Page 86 of Claimed By the Band

Not that I can really blame her. They're all gorgeous, but Asher's charm and beauty is just plain otherworldly.

I tense, but Asher just accepts a glass with a polite smile, his arm never leaving my waist. In fact, none of them seem to even notice her obvious flirting. That's when I realize they've positioned themselves strategically around Asher and me in a protective formation that feels both natural and deliberate.

Asher's touch grounds me as Silas takes the lead. "After the recent incident at our concert, we're looking into suppressant options that artificial pheromones can't override. Even ones that are off market, if you catch my drift."

"Ah yes, I saw the footage on the news," Trakiss remarks, his sharp eyes studying us behind that blank mask. "You all handled yourselves remarkably well. Especially you, Mr. Wilde."

Asher's lips curl into a knowing smirk. "Being marked by four alphas helps," he says, gesturing to the bite marks visible above his collar. "But the issue wasn't how the pheromones affected me, it was how my natural scent made me a target for the affected alphas."

"Yes, of course," Trakiss murmurs, something flickering in his expression that sets off warning bells in my head.

My mouth feels dry suddenly, and I reach for a glass from a waitress passing by offering champagne. The cat mask is longer than the others', making it awkward to drink, so I lift it slightly to take a sip. Just enough to steady my nerves, hopefully not enough to fuck with my suppressants. But I feel like I'm going to pass out if I don't drink something.

Trakiss freezes mid-sentence, staring at me like he's seen a ghost. His face drains of color, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he recognizes me. But that's impossible. Even without the mask, I look nothing like I did nine years ago.

And even if I did, I've never seen him before in my life. I'm sure I'd remember him, too. Maybe he's just wondering why such a plain beta is the new plaything of the most coveted pack in the world.

The realization brings me back down to planet earth, but it's a relief. The simplest explanation is usually the correct one, but I make sure the mask is firmly back in place anyway.

"Is something wrong?" Silas asks, his voice sharp with suspicion.

"No, no," Trakiss recovers quickly, though his eyes keep darting to my face. "Just... reminded me of someone for a moment. Now, regarding potential options..."

He launches into a detailed explanation of different suppressant formulations, but I barely hear him. I feel unsteady on my feet until Asher's arm tightens protectively around my waist. I guess I'm not the only one getting bad vibes from Trakiss.

That or he's looking for any excuse to keep touching me. But that could all change in a matter of hours.

My attention drifts as Trakiss launches into increasingly technical explanations of molecular structures and receptor binding. Vince's eyes glaze over and he starts to look like he's in genuine physical pain. After a few minutes of nodding along like he understands, he makes a flimsy excuse about needing to check on his other guests.

Through the crowd, I spot him making a beeline for the bar instead. Typical.

I force myself to refocus on Trakiss. I need to stay sharp, need to get through this so I can complete my mission. The artificial pheromones flooding the room aren't helping my concentration, making my skin feel too tight and my thoughts fuzzy around the edges. But it's the pack that's really testing the limits of the drugs flowing through my veins, suppressing my true nature as an omega.

"Despite the obvious difficulties in development," Silas says smoothly, drawing my attention back to the conversation, "we're prepared to fund research into an effective product. Quite generously, in fact."

Trakiss’s eyes light up at that, and I can practically see dollar signs dancing in his head. Perfect timing.

"Excuse me," I murmur, slipping past the protective barrier the pack has formed around me and Asher. "I need to use the restroom."

Asher's arm tightens around my waist for a moment before releasing me. "Be careful," he whispers, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.

I give him a slight nod and slip away from the group, weaving through the dancers on the floor. The bathroom sign glowslike a beacon at the end of the hallway, and I duck inside for appearance's sake. The cool water feels amazing on my face as I lean over the sink, trying to steady my racing heart.

"You're not in heat," I whisper to my reflection, barely visible behind the cat mask. "It's just the artificial pheromones. The suppressants are working fine."

Still, I pop another pill just to be safe, chasing it with a blocker. My hands shake slightly as I roll the topical blocker over my pulse points—throat, wrists, behind my ears, and of course, the groin. Can't be too careful, not with how intense everything feels tonight.

After one final check to make sure my scent is completely masked, I slip back into the hallway. The elevator bank is just around the corner, partially hidden behind an elaborate flower arrangement. Security is focused on the main entrance and the ballroom, just as I predicted.

Time to get to work.

I approach the elevators, trying to look casual. Like I belong here. Like I'm just another guest who's had too much to drink and gotten turned around looking for the bathroom.

The security panel beside the elevator requires a keycard, but that's no problem. I pull out my modified card reader, disguised as a phone, and hold it against the panel. Three seconds later, the light turns green.

As I step into the elevator, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored walls, the cat mask gleaming under the soft lights, Asher's scent still clinging to my clothes.

I step out of the elevator into the darkened office floor, immediately slipping off my mask. If anyone's still here working late, a masquerade attendee would draw too much attention. I tuck it behind a large decorative fern on a side table, making a mental note to grab it on my way back up.

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