Page 28 of This Fate That Guides Us
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NOW PLAYING: KILLINGButterflies- Lou Bliss
Praise from Pack Graves is much more potent than I could have ever imagined. Even half a day later, Callisto’s words float through my mind. I’ve been riding a giddy high since hanging out on their tour bus. A feeling only heightened by yet another panty-melting performance hours later.
Sighing, I curl deeper into the pile of blankets I buried myself in. I wish I could go back to last night instead of facing their show today. We’re in Chicago. Our first festival stop.
Something I hadn’t anticipated bothering me as much as it has. I barely slept last night. My mind refuses to stop listing all of the things that could go wrong in the crowds today. Last year the festival saw numbers at nearly one hundred thousand attendees. Per day. Imagining walking through such a massive crowd makes my stomach sick and my palms sweaty.
While the chances of someone attending a pro-pack music festival recognizing me is unlikely, the probability isn’t zero. Being in large crowds is always risky.
A regular concert is different. The lighting is dim and everyone is focused on the bands and not the people around them. Even protests usually feel safe because of the number of DAU advocates always mixed in the crowd.
But this festival? I don’t know if I will be able to convince myself to leave my little nest, let alone walk into the venue.
Which sucks because I want to be able to enjoy everything the festival has to offer. With over thirty metal, rock, and alternative bands playing every day, I’m sure to find some incredible new talent to join my already extensive playlists. There are also supposedly over fifty different food and drink tents, local art exhibits, and a massive merch tent.
All of which sounds amazing.
If I could just ease the paranoia and panic holding me captive.
A knock sounds on the door of my room on the tour bus. “If you want to map out the area around the stage, we should head out now, Omen.” Lex’s voice is gruff and steely as he calls through the wood.
I squeak in protest, burying myself even further. Why did I ever agree to this stop on their tour? I can’t go out there! They’ll have to go without me.
Shuffling sounds outside the door along with muffled voices before it swings wide open. I hiss in protest, blinking against the bright exterior light. Bea stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
Lex hovers behind her, an uncertain and apologetic look on his usually stoic face. It goes against our instincts to intrude into an omega’s nest uninvited.
“Omen Powell, get your ass out of bed and get ready for work. You aren’t hiding in here for the next two days while the rest of us enjoy the festival,” Bea commands, her voice carrying the same no-bullshit tone she uses on her band and the rest of their crew.
“I can’t,” I whine. It feels pathetic to be so overwhelmed already, but I know my fears are valid. The risk of being recognized is too high.
“You can and you will. We aren’t going to let your birth family win this battle. You’ve landed your dream career working with a band you adore and who seem to adore you. Don’t throw this opportunity away. Besides, you aren’t going to be alone for a single second during this entire trip. Lex will be glued to your side, isn’t that right?” Bea looks back at Lex who nods his agreement.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Omen.” I know he will do everything in his power to protect me. I can trust Lex because he came personally recommended by Donovan. My fear still doesn’t abate even knowing I won’t be facing the crowds alone.
“Pack Graves will be disappointed if you don’t show up tonight, Oms. Especially after you showed them the shots from the first stop yesterday,” Bea reminds me, her voice much gentler as she uses my secret weakness against me. The thought of any of the members of Primordial Covenant searching for me in the crowd and being disappointed when they can’t find me distresses my inner omega, but it isn’t enough to overwhelm my fear.
When I make no move to get up, I hear Bea grumble under her breath before she sighs and starts to close the door. “I don’t know how you can handle staying here knowing they’ll be at a festival surrounded by thirsty betas and omegas. Fans will probably try to flash them to get their attention, showing off their bodies and begging for those guys to knot them–”
A vicious growl rips from my lungs as I throw the blankets off of me and jerk upright. “Mine.”
A smirk plays on Bea’s lips as she watches me slam through my drawers to find an outfit fitting the concert vibe, but remaining professional. “Much better!”
“You’re rude,” I grumble half-heartedly as I step past my best friend. An entirely too smug grin sits on her face as she watches me. One day I’ll return the favor when she meets a pack who calls to her baser nature.
Bea catches me in a hug as soon as I’m dressed and ready to go. Her arms squeeze me tight and she gently sways us back and forth like her mom used to do whenever I’d panic before going out. “You’ve got this bitch,” she whispers into my hair. A clear reminder my bestie is not, in fact, her mother.
“You, me, and the music,” I repeat the promise she made to me at the first Candy Courage concert we attended.
“And an endless supply of musician knots!” she adds with a laugh.
“Do you think your guys would give Orbital Somatic some pointers about stage presentation?” Bea slouches against the stage beside me.
“My guys?” I frown. I know she’s talking about the members of Primordial Covenant, but they aren’t my guys. We work together. And happen to be ridiculously attracted to each other. No claiming or ownership involved.
“Don’t play dumb, Oms. They need help. I think half the crowd left during their show this afternoon.”
