Page 38 of Claimed By the Band

"No, thank you," I say quickly, perhaps too quickly. "Water would be great, though."

I can't drink on my suppressants, but of course I can't tell them that.

"You sure?" Damon asks. "We've got pretty much everything."

"Water's fine," I insist, trying not to sound as panicked as I feel. "I, uh, need to keep a clear head. For tonight."

He nods, seemingly satisfied with that explanation, and heads to a kitchen that's not that much smaller than the one in my apartment.

I take the opportunity to look around, trying not to gawk at the luxurious surroundings. This bus is bigger than any apartment I've ever lived in, and probably costs more than I'll make in my lifetime. The walls are lined with storage cleverly disguised as decoration, and there's actual artwork hanging in various places.

"Don't get too comfortable," Asher calls from somewhere behind me. "As soon as I find the perfect outfit, you're getting changed."

I turn to protest, but the words die in my throat. He's already rifling through what appears to be a walk-in closet, tossing clothes aside with frightening efficiency.

This is not at all how I expected this evening to start.

I shift uncomfortably under Knox and Silas's scrutiny. Knox's smirk grows wider as he eyes my sweater.

"Did you raid your grandma's closet for that thing?" he asks, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I shoot him a withering glare. "Sorry, I don't spend my free time hanging out with alpha male douchebags. Didn't know what to wear. Some of us have actual work to do."

Silas snorts, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "Fair enough."

I can feel them watching me, assessing. It's unnerving, being under such close observation. I'm used to blending into the background, being forgettable. That's kind of the whole point.

Asher bursts back into the room, arms laden with clothes. "I've got it! The perfect outfit!"

"You'd better go," Dante says dryly from his spot on the couch. "Trust me, there's no arguing with him when he's got his heart set on a makeover."

I sigh, resigned to my fate. What choice do I have? We need this to work.

I follow Asher to a room in the back of the bus that's nearly the size of my entire apartment. The closet alone is bigger than my bathroom.

"See?" Asher grins, gesturing around. "Plenty of room! You could have your own space and everything. We could set up your computers or whatever you use."

"The answer is still no," I say firmly, even as something in my chest twinges at the thought.

"Worth a try," he says cheerfully, thrusting a bundle of clothes into my arms. He hovers there for a moment before suddenly looking flustered. "Oh! Right. I'll just... give you your privacy."

Once I'm alone, I examine the clothes he's chosen. To my relief, it's nothing so revealing that my binder would show, but it's definitely not what I'm used to wearing. A black long-sleeve shirt with sheer sleeves and leather pants that look painted on.

I change quickly, keeping my movements efficient and precise. Years of practice have made me an expert at this particular dance. The pants are snug but not uncomfortable, and the shirt is long enough to cover my hips. It fits perfectly, which is slightly concerning. How did he guess my size so accurately?

When I step back into the main area, the easy chatter between the pack goes dead silent and everyone is staring right at me. Even Knox.

My stomach drops. Do I look that bad?

But then Asher whistles low, his eyes sparkling. "Damn, Echo. You lookhot.”

Heat creeps up my neck as the others nod in agreement.

"You're definitely rocking the Matrix look," Dante grins, giving me a thumbs up.

I mumble something about getting going, hyper-aware of how exposed I feel. The pants are tight enough that I'm paranoid they might notice the lack of... certain anatomical features, but thankfully, the shirt covers everything important.

"Let me just grab my jacket," Asher says, disappearing back into the closet.

---