Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

NOW PLAYING: DIZZY - Olly Alexander; If I Would’ve Known- Kyle Hume

Sitting in the small, disorganized office our band manager, Brady, uses for meetings, I fight back a sigh of frustration. We only have two weeks before our sold out summer tour begins and I’d hoped to have all of our ducks in a row before now.

Unfortunately, the label’s previous tour photographer decided he wanted to accept an offer from another company at the last minute. Good for the guy for getting a better deal, but damn him for doing so when we’re so close to the tour deadline.

Crossing my arms over my chest I sprawl in my seat, using the contact between my legs and my mates to help settle my grumpiness. I’m known for being a bit of an asshole, but even I can recognize I’m being meaner than usual today. We aren’t used to coming into the office so early. We’re night owls, so trips to the studio never happen before mid-afternoon.

Uncrossing my arms, my sigh is much more audible this time, earning a raised eyebrow from Brady where he’s reviewing the paperwork he has to go over with the new photographer they want to hire. Which is why we’re here. So we can make sure our instincts aren’t going to cause issues with the tour.

The room is stuffy despite the air conditioning running through the building. Something that wouldn’t usually bother me except we’re all sitting here with our masks on. The designer who created my mask did a great job of ventilating the interior without detracting from the exterior image, but it can still feel suffocating inside when I’m just sitting with it on.

A call from the label’s secretary pulls Brady from the room. Moments later he steps back into view leading a goddess in behind him. Waist long hair fading from black at the roots to a light purple at the tips. My alpha grumbles in approval as I let my eyes roam over every inch of her.

Black and white striped pants clinging to her hips and thick thighs. A black, long-sleeved blouse reveals a hint of the tattoo running down her sternum. I want to peel the damn thing off to get a better look, to trace the lines of her ink with my tongue.

My breath stalls in my lungs when I finally meet her icy blue eyes.

We’re in trouble if the label expects us to spend two months on a tour bus with this beauty. I haven’t felt this strong of a pull to someone since I met the mates who now sit beside me.

“Thank you,” she tells Brady softly. Her tone of voice is naturally low. My mind conjures images of her spread out before my pack, low groans falling from her plush lips.

A harsh pinch to my side snaps me out of my dangerous train of thought. I throw Titan a glare and rub my side to ease the pain. He must have sensed the direction of my thoughts from our bond. It’s not like they can see me checking her out behind my full face mask.

“Gentlemen, this is the photographer I mentioned. Omen Powell. Omen, meet Primordial Covenant.”

Over the remaining scent of coffee and pack, I catch muted hints of sunshine and honeysuckle. The sweetness has my alpha perking his ears in interest, but I shove the feeling down. We need to behave professionally during this meeting, not pant after the attractive woman like a damn cartoon character.

A quick look at my pack mates shows they are experiencing the same attraction. I’m equal parts curious and cautious. Our interest in Omen could be perilous for my pack. If things were to go awry, working together for the duration of the tour could be awkward and tense. Added stress during an already stressful journey won’t do my mates any good.

“Take a seat and we’ll go over the contract the head office sent over,” Brady tells her, guiding her to the chair across from us.

Omen reads over the NDA before she looks at us. Her eyes flick back and forth between each of our masks, her teeth digging into her plum-painted bottom lip. My fists clench in an effort to stop myself from reaching across to free the abused flesh. The pull between us is going to be very difficult to ignore.

Blowing out a breath, she focuses on the paperwork, signing it quickly and sliding it back to Brady who quickly introduces our pack.

“You hesitated. Can I ask why?” Callisto questions quietly after his mask is removed.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Omen’s lips when she turns her focus to my beta. “No nefarious reason, I promise. When Brady reached out to me, I wasn’t made aware of which band I would be working with for the duration of this contract. I hadn’t considered your band would be an option, nor had it crossed my mind I would learn who you are behind the masks during this process. I was debating if this opportunity was worth ruining the mystery.”

“Are you a fan?” Brady asks cautiously. If you didn’t know the alpha, you wouldn’t be able to tell by his tone, but the small twitch of his jaw belies his concern. We always have to be cautious about who we allow on our tours. Keeping our identities secret and protecting our personal belongings is already a full time job, we can’t have someone untrustworthy added to the mix.

“I actually got to watch the band perform during their debut as the opener for Candy Courage last year. So, yes, you can consider me a fan of their music. Please don’t assume this correlates to a lack of professionalism. As I mentioned, I hadn’t considered working with them as an option when I agreed to this meeting.” Omen directs her words firmly to Brady.

“I must admit, the idea of getting full access to photograph Primordial Covenant on this tour makes me less reluctant to sign for the duration of this contract. I remember wishing I’d had my camera with me during their performance. The images I could have captured…” Her words trail off, her eyes distant as she gets lost in her thoughts.

Her eyes widen slightly when our masks are removed, her cheeks turning the sweetest shade of pink when Nexus winks at her. She doesn’t react otherwise.

Brady relaxes, seeing her maintain a respectful professionalism after our true faces are revealed. Not giving her time to adjust, he starts to go over the proposed contract the label sent.

Their words become background noise as I study Omen. A lightly tanned complexion paired with a light dusting of makeup. Her fingers gently tap the edge of the table as she listens to Brady talk. The soft flowers and tips of butterfly wings I can see peeking from the top of her shirt.

Callisto nudges his knee against mine beneath the table reminding me my mask is off now and I’m acting like a creep staring at this woman's chest. I shake off my odd fascination and tune back into the conversation.

“Do you have an itinerary for the tour? I’d like to see where the stops are before I sign on for all of them,” Omen tells Brady, who shuffles through his papers before handing her one. “Several of these stops are in states with critical anti-pack agendas, with a few of them close to known anti-designation groups. What security measures do you have in place for protests at those locations?”

My alpha bristles at the insinuation she may feel unsafe touring with us. “We would never let anyone on our crew be harmed at one of our shows.” My words are a little too sharp, my alpha internally growling his displeasure.

Omen’s eyes meet mine, filled with anger and disbelief. She may be right. It’s not like we can guarantee the safety of every single person on the crew at those shows. Shit happens and sometimes it’s out of our control. “I didn’t ask for your protection, I asked what precautions you have in place.”

Her attention turns back to Brady and a low growl rumbles in my chest. I balk at the sound, muttering a short apology. Callisto’s hand squeezes my thigh attempting to soothe my frazzled edges.

No one outside of my pack has ever made me feel so unhinged in such a short period of time.

Maybe my alpha is feeling restless being so close to someone with such a sweet scent. He’s been anxious and easily agitated ever since we discovered another mate through our Fated connection last summer.

At the age of twenty-one, everyone has a chance to gain a Fated connection. For my pack, our link allows us to send messages to each other by writing or drawing on our skin. Each of us carries an energy signature telling the other who is sending the message.

When we first realized we were all not only pack mates, but Fate matched mates, it was confusing trying to focus on the energy flowing through the messages to know who it was from. Our solution was to use our initials to sign off on anything we sent.

A practice we hadn’t been using for several years until last summer when a fifth mate sent a message on their 21st birthday. Hearing we had another mate in this world was a profound discovery. Our mystery mate had not shared our joy. Whoever they are, they weren’t ready for us to find each other.

Something my inner alpha doesn’t understand. He can’t comprehend why we haven’t torn this world apart to find them, but I promised we would wait until they were ready, and I intend to keep our promise.

A small part of me wonders if this pull we are feeling to Omen is from a Fated connection. Maybe she could be the mystery mate we’ve been patiently waiting for…

No. It can’t be her.

Attraction doesn’t necessarily mean Fate has something more in store for us.

“I would like to amend the contract for the Boston, Nashville, Memphis, and Las Vegas locations to stage only shots. I’m not comfortable working from within the crowd at events so close to anti-designation territory.”

I refocus as Omen talks to our manager who studies her for a few seconds before writing her request on the contract so he can have it amended before she signs it later this week.

Brady glances my way after he finishes writing. The hard glint in his eyes warns me to get myself together. I give him a curt nod in acknowledgment. I need to get my shit together and stop letting my instincts control me.

Omen asks a few other security and venue-related questions before Brady wraps up their conversation. “Alright then, Miss Powell, as long as you’re sure you don’t have any other questions, we’re all done. I’ll have the finalized contract emailed to you after it has been amended, so you can make sure everything is written to your expectations before you meet with the higher-ups to finalize everything.”

Omen offers polite goodbyes before Brady shows her back to the elevator. My alpha huffs in displeasure as she walks away from us, but I ignore the instinct to chase after her.

Hopefully we’ll be seeing a lot more of her after the tour starts.

“Based on your reactions, I’m assuming you don’t have any issues with Omen working alongside you for the tour.” Brady meets each of our eyes, daring us to deny the tension still palpable in the room.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I scowl. “You need anything else from us? We’ve got the studio booked for the afternoon if you don’t.”

My mates, my bass, and our music are what I need to shake my lingering desire to chase after Omen.

“Nope, head on down. I’ll touch base in a few days and we’ll get everything finalized for when we head out to our first venue.”

Sweaty, hungry, and exhausted, I watch Callisto run his hands through his hair for the fifth time in three minutes. His shoulders are stiff and his jaw is tight, both signs it’s time for us to call it a day.

We’ve been in the studio for three hours now reworking songs for our album set to release at the end of the year. Even with a few scattered breaks to reset our minds and muscles, I can feel my mate’s frustration through our bond.

“Pack up. We’ve done enough for today.”

Cal turns to face me, frowning. “Not yet. I’ve almost got it. It’s right there, I just can’t see it yet.”

“You’re agitated and overthinking. Taking time to focus on other things will help more than trying to force yourself through this wall,” I point out. I can already feel his annoyance growing. Most of the feeling is directed at himself. His perfectionist tendencies always shine through the most when he is struggling to finish a project.

“Then you three go ahead, I’ll catch up later.” He immediately turns his back to me and starts shuffling through his papers again. Continuing to work right now won’t get him anywhere. He’ll only burn himself out, which would be fucking terrible right before we start our tour.

Crossing the small studio space, I wrap a hand around his throat from behind and force him to stand still. His hair tickles my cheek where it gets caught on my nose as I lean in to whisper in his ear.

“If you don’t pack up your things and walk out that door in the next five minutes, I’m going to take you over my knee when we get home. Good boys listen when their Alpha tells them they need a break. You’re my good boy, aren’t you Cal?” Flicking my tongue out, I run it along the outer shell of his ear, smirking against his skin when he goes pliant against me. “Five minutes, baby. You’d better get this pretty ass moving.”

“Do I get a timer too, daddy?” Nexus asks, wrapping around my back and grinding his semi against my ass.

My nose scrunches in distaste at the nickname he likes to goad me with. He’s intentionally being bratty. Unlike Cal who loves being rewarded for good behavior, my alpha mate prefers being punished.

“I’m guessing his silence is a no,” Nexus says, pushing his bottom lip out into a pout.

Titan raises an eyebrow but doesn’t give in to our mate’s antics, he just grabs Callisto’s guitar case and heads for the elevator. Nexus shrugs and follows along, wrapping his arm around Cal’s shoulders and whispering into our beta’s ear.

A smile stretches across my lips watching them. My family.

I met most of my mates at the Alpha Academy several years ago. I was a mess when I started at the school. My parents had barely been present in my life after my older sister passed away. I was alone and angry, feeling abandoned by the world.

As a newly presented alpha with no control over his emotions, I was a danger to myself and everyone around me. Mandated therapy with the school’s counselor helped me process my grief, but meeting Nexus was what saved me. My vibrant alpha mate gave me a new purpose when I was lost in my grief. He gave me someone to protect, a task I faced with ferocity after losing the last person I was meant to protect.

The rocky sand is hot beneath my feet, warmed by the late May sun. Sweat drips down my back beneath the white cut-off shirt I threw on this morning. A light breeze blowing off the lake helps to combat the humidity soaking the air around us.

I love the summer, but damn could I do with living somewhere where it doesn’t feel so wet when it gets hot.

Leaning back on my hands, I glance to my side and study my sister, Elizabeth. Her platinum blonde hair hangs limp against her neck. The usually glossy strands dull and ratted. After she’s enjoyed the sunshine for a bit, I’ll convince Mom to help her wash it. Maybe a little self-care will bring some life back into her eyes.

“I saw Brock Farrow in town today,” I tell her. Brock used to go to the same school I did until his parents forced him to attend a private school a few hours away. Elizabeth always liked him more than my other friends because he didn’t care if she went swimming in the lake with us.

“You should see him now. He’s not the tiny boy I knew in elementary school. He’s got to be seven feet tall!” My sister doesn’t react, but I keep talking. “If he stays home for the summer, I’ll invite him over and we can race around the lake like we used to. I bet you could still outswim him!”

I bite back a sigh, used to her silence but still frustrated by it. Last fall, she started her first year at a university in Virginia where she planned to get a dual degree in archeology and environmental studies. She was bright and happy, thrilled to be out of the Omega Academy and working toward her dream of world exploration.

Then she met him.

Her Fated mate.

He was touring the school when they bumped into each other and their Fated connection snapped together. With her so far away, we hadn’t even known she’d met her mate until it was too late. The piece of shit alpha mated her, bonded her, and then rejected her. His harsh words and hatred had shattered my sister.

Someone nearby had caught the entire rejection on video and shared it on social media. My parent’s lawyers, along with the staff at the University, had gotten it taken down within hours of its posting, but it was already too late. Everyone on campus had heard what happened to my sister. The humiliation drove Elizabeth home.

The first few weeks she was back she would rarely leave her nest. I could hear her sobbing inside. Her heartbreak enraged me. No one deserves to be treated so callously.

Elizabeth had always been so considerate and kind. Caring more for the people around her than herself. To watch her be tossed aside so easily by an alpha so undeserving of her love, I couldn’t handle it.

One day, when I’d caught my mother forcing her out of her nest to shower, I snapped. The dark circles beneath her eyes and her gaunt figure broke me. Sneaking cash out of my mother’s purse, I’d driven into the heart of Nashville intent on catching a bus to the Northeast to teach that asshole a lesson.

Outside of the bus station, my father had stepped up beside me, one hand resting on my shoulder. I don’t know how he found me. Some parental instinct I couldn’t understand, maybe. We stood there together in silence. Him letting me seethe and me trying to understand why he wasn’t scolding me for trying to do something so reckless.

After a while, he followed me back to my car and asked me to meet him at the gym. Together, we’d worked through all of the anger, sadness, and frustration churning inside of me.

Since then, I have dedicated all of my free time to my sister. After school, I sit outside of her nest door and do my homework. Reading the questions out loud or telling her stories about my day. Then, deep in the night when they’re both asleep, I sneak back in and lay beside her. Offering her the comfort of my presence and my words.

For months we’ve watched her fade away. The therapists and omega experts warned us she won’t survive. Omega’s who face rejection rarely do. My parents swear we just need to get her back out in the world. To show her there is still a life worth living away from the mate who rejected her. A task that’s increasingly difficult when we can barely get her to leave her nest, let alone the house.

Sometimes, on sunny days like today, I can drag her to the shore to watch the waves. She’s always loved the water. Swimming, boating, diving. Any reason to be in the water was good enough for her.

They say water can be healing, so maybe we should take her somewhere far away where she can be surrounded by water on all sides. One of the islands in the Caribbean or the Mediterranean maybe.

“We should go on a trip. Go find an island to explore. Would you like that?” I turn my face to the sky, letting the warmth of the sun heat my skin and hide the tears burning in my eyes when my question goes unanswered.

I need her to get better. It hurts too much to watch her wither away and know there is nothing I can do to save her.

The elevator dings when we reach the ground floor, shaking me from the memory. It was only days after that shoreside conversation she left this world. The pain of her loss still strikes like a knife in my heart each time I think of her. The ghost of her memory haunts me, reminding me of how I failed her.

“I’m starving!” Nexus groans as we walk out the front doors toward the parking garage. “Feed me before I turn into a hangry rage monster.”

A laugh bubbles from my lips at my mate’s whiny demand. Even if my sister isn’t here with me, I know she’s out there. Somewhere in the universe her soul has been watching over me and helping Fate guide my mates to me. My bonds glow within my chest, warm and bright just like she used to be.