Page 68 of Claimed By the Band

And a hell of a lot more complicated, considering a crazy ass alpha cult is somehow involved.

I watch Echo's eyes start to droop, exhaustion clearly taking its toll after the emotional revelations of the past hour. He's still tense, still watching the windows like he expects his brother to materialize at any moment, but the adrenaline is clearly wearing off.

"You should get some rest," I say gently. "It's going to be a few hours before we reach the next stop."

Echo immediately stiffens, that careful mask trying to slip back into place. "I'm fine," he insists, but the dark circles under his eyes tell a different story.

"No one's fine after a night like this," Damon rumbles from his spot by the door. "Hell, I'm beat just from the show, let alone everything else." He stretches his massive frame, joints popping. "Sleep sounds like a damn good idea all around."

I catch what he's doing, making it about all of us instead of singling Echo out. Smart. Our drummer might look like a bruiser, but he's got a good read on people when he wants to.

"They're right," Asher says, helping Echo to his feet before he can argue. "Come on. I'll show you to your new room."

Something tells me our omega won't be joining the rest of us at the back of the bus tonight, but I can't be mad about it. If anything, I find myself lamenting the fact that I can't join them, but that's nowhere in the cards right now. It's not even on the table.

What Echo needs is protection, sure, but also a gentle hand. That's something only Asher can give him right now, and I find myself more grateful for him than I ever have been.

26

ASHER

Ilead Echo down the hallway of the bus, hyperaware of his presence behind me. He's still trembling slightly, but not as much as earlier. My heart aches at the thought of everything he's been through, everything he's survived.

All the protective instincts I felt for him before have just gone into overdrive.

"Here we are," I say, pushing open the door to the room I already had fitted with fresh linens hoping he'd change his mind about going on tour with us.

Echo steps inside, those dark eyes taking in every detail. The full-size bed takes up most of the space, but there's a small dresser and a window with blackout curtains.

"This is too much," he murmurs, fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater. "I don't want to put anyone out of their room."

"You're not," I assure him quickly. "We all have a huge room in the back that's basically one giant bed. Well, several pushed together, but you get the idea."

His eyebrows shoot up. "You all sleep in there? Together?"

I laugh, feeling heat creep up my neck. "Only sometimes. Damon's a light sleeper and Dante snores like a freight train, so he usually crashes elsewhere. And Silas is nocturnal when he's writing, since his muse only visits at 3 AM apparently. But it's still nice when we're all in there."

I realize I might be oversharing and bite my lip. "Sorry, that was probably too much information."

"No," Echo says softly, and something in his voice makes my chest tight. "It's not that. It's just... nice. What you all have."

The vulnerability in his voice makes my omega instincts purr. Before I can stop myself, I say, "You could be part of it, you know. If you wanted."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to kick myself. Way too forward, especially after everything that's happened tonight. "Sorry," I say quickly. "That was... that was way too much. Especially right now."

But to my surprise, Echo actually laughs—a small, soft sound that makes my heart skip. "Maybe a little," he admits. "But it's sweet."

We stand there for a moment, the air between us charged with something I can't quite name. Then Echo shifts, looking down at his feet. "Would you... maybe stay? Just for a little while?" His voice gets even quieter. "I don't really want to be alone right now."

My heart soars even as I try to keep my expression neutral. "Of course," I say, probably too quickly to be casual. "Whatever you need."

He sinks onto the edge of the bed, still wrapped in the blanket I gave him earlier. After a moment's hesitation, I sit beside him, careful to leave enough space between us. I don't want to spook him, not when he's finally letting his guard down a little.

"Thank you," he whispers. "For everything. For not freaking out when I told you about my family. About who I used to be."

Is that what he really thought? That I wouldn't want anything to do with him if I knew? The realization feels like a punch in the gut, because I can't imagine how alone he feels. How alone he's been all this time.

"Hey," I say gently, risking reaching for his hand. He lets me take it, his fingers cold against my palm. "Who you used to be is part of who you are now. And who you are now is pretty fucking incredible."

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