2. Chapter 2 Damon

Chapter 2 Damon

I saw her from the stage, my once absent muse in a sea of faces, and felt electricity flow through my veins. Even in the harsh lights, her beauty was undeniable skin like honeyed dusk, and sinful lips I could find salvation in until dawn. A dusting of freckles scattered across her nose; imperfections that only made her more perfect.

I could feel her gaze on me like a kick in the cock but instead of pain, there was euphoria. When our eyes finally met, it was like the rest of the world fell away…igniting a hunger I'd never known before. She watched me with an intensity that stole my breath, as I growled into the mic, her attention never wavering, even as I poured my heart out on that stage.

I needed to know who she was. This magnetic pull, this bone-deep recognition—it wasn't something I could ignore. As the final notes of our set faded away, and the roar of the crowd filled my ears, I made a beeline for my sound manager .

"The woman in the front row, red hair, killer curves - find out who she is." My voice came out raw, edged with an urgency I didn't bother to hide.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by my uncharacteristic request. I wasn't the type to chase after fans, no matter how attractive. But this was different. She was different.

"I'm on it, boss." He nodded, already reaching for his phone. "Want me to bring her backstage?"

I hesitated, tempted by the idea of having her close, of unraveling the mystery hidden beneath a punny t-shirt. But something held me back.

Call it instinct, or maybe just a healthy respect for the fire I saw flickering in her eyes, because I knew that this wasn't a woman to be summoned or coerced.

"No." I shook my head, a slow smile tugging at my lips. "Something tells me she'll find her own way."

And find me she did.

I buzzed from the high of a great performance and celebratory drugs as I talked to a fan. Then, I could feel the crackle of her presence like a static charge against my skin even before I looked up.

Now her voice wrapped around me like smoke, husky and warm, with an undercurrent of steel that told me she was used to getting what she wanted. And in that moment, with her eyes locked on mine and the air between us practically sparkling, I knew I wanted to be the one to give it to her.

"Let me take you apart, piece by piece, until you're begging for me to let you come. Let me make you mine, in every way that matters." I smiled, slow and wicked.

"That's what you have Groupies for, Damon," she fired back. "I'm not here for that. I'm here to sign your band. "

This close, I could drink in the details of her - the stubborn set of her jaw, the delicate gold chain that disappeared beneath the collar of her shirt, the way her breath hitched almost imperceptibly when my gaze dipped to her lips.

"Tell you what, Phoenix Rowe." The way her name resounded like a filthy promise made my stomach flip. "I'll think about your offer. But I've got a few…conditions of my own."

She wanted me. I could see it in the dark dilation of her pupils, feel it in the way she swayed almost unconsciously toward me. But there was something else there, too—a wariness, a hesitation that intrigued me as much as it frustrated me.

"Name them." Her voice was breathy, tinged with a want she couldn't hide.

I doubled down on my offer. Leaning in close, I let my lips brush the shell of her ear. "Come back to my place tonight and I'll tell you." She shuddered, a delicate tremor that made my fingers itch to touch her. "If you think you can handle it, that is."

Phoenix drew in a sharp breath, her eyes fluttering closed for a heartbeat. When she opened them again, the heat in her gaze nearly scorched me. "I... I can't. Not tonight."

Disappointment curled through me, sharp and bitter, but I forced it back. Tilting my head, I studied her, taking in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way she worried her lower lip between her teeth.

"You sure about that, firebird?" I murmured, letting my fingers ghost along her arm, feeling the goosebumps that rose in their wake. "Seems like there's a part of you that wants to say yes."

She swallowed hard, her throat working. "Damon, I... This is business. I can't blur those lines. "

I chuckled, low and rough. "Who said anything about blurring lines? Maybe I just want to get to know the woman who's so determined to make me a star."

Phoenix shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "I think we both know that's not all you want."

She was right. The desire thrumming through my veins was anything but professional, an ache that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. But I also knew that pushing her too hard, too fast, would only make her run.

So I took a step back, giving her space even as every instinct screamed at me to pull her closer. "Fair enough," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "But the offer stands. Anytime you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Her eyes met mine, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. She wanted me, just as badly as I wanted her. But she wasn't ready to give in to it - not yet.

"I'll keep that in mind," she murmured, a promise and a challenge all in one. "But for now, let's focus on your music. On getting you signed and in the studio."

I grinned, wicked and sharp. "Whatever you say, boss. I'm all yours."

The words held a double meaning, and from the flush that crept up her neck, she knew it, too.

I was used to women throwing themselves at me, offering me anything and everything in the hopes of basking in my spotlight for a night. But Phoenix Rowe wasn't the type to bask in anything.

If I wanted her—and God, did I want her—she was going to make me work for it.

***

As the tour blazed on, Phoenix haunted my every waking thought, the memory of her face shimmering behind my eyelids like a promise. Eyes dark with mysteries I ached to unravel, that taunting mouth - she was a fever dream I couldn't shake.

I poured my unholy fascination into the beat-up pages of my notebook, lyrics bleeding from my pen like sacrament. Every word was an invocation, desperate to capture the maddening alchemy she stirred in my blood. The honey-whiskey rasp of her voice.

The sinful sway of her hips. The searing heat of her gaze stripped me bare. With each new song, I exorcised my want onto the page.

Onstage, the hunger clawed its way out of my throat, raw and dripping with violent need. My fingers attacked the strings, every savage chord, a declaration of lust, of possession, of the dark and filthy things I craved.

The new songs crashed over the audience in a baptism of sound and sweat. Broken confessions of yearning, twisted odes to her body - the music bled with a fever I could no longer mask. The crowd shuddered under the onslaught, a mass of writhing limbs that pulsed to the depraved beat of my desire.

They could taste the insanity on my tongue, could feel the violent ecstasy she carved into my bones. The guys shot me loaded glances as we stalked offstage, questions in the quirk of their brows.

But I was too far gone to care. Let them chalk it up to a new conquest, another delectable groupie to use and discard. They couldn't know the truth - that I had been bodily possessed, an acolyte enslaved to her thrall.

As the final notes of our set faded into the roar of the crowd, I stalked offstage, my body still thrumming with adrenaline and dark need. Zane fell into step beside me, his sharp eyes catching the manic gleam in my own .

"Damn, D. You trying to start a riot out there?" His gravelly chuckle held a note of concern. "Those new songs... I've never heard you like that before."

I shrugged, swiping a hand through my sweat-soaked hair. "What can I say? I've found my muse."

Zane's brows shot up. "Muse, huh? She must be one hell of a woman to get under your skin like that."

I barked a harsh laugh. If only he knew the half of it. Phoenix wasn't just under my skin - she was buried in my fucking marrow. A sickness I couldn't purge, a craving I couldn't sate.

"You could say that." I kept my voice carefully neutral, but Zane knew me too well.

"Just be careful, man. We've got too much riding on this tour to let anything derail us now."

I met his gaze; saw the unspoken questions there. The worry. Zane was the closest thing I had to a brother, the only one who knew the ugly truths of my past. But even he couldn't understand the depths of my obsession.

"I'm good, Z. I've got this under control." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.

Zane clapped a hand on my shoulder, his eyes still probing. "Alright. But if you need to talk, you know I'm here."

I nodded; throat suddenly tight. Zane was a good man, a loyal friend. He deserved better than the half-truths I fed him.

We headed back to the dressing room, where the rest of the band was already celebrating another electrifying show. Jax, our drummer, thrust a bottle of whiskey into my hand with a wild grin.

"Damon, you fucking madman! I thought you were gonna spontaneously combust out there!"

I took a long pull from the bottle, welcoming the familiar burn. "Just giving the people what they want, Jaxy. Gotta keep 'em on their toes."

Ty, our bassist, snorted. "More like trying to kill us all with sexual frustration. Seriously, dude, who's the lucky girl?"

I tensed, but before I could unleash the scathing retort poised on my tongue, a commotion at the door snared my attention.

Rafe Vega shouldered his way into the room, all arrogant swagger and cold eyes. "Well, well. If it isn't the freak show themselves."

Rage shot through me, white-hot and vicious. Rafe and his band of pop-punk posers had been a thorn in my side for months, ever since they'd signed with Phoenix's label. The thought of him anywhere near her made my vision bleed red.

I moved to lunge at him, but Zane's firm grip on my arm held me back. "The fuck do you want, Vega?"

Rafe smirked, unfazed by the violence radiating from every line of my body. "Just wanted to congratulate you on another stellar performance. Though I have to wonder..." His gaze flicked over me, sly and mocking. "If you're not careful, Cross, people might start thinking you actually feel things. And we both know that's not true, don't we?"

"Get out." My voice was a low, deadly growl. "Before I rip your fucking throat out."

Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender, but the malicious glint never left his eyes. "Touchy, touchy. Careful, Cross. Wouldn't want the lovely Ms. Rowe to see that famous temper of yours."

With a final, taunting wink, he slithered out of the room, leaving a charged silence in his wake.

I wrenched away from Zane, my pulse pounding savagely in my skull. Rafe had no idea how close he'd just come to eating his own teeth .

But beneath the fury, a cold thread of fear unfurled in my gut. Because Rafe was right - I was losing control. And if I didn't find a way to rein in this madness, I would destroy everything I'd fought so hard to build.

Starting with any chance I had of making Phoenix mine.