Page 17 of Waiting for Fate
My phone rings as I finish using the bathroom. I hastily dry my hands and rush out to swipe the device off the table where I was working on a plan to help Orbital Somatic with their stage presence. The unknown number on the screen doesn’t faze me, but the sound of Primordial Covenant’s bassist voice on the other line does.
A Cheshire grin tugs my lips up as I loudly reply, making sure Omen hears me say Nebula’s name. Her eyes fly up to mine, narrowed to betray her jealousy. Yeah, she’s got it bad.
“We realized this afternoon none of us thought to get Omen’s number, but Pack Michaels had yours since you are their manager. I hope it’s okay that we called you to speak with her.” I nod along, fighting back an eye roll at their lack of forethought, all of them. If I wanted to get dicked down by the hot masked musicians, I never would have let them walk away without my number.
“You gonna ask my bestie on a date?” I ask Nebula, teasing him a little. The blush that crawls up Omen’s face as she listens has me cackling with glee. I listen to what Pack Graves called for before handing the phone to Omen.
Collapsing on the couch a few spots down from her, my heart fills with joy as I watch her eyes light up. That girl has been through hell in her brief life. Watching her find some small piece of happiness is a heady feeling.
Let’s hope they don’t fuck this up, otherwise I’ll have to fuckthemup.
Her eyes meet mine as she shyly invites the band to join us on our Chicago foodventure to a hole-in-the-wall taqueria I’d heard whispers about on a foodie blog I follow. I flash her a big grin and two thumbs up, making sure she knows exactly how supportive I am of her little date tonight. Maybe while she’s busy with Pack Graves, I’ll find some drool-worthy musicians of my own to get dirty with.
Several hours after their call ends, we finally slide into the car we’re borrowing from the label to head into the city. I’m starving and so damn sexually pent up I’m thirty seconds away from begging Ridley to let me suck him off beneath the restaurant table. Spending the afternoon watching as he did shirtless pull ups in the doorway destroyed my self control. The way his muscles tensed, sweat dripping down his back —
Fuck, Bea, think of something else.
Scooting across the seat, I glance at Ridley where he sits in the front seat and damn near choke on my tongue. He has one arm wrapped behind the passenger seat headrest to look back at us, the backward ball cap on his head an unfair addition to his tight black t-shirt and jeans.
This alpha is trying to kill me. Death by horny omega vagina. Not exactly the way I want to leave this world.
Forcing myself to focus elsewhere, I beam at Omen beside me. “Your first date with Pack Graves! You’re finally putting yourself out there! I would weep with joy if it wouldn’t ruin my mascara!”
“We’re just hanging out,” she says with a shrug.
“Yeah, okay. Deny it all you want, Oms. Anyone with eyes can see how infatuated you all are with each other.” She isn’t blind to it either, just too stubborn for her own good.
“I feel a pull,” she admits, shocking the hell out of me. “My instincts are determined they’re mine.”
“Do you think they might be?”
“No,” she cuts me off, my lips turning down into a frown at the adamancy in her tone. “They can’t be my mates. Fate Matched or chosen. And they can’t be my pack.”
I’m spared from a frustrated response when Ridley asks her why. I know why she says that shit. Fucking fear.
Yeah, okay, her birth family are utter assholes trying to destroy our world with their anti-pack, anti-designation rhetoric, and they’ve done awful things to alphas and omegas in New Hampshire, but it’s been years since she was under their thumb. She’s being obstinate and letting her demons control her.
It’s annoying as hell and I kind of want to shake some sense into her.
Surprise parts my lips when Lex joins the conversation too, saying more than I’ve heard the grumpy alpha speak since we met last weekend. An irrational flare of jealousy crawls through me as he talks. I can barely process his words as I try to fight the feeling down. He doesn’t have any interest in Omen, or me, for that matter. He’s being nice and trying to help her overcome her fears, nothing more.
As annoying as both these alphas can be, I’m grateful to have them here to back me up when Omen finally agrees to stop pushing Pack Graves away. If she follows through, this could be exactly what my reserved best friend needs to break the grip her family still has on her once and for all.
Pulling up outside of the restaurant, I can already tell I made the right call by suggesting we eat here. A brightly colored mural spans the entire lower half of the building surrounding an intricate black door. A large outdoor seating area sits out front with colorful chairs around black tables. The large umbrellas covering each one are as bright as everything else.
“This looks incredible,” Omen comments, digging her phone out to snap a few photos to send to the group chat we have with my family. They love hearing about all the interesting places we visit when we travel, and they share pictures from their own trips as well.
The interior of the restaurant is all white walls with accents matching the colorful exterior. It smells fucking heavenly inside too, making my smile grow wider as we take a seat at one of the extra long tables.
Excellent food, a nice atmosphere, and friends. This is a life I could get used to.
“You aren’t originally from New York either, are you?” Nebula asks Ridley where he sits on my left, his arm casually over the back of my chair. I want to hate the way he’s absentmindedly playing with my hair, but I love it, so I keep my mouth shut.
“Nah, grew up in Ohio. Moved to New York after the Alpha Academy, and eventually got looped in with the DAU.” My brows furrow hearing he’s from Ohio. I wonder how close to home he was when we stopped there on the band’s tour two days ago. If he’d wanted to go visit his family, I wouldn’t have stopped him.
“How does one even link up with the DAU from Ohio? I know their reach is everywhere in the country, but to wind up as a security operative for them, I assumed you had a military background.”
Ridley shrugs, his t-shirt straining tighter across his chest with the simple motion. “Know the right people and you can get in anywhere.”
