Page 16 of Knot Their Opening Act

A door I’d kept shut. That I’d told myself had never really opened. Pretended it was a truth I’d misunderstood, a realization I’d misread, three years ago when we’d shaken hands at theTen to Onequalifying round. She’d made it in the final ten. I’d scented her, and wondered, feared what I now know without any grounds to deny it to myself any longer. Even after three years of lying daily about it.

This girl, whose anger I rightly fused, whose hatred I’ve rightly been the recipient of—whose life I’ve made a lot shittier through my fears—is my scent match.

She’sourscent match. And I’ve never told a soul.

When they find out, they’ll fucking kill me.

I lock myself in the restroom and get myself off. It’s not a usual pre-stage ritual, but I know if I don’t, my cock’s going to be grabbing all damn night. Because her scent is now everywhere, in my nose, in my veins. I won’t be able to escape it.

All because of another truth I’ve kept hidden—that rut suppressants don’t work on me. The horrific allergic reactions I’ve had since my early twenties have made it impossible for me to take them. I’ve trained my physical desires and impulsive lust phases to pass as quickly as possible. But the day the guys in the band find out, they’re going to put a whole lot of things together and they’ll rightly never trust me again.

I’ve come too far in these lies, but these guys are my family, my brothers, my pack.

So they shouldn’t disown you.

And so, you should—really—trust them with any and all truths.

I clean myself up and run through the set list, do vocal warmups, and look in the mirror. My eyes are slightly red, and that’s a telltale sign of my body reacting to my scent match. To wanting her, but not having her.

If the other guys notice, they’ll either think I didn’t get enough sleep or—no. They won’t remember. That every time Nyah was in heat, my eyes reacted to her overpowering scent like this. And we weren’t even scent matches with her, though she did smell damn good. We were just horny as hell for her body and her attitude. And when she was in heat, it was enough to make my eyes red, raw, sometimes watering.

I always thought,God, if it’s this bad with her, what would it be like with an actual match? How much would my body cry out during my rut to hold close the one made for me?

I’m about to find out.

I head out to the side stage when my assistant Jonah comes to get me. The other guys are all ready, and I don’t look any of them in the eye. The aroma is unmistakeable, but they’re on rut suppressants so they’ll have no fucking idea.

My cock’s hard again just from the cloud of her left behind on the stage, mixed with the pheromones and sweat and mereexistenceof her.

This cannot be. This cannot fucking be. It’s almost like she planned it. To ruin me. To ruin Fable.

And then we’re running out onto stage. Jan hands me my Fender and I throw it over my head and shoulder, reach down to quickly arrange myself in my trousers, and take a deep breath.

Big mistake.

Forget a long tour. It’s going to be one long ride right through hell tonight.

CHAPTER9

Jez

“I’m okay—really!I feel amazing!”

I feel like stars are shooting from my eyeballs, and like my core is soon to be hotter than the surface of the sun before I drown us all in slick. But I hope Caylee and Ash just take my overwhelm as post-show bliss.

“I mean it, woman. You were a fucking force out there.” Caylee gives me a kiss on the cheek, and Ash hands me a glass of Champagne.

“I don’t have time to drink to your opening night success, but you should. Your band’s watching Fable. That okay?”

“Of course.”

I’d told them to stay and watch since I need a few minutes alone to call Viv. Murray had looked at me with a ducked-chin, under his lashes,You sure you’re okay?sort of way, but my nod and smile seemed sufficient to satisfy him.

Caylee and Ash duck out of the dressing room and close the door. I’m tempted to lock it but Ash will have access to a key anyhow, and the security guy is standing outside. The only guests scheduled to come backstage for tonight’s show are two Glaswegian bands keen to network and schmooze with Fable for some media pics. No one’s asked to meet me tonight, and I’m grateful. Though my ego wishes someone would’ve hooked those three girls up with backstage passes.

I turn back toward the door. Maybe Ash could find a way to get them back here and I could get photos with them. Not just to look like I’ve got fans in front of the Fable guys, but because those girls really did save my ass tonight, and I’d like to thank them more than picks and handshakes.

Before I reach the door, my watch and phone both vibrate. I lower myself to the sofa, put my feet up, down the Champagne, and answer the video call.

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