Page 71 of Claimed By the Band

And the thought of seeing that warmth in his eyes turn to disgust, to betrayal... it would break something in me that I'm not sure could ever be fixed.

"I..." My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. "I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?" Asher asks gently, and there's something in his tone that makes me wonder if he sees more than I want him to. "Either is okay. It would just be good to know."

"Both," I whisper, staring into my coffee cup like it holds all the answers I can't give him. "It's complicated."

"It doesn't have to be," he says, reaching across the small space between us to take my hand. His touch sends sparks through my entire body, and I have to fight the urge to pull away. Not because I don't want it—God, I want it so much it terrifies me—but because I'm afraid of what he might feel. What he might sense.

"You don't understand," I say, hating how weak my voice sounds. "There are things about me... things I can't tell you. Things that would change everything."

He squeezes my hand, and the gentle pressure nearly undoes me. "Try me."

I look up at him then, meeting those impossibly beautiful eyes. There's so much warmth there, so much acceptance. Part of me wants to tell him everything. To lay all my secrets bare and let whatever happens, happen.

I realize I've been leaning in without meaning to, drawn to Asher like a moth to flame. When his lips brush mine, soft and tentative, I melt into the touch. Every rational thought flees my mind as I find myself kissing him back, even though I know I should pull away.

But I don't want to. For the first time in nine years, I let myself want something just because I want it.

The kiss deepens, and some distant part of my brain reminds me to keep hold of my coffee cup so we don't end up with scalding liquid everywhere. Asher's free hand comes up to cup my cheek, and the tenderness in the gesture makes my chest ache.

A startled sound from the doorway breaks through our bubble. My eyes fly open to find Dante standing there, one hand dramatically clapped over his eyes.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" he yelps, holding up a paper bag like a peace offering. "I just wanted to check if you guys wanted more croissants before Silas and Damon demolish them all."

Heat floods my face as I pull back from Asher, who lets out a half-hearted groan. "Your timing is impeccable as always, D."

"I know, I know, I'm the worst," Dante says, still covering his eyes. "But in my defense, the door was open."

I want to crawl under the bed and disappear. What was I thinking? Kissing Asher like that, where anyone could walk in? Where his packmates could see? But when I try to pull further away, Asher keeps hold of my hand.

"You can uncover your eyes," he says, amusement coloring his tone. "We're decent."

"Are you sure?" Dante peeks through his fingers before lowering his hand. "Because that looked pretty indecent to me."

"Oh my god," I mutter, hiding my face in my free hand. This is mortifying. Not just because we got caught, but because part of me wants to go right back to kissing Asher like nothing else matters.

"Don't mind him," Asher tells me, squeezing my hand. "He's just jealous he didn't get to watch."

"Asher!" I squeak, scandalized. But when I look up, both he and Dante are grinning.

"He's not wrong," Dante says with a wink. "But seriously, croissants? They're still warm and extra buttery."

I'm struck by how normal this feels. Like Asher getting caught kissing their omega is just another Tuesday morning for them. No possessive alpha rage, no territorial posturing. Just gentle teasing and offers of breakfast pastries.

Although, they don'tknowI'm another omega. And sure, Asher's dating history makes me doubt they'd care about that part, but still. I'm sure they'd care I've been lying to him. To all of them.

"We're good here," Asher says, glancing at our mostly untouched food. "But thanks for checking."

"No problem!" Dante starts backing out of the room. "I'll just... leave you two to it. And uh, I'll close the door."

He pulls the door shut behind him with an exaggerated wink, and I groan, letting my head thunk against Asher's shoulder without thinking.

"Well," Asher says, his voice warm with amusement, "that's one way to start the morning."

I should move. Should put some distance between us, try to rebuild the walls that kiss just demolished. But Asher's shoulder is warm and solid against my forehead.

"You can relax, you know. We didn't do anything wrong," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

---