Fame & Obsession (Lords Of Lyre Book 1)

by Cora Kenborn

  “Do you know who I am?” Heath glared while stretching his chin side to side.

  The sex god smirked. “I’d say a bitch-ass pussy, but I’d be insulting pussies. And I’m kind of a fan.”

  Fueled by male ego, Heath tore his hands away from his face and lunged. I started to scream when the bouncer returned from wherever he’d been and lifted them both by the neck.

  “What the fuck?” he snarled. “You two need to take this down the street, or do I call the cops?”

  “Bitch jumped me for no reason and broke my nose!” Twisting out of the bouncer’s grasp, Heath pointed to his bloodied face. “Don’t touch me! I’m Heath Vaughn, asshole. I’m suing this goddamn place and this piece of shit.” He hurled a finger at his attacker.

  The sex god shrugged and gestured in my direction. “He had his hands on the lady after she told him no. I asked him twice to remove them.” He stared straight at me. “I don’t ask a third time for anything. Ever.”

  The bouncer nodded to Heath respectfully. “I apologize, Mr. Vaughn. Please accept our regrets.”

  The sex god cocked an eyebrow. “You realize he tried to assault one of your female patrons while you jacked off in the bushes, right?”

  A deep shade of red spread up the bouncer’s neck. “I don’t give a shit who started it, or care who had whose hands on whose woman…” He stopped as his gaze narrowed. His expression changed, and he released the sex god’s collar as if it were on fire. “Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t realize. Well, it’s dark, and…” He picked Heath up by the back of the shirt. “He won’t be bothering you, or the lady, tonight.”

  They disappeared through the door, and I was left standing in a daze with jade eyes that held me in a slow burn.

  What the hell just happened?

  I crossed my arms and summoned my go-to emotion when I felt out of control—sarcasm. “Well, there’s my knight in shiny, dark pants, riding up on his white horse and—”

  “You’re welcome,” he interrupted.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, you’re welcome.”

  “For what?” I gaped, blinking furiously.

  “I don’t know, saving the day, protecting your honor, preserving your virtue? Take your pick.” Flashing a grin, he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his chin toward me.

  Smug fuck. I didn’t know whether to kiss him or knee him in the nuts.

  “I had my virtue under control, thank you very much.” I’d taken care of myself for so long, I doubted the sincerity of everyone’s motives.

  He laughed dryly. “Sweetheart, he had a handful of your virtue and was going for more.”

  “Look, I’m trained in FEDS, so I’d have been fine,” I insisted.

  A bewildered look crossed his face. “FEDS?”

  “Female Element Defense System.” His blank stare had me sighing in fatigue. “It’s a six-part defense program that teaches women to protect themselves in dangerous situations…” Oh, for the love of god, why the hell was I explaining this to a perfect stranger? “It doesn’t matter anyway,” I finished. “I was going for my purse.”

  He eyed me curiously. “Not sure how things are done south of the Mason-Dixon, sweetheart, but stun guns are illegal in New York.”

  “Yeah, I know your laws about no stunners, no pepper spray, no mace, no self-defense mechanism of any kind.” I shot a finger in the air, like I was about to impart some infinite wisdom on him. “Y’all should scratch that freedom shit right off the Statue.”

  “So you’re in politics, is what you’re telling me?”

  I wanted to say something brilliant to crack his smugness and regain the upper hand. But my focus drew to his tight black pants, and brilliant gave way to moronic. “Your pants are too tight…no breathing room.”

  Oh for fuck’s sake, someone shoot me.

  Rapid inhales sent oxygen straight to my head, and my knees buckled, catapulting me forward into his rock hard chest. His arms folded around me, and I stole a glance at his eyes, noticing our touch had affected him too. I inhaled deeply into the crevice of his neck. Every part of my body pinged with electricity.

  So much for feigning disinterest.

  “You became drunk since the last time I saw you,” he announced, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across my face.

  “You became a dick since the last time I saw you.” Public relations clearly weren’t my strong suit.

  “Yeah?” Clearly amused, he steadied me onto my feet and dropped his fingertips from my cheek, still keeping me in his embrace.

  I willed my mouth to stop talking, but my self-control had already passed out drunk. “Yeah, in fact, you are very pretumbterous, Fancy-Pants.”

  His lips twitched wryly. “I’ll have to look that one up later.”

  He chuckled, and I caught a sparkle in his eye. I had no clue what we were doing, but I didn’t want it to stop.

  I narrowed my eyes in a challenge. “So, Fancy-Pants, what’s with you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you and your sanctimonious cavalry heroics.” My awkward charm knew no end.

  “For such a tiny thing, you have a colorful vocabulary,” he mused.

  “Yeah, well, I’m a writer. We’re very colorful people.” I attempted to push him away, to no avail. “It comes from years of pageant training. You can’t reign as Teen Miss Iris Festival 2007 without some serious trash-talking skills. That title alone will get your ass kicked in various social circles.”

  He furrowed his brows. “Teen Miss Iris Festival? That’s a real thing?”

  “Hey!” Emboldened by the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream, I poked a finger at his chest. “Don’t disrespect the title. You laugh, but that stupid princess pageant gave me the scholarship money to attend Dreighton University.”

  Earlier laughter dissolved, and his hooded stare returned. “I’d never dream of it.”

  We continued to drink each other in. His gaze roamed over me, unapologetically obvious. He dropped his bottom lip and I watched his tongue run a track against the back of his teeth. A wanton, inebriated part of me dared myself to close the remaining space between us and suck that lip into oblivion.

  I had to end this now, or there was no doubt in my mind I’d do something really stupid.

  “Thanks for the memories, Fancy-Pants, but I gotta—”

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Excuse me?” My motion halted.

  “That blond guy, is he your boyfriend?” All amusement vanished from his face.

  “You mean Gage?”

  “If that’s his name.” He held my stare.

  “No, he’s not my boyfriend.” I flushed as a wave of tension left his body. “But what do you care? Why don’t you go back to blondie in your loft o’sin?”

  “I’m more intrigued with what’s in front of me.” He cocked his head and bit his lip softly. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “That’s because I didn’t give it to you, Fancy-Pants.”

  A slow, sensual smile danced across his full lips. He drew an exaggerated breath and brought his hand back to my face, trailing the back of his knuckles from my cheek down to my jawline. I closed my eyes, the contact sparking blue flames of heat within me.

  He let his hand drop to my neck, curling his fingers around my nape. I knew I shouldn’t want it, but I opened my eyes and waited for him to take my face in his hands and kiss me senseless again. Instead, his fingertips lingered on the soft spot between my neck and shoulder, then dropped back to his side.

  Holding his phone in one hand, aggravation shifted his lips into a frown as he read a text message. His jaw tightened, and his fingers turned white with excessive force. I could’ve sworn I heard him mutter the word “bitch” under his breath. Exhausted by our dueling mood swings, I attempted to push him away when he quickly released me. Without another word, he turned and headed toward the glass door.

  Just as he wrapped his fingers around the door, he twisted around, lifted the corner
of his mouth into a lazy half smile, and gave me a devilish wink. “See you around, princess.”

  Chapter Six

  Julian

  I repeatedly strummed chords any idiot could play and watched the burst of light as it broke through the horizon. The pick broke under the pressure of my fingers, and I quickly grabbed another one while the New York skyline came to life across the river.

  “Screw this,” I muttered, grabbing my beer off of the railing. Thoughts from last night forced their way into my head as I took a long drink and set the bottle down on the glass table, wincing as the sharp cracking noise shot through the quiet morning.

  Sitting on my deck, I held my breath and listened for signs of life stirring from inside. Zane and Ty couldn’t be risen from the dead at this hour if the devil had a fucking tea party on their pillows. That didn’t mean they didn’t bring strays home from the club.

  I’d left the pageant princess standing on the patio alone last night with a shocked look on her face. I didn’t know why I followed her out there in the first place. It was a bad idea, just like Zane had predicted.

  At least he didn’t hit me with “I told you so” when I rolled back up to the VIP lounge. That didn’t stop him from busting my balls, though. It took the patience of a saint to deal with his constant toasts to the death of my dick while keeping Vivian from trying to revive it with CPR.

  I could’ve had my ex on a silver platter if I’d wanted her. But I’d been there, done that, rode the psycho-coaster, and exited the park. Vivian was a reminder of my post-Lam self-destructive apocalypse. Half of me wanted to throttle Tanna for inviting her at all.

  My fingers tensed at the memory, and the pick snapped again. The bite of the strings on my bare fingertips gave me something to focus on instead of women. One who wouldn’t keep her hands off of me, and another who wouldn’t spit on me if I were on fire.

  From the minute I saw her, all I could think of was pushing her against the bar and feeling those sinful curves in my hands. However, I wasn’t prepared for the smart mouth attached to the hot body. Warmth rushed my skin just thinking of her. Immediately thankful for the guitar in my lap, I shifted uncomfortably as my cock hardened.

  It was starting to become a common occurrence with this girl.

  She had a mischievous gleam in her eye as she shot me down. Along with her quick wit, that did more for me than the skimpy outfit she wore. If she’d been any other girl, I’d have waited for the next piece of ass to walk by that wasn’t such a hard sell. Chasing some girl wasn’t in my master plan.

  I gripped the neck of the beer bottle until my fingers turned white. Hitching my elbow back, I pitched it as hard as I could off of the deck. Amber glass flew through the air and landed with a thud on the grass below.

  “Don’t quit your day job, fucker.”

  I cut my eyes sharply to the left and watched as Zane slid the glass doors closed behind him. His bare feet kicked a graveyard of beer bottles out of his way as he raked tattooed hands over his eyes.

  “Pussy says what?” I shot back.

  “You heard me,” he said, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. “Stick with the front man gig, Jagger. You can’t pitch for shit, and the Mets aren’t looking for a ball girl.”

  “Suck it, Tierney.” Taking in his disheveled appearance, I sighed in frustration. Damn, there was a girl in the house. My morning just got shittier.

  “No thanks, Jag. Heidi already took care of that.” He held up two fingers. “Twice.” His eat shit grin made me want to slap it the fuck off his face.

  “At least you know her name this time,” I snapped, looking away.

  Zane tilted his head and paused in deep thought. “I think her name is Heidi. It could be Heather or Holly.”

  His detachment amazed me. “Do you even ask their names before you fuck them? What if they come back with a little Zane?”

  “Names complicate things, brother. And don’t say that shit out loud.” He pointed a finger at me in warning. “No chance of a fuck up when you wrap up. Remember that, Jag. It’ll save your life.” Taking one last drag on his cigarette, he flopped down on the chaise beside me. His long beard rested on his chest as he scanned messages on his phone.

  I came out here to be alone, but if anyone had to step into my hell, it might as well be Zane. He’d seen me bottom out at my worst.

  “Hey, douche bag, what’s with the brew at seven in the morning?” He shifted his gaze to the field where I’d chucked the beer bottle.

  My body tensed. “I didn’t care to hear you getting laid.”

  His laugh dissipated into a cough. “Brother, you must be dreaming of bangin’ that country ass because that girl got ridden hard in a stall at the club and dropped off by the curb. You didn’t hear shit. No candy in the cave.”

  That got my attention. “You didn’t bring a girl home?”

  “Dude, I’m hardcore but that’s rookie rules, Jagger.” Zane rolled his eyes. “You don’t shit where you sleep.”

  “I hate that damn nickname.”

  “Tough shit. We’re not the front guy with the flying panty torpedoes, Mick.” A slow sneer curled his lips. “We could always change it to Heath.”

  “Fuck you.” I flung the small refrigerator door open and snagged another beer.

  “That’s what I thought.” He leaned back in satisfaction. “So what did you do to piss off Daisy Duke?”

  I tossed a bored look over my shoulder. “Huh?”

  Zane snorted and pulled his own beer out of the refrigerator door. “Did she fatten up that pretty boy lip with a right hook?” We sat in silence while he downed half of it. “Don’t play stupid with me. Your whole ‘I’m going to get some air’ bullshit might fool some people, but this is me, brother.”

  “Man, screw this…”

  He glared hard, tilting his chin at the new beer in my hand. “You’re out here at dark thirty pounding brew like it’s fucking Mardi Gras. Either you chased her out there and she shot you down, or”—he smirked, shifting a glance down to my raw knuckles—“you found her out there with another guy.”

  “Piss off, asshole. We’ve done this dance already.”

  Heath Vaughn’s words rang in my ears. The image of him with his hands on her ignited rage all over again.

  Throwing the first punch made me the biggest dumbass alive. Heath worked in the business. He’d be well within his rights to sue my ass for assault. Helena would have a stroke.

  “I guess there’s my answer.” Zane laughed.

  “Shut up, Z.” I swallowed the last of my beer and aimed it off the deck.

  “And there’s the confirmation.” He rubbed his eyes again, clearly frustrated. “Why the hell are you knocking dudes around for some insignificant piece of ass?”

  I chucked the bottle and it hit the railing, shattering on impact. “That’s none of your goddamn business.”

  Zane calmly put his beer down and gripped the armrests of the chaise. “Saving you from drinking and fucking yourself six feet under makes it my business. If you fuck up, you fuck us all up. Ty and I didn’t say shit while you acted like a giant dick. You weren’t the only one who lost Lam. Step off your high and mighty white horse and remember that.”

  White horse.

  Her half-attempted insult flashed through my head. The combination of alcohol and raw sexual tension had her stammering through her insult.

  “Well, there’s my knight in shiny, dark pants, riding up on his white horse…”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I met his icy stare. “I’d never screw over the band again.”

  He popped the top on another beer, gazing at his lap. “I’m not the only one who saw you chase after that girl. Viv offered her services to me last night.”

  “Dude, what the—”

  “Jag, use your brain.” His finger flicked my forehead. “She thinks my dick is the service elevator to yours.” He hardened his stare. “Why do you care, anyway?”

  I shrugged with indifference. “I don’t want
a damn thing to do with Viv. It doesn’t mean I want my best friend dipping his wick in crazy wax.”

  “Dude, I may be an asshole, but I’d never put a chick before my brother. It’s not my style.”

  I fought a smile as he shifted his stare toward the skyline and tilted his beer neck toward me. Nodding, I straightened my arm and touched my beer to his in a silent show of solidarity. Zane and I had our moments, but we always had each other’s backs.

  “You gonna call her or what?” he asked, a drop of beer catching in his lip ring.

  “Viv?”

  “Nah, man, the girl from the bar.”

  The caveman in me wanted to track her down, carry her to my bed, and fuck the daylights out of her. Even the thought of it made me thankful for the guitar on my lap. “I don’t know who the hell she is. How am I supposed to call her?”

  Great. Now I’m irritated and horny.

  “All that time outside and you never asked her name?” He quirked his lips, not attempting to hide his sneer.

  His amusement irritated me. If hope existed in moving from underneath my guitar, I would’ve hit him with it. “Don’t be an asshole, of course I did.”

  He said nothing, only lifted an eyebrow expectantly.

  “She wouldn’t tell me,” I grumbled.

  He threw himself back into his chair. “Holy shit.”

  I had her phone in the club, but there was no name listed in her message with Heath. In a dark club, it wasn’t conducive in enticing a girl to scroll through her email history.

  “She shot you down? You mean after years of watching pussy throw itself at you like bugs on a motherfuckin’ windshield, it took a piece of country ass to shut the great Jagger down?” Zane doubled over in laughter, his blond beard bobbing between his legs as he howled. I contemplated giving us matching fat lips.

  “If you can find her, be my guest.” I threw a pick at him. “By the way, you’re a cocksucker. Plenty of girls don’t give a piss about me.”

  “Not any you’ve wanted, Romeo,” Zane argued defiantly. “You wiggle your dick and pussy magically falls from the sky.”

  We stared at each other and then slid down in our loungers while laughing like adolescents. Hilarity finally fading, the early morning roared to life as a random car door slammed. Sighing, I returned raw fingers to my guitar, strumming until Zane’s foot crashed down on my hand.