Page 26 of Knot My Band: Part One
The alpha part of me growls that she shouldn’t be down there without one of us. My instincts go haywire, and I follow her down before I know what I’m doing.
“Dammit, Oli,” I growl, more to myself than anyone else. The panic that grips me is unexpected, a coiled spring of stress that I can’t shake off. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself she’s not mine to worry about; my alpha doesn’t seem to give a damn about logic.
I move through the crowd, my height and the instrument warning people off before they get too close. The scent of sweat and excitement is thick, but all I can register is the lingering trace of Oli’s smell, sweet and wild, cutting through the haze.
I finally reach the makeshift stage where Oli has now climbed up, still in command and shining brighter than any spotlight could make her. She’s got the crowd in the palm of her hand, and I’m standing here, all gruff and scowling, utterly out of place in this moment of adoration she’s created. But I stay because leaving doesn’t feel like an option.
She whirls around, microphone gripped like a lifeline, and her glittering green eyes widen in sheer surprise. “Dax?” Her voice is a breathless whisper over the roar of the crowd. “What are you doing here?”
I roll my eyes and keep playing, starting up the next song as planned.
My pack mates are practically giddy down the bond, and I know they’re going to bother me about this indefinitely.
I’m usually a grumpy bastard, so these three love to poke at me like a bear they want to see lose control. I’ve learned to mostly tune them out and respond with grunts or ignore them completely.
Oli smiles before winking and dancing to the beat, turning to the crowd and singing.
I play and look around the crowd, soaking in their energy before my eyes are drawn back to Oli.
She moves around me, trailing fingers down my chest at the right moment to go with the lyrics. Now that I’m here, she’s interacting with me like I’m meant to be. Her ability to adapt is respectable.
She pulls my face down towards hers, her fingertips daring to dance along the nape of my neck, tugging at strands of my hair. I can feel each individual digit as if they’re leaving scorch marks on my skin.
A growl slips through my teeth at the way she affects me.
I want to spank her for pulling my hair, for making this dark, searing heat coil tighter in my belly. For making my fucking cock hard.
She winks, a mischievous sparkle in her eye as she turns back to the frenzied audience, but not before I catch the flush creeping over her cheeks.
And as much as it burns me up inside, I can’t help but watch her every move, entranced by the sway of her body and the fiery spirit that holds everyone captive.
I shake myself out of her spell. An omega will not ensnare me; I can promise that.
Oli
OMEGA BUZZ GOSSIP COLUMN
ALL THREE NIGHTS IN DENVER WERE A HUGE SUCCESS FOR OLI HART
April 26th
Isprawl across the couch, twirling a strand of my rose gold hair around my finger as I sip my morning coffee. We will be in Denver for another night without a show before we leave for Salt Lake.
“Oli?” Jack gets my attention from his spot on the other couch, where he’s strumming lazily on his guitar.
It’s early, but he doesn’t seem worried about waking up the rest of his pack.
“What’s up, Jack?”
He sets his guitar aside and saunters over that playful smirk plastered across his face. “I was wondering if you wanted to spend time with me in Denver today?”
“With who?” I ask carefully.
Jack leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “What about just the two of us?”
I can feel a blush spreading under my skin.
“Like a date?” I whisper softly.
