Page 74 of Claimed By the Band

"Clearly you've never had Dante's version of an omelet,” I say, grinning as I start heating the pan.

That gets me an actual laugh. I've never seen him this relaxed. Knowing he doesn't let his guard down easily, it feels like an honor.

We work in companionable silence for a while, falling into an easy rhythm. I'm surprised by how natural it feels, having him in my space like this. Usually I'm territorial as hell in the kitchen. It's my domain, my safe space. But Alex moves around me like he belongs there, anticipating where I need to be and staying out of my way.

The smell of cooking eggs and vegetables starts filling the bus, and right on cue, I hear movement from the back.

"Told you," I say, smirking as Alex's eyes widen. "Supernatural food radar."

Sure enough, Asher appears in the doorway moments later, his hair a mess and eyes still heavy with sleep. He freezes when he spots us, blinking like he's not sure he's actually awake.

"Am I dreaming?” he asks. “Or are my grumpy alpha and my mysterious beta actually cooking together?"

"Technically, I'm just chopping things," Alex mumbles, ducking his head. But I catch the way his cheeks flush at Asher's words. At being called "his."

And he doesn't deny it.

Interesting.

"Don't sell yourself short," I say, sliding the first omelet onto a plate. "Those are some professional-grade diced vegetables."

Asher's eyes dart between us, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, this is a nice surprise to wake up to." He leans in tokiss me, then goes over to snake his arms around Alex's waist from behind.

To my absolute shock, Alex leans back into him.

I'm not sure if he means the breakfast or the fact that Alex and I are getting along, but either way, I find myself agreeing. This morning has definitely taken an unexpected turn, but not an unpleasant one.

Who would have thought all it would take was some early morning cooking to start breaking down the walls between us?

29

JORDAN

Istare at my reflection in the small bathroom mirror, running a hand through my damp hair. It's getting longer than I usually keep it. I should probably cut it soon. But I kind of like how it falls just above my shoulders now, softening the angles of my face in a way that should probably worry me more than it does.

I push the thought aside and get changed into some jeans and a sweatshirt Asher lent me since I didn't exactly plan on staying this long. His clean scent still clings to it, infinitely more comforting than I want to admit. I never imagined another omega's scent could make me feel so safe.

The tour bus sways gently as we idle in the parking lot, and I'm struck by how natural it feels to be here. How this tiny room has somehow become more of a home in two weeks than my sterile loft ever was. The bedding still smells faintly of honey from when Asher slept here the night before last, curled around me like he belonged there.

I "kicked him out" last night, teasing that I didn't want his pack associating my presence with their omega disappearing. He just grinned and suggested maybe I could join them sometime instead. The playful invitation shouldn't make my heart flutter, but it does. Because I know he meant it, even if he was being playful. And somehow, I think the others would be okay with it too.

Things have been different since that morning in the kitchen with Knox. He stopped disappearing whenever I enter a room. Started treating me like... well, like pack. They all do. Even Silas, who I thought would be the hardest to win over, keeps leaving coffee by my laptop when I'm working late.

It's dangerous how easy it's become. How natural it feels to exist in their orbit. But after tonight's party at PheroMaster, I'll have no reason to stay. The thought bothers me more than it should.

A knock at the door jerks me out of my spiral. "Come in," I call, already knowing who it is. Only Asher knocks like that. Three quick taps followed by two slower ones, like he's playing drums on my door.

Sure enough, his golden head pokes in, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Get dressed," he announces. "We're going shopping."

I blink at him, my hair still damp from the shower. "What? Why?"

"Because you can't wear a hoodie or sweater to tonight's party," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. "This is a super secret special assignment and dressing up is the most important part of any secret mission."

I bite my lip, trying not to smile at his enthusiasm. "I'm pretty sure James Bond never worried about his outfit choices this much."

"Then clearly he wasn't doing espionage right," Asher declares, already reaching for my hand. "Come on, we don't have all day."

I let him pull me out of the bedroom, trying to ignore how natural it feels to have his fingers laced through mine. The suppressants are working fine, but sometimes when he touches me, it's like my whole body lights up from the inside.

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