Page 60 of Claimed By the Band

Echo's cheeks color slightly at that, and I have to bite back a victorious grin. Score one for me.

"Fine," he sighs, closing his laptop. "But I reserve the right to leave at any point."

"Deal!" I leap up from the barstool, resisting the urge to hug him. "The car leaves at six. Wear something sexy. Dress code and all that."

"I'm not wearing leather pants again," he says firmly.

"We'll see," I sing-song as I head for the door. "See you at six!"

As I step into the hallway, I can't help but feel high from victory. Phase one of Operation Seduce the Hacker is finally in motion. Now I just have to figure out phase two.

And hopefully convince him to stay past the party.

And maybe forever.

But one step at a time. Tonight, I'm going to show him our world. The lights, the music, the energy of a live show. Maybe if he sees that part of the pack, he'll start to let down some of those carefully constructed walls.

And if not... well, at least I'll get to see him in concert wear again. Those leather pants really did look amazing on him.

I pull out my phone to text the pack about our newest addition to the guest list. Knox is going to give me so much grief about this, but I don't care. For the first time in almost the whole week he's been here, Echo agreed to spend time with us outside of work.

It's progress. Small progress, but I'll take what I can get.

Now I just have to figure out what to wear that will make him forget all about those financial records he's so obsessed with.

Challenge accepted.

I shift impatiently asthe sound tech adjusts my in-ear monitor for what feels like the thousandth time. I should be grateful for their thoroughness. It's literally their job to make sure everything's perfect. But all I can think about is how I had to leave Echo in Dante's hands instead of personally escorting him to the venue like I wanted.

Sometimes being the lead singer sucks.

"Your feral kitten will be fine," Dante had assured me with that knowing smirk of his. "I'll make sure he doesn't bolt."

I have to admit, the nickname fits. Echo's exactly like one of those wary strays that Dante works with at the rescue, all bristly defenses and careful distance, but with hints of softness underneath if you're patient enough.

Kitty. I smile to myself, imagining his reaction if I ever dared call him that to his face. He'd probably hack all my social media accounts as revenge.

We're still a hell of a long way from here to the point where playful nicknames are even an option, but a guy can dream.

"Mr. Wilde?" The sound tech's voice pulls me back to the present. "Can you run through the first verse again?"

I nod, launching into our newest single. The lyrics flow automatically. I could sing this song in my sleep by now. Which is good, because my mind is definitely elsewhere.

I catch one of the roadies giving me an appreciative once-over, and I can't help preening a little. Even though I'm wearing brand new, industrial-strength scent blockersandsuppressants I switched over to just in case—despite the not-so-fun side effects—he looks utterly infatuated.

That means my choice in clothing was a hit. The sheer black top leaves little to the imagination, and the twin bar piercings through my nipples reflect the stage lights when they hit them just right. Paired with leather pants that might as well be painted on, you can see the full outline of what I'm packing. I may be anomega, but I'm hung like an alpha, minus the knot. Why not let Echo know what's on the table?

I just hope he likes the outfit as much as the roadies do.

Movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention, and my voice actually cracks mid-note when I spot Echo hovering uncertainly at the edge of the backstage area. Dante and Silas flank him like protective bookends, but I barely notice them.

Because Echo... holy shit.

He's wearing black skinny jeans that hug his legs, paired with a deep blue sweater that's deliberately unraveled in spots on the asymmetrical hem and shoulders. I've never seen him in anything other than casual wear, except for the one time I picked out his outfit, but he's definitely got an androgynous goth vibe going on that makes my mouth water. His usually messy hair has been styled into something artfully disheveled that makes my fingers itch to run through it.

But it's his face that stops me in my tracks. Someone—probably Dante—has lined his eyes with subtle smokey shadow, making them look even bigger and more mysterious than usual. His full lips shine like he's just been biting them, and I have to physically stop myself from marching over there and finding out if they taste as good as they look.

"Mr. Wilde?" The sound tech sounds concerned now. "Do you need a break?"

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