Page 1 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
1
Hunter
The studio lightsglare down on the top of my head, and despite the amount of powder the makeup artist smothered on me, I’m sweating like a pig. The TV host’s fake perfume, the kind betas think will make them smell like omegas, sticks in my throat and makes me want to gag. And as for her voice? It’s all high pitched and it squeals. As fake as her scent and offensive to my eardrums.
I shift on my seat and Trey lays a hand on my shoulder. He knows I hate this shit. He also knows that I need reminding not to make it as clear as day on my face. I manage a neutral expression – fuck off if anyone expects me to smile – and tune back into the conversation.
The woman – Diane? Celia? Karen? – giggles as both Ash and West charm her with stories of being in love.
Inwardly, I groan. I’m pleased for my friends and all, but is it necessary to rub our noses in it every single fucking minute of the day? Yes, they’ve found their omegas. Yes, they’re in love. Yes, they’re happier than I’ve ever seen them before. But some of us aren’t so lucky.
At least when they’re doing the talking, I don’t have to. One more question about our latest inspiration, or plans for our next album, and I might actually snap and strangle someone.
“It’s so lovely to see the two of you so happy.” The host turns to the studio audience, mostly young women who are looking Ash’s way with hearts in their eyes. “That’s what the love of a good woman can do for you. Am I right, ladies?” She motions to the audience and they all cheer.
I snort.
Stupid, because now I’ve caught her attention. Crap. I wish I could turn invisible. But when you’re six and a half feet tall, invisibility, shrinking into the background, is impossible. Not when you tower over everyone else, even the other alphas, and stick out like a sore thumb.
“And how about you, Hunter? Any young ladies on the horizon?” A few members of the audience giggle. I glower at the host and she laughs. “Silly question, huh? I rather think you’re one of those lone wolf types, destined to prowl the world alone.”
“Maybe,” I mumble.
It isn’t enough for Diane (is that her fucking name?). She has her sights trained on me and she’s going to grill me alive.
“Unlucky in love?” She throws me a sympathetic smile, which she turns and reflects to the audience too. Several ‘ahhs’ carry across the studio. It grates right down to my leather boots, and I have to ball up my fists and force myself to remain in my seat.
Neutral face. Deep breaths.
“You certainly have a disastrous track record,” the woman continues, “no relationship lasting longer than a couple of–”
“Actually, I have a girlfriend.”
I blink.
What the fuck? Was that me? My voice? Did I just utter those words?
Trey stiffens beside me and West and Ash swing round to stare at me.
Silence. You could hear a pin drop.
Is it really that hard to believe? I’m not that much of an asshole. Nothing in comparison to my dad and numerous two wives and countless kids.
The host runs her tongue over the back of her lip, unsticking it from her pearly white teeth. “Oh, how wonderful. I had no idea! You’ve certainly kept that well-hidden.”
“Yes, we haven’t gone public yet.” More words. More words streaming from my fucking mouth.
West grins at me like a hyena who’s heard the world’s funniest story and Ash gapes like I may have lost my mind. Shit, maybe I have.
“This is SO intriguing, isn’t it, ladies and gentlemen?”
One young woman sitting in the front row wearing aPackt-shirt several sizes too small, screams out, “Who is she, Hunter?”
“Yes, who is she?” Diane/Celia/Karen leans closer. “You’re with friends here. You can tell us.”
“No,” I grind out.
“No?” the host repeats with mock hurt. “Just a little clue. Come on.” I scowl at her. “Is she a musician like yourself?” I keep on glaring at her. “An actress maybe? Or a model?”
