Fame & Obsession (Lords Of Lyre Book 1)

by Cora Kenborn

  Chapter Two

  Julian

  I had a clear purpose in sending security away from the stairs.

  I watched her before her hand even touched the railing, amused by her determination to seem badass in a sea of piranhas. She was obviously out of her element, but it was a hell of an intriguing sight watching her prance around in that outfit she passed off as a dress. If she bent forward any more, I’d seriously risk embarrassing myself. Just watching that hair fluffing thing she did, I’d spent the next few hours calming down a raging case of blue balls.

  Staring at her wasn’t the smartest move. It didn’t take a genius to know what biology would do to me in public.

  Seriously? Since when did a girl fixing her hair flagpole my dick?

  Apparently since I made out with a complete stranger.

  I adjusted my inconvenient hardening with a tentative glance around the table. I’d never live this one down if they noticed. I gave them enough ammunition with shit I did daily. Those idiots would be like dogs with a bone.

  I laughed at my own stupid joke, and a familiar hand snaked across my thigh. Half of me willed it to keep going. Maybe she could use her talents for good instead of evil for once and put me out of my misery.

  As if reading my mind, she obeyed. However, as quickly as I entertained the prospect of her touch, I rejected it equally as fast. Reaching under the table, I pried her death grip off of me, wincing as a sharp pain shot up my groin. She smiled as I freed myself, and it pissed me off. I tossed her arm back into her own lap and scowled.

  “What the actual fuck, Viv?” I demanded, cutting my eyes at her.

  “You needed me, baby.” Her eyes swam in the gin she’d consumed as she bit her lip suggestively. “I was just easing the tension.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  As if my words went in one ear and lodged in her boozed-up brain, she threw a leg over mine in an attempt to straddle me. “I’ll take care of you, Julian” Her hands worked to free me from my confinements. “Just relax. I’ll make you forget all about it.”

  I froze as the same words from a year ago echoed from Vivian’s lips.

  “Don’t worry. Close your eyes. I’ll make you forget all about it.”

  Forgetting wouldn’t be an option. All of the pussy in New York wouldn’t bring Lam back.

  Blackness filled the hollowness again, and I pushed her onto the cushion beside me. This was a mistake. Coming here and celebrating like we were throwing ourselves a goddamn parade—it was wrong. I’d tried to tell them, but, as usual, I’d been told to stop being an asshole and enjoy the success.

  Lifting my beer, I caught Zane’s watchful eye and tilted the bottle in his direction before turning it up and taking a healthy drink.

  Here’s to being an asshole.

  As Zane’s attention diverted back to his prior conversation, and Vivian sat pouting beside me, I couldn’t help my mind wandering downstairs to my raven-haired beauty. I still tasted those pouty lips I’d kissed until she’d pushed me away.

  I wondered if anyone had ever told her she had perfect lips.

  What was I thinking? More than that had probably been whispered into the curve of her neck as she screamed that blond guy’s name. I didn’t care to wait around and hear any more of that conversation. Her body may have been slamming, but if she thought I’d stand there while she flipped a coin to see which one of us got her attention, she could think again. I didn’t play that game for anyone.

  Shifting uncomfortably, I tried to push the girl out of my head and focus on the conversation currently happening at the table. I caught the tail end of some random argument my bandmates, Zane and Ty, were having over which creatures of the underworld would reign supreme in a mythological match to the death.

  “Shut up with shit that don’t make sense, man,” Zane slurred, waving his beer in Ty’s face. “You’re gonna sit there and tell me that fucking Chimera would lose against Cerberus?”

  Ty burst out laughing. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Cerberus is the damn three-headed guard dog of the fourth circle of the Underworld! Watch it, Z, your dumbass is showing.”

  Annoyed, Zane flipped him off. “Dude, are you smokin’ your shoes? Chimera is a fire-breathing lion with a motherfucking goat head on its back and a snake-head ass! It can reach back and fight its own ass. That’s gangster shit, man.”

  The argument faded into the background as scenarios escalated into tag-team pairings and no-holds-barred free-for-alls. My attention reverted to the base of the staircase once more. She balanced one foot on the bottom step as if in deep thought.

  From being so close to her, I knew her hair smelled like coconut. I could still smell it on my skin. I found myself staring at her with unrelenting lust that clenched my stomach. She penetrated my mind, almost like she could see straight through me with those damn crystal blue eyes of hers. I could probably write a song about them on my napkin, if Vivian didn’t have her weird, pink, girlie-ass drink sitting on it.

  God, Vivian and her damn endless rounds of drinks. That had to be the fifth one since we’d walked upstairs. Since news of the signing with Circa Records broke, my ex-girlfriend had been under the assumption my dick was a slot machine lever that shot hundred dollar bills out of my ass. Apparently, Viv hadn’t gotten the memo that I was done with her. Wearing a couple of Band-Aids and some gauze as a dress wasn’t enticing enough for me to change my mind.

  Turning up the last of my beer, I downed it like the fuel it’d become in the last year. The coolness felt good on my throat, since the rest of me was a straight up inferno. I sat back, mulling over the craziness my life had become in such a short time. We’d played shit gigs forever, and our big break finally came with a label contract from Circa Records.

  Nothing worked out the way it was supposed to, but I’d promised myself that nobody, especially some piece of groupie ass, would ruin this chance for us. I owed it to Lam to make Lords of Lyre a household name. We’d all agreed that the name of our first labeled album, Immortal, would keep his contribution alive. Even Tanna, who never knew him and wasn’t around when that shit went down, agreed to the title.

  It was exhausting, trying to live up to the standards of someone as perfect as him. Honoring Lam’s memory while navigating notoriety and paparazzi was a slippery slope. Those fucking photogs were a piece of work. One wrong move and I’d be a media joke. Keeping myself in check wasn’t optional. Our manager would have my ass on a platter.

  I tensed as I reminded myself of Helena’s earlier info bomb. Things were already strained around the studio, and when she’d dropped the news of her latest publicity stunt, the rest of the band had gone twenty levels of apeshit. Not that I could blame them. If our manager singled out one of them, I’d have my balls in a vice too.

  “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” Tanna’s monotone voice from across the table caught my attention. Our only female band member blinked brown eyes rimmed in thick black eyeliner. I thought the trend made her look like she wore some weird, emo raccoon mask. I guessed at nineteen, I wore stupid shit too. She’d eventually grow out of it and look back wondering what the hell she was thinking. Too bad her awkward stage would be immortalized in music videos for generations to come.

  “About what?” Playing dumb was my specialty these days.

  “Don’t treat me like a child,” she warned, her face tightening. “I’m talking what happened yesterday in Helena’s office.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about it, Tanna.” Why did girls have an incessant need to talk shit to death?

  “You know how Helena is, Julian.” She twirled the straw of her soda. Her oversized army jacket all but swallowed her small hand. “Once she gets something in her mind, nothing will change it. She’s commissioning you for a book deal and that’s that.” She sat back with her arms crossed and stared at me.

  I snorted at the ridiculousness of it all. “Yeah, but an autobiography? Why not a book about the whole band?” I motioned a hand tow
ard Zane, who still sat debating with Ty over stupid mythological wrestling matches. “That dumbass has more stories to tell than all of us put together.”

  “True.” She laughed, her expression turning girlish.

  “I just don’t think at twenty-five years old there’s enough about me to warrant an autobiography.”

  Tanna opened her mouth for rebuttal, but footsteps pulled my attention to the top of the staircase. My eyes glued to the object of my fixation as she shifted a wide-eyed gaze around the perimeter of the VIP room. Her expression reminded me of a lost soul entering into purgatory.

  It amused me, and normally I’d have laughed at her while throwing out my best line. But after the earlier scene with Vivian, I made sure to keep my dick in check. I had enough problems without adding another one.

  She dropped her eyes back down the stairs and the look on her face seemed to weigh the risk of entering the lion’s den.

  Welcome to the jungle, baby.

  A risky smile ghosted her lips, and she braved a step. Everything I’d just told myself flew out of the window. For her, I’d make an exception, boyfriend or no boyfriend. I made a promise to stay away, but Tanna was a big believer in signs and destiny. From where I sat, all signs pointed to my destiny being parked between that girl’s legs.

  Let the games begin.

  Chapter Three

  Phoebe

  The calm atmosphere contrasted to the chaos downstairs. Narnia’s bars were glass and chrome high roller versions of the wooden ones below, and half-naked bodies slithered around in exhibition-style foreplay on the couches. Shock had me mesmerized, but I moved forward, my eyes landing on a crowded half-circle table littered with empty bottles. The inhabitants laughed and then stood up with drinks in hand, high-fiving each other across the table. I froze, feeling as if every eye had turned toward me.

  I’d made a huge mistake.

  A loud noise from the table distracted me, and a gruff smoker’s voice bellowed, “Where are you goin’, Legs? What? Uh-uh, access to the lounge and Cristal doesn’t come free, sweetheart. We got a payment plan to discuss.”

  The sooner I found the damn bathroom, the better. I kept walking, unable to stop myself from staring at the table. The moment my eyes landed on them, they affected me like a horrific highway accident. I didn’t want to look at them, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  A pair of piercing green eyes stopped me dead.

  “Holy shit,” I blurted out.

  His hooded fuck-me eyes drilled into me as I gawked at him. He sat at the end of the table, providing an unobstructed view as the reflection from the overhead lights randomly licked the crown of his wayward hair.

  No, no, no…not him.

  Common sense told me to keep moving, but my neglected female parts told my inner frigid bitch to shut up and I unashamedly took in his face while my heart thumped wildly in my chest. Full lips curled into a cocky half smile, hitting me with the sexiest smirk I’d ever seen. A five o’clock shadow dusted his face, emphasizing a ghost dimple embedded in one cheek.

  The man was sex personified, and I very much wanted the hell out of Narnia.

  The closer I walked, the harder he stared. By the time I remembered to breathe, my brain had gone on hiatus and passed out at the foot of the stairs, planning our wedding. I forced myself to look away, while my body stood there like it had no better place to be. A lingering scent of spice and sex tickled my nose, and I willed myself not to react. It worked, until a hardcore-looking guy with platinum hair and ear gauges the size of quarters called out to me in the smoker’s voice I recognized from moments earlier.

  “You lost, Little Blue Riding Hood?” He sneered, eyeing my aqua-colored dress.

  Laughter erupted as another bearded guy, with hair that hung low against his chest, crossed his arms and stared at me. Steely green eyes continued to pummel me, as if they were trying to crawl inside my mind and ninja all my dirty thoughts.

  “Nope, just wandering in the woods,” I countered, breaking the connection and turning my attention back to quarter-ears. “I mean, I gotta pee.”

  Way to go, Forrest Gump. That was smooth.

  “Downstairs,” he mouthed while pointing toward the lower level. The table broke into howls of laughter again.

  My face burned with mortification. Unfortunately, my body refused to go back downstairs, because the sex god was still having his visual wicked way with me.

  With silent stares growing awkward, I started to move, determined to gain distance. Almost past my visual seduction, I gasped as a large Hulk-like man came barreling toward the stairs from the back. He pushed a massive arm out, effectively blocking my path.

  “Sorry, this is a private VIP party. You need to leave.”

  I blinked at him. VIP? Who the hell was so important they needed an entire floor and an enforcer?

  “Excuse me?” I arced an eyebrow at him.

  “Look, lady, you need to go before I make you.” Hulk flexed both tree-trunk arms, ready to manhandle me.

  “Back the fuck off.”

  Every head turned toward the sex god, including mine.

  “Come again?” Hulk’s brows knotted.

  The sex god shifted and gestured to me. “I said, back off. For fuck’s sake, this isn’t high school. Move it.”

  Then it hit me. VIP. Entourage.

  Shit! Narnia had to be Heath Vaughn’s private party.

  Hedonistic-slut Phoebe stomped off in anger at the loss. Did I honestly think he helped me earlier out of the kindness of his heart? What was I, some sort of Heath Vaughn hand-off prize? I’d been played, and I needed to get the hell downstairs before I ruined what little chance I had left to salvage my career.

  Fidgeting with the hemline from hell, I cleared my throat and nodded toward the sex god. “I don’t suppose Heath is around?”

  The table fell silent, and each eye studied me before laughter exploded. I hated the feeling of being on the outside of an inside joke. The former debutante in me desperately wanted to find a hole to crawl in and die, but the reformed New Yorker bitch-slapped her, preparing to tell them all to suck a bag of dicks.

  Luckily, the sex god disarmed my fury with a chuckle and a crooked smile. “I’m sorry…Heath?”

  Something was off. “Vaughn? Isn’t this his party?”

  “No, not Vaughn’s, but that’s the best laugh I’ve had in weeks.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled and the damn ghost dimple sank deeper.

  I’d dodged a bullet. He was just some random guy, and I was a moron. I’d offer a quick apology and my bladder and I could relieve ourselves of the torture that had us in a panty-twist.

  With strengthened resolve, I turned to say goodbye, when my eyes landed to his right, and my heart dropped to my heels.

  She was gorgeous, and she stared me down as if narrowing her eyes to just the right slit would burst me into flames. The stylish angled cut of her short blond hair hid her horns, while a long sweep of bangs covered one devil eye.

  She slowly ran her claws down the sex god’s arm, rubbing suggestively at his wrist. “Don’t those people like outhouses, anyway?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Vivian,” the sex god bit out, nostrils flaring.

  I shot a disgusted glare at her and directed a softened expression his way. “It’s okay, I’m sure the line has thinned out downstairs.”

  “There’s plenty of space up here,” he said earnestly. “Go wherever you want and get a drink at the bar when you’re done. Tanna’s over there now. Tell her it’s on me.” He gestured toward a young girl with purple hair sitting on a chrome barstool. She angrily chewed on the straw in her soda like she’d sooner suck on a downed power line than clink glasses in sisterhood.

  Tempting. But I did have a sliver of pride left.

  “Thanks, but my friend is probably about to call the Coast Guard for a search and rescue.” I gave him a shy smile. Apparently, I became shy in between making out and making conversation.

  He swept his eyes down my body again, and the
sexual heat should’ve offended me. Instead, a twinge of possession made me shiver.

  Turning gingerly on my heels, I walked past Hulk to the iron landing. With a toe dangling off of the first step, I turned over my shoulder to see the party back in full swing. All attention had refocused in my unmissed absence, except one pair of green eyes that followed my every move.

  ***

  “Pheebs, tell them about the guy you tongued in front of the whole bar.”

  The empty drink tumbled from my hand and slid across the table. “Gage! I told you that privately.”

  He grinned. “Baby doll, it’s New York. There is no privacy.”

  I snorted as he ran his arm down a random guy’s back he’d chosen as his prey. The guy looked like he walked straight off the pages of an Old Navy catalog, and Gage systematically tore his walls down with the ease of a wartime soldier. It was fascinating to watch. He’d make a fortune teaching “pickup” classes.

  I frowned as the night’s events replayed in my head. Narnia’s escapades and my slutty reaction to a perfect stranger bothered me. It wasn’t like me to lose it like that. Rarely a drinker, my fuzzy brain, coupled with raging hormones, was unfamiliar territory. Muttering a curse, I grabbed Gage’s drink and downed it, only to be disappointed at the lack of contents.

  Gage stared at me with concern etched on his face. “Pheebs, don’t you think you need to slow down?”

  “Probably,” I agreed. Fighting with Gage was the last way I wanted to end this night. He’d always been my source of comfort, but I selfishly needed to wallow in my shame.

  Gage’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Okay, what gives? No snappy comeback? Where’s my banter, baby doll? Are you sick?”

  “No, I’m not sick.” I chuckled. “But I might be losing my mind.”

  “Pheeeeebs.” He drew out my name and shot me a disapproving look. “How much vodka have you had tonight?”

  I managed a sarcastic laugh. “Not nearly enough.” I uncurled my hand from the glass and rubbed my forehead. “Look, I’ll explain later, but for now, just indulge me, okay?” Pleased to find another drink in front of me, courtesy of Gage’s Old Navy guy, I gave him a thankful smile and downed it, the alcohol burning a trail of fire down my throat.