Page 1 of This Fate That Guides Us
(6 Months Ago)
Now Playing: The Summoning- Sleep Token
Low white lights illuminate the musicians standing with their backs to the crowd. All except for the drummer. The stage lights are carefully angled to avoid his kit and his head is bowed, shrouding him in the same mystery as his bandmates. My instincts are on high alert as the first notes strum out from the guitarist's fingers.
This moment is going to change everything.
The lead singer’s voice rings out as their bassist plays his first chord and I’m instantly hypnotized. The smooth, smoky timbre of his voice has me in a chokehold. Low enough to sound as if every enunciated word is sung on a purr.
I shift on my feet as he hits a particularly growly note, slick flooding my scent-blocking panties in a way I’ve never experienced before. My cheeks burn with embarrassment despite knowing this is a natural reaction for an omega.
The drummer joins in as their entire sound changes, dropping into something rougher. Heavier. The band turns to face the crowd now and once more I am lost. Devastated by the perfection of the scene laid before me.
“No fucking way,” I murmur dumbly. My best friend Bea squeals out a response beside me, jumping up and down unable to contain her excitement, but I don’t hear a word she says. My mind is unable to focus on anything but the gods performing before me.
Primordial Covenant is a masked band.
A fucking masked band.
These men are a fantasy brought to reality.
An offering to the darkest parts of our minds.
The lead singer’s face is hidden beneath a black mask covering everything except his mouth. Thin threads of metallic silver run across the surface making it appear cracked, as if the entire piece could fall apart at any moment and reveal his identity to us. A black hooded cloak conceals most of his head and body, the material sewn with small silver beads that sparkle like tiny stars. A simple crown rests on top of the dark material connected to the top of his mask.
Beneath the thin outer layer, his skin is painted with shimmering metallic body paint, leaving every inch of hardened muscle visible from his waist up to his neck. My mouth waters, my tongue peeking out to swipe across my lips as I feel the sudden urge to explore each curve and dip of his body. With my tongue.
I shake the thought away. Forcing my attention to turn elsewhere before my thoughts venture somewhere even less appropriate.
Turning to their guitarist, I wonder for a moment how he moves so freely around the stage with a mask that seems to obscure his vision. The full black mask is painted with what looks like a small galaxy of little constellations along the surface. His light brown hair is quick to get caught in the straps of his mask as he moves with the pulse of the music. It only adds to thesweeter image he projects with his black short-sleeved button-up and dark jeans.
As the first song comes to an end, the lead singer leans forward to look into the crowd, growling out a ‘Hello New York’ that elicits several squeaks and shouts of longing from the captivated crowd.
“We are Primordial Covenant. Tonight, let us show our devotion to the greatest gifts we can receive in this life: Fated connections and pack bonds. Let the stars guide your soulmates to you and our music carry you until they are within your grasp.”
For a moment it feels as if he is staring right at me. My breath catches in my lungs and my body heats with the imagined attention. His words cut through the feeling. Striking at my aching heart with a reminder of the very future I had to push away. The Fate matched mates I would only endanger if I were to allow them into my life.
Bea wraps her arm around my waist as she sways us to the music. I blow out a breath and remind myself I am here to have fun. Not to dwell on what could be.
I focus back on the stage in time to watch as the band’s bassist drops to his knees before the lead singer. He’s larger than the singer, wider shouldered with thick biceps and corded forearms. Watching as his fingers move between chords, I think I’ve found a new obsession. My horny omega brain wants to see those digits up close and personal as his muscles flex when they’re wrapped around his…
Ignoring those filthy thoughts, I quickly capture the moment on my phone, focusing on the way the bassist splays one of his large hands on the singer’s chest creating a vision of intimacy between them.
The dark v-neck shirt the bassist is wearing pulls tight across his chest as he slowly rolls to his feet when the singer dances away. The obsidian mask on his face gleams beneath the stagelights. It looks as if it is made from glass. A full headpiece with two large horns carved from the top of the forehead. A strong jawline and sharp cheek structure are the only other features. It’s both intriguing and intimidating.
Time loses its meaning as I get lost in the music. Their passionate lyrics bring me higher, so close to the sun I can feel its rays across my face, only to drag me under crushing waves with the next verse. My life has changed experiencing this performance. My soul’s chemistry rewritten by the sultry sounds filling the venue.
A single forty-minute set and I’m already addicted.
Shock ripples through me when they announce the last song for the evening, spurring excitement through the crowd as we grow closer to seeing the headliner, Candy Courage, take the stage. I fight a pout at the thought of saying goodbye to this band. Their performance spoke to me deeper than any other concert I’ve attended.
The band really gets into their finale. Growling out the most seductive sounds with both their voices and their instruments. I watch through the lens of my phone's camera, enraptured as the sexy lead singer jumps up behind the drummer, his hand wrapping loosely around the other man's throat.
Even sitting, the drummer is massive. His long, black hair is sweat-soaked, his chest shimmering in the light from both his exertion and the silver paint covering his upper body. His mask is the most delicate and detailed. Twin sparkling snakes–one silver, one black–twirl around his eyes to form an infinity symbol. A small, minimalist quarter moon rests between his brows where the snakes meet. The bottom half of his mask looks like thin braided rope with two chains hanging from the material, which connect to the piercings in his ears.
The music fades and the singer’s voice rings out once more. “Thank you, New York. Illuminated by the strands of Fate, may happiness find you.”
The crowd cheers as the stage lights fade and I watch as the members of the band disappear behind the curtains. I feel bereft, as I often do at concerts, wishing to repeat the past hour endlessly so I can get lost in their music again.
