwise.

"You can wear that for me at home," I managed, my voice rough and desire barely restrained. I turned to her closet, rummaging until I found something more…modest. "Here, wear this!"

Phoenix took one look at the turtleneck and slacks I'd offered and burst out laughing. "Damon, it's ninety-five degrees out. I'll die of heatstroke."

I sighed, knowing she was right but hating the idea of other men's eyes on her. In a last ditch effort to keep some part of her just for me, I said, "You know, I love you in your makeup but you're sexy as fuck without it."

Phoenix's expression softened, understanding dawning in those mesmerizing eyes. But then a mischievous glint appeared, and I knew I was in trouble.

"Speaking of makeup…" she began, her tone deceptively casual. "I was thinking…maybe you could go without your war paint tonight?"

I froze, my heart suddenly racing for an entirely different reason. The idea of stepping out in public without my carefully constructed mask, without the barrier that had protected me for so long…it was terrifying.

"I-I don't know, firebird," I stammered, hating the vulnerability in my voice. "That's a big ask."

Phoenix stepped closer, her hands coming up to cup my face. Her touch was gentle grounding, and I found myself leaning into it despite my reservations.

"I know it is," she said softly, her thumbs tracing soothing circles on my cheeks. "But Damon, you're so fucking beautiful. The real you, the man behind the paint…that's who I want the world to fall in love with, too. Don't you think it's time we set him free? Give him peace…"

I swallowed hard, conflicting emotions warring in my chest. Part of me wanted to retreat, to hide behind the familiar safety of my stage persona.

But another part, a part that was growing stronger every day I spent with Phoenix, yearned to be seen. To be accepted for who I truly was, not just the image I projected.

"I'm not ready to reveal that side of myself to the public yet," I admitted, ashamed of my cowardice, and guilty for denying her anything. "It's… it's a lot, baby. I'm sorry."

She nodded, understanding and something like pride shining in her eyes. "I get it. And I'm not trying to push you into anything you're not comfortable with. I just want you to know that I see you, Damon. All of you. And you're incredible, with or without the paint."

Her words hit me like a slap to the face, stealing my breath and making my eyes sting suspiciously. I pulled her close, burying my face in her hair to hide the emotions I knew were written all over my face.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice rough with feelings. "For seeing me–for…for, everything."

Phoenix pressed a kiss to my neck, soft and sweet.

"Always," she promised. "Now. How about a compromise? You keep the paint for tonight, but maybe we can practice going without it when it's just us? Baby steps."

As I turned to grab my makeup kit, I caught sight of our reflections in the mirror: Phoenix, radiant in her gold dress, and me, still bare-faced and vulnerable. But for the first time, I didn't immediately recoil from the sight of my unpainted visage.

Maybe, just maybe, with Phoenix in my life… I could learn to face the world as my true self…maybe I could even learn to love him, too .

But for tonight, I had a mask to put on and a crowd to dazzle.

And with my firebird on my arm, I was ready to set the whole damn city ablaze.

I decided to take the convertible at the last minute. The engine growled to life, a perfect counterpoint to the wild beating of my heart. Phoenix's hair whipped in the wind, a banner of flame against the darkening sky.

She held her hands in the air, giggling like a carefree girl, and the sight made my chest ache with a fierce, possessive love.

"I love convertibles," she confessed, her voice carrying over the rush of the wind. "My father would never allow me to have one. I always took what was given to me. Even to this day, the only thing he insisted I keep was the company car, and it's always a BMW SUV. I'm not complaining, don't get me wrong. They're very nice cars, but something about a convertible gives me the feeling of freedom."

I glanced over, drinking in the sight of her - wild and beautiful and finally, finally mine.

"We'll need to fix that, won't we?" I promised, squeezing her hand.The valet stand at Wellington Place came into view, all sleek lines and understated opulence. I handed the keys to the valet, along with a generous tip, before guiding Phoenix inside with a possessive hand at the small of her back.

"Mr. Cross, It's so good to see you." Tiffany, the hostess, greeted us with a practiced smile. "Would you like your usual table?"

I nodded, shepherding Phoenix to our secluded corner. The dim lighting cast everything in a warm, intimate glow, and as I pulled out her chair, I couldn't help but imagine how that golden dress would look pooled on my bedroom floor.

Once the waiter was gone with our orders - a bottle of Shafer Hillside, perfect for seafood - I leaned in close, my voice pitched low for her ears only. "I could spread you out on this table and have you for dinner."

My fingers ghosted up her thigh, inching dangerously close to the promised land.

Phoenix's breath hitched, her eyes darkening with want even as she protested. "Damon! Someone will see. We don't need pictures of us landing on the front pages again!"

"Fuck the gossip hounds," I growled, the beast in my chest snarling at the thought of our private moments splashed across tabloids. "All they care about is who can get the money shot."

The rest of the dinner passed in a haze of heated glances and not so accidental brushes of skin on skin.

By the time we stepped outside to wait for the valet, I was wound tighter than a spring, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. Which, of course was when we heard it - the whir and flash of cameras, the shouted questions cutting through the night air like knives.

The gossip hounds shouted.

"Damon, who is the beautiful woman?"

"Is it true that she's Cyrus Rowe's daughter?"

"Are you sleeping with her? Has she promised you a contract in exchange for sex?"

My whole body went rigid, fist clenching at my sides as rage boiled in my veins.

One more word, one more insinuation about Phoenix, and I was going to shove that fucking camera so far down the pap's throat he'd be taking pictures of his asshole.

But then Phoenix's hand was on my arm, her touch grounding me even as her voice cut through the red fury. "Don't do it, Damon. They're not worth it. Whatever they decide to publish is not worth losing your spot in Mayhem. Let's just go back to the apartment. "

As we sped through the city streets, Phoenix was quiet. Staring out the window with a pensive expression that made me want to pull her close. "Talk to me, firebird. Are you okay?"

She sighed, still not looking at me. "They're always there. Following and inserting themselves into your life. Do you ever get tired of it?"

I shrugged, trying for nonchalance even as guilt gnawed at my insides. This was my world, my fucked-up reality, and I'm dragging her into it.

"I'm getting used to it. I was at the bar with the guys last week and some dude took a picture of me taking a piss. It's part of the lifestyle that we've chosen."

She was quiet for a long moment, and I was about to apologize, to promise her the moon and stars if it would bring back her smile. But then she turned to me, a wicked glint in her eye that made my cock twitch.

Then Phoenix leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear. "I was thinking we could make our own entertainment."

I groaned, my hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Babygirl, you're playing with fire."

"Maybe I want to get burned," she teased, her hand landing on my thigh and inching higher.

I caught her wrist, bringing her fingers to my lips for a kiss. "Keep that up, and we might not make it home."

Phoenix's laugh was pure sin. "Is that a challenge, rock star?"

"It's a promise," I growled, pressing down on the accelerator.

As we sped through the city streets, the sexual tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. Phoenix's hand never left my thigh, her touch both a torment and a promise.

By the time we pulled into my driveway, I was hard enough to cut diamonds and ready to combust .

I barely had the engine off before I was out of the car, rounding to Phoenix's side and yanking her door open. She yelped in surprise as I scooped her up, but her legs wrapped around my waist instinctively.

"Damon!" she giggled, her arms looping around my neck. "What are you doing?"

I silenced her with a searing kiss, my tongue plundering her mouth as I carried her to the front door. "Taking what's mine," I growled against her lips. "Any objections?"

Her answering moan was all the response I needed. As I fumbled with the keys, Phoenix's lips found my neck, nipping and sucking in a way that made it hard to focus on anything but the feel of her.

We stumbled through the door in a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses, the rest of the world falling away until there was nothing left but her. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her body against mine.

"Now," I rasped, setting her on her feet but keeping her pinned against the wall with my body. "Where were we?"

Phoenix's eyes were dark with desire, her chest heaving as she looked up at me through her lashes. "I believe you were about to show me just how much you appreciated my dress."

I grinned, wolfish and hungry. "Oh, I plan to do a lot more than that, firebird. I hope you're ready for a long night."

Her answering smile was pure, wicked promise. "Bring it on, rock star. I can take anything you can dish out."

Leaning in to capture her lips once more, fully intent to make good on my promises, her answering giggle was music to my ears. A song I'd follow on to the ends of the earth.

Before I knew it, I had her in my arms, lifting her onto the kitchen counter with a growl of pure need. I pushed her dress up to her hips, sliding her panties down legs that seemed to go on for miles .

She gasped when I sucked her clit between my lips, her fingers lacing through my hair and tugging in a way that sent sparks shooting down my spine.

"More!" she demanded, her hips bucking against my face. "More! Oh my God, so much more!"

I gave her what she wanted, what we both needed, drowning in the taste of her, the sound of her pleasure, the way she fell apart beneath my tongue and fingers. When she finally sagged against the counter, spent and glowing, I looked up at her with a smirk that I couldn't quite contain.

The shrill ring of my phone cut through the heated atmosphere. We both froze, the moment shattered by the intrusive sound.

"Ignore it," Phoenix panted against my lips, her eyes pleading. "Please, Damon. Just... ignore it."

And god, did I want to. I wanted to hurl the fucking thing out the window and lose myself in her, in the tight clench of her body and the sweet musk of her arousal.

But something in my gut told me this wasn't a call I could ignore.

With a ragged curse, I pressed a final kiss to her inner thigh before reluctantly pulling away. As much as I wanted to keep her here, to lose myself in her for hours, days, a fucking lifetime... the real world was still out there, waiting.

My phone vibrated across the counter where I'd tossed it earlier, Tyson's name flashing on the screen.

I debated ignoring it, my gaze drawn to Phoenix where she sat on the counter, thoroughly debauched and utterly irresistible.

But she was watching me, curiosity evident in the tilt of her head, and I knew I couldn't keep hiding from my responsibilities. No matter how tempting it was.

So I answered, wincing at the cacophony of noise in the background. "Sup, dickhead?"

It took a few minutes to decipher Tyson's slurred words over the din of what was clearly a rowdy bar, but I finally got the gist. The gang was at Bad Habit, that new place on the east side, and they wanted us to join. I was about to decline when he dropped the magic words - Phoenix's friend Talia was there.

I sighed, knowing our quiet night was officially over.

Phoenix must have sensed it, too, because she hopped off the counter and came to wrap her arms around me, pressing her cheek to my chest.

"Who was that?" she asked, her breath warm against my skin.

"Tyson," I explained, already mourning the loss of our private bubble. "He and the gang are at Bad Habit, and Talia's there with them. We can stay here if you want," I added, hoping against hope she'd say yes.

But Phoenix, ever the social butterfly, was already heading for the stairs. "Nonsense. Let me just go change. I'm going to have to get used to being around the whole crowd."

I followed her, a last-ditch effort to salvage our night alone. "Wait for me; we can shower together," I offered, my voice pitched low and seductive.

She stopped me with a hand on my chest, her lips curving in a teasing smile. "Oh no, you don't. If we shower together, we'll never make it to the club."

Phoenix patted my cheek patronizingly, but the heat in her eyes betrayed her own reluctance. "While I find you very entertaining in more ways than one, Mr. Cross, I suggest you take a cold shower and be ready in fifteen minutes. "

Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling up to Bad Habit, the bass from inside already thrumming through the pavement. I tossed my keys to the valet and helped Phoenix out of the car, immediately regretting our decision to come as flashbulbs exploded around us.

The paparazzi were out in force, their cameras raised high as fans screamed and jostled for position. I wrapped my arm around Phoenix's waist, pulling her close as we navigated the gauntlet.

People shouted declarations of love for me and the band, while others yelled obscenities about what they'd like to do to me. I felt Phoenix tense against me, and I tightened my grip, silently promising to protect her from this circus I'd dragged her into.

As we finally reached the blessed darkness of the club's interior, I couldn't shake the feeling that the real world was encroaching, and I had a sinking feeling that this was just the beginning of the shitstorm headed our way.

The club was a writhing mass of bodies, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and pheromones. I kept Phoenix close as we navigated the crowded dance floor, my hand splayed possessively on her lower back.

Even in the dim light, she was a beacon, her dress shimmering like a promise of forbidden delights.

We reached the VIP section where Tyson and the rest of the gang had set up camp. Talia was there, her smile wide and a little too knowing as she watched us approach.

I had braced myself for the inevitable barrage of innuendos and good-natured ribbing.

"Well well, well," Tyson drawled, his grin sharpening as he took in our slightly disheveled appearance. "Look what the cat coughed up. Or should I say, look who finally managed to untangle themselves from the sheets long enough to grace us with their presence. "

I flipped him off, even as my lips twitched. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up. Like you've never been late to the party because you were balls deep–"

"Okay!" Phoenix interjected, her cheeks flushing prettily. "I think that's enough male bonding for now. Talia, I need a drink. Join me at the bar?"

Talia smirked, rising to her feet with a languorous stretch. "Thought you'd never ask, babe. Let's leave these testosterone-fueled Neanderthals to their grunting and chest-beating."

I watched them go, my gaze lingering on the tantalizing sway of Phoenix's hips. Tyson elbowed me, his smirk still firmly in place. "Damn man. You've got it bad."

I shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "She's special, Ty. I've never felt like this before. It's like she sees right through all my bullshit, straight to the fucked-up core of me…and she hasn't run screaming yet."

That's because she's just as crazy as you are," Zane chimed in, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Crazy, and strong as hell. She'd have to be, to put up with your broody rockstar shit."

I flipped him off, too, but I couldn't help the warmth that bloomed in my chest. These assholes…they were my brothers, my family. They'd been with me through thick and thin, seen me at my worst…and they still had my back.

Even if I was struggling.

Like now, with the call of oblivion humming in my blood, the old familiar itch whispering that just one line–one little taste wouldn't hurt…

It took a while to find a healthier outlet, a way to exorcize these demons that didn't involve self-destruction, but I was tired, man.

And the way I saw it, there were two options: performing at shows, and throwing myself into Phoenix's attention with everything I had. If I focused on the music, on perfecting our sound and leaving everything we had onstage, maybe the cravings would quiet.

Or this addiction would pull me under again. Part of it felt inevitable, predestined. That no matter what, this was a losing battle. The other side of me, the one that believed I could be better… it all depended on resilience.

I saw Phoenix approaching with Talia in tow, her smile brighter than the stage lights I craved. And just like that, I knew. Knew that I would fight, would claw my way back to her, no matter how many times I stumbled.

Because she was my beacon, my northern star. As long as she looked at me like that, like I was something precious and rare and worth saving…

I could do this. I could be stronger.

Talia sidled up to Tyson, looping her arm through his with a familiarity that hinted at more than just mere acquaintance. Ty had been my friend the longest; us against the world since the early days. Of course, he'd find a way to make Talia important to him.

It was only natural.

"So rockstar," Talia drawled, her gaze assessing as it raked over me. "I hear congratulations are in order. Rumor has it, Coffin Cargo's new album is ready for release. That's a big fucking deal…since you're never far from the gap between Phoenix's thighs."

Phoenix slid into the booth beside me, her thigh pressing against mine in a line of searing heat. "It is," she confirmed, pride evident in her voice. "Damon and the guys have been working their asses off for this."

I draped my arm along the back of the booth, letting my fingers ghost over her bare shoulder. "I'm just glad we're going to get some recognition, some respect after this," I said, trying to keep the bitterness from my tone, my mind replayed Cyrus' last words to me. "It's about damn time people started paying attention to real music again. Not just the manufactured pop bullshit Rafe Vega and his cronies keep churning out."

Phoenix tensed slightly at the mention of Rafe, and I felt a pang of regret. I knew my initial impressions at the studio still left her with complicated feelings, especially now, knowing her history…and the unpredictable circumstances of the relationship with her father. Part of me didn't want to put her in the middle of my beef with that punk…

But a bigger part, the part that was all alpha-male instinct and territorial drive, wanted to make it crystal fucking clear where she stood now. Who she stood with.

She belonged to me, in every way. And I'd be damned if I let anyone threaten what we had.

"Speak of the devil," Zane muttered, his gaze locked on something over my shoulder. "Looks like the spawn of Satan has decided to grace us with his presence."

I twisted in my seat, my jaw clenching as I caught sight of Rafe and Storm strutting into the VIP section like they owned the place. Flanked by their usual entourage of sycophants and hangers-on, their designer clothes and perfectly coiffed hair marking them as industry elites.

Our eyes met across the room, and I saw the exact moment he registered my presence. His lips curled in a sneer, his gaze flicking dismissively over my bandmates before landing on Phoenix.

Something hot and hungry flared in his eyes, and made my vision flash red.

"Waiter, bring these guys a round of drinks. On second thought, put their drinks on my tab. Lord knows they can't afford it anymore. I heard that wonder girl over here lost her job. "

I was on my feet before I'd consciously decided to move, my hands curling into fists at my sides. Phoenix's hand on my forearm stopped me, her touch like a brand even through the layers of denim and leather.

"Even her own dad has grown tired of her, and pretty soon you will be, too," Rafe grinned with a cocky smirk.

"Damon, don't," she murmured, her voice low and urgent. "He's not worth it. He's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Well, it's fucking working," I bit out, my gaze never leaving Rafe's smug face. He was smiling now, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement as he watched me struggle to control myself.

"Come on, big boy," Rafe taunted, with a cocky grin.

Phoenix's grip tightened, her manicured nails digging into my skin. "Please. For me."

Fuck. That wasn't fair. She knew I'd do anything for her, even swallow my pride and walk away from a fight I was itching to dive headfirst into.

With a growl of frustration, I tore my gaze away from Rafe and looked down at Phoenix. Her eyes were wide and pleading. Her full lips parted around unspoken entreaties. In that moment, she could have asked me for the fucking moon and I would've found a way to lay it at her feet.

"Fine," I ground out, forcing my muscles to unlock and relax. "But if that little prick starts anything, all bets are off."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but Talia cut in before she could speak. "Consider the gauntlet thrown, rockstar. We're all witnesses if Rafe decides to remove his head from his own ass and take a swing at you. Until then, I propose a toast."

Talia lifted her glass, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "To Coffin Cargo, to my beautiful bitch right here, and to putting egotistical man-children in their place. Thanks for the drinks and let's give them a show they'll never forget."

With that, she tipped her head back and drained her drink, slamming the empty glass back onto the table with a triumphant flourish. Despite the tension still simmering in my veins, I felt my lips twitch. Talia's enthusiasm was infectious, her loyalty to Phoenix unshakeable.

At that moment, I was grateful she was in our corner.

With deliberate motions, I reached for my own glass - water, because I had a fucking point to prove - and raised it in a mocking salute.

"To Coffin Cargo," I echoed, my voice a rough rasp. "To melting faces and blowing minds. And to putting talentless hacks on notice - their days are numbered."

Tyson, Jax, and Zane whooped their approval, clinking their glasses against mine hard enough to slosh liquid over the sides. Even Phoenix joined in, though her smile was tight around the edges, her gaze still darting between me and Rafe like she expected us to come to blows at any moment.

And honestly? She wasn't wrong.

The urge to wipe that arrogant smirk off Rafe's face was a living thing, clawing at my inside and howling for blood. But I tamped it down, focusing instead on the solid weight of Phoenix pressed against my side, the grounding reality of her presence.

She was my anchor, my safe harbor in the storm. As long as I had her beside me, I could face anything - even my own demons, and the temptations that came with fleeting sobriety.

It humbled me, even as it stoked the fire in my blood. I covered her hand with my own, lacing our fingers together in a wordless promise. No matter what happened tonight, no matter what fresh hell Rafe tried to unleash .

I wouldn't let it touch her. I'd shield her from the fallout, bear the brunt of the impact myself if I had to.

Because that's what you did for the ones you loved. You put yourself between them and the monsters, even if the monster wore a familiar face in the mirror.

So I squared my shoulders and met Rafe's smug gaze head-on, a silent challenge crackling between us. He could bring his worst, pair with Cyrus's most vicious mind games and underhanded tactics.

I'd be ready. We'd be ready, Phoenix and I, united against the common enemies.

The bonds of blood might have tied them once, but the bonds of choice of loyalty and sacrifice and hard-won trust… those ran deeper. Truer. Those were unbreakable.

And in the end, when the final blow was struck and the dust settled…

I knew whose arms she'd be in. Whose bed she'd warm, whose name she'd cry out in the dark.

Mine.

Always mine, just as I was irrevocably hers.

So let Rafe posture and preen, let him cling to his delusions of grandeur. His time in his spotlight was running out, the sands of the hourglass trickling away each passing second.

Soon, the whole world would see him for what he was - a fraud, a charlatan playing at royalty with a tarnished crown and a hollow scepter.

And Coffin Cargo? We'd be the ones left standing, our banner flying high and proud over the smoking ruins of his empire.

Phoenix squeezed my hand again, pulling me from the vengeful musings. When I looked down at her, she was smiling up at me, her eyes shining with pride and determination .

"Let's get out of here." I kissed Phoenix on the forehead and pulled her to my side - leaving our friends behind.