Page 22 of Pack Fever

I frown at his hatred.

“Jasper has a point.” The blond guy runs a hand through his short hair and glances over to Mr. Candy Eyes.

So, that’s his name—Jasper. I like the way it sounds in my mind, and I swear I’ve heard the name before. I’m struggling today with a blurry mind.

“How so?” the angry guy asks.

“Did you get a whiff of her scent? She’s an Omega, right in our home, and you know… we don’t have one, and maybe this is our chance.”

What the hell! The thought sends sparks of panic to my muscles.

The Omega Academy used to warn us against fraternizing with Alphas outside of Nexus’ involvement, saying they can’t control their urges. So, if they find an Omega in full-blown heat, they’ll lose their control and rape us. We were told this at a young age, and I swear for a long time afterward, every Alpha terrified me. I believed Nexus would protect me and find my perfect pack, who wouldn’t harm me.

They fear-mongered Omegas from a young age to make us loyal to them. I’m not saying some Alphas would love nothing more than to steal an Omega, lock her up without anyone knowing, and use her as a sex slave—especially once we go into heat and see there are fewer of us compared to them—but my father taught me how wrong Nexus had been to paint all Alphas with the same brush.

This pack’s suggestions hang in the air. Do they think I’m a commodity to be owned? Do they just want a slave Omega?

I’m not sure if I want to laugh that I escaped the enforcers, or cry at what I’m hearing. Over the years, I’ve tolerated a lot of being restricted in what I can and can’t do, and I’m still grappling with the bus crash and being on the run.

Their conversation worries me, as does my intense reaction to being close to Jasper, with them able to tell I’m an Omega. With my first signs of going in heat… does this mean he’s what many call a true mate Alpha?

I blink at Jasper, my heart fluttering at the sight of how insatiably gorgeous he is, how I’m burning up just staring at him.

Many say true mate Alphas don’t exist, but some swear they do, saying if they detect your heat when it just begins, when it’s so faint it’s barely recognizable, that you are theirs.

“Are you insane?” his royal crankiness blurts out, jarring me out of my thoughts, and I’m starting to really dislike him. “She’s wanted by Nexus, and how will you hide her when we literally have paparazzi following us the moment we go anywhere?”

Wait! Paparazzi?

The word triggers something inside me, a recognition that ignites a memory that’s been right in front of my face, but I’ve been drowning in my own problems to really pay attention.

Until now!

Fuck, I recognize their faces now…

“Fever.” The name of their band slips past my lips in a whisper, and my eyes widen as reality collides with me. I’m in the presence of the chart-topping rock band Fever. Their music has been the soundtrack to more than a few crazy nights out, not to mention on my own playlists.

Their gazes suddenly twist and lock on me.

I’m freaking out, scared…, and slightly fangirling. Who am I kidding… majorly fangirling. Except I don’t want them to think I’m just another groupie or something.

Jasper is definitely the drummer. I see it now, even if he wears his hair covering his face during most tours and music videos, as if he hates the publicity. The tattooed Alpha has to be Reed, their guitarist, and the cranky guy, their lead singer, Seth. Oh, fuck me!

When his phone buzzes, he excuses himself and hurries downstairs, barking at someone on the line.

My heart’s frantically beating, my face burning up as they come in my direction.

Hell!

Frozen in place, my cheeks are flaming with embarrassment under their gazes.

Jasper approaches first, his expression soft with concern.

“How are you feeling after you passed out?”

“O…” My mouth dries as my gaze bounces between the two of them and how ridiculously gorgeous they are. Reed, with his short, dark-blonde hair, is nothing like the wild mane I’ve seen thrashing around on stage. The tattoos that climb over his neck and down the sleeves of his arms are stunning, but I’ve seen the photos of him in magazines showing the raven tattoos on his chest that everyone speculates about. He never tells a soul what they represent, but that Norse ink has everyone guessing he’s got Viking heritage.

They’re both staring at me, and I’m still trying to find my voice, reminding myself they’re normal people like me.

---