Page 2 of Wicked Truths

I climb up, tossing my head on his outstretched arm.

Sullivan chuckles, nodding to the menu next to the hotel phone. “Chicken nachos?”

My heart races. For a whole lot of years, we were nothing but friends. Recently it’s been a lot harder to convince my system I’m not wildly attracted to my best friend.

I nod my head, smiling back.

“Of course, but you have to order.” I roll over to grab the menu and when I turn back, Sullivan’s face is only inches from mine. My lungs stop working as I remind myself it would be highly inappropriate to tackle him to the mattress.

“I knew that was coming.” He smirks, pinching my cheek. “Anything for you, Oaks.”

My silly heart races at the way his eyes sparkle. It’s extremely hard not to do something that could jeopardize our friendship. My impulses want to roll over on top of him and kiss the hell out of him.

I settle for shoving the menu at his chest and breathing through my mouth to settle my raging hormones. Life is complicated enough without adding those thoughts to the mix.

* * *

The next morning is busy as we finally move into the penthouse provided by the label. Hawkins leans back against the wall of the over-full elevator, but my massive security guy doesn’t look pleased with this turn of events.

The penthouse is fully furnished, but we have to bring up all of our belongings and the instruments I couldn’t live without.

“Are you sure you’re ready for all this?” Hawk asks, scratching at his scruffy blond beard. He’s so tall I have to crane my neck up to look at him. It’s hard not to let his question get under my skin. He knows making it in the music industry is my end-game goal.

I don’t think he’s purposely trying to cause an argument, but I’m getting frustrated. Everyone in my life has asked me some variation of the same question.

It makes me feel like they don’t believe I can succeed. It’s frustrating because if I was truly a beta then I’d probably have more faith in myself.

I’m trying to stay positive and do everything in my power to make it easier to be successful.

Being an omega complicates everything.

I take suppressants daily and use scent-blocking soaps during every shower, but eventually it’ll come out to the public.

I’m staring down a ticking time bomb that will eventually countdown to zero.

“Oakley?” Hawk’s head tilts as he studies me with pale blue eyes. I don’t know if it’s due to his job as a personal security specialist, but he’s always so damn in tune with my moods. It’s almost intimidating how easily he can read me at times.

It’s hard not to wish it went both ways.

I plaster on a fake smile. “I’m super excited. I don’t know why everyone keeps acting like it’s a huge deal. I mean, it is.” We got lucky as hell catching Jamen’s attention. He’s a rock god turned label exec, but the benefit of that is he knows all aspects of the industry, and he treats his people well. “This is a good thing. It’s a step in the right direction anyway.”

Hawk’s jaw tightens, but he nods. “Except now you’re stuck with Marcus the asshole.”

I grimace, leaning back into the cool metal wall as we continue our journey up. He’s not wrong, but Marcus is a stellar bassist, and we need one. It puts us one step closer to completing our band.

Wicked Truths still needs a rhythm guitarist, but then we’ll be set. Sullivan and I have been playing together seriously since high school. It’s taken a lot of years, but we’ve learned how to seamlessly blend to make music. It’s a little insane Marcus was able to effortlessly mesh with us during the audition.

It would be silly to deny him entry into the band just because his personality is kind of questionable. Or that’s my take on things.

Neither Hawk nor Sullivan are pleased that Marcus will be on tour with us. I can only hope whoever the label finds to take the rhythm guitarist spot will be good at balancing all our personalities.

Marcus is an alpha, which is problematic because of my designation, but he’s also a majorly talented musician. My head falls back, rolling against the wall. I have no idea how I’m supposed to live in such close quarters and keep my secret, but it’s not like I have a ton of choices.

Omegas have a heat cycle that comes every three months. It’s the time when female omegas are the most fertile, and it sends compatible alphas into rut. The suppressants used to do a much better job of hiding the symptoms, but the longer I take them the less effective they seem to be. Every time I start a new packet, I have breakthrough heat symptoms, and it’s concerning because touring means being on the road for months at a time in a very small environment.

We’ll be in a new city every day or couple of days depending on the schedule. Asking for heat leave padded into a jam-packed tour seems like a great way to lose the contract that’s finally dangling within reach. I’ve put too much of myself on the line to make this a reality.

I can’t back down now.

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