Page 40 of Waiting for Fate
Having both bands play so close together is a gift today.
The sooner we can get away from this tense hell, the better.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EVERY INSTINCT INmy body is alert, poised to strike whatever threat tries to make itself known.
The Northeast Dynamic Music Festival, our current stop on Primordial Covenant’s summer tour, takes place in Boston this year. A city not only on the suspected path of breeding trafficking routes, but less than an hour’s drive away from New Hampshire. The Montgomery church is a mere fifty miles away.
We’re too close. With the DAU’s informant alerting us to the Montgomery family discovering Omen’s identity, coming within throwing distance of her birth family is a mistake.
Nothing has happened yet. No protests outside of the venue. No threats or suspicious figures. Yet I can’t shake the feeling of impending complications.
My alpha is driving me to scoop up both Omen and Bea and carry them away. I can’t do that, though. Omen is currently on stage capturing photos of the band. The entranced expression she usually wears when she works with Primordial Covenant is gone. Replaced by a mask I know she is using to hide her fear.
When she emerged from her nest several days ago, I had to inform her I was now assigned to her full time. She was a mess, and I had to use my alpha bark to bully her into taking care of herself. Listening to her admit she shares a Fated connection to Pack Graves wasn’t surprising. She’s spent most of the tour going back and forth between avoiding them to protect them or refusing to leave their sides.
I hadn’t expected the complications that came with their connection. They’ve been dealt a shit hand, but there isn’t anything to be done except lay all their cards on the table. Which my charge plans to do after the guys’ show tonight. She’s going to admit their connection and reveal her birth identity. I hope Pack Graves is smart enough to cherish the gift Fate gave them by matching them to an omega as resilient as Omen.
If they don’t, I’m sure Bea will have something nefarious up her sleeve to smack some sense into them.
Following behind Omen as she leaves the stage area, I scan the crowd. Watching for anyone who seems out of place. She steps a little too close to the barrier where the band’s fans are screaming and cheering, hoping for another look at the masked rock stars behind us. She steps back suddenly and freezes, staring down at her arm.
I close the foot of space between us, positioning myself between her and the crowd and angling my body to continue watching our surroundings. “Omen? You good?” Her eyes are wide with panic when she looks up at me. I don’t stop to think. I grab my phone out and dial Bea’s number to warn her and Ridley of the threat.
“Drugged.” I barely hear the word over the crowd, but ice courses through me at their meaning. Someone drugged her?
Commotion behind us has Omen darting out into the crowded venue. Straight into danger. I barely force my way through behind her. My stomach sinks when I catch up to her. Heat perfume billows around her, drawing everyone’s attention.
Fuck! This isn’t good at all!
I scoop her onto my shoulder and take off, running full pace and not bothering to apologize for knocking into the groups in our way. Brady and Ridley join us, using their barks to clear a path. Bea’s frightened scent lets me know she is at my side, likely trying to calm her best friend down.
We break through an emergency exit and find a car waiting for us at the curb. I throw Omen inside and cross to the driver’s seat. “We’ll call ahead and book her a heat suite at the closest hotel,” Brady tells me as I jump behind the wheel.
Snapping at Bea to close the back door, I peel away from the curb. I’ll apologize for yelling at her later. When her best friend isn’t in danger of inciting a riot with her heat pheromones.
The hotel has staff waiting at the private back entrance. They take the keys to park the car and lead us to an elevator to the heat levels. I carry Omen, fighting the call her body’s desire is sending out to any unbonded alpha in the area. Luckily, the staff in this portion of the hotel is beta-only, so we’re no longer at risk of triggering someone’s rut.
Once she is safe in the nest, I call Donovan.
“Hello Lex.”
“We have a problem.” He listens as I fill him in on what has happened, swearing when I tell him about the induced heat Omen is experiencing.
“I’ll send you the contact information for a trusted local doctor. This isn’t the first time Omen was drugged with a heat inducer. The day she presented, someone spiked her drink with an inducer. There are risks involved. Without knowing the dosage…”
“Understood. I’ll reach out to the doctor if anything unusual occurs, or the heat persists.”
He ends the call, already making plans to figure out who smuggled a drug as highly regulated as a heat inducer into the venue.
I settle on the couch, my chin against my chest and my breaths low and slow to prevent myself from inhaling too much of Omen’s perfume. Being here is dangerous, but I can’t abandon her now. Not when there is a genuine risk someone will track us to this hotel and try to kidnap her while she isn’t clear-headed.
I’ve only been at the hotel for an hour when my phone chimes with an incoming video call. Answering, I nearly bite through my tongue when a haggard-looking Bea appears on the screen. “What happened?” I thought they had left the venue as soon as we did.
“Hell, that’s what. Brady and I called the bands and label staff after you left, urging them to leave. It was poor timing, because those anti-designation assholes chose that moment to attack.”
My fingers grip the edge of the couch so tight the fabric tears. They were attacked?
