Page 78 of Into the Fire: Before
Not until, that is, I spotted the lights of the theater. Then I knew.
Tears sprung to my eyes again, this time of joy. “Autumn Awakening,” I whispered, staring up at the marquee like it was the pearly gate to heaven itself.
Lin squeezed my hand, pulling me in to plant a kiss on my temple. “We have a private box, just the five of us. And we’ve arranged it with the doorman to enter through the back, avoid any crowds or curious eyes.” He tucked a dark wave behind my ear, eyes soft.
Brea squeezed my other hand. “You’ll be safe,” she whispered.
That was a difficult statement to believe, my faith in current company notwithstanding. I felt like I held my breath the entire time as Caine dropped us at the back door, as Brooks knocked three times and gave a discreet handshake to the security guard who opened it, as Lin and Brea ushered me from the vehicle and guided me inside. Their arms never left me—Lin’s aroundmy shoulders, Brea’s around my waist—until we were shown to a private balcony. It was closed off from the mezzanine with a door, and rich black velvet curtains could be pulled across the front for total or partial privacy. Lin and Brooks fiddled with the curtains for some time, pulling them until we were completely cut off from the crowd growing in the main auditorium below as well as from almost all of the remaining boxes. Our view to the stage, however, was unimpeded.
“Gods, we’re like,right there!” I breathed as I took a seat, leaning forward. We truly were. We were the closest box to the stage, near enough that I would likely be able to see the sweat as it fell down the dancers’ faces. “How the fuck did y’all manage this?”
“Me,” Brooks said with the smuggest, most gorgeous smile. “I’m an actual god, and this is my fifth miracle of the day.”
Lin chuckled, leaning back on his plush red seat and crossing one ankle over his other knee. He reached out for Brooks’ hand, weaving their fingers together with the natural movement of a motion performed thousands of times. “I don’t think those dimples have ever heard the wordnohis entire life,” Lin said.
“Hey,” Brooks replied, one of those dimples threatening to make itself known as he fought a smirk, “I take offense to that. I searched long and hard to find us day-of box seats. They don’t just hand those out, you kn—”
“Nurse Andersen,” Lin declared with narrowed eyes.
Brooks blinked once. Twice. “Nuh-uh,” he said unconvincingly.
Brea raised her brows. “A friend?”
“More than that, if Andersen had his say in it,” Lin said. There was no territoriality to his tone, no tension or resentment. There he sat, discussing another person who apparently had eyes for his mate, and he was fuckingsmirking.
Brooks rolled his eyes with a scoff. “Typical cynical alpha,” he said in a mock pitying tone. “Always seeing ulterior motives where only pure hearts beat.”
“Oh, typical beautiful beta,” Lin retorted, “completely oblivious to how many people would cheat, steal, or kill for a chance with you.”
The normalcy of their teasing, the way Lin held Brooks’ hand in one of his and rested his other on the back of Brea’s neck, the effort every one of them had gone to. Forme.A chaotic-brained back-talking omega who’d tornadoed straight into their lives and thrown every goddamn thing in the air.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Brooks’s eyes softened, adoration shining out. He kissed me on the crown of my head and wrapped his arm loosely over my shoulders. Lin on his other side, then Brea. Caine joined us silently some moments later, sitting toward the back of the box, arms crossed and scowl secure.
I did my best to put him from my mind. His elusiveness, his coldness. My omega wanted to whine at the distance, mourned the fleeting moments of closeness that seemed gone forever. She wished to beg him to hold me the same way he had when he saved me. I held her in check. I wouldn’t beg anyone to love me. To care for me.
I had Brea. I had Brooks, Lin. That was enough.
Caine
I’dneverbeentoa ballet, or an opera, or symphony, or art gallery. Up until tonight, I couldn’t have found two fucks to rub together about these sorts of ritzy outings if my life depended on it. Yet all day today as we’d planned and prepped for Taryn’s surprise, an unprecedented warm joy simmered behind my breastbone.
Every day that Taryn stayed in that bedroom, emerging occasionally for some food or water with an empty glassy look in her eyes, was a knife to my gut. Ironic, given how desperate I’d been since day fucking one for distance.
But that had been voluntary distance. Not a prison sentence.
So Lin masterminded the scheme. Brooks finagled the private box seat tickets. Brea procured the dress that would make her omega feel sexy but safe (her words). And I called in favors with the locksmith who’d outfitted Amethyst and who now worked security at the theater to make the venue as safe as possible. I’d run the perimeter of the building earlier this afternoon, then again an hour before we arrived, ensuring there weren’t any blind spots for someone to take us unawares.
When we’d arrived to our seats, I’d been prepared to sit in the back of the box, on alert, until it was time to drive home. I still didn’t give a shit about ballet. Instead, I found myself entranced. Not by the dancing and jumping, but by Taryn. She watched the entire thing like a little girl, perched on the edge of her seat, leaning onto the thick wooden railing to get as near to the stage as she could.
After the intermission, I didn’t even hide the fact that I was watching her instead of the performers on stage. One of thedancers on stage performed an ethereal lift, practically floating through the air on her partner’s hands, and Taryn sighed as though witnessing actual magic.
And I sighed, watching her.
The fuck was that?
Heat rose up through my chest and neck until my entire face may as well have been in flames. I stood quietly from my seat—dammit, I didn’t want to pull her attention away from the stage when it put that look on her face—and eased out into the hallway.
