Page 24 of This Fate That Guides Us
“Yes. Primordial Covenant? Their lead singer seems to be absolutely smitten with you already. I swear he had literal hearts in his eyes when he was bringing you back to the bus earlier!” Bea raises her eyebrows dramatically like she’s mimicking a cartoon character whose heart eyes are bouncing out of their head.
“Uh, we met like a week ago. I highly doubt he or anyone else in their pack is ‘smitten’. He’s being nice since we’ll be workingtogether for two months.” The words sound like a brush-off even to my own ears, but I don’t back down.
I might feel a pull to Pack Graves but it doesn’t mean the feeling is reciprocated. Not that it would matter if it was since I don’t plan to act on it.
“Sureeee.” She draws out the word with disbelief clear in her tone. Thankfully she also doesn’t press the issue. “I’m still uber salty with you for not warning me how freaking hot they are without their masks. This tour is turning out to be an eye candy buffet!”
“Pfft, you’re ridiculous,” I giggle.
She’s right though. Primordial Covenant is absolutely drool-worthy. With or without their masks.
CHAPTER NINE
NOW PLAYING: THEDeath of Peace of Mind- Bad Omens
The first show of our headlining tour is officially underway. A whimsical euphoria leaves my limbs loose and my breaths steady while imposter syndrome battles to negate the joy our success brings.
The feeling is common, I imagine, for anyone breaking into a field so heavily saturated in others’ successes. You can reach the moon, feel its rough surface upon your fingertips, and still those doubts would linger.
Our opening band, Orbital Somatic, is on the stage, their music filling the venue with pounding bass. Their stage presence is a touch bland, but they have potential. Something Omen’s best friend, Bea Powell, seems determined to use to drive them to stardom.
Bea is a great contrast to Omen’s personality. Bright and colorful. Effervescent and confident. Her dynamic energy shines like a beacon in the distance drawing anyone nearby to her side.
Where Bea is luminescent, Omen is a shadowy opaque. A mystery wrapped in sun-kissed skin and dark tattoos. Cordial and ambiguous. An entire world exists beneath her surface, unexplored and brimming with life. The photographer’s allure is a gravitational pull latching onto my soul and dragging me into her orbit.
My eyes track her through the venue, watching her get lost behind her lens. What does she see as she watches the crowd? Their lackluster exhilaration? Or is she able to find the few who seem to fall into the music with enough vigor to drown out the world around them?
Her black and purple hair is pulled atop her head in a stylish but messy bun. The black tank top she’s wearing dips low enough to reveal the cosmic string of starry moths running along her spine.
I wonder how many tattoos she has? The one along her sternum and this one on her back are the only two we’ve seen pieces of. Is there more hidden beneath her skinny jeans and band tees? One day I’d like to lay her down and count them all. Find the meanings behind each choice. Anything to understand why she captivates me so thoroughly.
I lose myself in tracking her across the room. Watching her creative process at its rawest. Brady’s gruff voice cuts into my obsession, distracting me for several seconds. Long enough for me to realize Orbital Somatic’s set is ending. The crew will be taking to the stage to set up for my pack to play, so we need to head to the back hallway to clear the way for them to work.
Glancing back at the stage, I exhale in relief when I watch Omen’s bodyguard disappear on the other side, following the omega who haunts my thoughts.
“Gorgeous, are you having fun yet?” Nexus greets when he sees her wandering our way.
Her camera is slung across her body, a small black cover attached to the front to protect it from damage. She’s carrying a half-empty water bottle and I spy two more in Lex’s hands. I’m glad she’s taking the time during this short break to care for her needs.
“I always have fun when I’m working,” she comments politely.
“Make sure you pace yourself,” Nebula grunts when she drains the rest of the water and part of another bottle.
“I know my limits, thanks,” she snarks with a roll of her eyes. Nebula’s lips twitch and I can sense the thread of dull arousal pulsing through his bond each time she pushes back against his attempts to care for her.
The guys from Orbital Somatic join us several moments later, laughing and sweaty from their performance. We exchange congratulations and hype their group up after a great first show. When the venue’s production manager signals the five-minute mark, I turn to find Omen, but she isn't there. She must have slipped away while we were talking.
The stage is lit by faint blue light when we take our spots, backs to the crowd in our usual opening stance. Their cheers and shouts send a thrill up my spine.
When I first met my mates, they were a small, new band playing for fun, singing covers at nearby open mic nights. They’d put up a flier online searching for a guitarist to join their ranks. At that point, I played casually. Using the act of strumming my hand-me-down acoustic to drown out the silence of my empty house when both of my parents were at work and my younger brother was at football practice.
Stepping onto the small stage at the Alpha Academy with the three of them sitting in chairs across the room, our soulsharmonized. Fate’s decree rendered us spellbound from the moment my first note rang through the room.
Our melody has always been delicate and erotic. A sensual sound that’s never felt complete. I can’t help but hope Omen might be the missing piece we’ve been searching for.
Titan counts us in and my thoughts fade to the music. Muscle memory guides my fingers over the strings and instinct leads me to where I’m needed on the stage. Sweat soaks my back the longer we play, lining the top of my mask. A smile stretches across my lips.
These moments where fans are singing along to the songs I wrote and dancing to the beats my pack created… It’s astonishing to realize our dream careers have become a reality.
