Page 99 of Pack Fever

I close my eyes, letting the music and the man holding me fill me until I’m lulled by the gentleness of his voice and the warmth of his embrace. I finally drift into sleep, the words, I love you, following me into my dreams.

Days have whirled by in a blur of anticipation, and now, the first concert night has arrived, igniting a firework of excitement inside me. My stomach is aflutter with nervous butterflies, my veins thrumming with the exhilaration of it all. The venue is teeming with energy, every nook and cranny packed with excited fans, and I’m here, backstage, trying my best to blend into the shadows, my hoodie pulled tight over my head. The presence of a few paparazzi, granted exclusive access for snapshots and quick interviews before the show kicks off, has me extra cautious.

Especially after that last encounter of being chased away from my mom’s place. Seth insists that his guards say there are no extra Nexus enforcers appearing at Mom’s house, but that doesn’t ease the worry at the back of my mind.

But I push those thoughts aside and focus on my first concert…

There’s a special backstage pass experience, a golden ticket for those who shelled out ten thousand dollars for the privilege of a behind-the-scenes tour and a chance to mingle with the band in the refreshment room. They’re the lucky few who’ll also grace the after-party, although I’ve heard the guys plan to make only a brief appearance before disappearing into the night, with me, of course.

I’m grinning like crazy.

The buzz backstage is like a live wire. I find myself caught up in the whirlwind, darting through the hallway with a stack of freshly printed price tags for the merch team, a last-minute update that couldn’t be avoided. My heart races as I navigate the backstage maze, the adrenaline pumping through my veins making me feel alive.

Reaching the merch booth at the front of the venue, the energy is electric, the team buzzing with anticipation. A blonde guy sporting one of Fever’s iconic fire flame shirts, mirroring my own, greets me with an enthusiastic smile. “Thanks, these are just what we’re missing,” he beams, taking the price tags from my hands.

“How’s it coming along?” I ask, barely able to contain my own excitement.

“Amazing,” he assures me, his eyes alight with the thrill of the impending chaos. “Once they come pouring out, they’ll snap up everything. It’s going to be chaos,” he chuckles, and his infectious laughter only adds to the buzzing energy coursing through me.

“It’s crazy in there,” I comment, hearing the audience from our location booming and calling out for Fever.

“Oh yeah, Fever never fails to sell out every concert,” he agrees, a note of pride in his voice.

Despite the whirlwind of activity and the electric atmosphere, a part of me still can’t quite believe I'm here, part of this incredible journey. After everything that’s happened, from the terrifying encounters with Nexus to the intimate moments shared with the guys, it feels surreal to be standing on the brink of something so monumental.

As the minutes tick down to showtime, the reality of the moment sinks in as I return backstage, then take a small sneak peek out at the audience. My mouth drops open as the wave of people, and I’m nervous for the guys. Though I doubt they’re anxious.

I’m about to witness the magic of Fever from the wings, to see the guys in their element.

As I peer through the slightly ajar backstage door, the vast sea of fans stretching out before me sends a ripple of nerves through my body, excitement and anxiety mingling in a tumultuous dance. I’m so lost in the moment, so wrapped up in the swell of emotions, that when a hand gently lands on my arm, I jump, a sharp gasp cutting through the buzz of backstage preparations.

It’s Seth, his presence immediately soothing even as my heart continues to race.

“Hey, it’s only me,” he murmurs, followed by a soft chuckle in his voice. “Is everything alright?”

I attempt a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “I think I’m more nervous than you guys about going on stage,” I admit truthfully.

Seth laughs, the sound deep and sexy, and it’s then that I truly take him in. He’s the epitome of a rock star, his shirt hanging open, revealing a tantalizing expanse of skin, the fabric catching the light in a way that makes him seem almost ethereal. The tight leather pants curve around his form perfectly, and his hair, pushed back from his face, coupled with the stark line of black eyeliner, completes the image. This is Seth, the superstar, the heartthrob adored by millions, and here he is, standing right in front of me, the man who whispered I love you in a moment of quiet intimacy.

But the moment shatters with a sudden shriek from nearby, snapping Seth’s attention away. Instinctively, I tug my hoodie down, seeking to hide my identity as a group of backstage fans converge on him. Their adoration is overwhelming, one even breaking into tears at the mere sight of him. They swarm around him, their concept of personal space nonexistent, hands reaching out to touch, to claim a piece of the star before them.

As I watch, a fierce, unexpected surge of jealousy ignites within me. My skin prickles with the intensity of it, a primal reaction to seeing others so close to him, touching him with a familiarity that I crave. My hands clench into fists at my sides, the urge to intervene, to tear them away from him, to break those hands are swallowing me. It’s irrational, this fierce protectiveness, this desire to claim him as mine and mine alone, yet I can’t seem to quell the storm of emotions.

Seth, for his part, handles the attention with a grace and ease that only fuels my jealousy further. He laughs, unfazed by the hands that grope at him, even as security steps in to firmly peel the fans away. And all the while, I’m burning up inside, consumed by a jealousy so intense it colors my vision red, a monster within me roaring to life, demanding action.

It’s a side of myself I hardly recognize, this fierce, possessive instinct, and it leaves me shaken, caught between the desire to pull Seth away from the world and the knowledge that he belongs to it, just as much as he belongs to me.

As the guards usher the fans away, Seth turns back to me with a grin that’s all charm and confidence. But all I can muster is a frown, my emotions tangled in a web of jealousy and frustration.

“My sweetheart, are you jealous?” Seth’s voice is a soft purr, teasing yet gentle as he leans in, careful to maintain a respectful distance given the public setting.

I can’t help but narrow my eyes at him, my voice tinged with disbelief. “How can you let them just touch you like that?”

He shrugs, his smile unfazed. “It’s barely a few seconds, but to them, it means the world. They’re my fans, and they want their moment with their idol, right?” His grin widens, but my heart is still racing, my chest ablaze with a cocktail of emotions.

Then, unexpectedly, his hand cups the side of my face, a gesture so tender it cuts through my anxiety. I want to protest, to remind him of the prying eyes around us, but instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, utterly captivated.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he assures me, almost cooing. “There might be close to 20,000 fans out there, but none of them compared to you. If you’re upset, I'm staying right by your side to convince you otherwise, until I see that smile again.”

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