Chapter 11
JULY - ATLANTA, GEORGIA
Now playing: Is There Somewhere - Halsey
Atlanta in July wasn’t just hot; it was a physical assault. Even inside the cavernous warehouse the UWF had rented for the Heatwave promo shoot, the air was thick enough to chew. It reeked of hairspray, ozone, and countless sweaty men doing their best to look tough.
“Again! Give me rage, Silas! You want the title! You’re hungry for it!”
I gritted my teeth, gripping the heavy steel chain suspended from the ceiling. My arms were screaming. My chest was heaving. I had been jumping off boxes, slamming battle ropes, and screaming into a camera lens for two hours straight.
“Yes! Flex the bicep! Veins! I want veins!” the photographer shouted.
I yanked the chain and let out a guttural roar.
Click. Click. Click.
“Cut! Beautiful! Wipe him down!”
I let go of the chain, collapsing forward, hands on my knees, gasping for air. Immediately, a makeup artist was there, dabbing my face with a towel, while another person sprayed a fresh coat of baby oil onto my chest.
I felt like a racehorse being run into the ground.
“You look like you’re about to have a stroke,” a familiar voice chirped.
I looked up. Evan was sitting on a folding chair near catering, eating a bagel. He looked cool, comfortable, and completely unbothered.
“Shut up,” I wheezed. “Don’t you have a shoot?”
“Did mine an hour ago.” Evan shrugged. “I stood there. I looked tall. I scowled. We were done in ten minutes. I’m just waiting for the group shots now.”
I grabbed a water bottle, downing half of it. “Where’s Cal?”
Evan pointed a thumb toward the far end of the warehouse. “Stage B. The ‘Moody’ set. Mara is over there directing like the creative drill sergeant she is. Apparently, Cal needs ‘atmosphere’.”
I wiped my mouth and walked through the chaos until the lighting changed. The bright, clinical lights faded into deep, saturated reds and purples.
And there, in the center of the set, was a throne.
It was a ridiculous prop, oversized, gothic, upholstered in crushed red velvet.
And Cal Kincaid looked like he owned it.
Shirtless in black gear, he slouched with effortless authority, one leg draped over the armrest, the other stretched out. His chin rested on his fist, elbow propped on the velvet.
He looked bored. He looked dangerous. He looked like a king who had just conquered a kingdom and found it underwhelming.
“Okay, bring in the girls!” Mara shouted. “Let’s get the Power Couples shots. Jinx! Skyla!”
From the dressing area, two women emerged. First was Skyla, the current Women’s Champion, blonde, bubbly, the definition of a “Golden Girl.” Then came Jinx, jet-black hair shaved on one side, leather, studs, the female version of Cal.
“Okay, let’s move to the grey backdrop,” Mara directed. “Jinx, you’re with Cal. Skyla, grab Silas. Sell it.”
We moved to a boring grey wall.
Skyla bounced over to me, beaming. She didn’t hesitate. She stepped right into my personal space, placing a manicured hand flat on my oily, bare chest.
“Hey, Silas,” she purred, her eyes raking down my torso. “God, you are built right now. Your arms are huge.”
“It’s the pump,” I said stiffly, staring straight ahead. “From the chains.”
Skyla giggled, leaning her hip against mine. She rose up on her toes, whispering in my ear, “Well, it looks good. You know, I have a bottle of tequila in my room at the hotel. You should come by later. I can help you… stretch out.”
I blinked. “Uh. I think I’m just going to crash, Skyla.”
“Don’t be boring,” she teased, trailing a finger down my bicep to my wrist, squeezing. “I promise I’m fun.”
I looked past her. Over by the photographer, Cal was standing next to Jinx. Jinx was leaning against the wall next to him, her shoulder brushing his bare arm. She whispered something to him, and Cal laughed, loud and genuine. They looked good together. They matched.
But then Cal’s eyes flicked over to me.
He saw Skyla’s hand on my chest. His jaw clenched so tight a muscle feathered in his cheek. He stopped laughing instantly.
“Silas,” a quiet voice said beside me.
I jumped. Evan had stepped up next to me while Skyla was having her makeup retouched. He was watching Cal, his expression thoughtful.
“You know,” Evan murmured, almost to himself. “For a guy who claims his sex life is ‘Biblical’, I never actually see the women.”
I froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, look at him,” Evan gestured to Cal. “He plays the Rockstar. He talks a big game. But on the road? At the hotel? It’s just us. Always just us. I never see him bring anyone back.”
I forced a laugh, trying to keep it casual. “He keeps it private. He brings girls back to the room sometimes. I usually just leave and go for a walk or something.”
Evan turned to look at me. His eyes were sharp. He wasn’t smiling.
“Right,” Evan said slowly. “Is that why only one bed was slept in back in Kentucky?”
My heart stopped dead in my chest.
The noise of the photoshoot faded into a buzz. I stared at Evan. He didn’t look angry. He looked… waiting. He was giving me the opening. He was telling me he knew the lie didn’t add up.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I couldn’t deny it; that would be an insult to his intelligence. But I couldn’t confirm it. The rules. The career. The risk.
I just stared at him, silence stretching between us like a wire.
Evan held my gaze for another second, then sighed. He patted my shoulder.
“Just an observation, Si,” he said softly, letting me off the hook. “Skyla is waiting for you.”
The shoot was finally over. We were in a small auxiliary locker room toward the back of the warehouse, away from the main chaos.
The second the door clicked shut, Cal reached over and threw the deadbolt.
He spun around, eyes blazing. “You were terrible in that last set. Skyla was basically climbing you like a tree, and you let her.”
I dropped my gear bag. The adrenaline from the shoot mixed with the panic from Evan’s question and the jealousy of seeing Cal with Jinx.
“She was doing her job,” I shot back. “Unlike you. You looked like you wanted to snap her neck.”
“Because she was all over you!” Cal snapped, pacing the small room. “Touching your chest. Whispering in your ear. It was unprofessional.”
“And you and Jinx?” I countered, stepping into his space. “She was draped all over you. Laughing. Whispering. You didn’t seem to mind her touch.”
“That’s different,” Cal scoffed. “Jinx is cool. It’s marketing.”
“Is it?” I challenged. “Because you two looked perfect together. The King and Queen of Darkness.”
I stopped, the real fear finally bubbling up.
“She’s your type, Cal,” I whispered, the fight draining out of me. “She’s a woman. She’s gorgeous. I know you like women too. I know I’m not… I can’t give you that image.”
Cal stopped pacing. The anger vanished from his face, replaced by a sharp, focused intensity.
“You think I want Jinx?” Cal asked quietly.
“I think it would be easier,” I admitted, looking at the floor. “If you were with her… you wouldn’t have to hide in hotel rooms. You wouldn’t have to lie to everyone. You could be out holding hands. It’s the life you’re supposed to have.”
Cal stepped closer. He didn’t touch me. He just stood there, radiating heat.
“You think I want easy?” Cal asked, his voice low. “I don’t want a prop girlfriend.”
He took another step, trapping me against the lockers.
“I want you,” Cal said, his eyes locking onto mine. “I want the guy who jumps off crates until he passes out. I want the guy who keeps snacks in the glove box for me. I chose you, Silas. Stop acting like I’m looking for an exit.”
He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear.
“Besides,” Cal whispered, the tenderness vanishing into something darker, filthier. “Do you want to know what I was actually thinking about on that throne?”
I swallowed hard. “What?”
“I was thinking about how much better you would look riding me in it,” Cal murmured. “Right there. In front of the cameras. You, straddling my lap, taking the crown. We haven’t tried that yet, have we? You on top?”
My breath hitched. “No.”
“I was picturing it the whole time,” Cal continued. “How you’d look with your head thrown back. How I’d be able to watch your face while you rode me. We really need to try that, baby.”
Something inside me snapped. The jealousy, the fear, the desire, it all exploded.
I shoved him. Hard.
Cal stumbled back, hitting the lockers with a clang. His eyes went wide. “Silas—”
“Shut up,” I growled. “You talk too much.”
I didn’t wait. My hands went to the waistband of his trunks. I hooked my fingers in the fabric and yanked them down to his knees in one motion.
Cal gasped as his cock sprang free, already semi hard. “Fuck—”
“Mine,” I snarled.
I wrapped my hand around his shaft, gripping him firmly. I started stroking him with a rough, punishing rhythm.
“Oh god,” Cal groaned, his hips snapping forward.
I buried my face in his neck. I found the spot right above his collarbone, the one the cameras would see, and I bit down. I sucked hard, listening to him whimper, leaving a dark, undeniable mark. Just like he does to me.
“You belong to me,” I murmured against his skin, pumping my hand faster. “Let Jinx stand next to you. You sit with me. Say it.”
“Yours,” Cal choked out. “Fuck, baby, I’m yours.”
I twisted my wrist, rubbing my thumb over the sensitive head. “Cum for me.”
Cal cried out, a broken sound, and shattered. He came hard, shooting hot and messy over my hand and onto the concrete floor.
I held him there as he came down.
“Jesus, Si,” Cal breathed, looking at the hickey in the mirror across from us. “You marked me.”
“Good,” I whispered. “Let them look.”
We sat in a booth at a brightly lit pizzeria. Evan slid into the booth opposite us, slamming his phone onto the table.
“You won’t believe this,” Evan spat. “They just released the preliminary poster.”
“Already?” Cal asked, grabbing a slice of pepperoni, looking perfectly composed.
“Look at this travesty!” Evan turned the phone around.