20
Phoenix
Pete walked into the bus, his face illuminated with a kind of excited energy that instantly caught my attention. He was practically radiating good news, which was a rare enough sight that I put down my paperwork and gave him my full focus.
“Phoenix,”
he started, his tone upbeat, “you can have the morning off. I need the guys to go over the pyrotechnics with the new setup they asked for. It’s going to be a long session, and I can make sure they don’t get into any trouble.”
I glanced at the pile of paperwork scattered across the table in front of me, a mixture of press schedules and show logistics that had been steadily piling up. “That sounds great, Pete. I’ve been craving waffles all week, so I’m going to go find a diner.”
His face broke into a wide smile. “Enjoy your morning, Phoenix. You’ve earned it.”
With a quick nod, I grabbed my purse and headed for the front of the bus. The prospect of having a few hours to myself was invigorating. The thought of sinking my teeth into a plate of golden, fluffy waffles with a side of crispy bacon was already making my mouth water.
Just as I was about to step out and catch a cab, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Kage standing behind me. He looked unusually casual, but there was a determined glint in his eyes that made me pause.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He seemed to consider his response carefully before speaking. “I was the one who requested the change for the pyrotechnics and went through everything with the tech yesterday when we were planning it. So, technically, I don’t need to be at the run-through.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking a little sheepish. “Mind if I tag along?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t need to be there?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a hint of embarrassment in his posture. “Yep. Plus, it’s been too long since I had real diner food. I’ve been craving it, actually.”
“Well you can come, but I was kind of going for low-key, you know.”
Kage’s expression shifted to one of mischief. “I can do low-key.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hat and a pair of sunglasses. “Incognito style.”
I burst into laughter at the sight of him pulling out his makeshift disguise. “Seriously? You think that will work?”
He gave me a pleading look, his eyes softening. “Please, Doll. I promise I’ll be no bother. I just want to enjoy some decent food and get a break from the usual routine.”
Despite myself, I found his earnestness oddly endearing. I hesitated for a moment, my skepticism warring with the part of me that was curious about his unexpected company. In the end, I couldn’t deny that Kage’s presence might actually make the morning a bit more interesting.
“Fine,”
I said, gesturing for him to follow me. “But remember, low-key. I don’t want to be the center of attention just because you’re tagging along.”
He flashed me a grin, tipped his hat at a jaunty angle, and gave me a thumbs-up. “You got it.”
We stepped out of the bus and made our way toward the front of the stadium to catch a cab. As we walked, I noticed the slight spring in Kage’s step. It was clear that he was genuinely excited about the prospect of some real diner food, and that sense of excitement was contagious.
◆◆◆
After catching the cab into the city, I led Kage through the busy streets. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself oddly comforted by his presence. After a short walk, we stumbled upon a little diner with a retro vibe, complete with checkered floors and neon signs that flickered with a warm, inviting glow.
Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and unpretentious, a stark contrast to the glitz and glam of tour life. We slid into a booth, but Kage didn’t sit across from me. Instead, he slid in beside me, the move catching me off guard. For a moment, I tensed, unsure how to react. But his casual demeanor and the way he seemed to relax into the seat beside me helped ease my apprehension of having him so close.
As we perused the menu, we chatted about the band’s early days. I listened with genuine interest as Kage recounted stories of how the band started, from small gigs in smoky clubs to the whirlwind of touring and recording.
“So, tell me more about you,”
he said after a while. “I feel like I know so little about you.”
I hesitated for a moment, then decided to open up a bit. “Well, I have five sisters. All of us are pretty close despite living pretty separate lives. It’s like having a built-in support system, you know? They’ve always been there for me, through thick and thin.”
Kage’s eyes widened slightly. “Five sisters? That sounds like a lot of fun. And a lot of drama.”
I laughed. “Oh, definitely. We had our share of drama, but it was always worth it. They keep me grounded.”
Our conversation flowed easily, and as we talked, I noticed the way Kage seemed to genuinely listen, his attention fully on me. The initial awkwardness of his sitting so close faded as we settled into the conversation. The food arrived, and we dug into our meals with enthusiasm, sharing bites and savoring the comforting flavors.
“What about you?”
I said, trying to sound casual. “You’ve talked a lot about the band and your work, but what about your family?”
Kage paused, his fork hovering midair. He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts before he finally set it down and took a deep breath.
“It was just me and my mom,”
he began. “She was a single Beta woman, raising me by herself. She was strong—really strong. A rowdy, willful Alpha like me was a lot to handle, but she managed it. She did everything she could to give me a good life.”
His eyes dropped to his plate, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “She died a few years ago. It was sudden, and it hit me hard. Losing her left a void that nothing seems to fill.”
The easy atmosphere of our meal was replaced by a more somber mood. I could feel the depth of his pain, a quiet sorrow that was different from the raw, explosive emotions of Zephyr or the erratic energy of Parker. It was a deep, lingering grief that seemed to haunt him.
“I’m sorry,”
I said softly. “Loss can be… overwhelming. It changes everything.”
Kage looked at me, his gaze meeting mine with a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before. “Yeah,”
he agreed, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s tough. It’s hard to let myself get close to anyone when I’m afraid of losing someone I care about again. But I think I might have found someone who is worth the risk.”
I blinked, my breath hitching slightly. “Oh?”
“Yeah,”
he said again, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “It’s… scary as hell, but I don’t want to let fear make the decisions for me anymore.”
I searched his face, trying to process what he was saying—and who he was saying it about. Was I reading this wrong?
“That’s… brave,”
I finally said, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart.
“Maybe it is,”
he murmured. “I just hope I haven’t already fucked it all up.”
The boundaries I’d been maintaining felt blurred. Kage’s closeness was both reassuring and disorienting, and I found myself grappling with my own feelings.
It was in that moment, with our faces close and the intimacy of the conversation hanging between us, that Kage leaned in. His expression softened, his eyes searching mine with an earnest hopefulness. I could feel his breath against my skin as he moved in to kiss me.
For a heartbeat, I considered letting it happen. The chemistry between us was palpable, and part of me wanted to give in. But another part of me, the part that valued my independence and anonymity, pulled back. I shifted away just in time.
Kage’s lips hovered inches from mine before he pulled back, frustration and disappointment etched on his face.
As soon as I pulled away, I felt the tension between us snap. Kage’s hand lingered on my waist for a fraction of a second longer than it should have, and the space between us suddenly felt too large and too small at the same time. He didn’t say anything at first, but then, in a low, soft growl, he muttered, “Omega.”
It wasn’t just a name. It was a warning, a reminder of the undeniable pull between us. But it was also a label, one I’d spent my whole life refusing to be defined by.
“Don’t,”
I snapped, the word coming out harsher than I’d intended. I pulled back further, creating more distance. I wasn’t angry at him, not really. I was angry at the situation—angry that my instincts and hormones were making everything so much harder.
His gaze darkened, but he remained quiet, waiting for me to continue. I had to say something. I couldn’t let this moment define us, define me.
“I’ve spent my whole life fighting not to be defined by my designation, and I’m not going to start now.”
Kage’s brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his face. I pushed on before he could say anything.
“You weren’t interested when you thought I was a Beta. You didn’t care then,”
I bit out, my frustration lacing every word. “You don’t get to act like you deserve me now just because you know the truth.”
For a moment, he looked taken aback, and I half-expected him to argue or walk away. But instead, he met my gaze with an unexpected softness. “You’re right,”
he admitted, his voice low and raw. “I don’t deserve you. Not after everything.”
His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for me again but held back. “But don’t think for one second that I didn’t want you just as much before.”
I stared at him, disbelief etched into every line of my face. Did he really expect me to believe that? He had always treated me like I was worse than nothing when he thought I was a Beta. There was no way he could have wanted me back then.
Kage’s jaw clenched, his frustration clearly mounting, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. Before I could pull back again, his hand shot out and grabbed my chin. His touch was electric, sending a jolt straight through me despite my better judgment.
“That’s okay,”
he said softly. “You don’t believe me. I haven’t given you any reason to.”
His thumb brushed my lower lip as his eyes searched mine, and for a split second, I forgot to breathe. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch, craving the connection despite everything screaming at me to run. I hated how easily he could unravel me, make me forget all the walls I’d built.
“But I will,”
he whispered.