Page 45 of Knot Their Opening Act

I take both of Holden’s hands now. I stand on tip-toes and sniff at his neck, and God, do I want to bury my face there. He does the same to me, but there’s no point. He’s just been eating me out, and my scent is all over his face. I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to vomit.

I want to do it all again.

We are in a world of fucking trouble.

I wipe at his mouth with a spare tissue and hiss, “Wash your face really freaking good before you leave this room!”

“Like that’s going to matter,” he mumbles with a crooked smile plastered on his face. Then he does the most natural, but at the same time, the most godawfulunthinkablething ever: he leans over and kisses my cheek as if we’re a married couple, then quietly slips into the bathroom. I slam the door shut behind him.

“‘Kay, think I got it all,” I announce to Caylee in the hallway, then remember I don’t. Holden slides the bathroom door back open and holds out a now-closed makeup case and large-handled tote he’s shoved my remaining items into. I think I’ve left a razor in the shower but I don’t give a damn about that.

His protruding hand gives me a thumbs up and I do the only thing I can think of—I wrap my tiny hand around his huge thumb and squeeze, which almost makes me snort a laugh down. Then I slide his door shut, and undo the security lock and throw open my hotel room door.

“Ta da! I’m ready for coffee!”

Caylee looks me up and down. She’s typical Beta height, about three inches taller than me, but more importantly with typical Beta lack of heat and rut scent. So there’s no way she can smell what I’ve been doing, or that I’m in the throes of a seemingly very unpredictable heat.

But I think she’s seen a guilty face in her time before, because she simply gives me a smirk, nods her head, grabs my tote, and turns down the hallway, leaving me scrambling after her with my suitcase.

“Whoever he was, I hope he helped you forget about last night’s bullshit. Fucking Fable boys. That Kai. He knows how to fuck around. Time for him to find out though, right?”

I process what she’s not saying as I catch up to her brisk pace as we turn toward the lifts. “Is it?” I say, looking meaningfully at my watch. I have no idea what she means by the last part.

“Well, I had a pretty great night. Sad to leave Edinburgh, myself. Ran into Kai at reception earlier and he looked like pure misery guts, so I don’t thinkheenjoyed himself.”

“Shame,” I say, but don’t have the energy to inject the expected sarcasm.

I don’t wish them ill—I know this now.Especiallynot the two who have so generously helped me out, and in the kindest, most attentive, most tender manner.

And I don’t want to tear their pack apart. I’m not here to cause a disruption to them. I bite my lip as we ride down to the ground floor in silence, Caylee tapping away on her phone.

My heat wasn’t supposed to happen. And when it did, it needed to be a secret. If I hadn’t ended up alone in isolated spaces with two members of Fable, I could’ve maybe kept the secret until tomorrow evening, and then the suppressants would’ve buried it.

Instead, I’ve made it more complex. Kai might end up hating me even more when he learns what Thomas and Holden did. He could end up hating his bandmates, too. Then what? Fable could split, and then their fans would have even more reason to hate me.

But somehow these fears don’t erase my gratitude. I’ve heard horror stories and first-hand accounts of how vulnerable we can be in heat situations without a pack or any kind of protection. Especially for those unable to afford suppressants, or without work through the Guilds that provides health coverage. I know I’m very fortunate.

But the fact remains that I am far better off because of Thomas’s and Holden’s help. They kept me safe and made sure I was comfortable and my heat under control. They’re not strangers, they’re colleagues. They’re not my enemy. All this time, they were my catalyst.

This change in perspective, and perception, could turn a lot of my world sideways. The hate and bitterness has evaporated, though there are a lot of unanswered questions and there’s an undeniable disconnect between Kai and I. But it’s time to grow up.

Wouldn’t it be nice to let them be them, and focus on being me, and not always look over my shoulder to that moment in the past with an urge to strike out?

They say unforgiveness is a toxin you willingly keep in your own body. Letting go isn’t about accepting someone’s poor behavior.It’s about saying it doesn’t have the power to keep me there in the past.

Just when I start to worry the lift doors won’t open and that familiar sweat-halo around the top of my head breaks out, the liftdingsand the doors swoosh open.

To a crowd of men and women holding phones and recording devices, and two people with video cameras. I look at Caylee, wondering if she’s just bagged herself a celebrity last night or something, and then it hits me.

“Ms Jacobs! Jesamine! Can you tell us how long you and Kai Hartley have been seeing one another? Did it start after your tour did? Or is your relationship with Kai thereasonfor the tour together? Are you joining his pack? Will you be writing new material based on your relationship? Are any of your current songs about Kai, perhaps?”

I turn back to Caylee, my eyes frozen open and my heart palpitating in my chest.

“Get me out of here,” I whisper in a crackly hiss, all the while trying to raise my cheek bones and prop a camera-ready smile on my face. My hair is air-drying and I’m wearing sweat pants with the waistband fucking rolled up, and I have zero makeup on. I’ve just been eaten out by a member of Fable. And I’m about ten seconds from a full-blown panic attack.

Caylee holds up a hand like the most seasoned of PR pros, “No questions at this time, thank you,” and hustles me right through the crowd and out the front door.

I don’t look back until she’s hurried me around the corner and onto the featureless black tour bus parked down a side street. Gasping for breath, I welcome the cramped confines of the bus over the crushing crowd pinging their terrible questions at my barely-awake brain.

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