Page 88 of Claimed By the Band

"Someone has to," the male responds, and now I can tell he's a beta. His scent is muted, nervous. "If Vince finds out..."

"Please," she scoffs, and I hear the distinct sound of a body being pushed against the wall. "What did I tell you? That idiot is too busy pretending he's into omegas to notice shit. Another alpha who works in my decision says hebeggedher to tie him up last month and shove her stiletto into the slit of his cock."

I clamp a hand over my mouth, barely managing to choke back a startled laugh.

That was… not something I had on my bingo card tonight.

"Ew," the male beta says, and I can practically see the disgust on his face. "I didnotneed that mental image."

"Let me give you a better one to replace it with, then," she purrs.

I risk peeking around the corner of the cubicle, curiosity getting the better of me. My eyes widen at the sight—a tall female alpha in an expensive suit has the male beta pinned to the wall, one hand tangled in his tie. As I watch, she yanks him down into a fierce kiss that has him melting against the wall.

Well. This wasn't exactly the corporate espionage I was expecting to witness.

When they break apart, the beta looks dazed but happy. "I guess you have a point about Vince," he admits, straightening his glasses. "Did you see him practically drooling over those rockstar alphas earlier? Must be why he keeps reapplying all that hair gel."

"Exactly," she purrs, nipping at his jaw. "Trust me, no one's going to know about us. And even if they did..." She shrugs one elegant shoulder. "Have you seen the way that man acts trying to overcompensate? He's a walking HR disaster."

The beta chuckles, his hands settling on her hips. "You might be right about that."

A sudden crash echoes from upstairs, followed by what sounds like shouting. Sounds like my distraction came through right on schedule.

The alpha pulls back with a frown. "What was that?"

"We should probably go check," the beta says reluctantly. "You know how these parties can get."

"Ugh, fine." She straightens his tie with practiced fingers. "But we're finishing this later."

They hurry toward the elevator, and my shoulders sag in relief. That was way too close.

I count to sixty in my head before standing, muscles protesting from being crouched for so long. The elevator displays show both cars heading up to the party. They probably went separate to avoid suspicion, so I should be in the clear to make my escape.

I grab my mask, turn toward the exit, and immediately hit a wall that wasn't there a second ago.

No. Not a wall.

A person.

And as I find myself staring up into Dr. Trakiss’s cold eyes, I know I'm screwed.

32

DAMON

Itry to focus on Trakiss’s long-winded explanation of molecular binding sites, but my attention keeps drifting to the empty space beside me where Alex should be. It's been at least ten minutes since he slipped away to the "bathroom," and anxiety gnaws at my gut.

What if someone caught him? What if he's hurt? The thought of him alone down there makes my alpha instincts roar, even though I know he's done this kind of thing plenty of times before we came along.

Still, the urge to go after him is almost overwhelming. The only thing stopping me is knowing it would draw attention we can't afford right now and put him in even more danger.

Plus, Alex would probably be pissed if I blew his cover trying to play protective alpha to a beta who clearly doesn't need or want my protection or attention.

Except... he didn't seem to mind it earlier, when we were all dancing. The way he melted between us, making those soft little sounds whenever one of us touched him.

The memory of his scent—clean and crisp with something tantalizingly sweet underneath—makes my head spin even through the artificial musk pumping through the vents.

"Your friend has been gone quite a while," Trakiss observes suddenly, his sharp eyes scanning our group. "Is he alright?"

---