Page 5 of Knot Guaranteed

Warrick Malone, former lead singer of Northern Star. He’s the reason Fitz is joining the band.

Warrick was injured during a horrible attack at a show that turned into a riot. As a result, he can no longer land lead vocals. At least, that’s what I’ve heard through the press and the small amount Fitz told me about the situation.

“Are you okay?” Warrick stares straight at me as he speaks.

“Holy shit, it’s War,” a woman to my left squeals, slamming into my arm in her haste to make it to the rock star. “You’re Warrick Malone.”

“Yeah, and you don’t have a lick of common courtesy,” he growls, flicking his gaze to the woman. My chest pounds as my foot and arm ache, but neither hurt as badly as my pride. God, this is embarrassing. “Move.” His gaze stays on the woman as he speaks, but it quickly slides back to me. Somehow, there are two more women that I think might be her friends, and they’re all shoving things at the massive alpha. It seems like they want him to sign autographs, but they’re obviously ignoring his tone. I can be pretty oblivious, but even I am picking up what he’s putting down. If there was anywhere for me to go, besides climbing inside the wall, I’d definitely be moving. “Don’t make me ask again.”

The women awkwardly sidestep, muttering under their breath about how he’s rude,even for a rock star.

“You can take out all that angry energy on my body,” one of the women says, leaning in seductively.

I blink, still trying to figure out if this is normal for the rock world, or maybe I slipped and fell into an alternate dimension where it’s normal for people to speak their intrusive thoughts aloud.

Yeah, he’s ridiculously hot, but I normally try to keep mine to myself. People always look at me weird when I say random crap out loud.

“Me too,” another chimes in. “Is Ram around here somewhere? Can we have a tour of the bus?”

Warrick grunts, tossing a thumb back toward the stage. “He’ll be coming from that way. Best of luck.”

“Let’s go,” the first lady squeals, bouncing around on her heels. Who knows how they plan to make it through the crowd, but they take off, anyway.

“Are you okay?” Warrick asks again. He’s standing directly in front of me, and he seems to take up all the space around us, keeping everyone else away.

“Y-Yeah,” I stutter, nodding dramatically. “I-I’m fine.”

“Clearly,” he scoffs, tossing up a forearm to prevent a couple guys from getting any closer. He still stares down at me, despite the chaos around us. I don’t even know how he knew they were there. His peripheral vision must work better than mine. “You’ve got a fucking badge. Where the hell is security?” His long hair bounces as his head swivels. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here. This venue doesn’t have their shit together.”

He’s a big guy.

Fitz is over six feet tall, but Warrick is taller, if I had to guess.

Fitz never has a problem making it through a crowd. I’m five-six barefoot, maybe five-seven with tennis shoes on.

Someone more substantially sized probably has a better chance of helping us get out of this crowd.

“O-Okay.” I swallow thickly, nodding my agreement. “T-That sounds good. Thank you.”

Warrick gently grips my arm, spinning me around until my back rests against his front. He wraps his forearm around my middle and growls at the people now in front of me. “Get the fuck out of my way.” I jump at the sound of his deep tone, and he holds me even tighter. A couple of guys with venue badges scurry out of the way as Warrick carefully moves me forward. I’m stepping all over his boots, but his hand on my stomach keeps me from falling forward. He leans low enough to speak directly into my ear. “You’re okay.”

I nod my agreement, letting him deal with everyone who tries to block our path. We finally make it to the back of the mass of people.

“Care to handle that clusterfuck?” Warrick raises an arm, gesturing to the craziness we just escaped.

“Shit,” one of them grunts, pushing off the wall. “Come on.” He waves at the guy next to him.

Warrick moves his large palm to my shoulder and walks us down the hall. It’s crazy how tender his touch is as he somehow manages to guide me from behind.

I came with Fitz, but I instantly recognize the room we walk into. It’s Northern Star’s greenroom. The traffic was terrible, and by the time we made it into the venue, they ushered Fitz away, and I followed like a confused puppy.

My cheeks heat at the thought. It’s the same thing some of our meaner classmates said to me when we were in school. Well, before he graduated. After that, it was just me and Shanna.

My hand shakes as I reposition my camera against my chest. I dart my gaze around, trying to find somewhere to hide.

Omega impulses are so bizarre.

I understand that I’m physically safe, but all my nose can seem to process is the scents of all those bodies we were just being shoved against. Once I get overstimulated, it can be really hard to calm down.

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