Page 32 of Knot Just A Fan

I lookGrayson Cove straight in his golden-brown eyes as I enter the office I’ve been in only once since they took over this building two months ago. I clocked my duffel on Ash’s desk so I reach in and hook it over my shoulder, then step back to the doorway. I turn, to look at each of them.

The tension in the room is like cotton filling in the air. From their faces it’s clear I’ve interrupted some heated discussion.

I stop my gaze on Ronan. His hair is damp from a recent shower and he’s dressed like he didn’t expect anyone but his bros to see him, while Grayson is, as always, wearing a button-down shirt and nice trousers, his sleeves rolled up. Enzo’s clutching the arms of his chair like it’s about to take off down a roller coaster.

Ronan’s breath catches in his throat like he’s about to cough. I take one step closer to him, narrowing my eyes and gazing into his. He doesn’t blink.

“I don’t know why,” I whisper, “but I’ll tell you one thing, O’Sullivan. I’ve loved this band from the moment he played me one song. I followed every instruction, showed up early to every shoot, prepared and ready to do whatever you needed.” My voice is trembling, but if this is my chance, I’m taking it. I don’t knowwhere my balls are coming from but they’re metaphorically there, for the moment.

Then, I notice the bulge in Ronan’s thin sports trousers, and wonder how I didn’t feel the coursing heat off his body the second I walked in the room. He’s closest to the door.

My God.

My God—am I …

Enzo’s expression still has that deer-in-the-headlights look. And Grayson stands, unmoving, except for his chest rising and falling like he’s just finished a marathon.

I turn back to Ronan, and the shock they must all feel rises in my chest, too.

“Even if I can’t fathom it, I accept it, whatever the reason, whatever you needed to for your work. I just wish it hadn’t wrecked mine.”

“Okay, thank you for stopping by.” Ash draws back out into the hallway, but I don’t turn to look. He will not rush this.

I close the space between Grayson and I, and I stare into his face next, his flawless scent of cinnamon and cedar wafting through me like a morning cup of coffee I never want to set down. Thankfully, while it’s still the most powerful thing I’ve ever smelled, it’s not knocking me to the floor like the other night. But then, I’m not in heat anymore.

“I wish you all the success in the world. Thanks for all you’ve done, and taught me.” I reach up and hug him, though he feels like a board. His arms hang at his sides, and his chest stops moving as if his lungs have seized up. I step back, wanting to pluck those frames from his face and plant a kiss on that open mouth so badly, it aches in my cells. “Maybe someday you’ll write a song about me.”

It’s a mere echo of the intent I felt during my heat, that I would make them all pay. I’m not that kind of person, but the rage ofwhyis still in me.

And yet, I laugh, a nervous sound like some kind of fucking water fowl or woodland creature scampering away. My words tend toward brave, but my delivery always fails me. Silly, girlish, self-effacing, nervous.

Quickly, so I limit the amount of dog’s arse I make of myself, give Enzo a tight hug, and then even Ronan. Because now I know what’s happening. And I will leave what I can with them. And they can come groveling when they realize what they’ve done.

I steal a glance at Ronan’s face as I pass him on the way out, where Ash is gesturing firmly toward the stairs. Ronan blinks rapidly and gives a crooked smile as if he’s faced with a ghost he can only stay safe from by humoring.

Out in the hall, Ash closes the door, but it doesn’t block out the mumbling inside, then Ronan’s snappy Irish accent say, “She’s just a damnfan, Grayson, and we need someone professional to be our Omega. You both know that.”

Ash looks over at me and coughs, his mouth a flat line but face pale. I’ve heard it, it’s too late. I run down the stairs so he doesn’t see me cry, but he follows.

When I reach the front door, it won’t open for me so I’m forced to stand there as Ash gently pulls it open. I step outside, but he says my name and joins me, shutting the door behind us.

“What just happened? What happened between you? They won’t tell me, and Grayson seems at a loss.”

Rage boils in my veins. Fuck you, Ronan. I am not just a fan. I’m not some twenty-year-old, desperate for an autograph and the chance to stain their cocks with my lipstick.

I knew Grayson the day we first spoke. And he knew me. It was like a glimpse into a mirror I wanted to step inside, and be better for having seen. A different version of myself, maybe the one I always was, or was meant to be.

I haven’t answered Ash, I’m just standing there, staring at the street, arms clenched around my stomach.

“It’s not my business. I tried to smooth it over—you know we don’t have time to be caught up in drama and if your presence, not you, mind, but your presence has caused drama for them, please know I’m just looking after the business end of things. I don’t want distractions.”

Street foot traffic passes, and I doubt any know the great Arcadia Echo are all upstairs in this nondescript two-story townhouse. Ash’s face isn’t well known at all, but he’s in the process of cultivating a gnarly Viking beard so he’s even less recognizable.

I look up and down the street, letting him sweat. To my surprise, I sense that my answer matters to him. That his situation is threatened, or so he fears.

“Ronan and Enzo ran out after me, after I was well enough to stand and leave. I don’t know why I fainted.” Though I’m starting to think I do. “The heat, the crowd, the night. Grayson beckoning me on stage. Being in front of all those eyes, probably why.”

That and going into pre-heat in front of the men who should be my Alphas.

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