Page 82 of Knot My Band: Part One
The crowd doesn’t seem to notice, so I push through, but I can feel the gaze of guys on me.
I plant my feet firmly, willing myself to power through the cramps that start to ripple through me. Another wave of dizziness washes over me, and I grip the microphone stand like a lifeline, my knuckles white. The spotlights above seem too bright all of a sudden, searing into my vision and making the world blur at the edges.
I’m hot. Too hot.
The audience doesn’t notice the internal battle raging within me; they’re still riding the high.
My voice cracks slightly on the next note, but I push through, leaning into the support of the music that’s always been my sanctuary. But even as I continue, my scent grows stronger.
That’s not right. I don’t want my scent but theirs. My alphas.
A bead of sweat trails down my temple, mingling with the rose gold strands plastered to my forehead.
I’m on the final song. I can do this.
The platform I’m on starts to lift, and I stumble. I’m not sure I can stay up here.
“Gotcha,” comes Jack’s voice, a grounded chord in the midst of my spinning world. His arms are suddenly there, steel bands around my waist, lifting me back to my feet. The warmth of his presence inches away burns hotter than the spotlights.
I nod, biting down on my lip, and wrench my focus back to the sea of faces before us. They’re clueless to the drama unfolding on stage, still lost in our music.
Jack’s scent, coffee and pastries, surrounds me and comfortsme enough to let me finish the final song before I lose my mind completely.
Instead of letting the stage bring me under, Jack lifts me up and carries me off.
He sets me down, and the four of them surround me.
Backstage is a frenzy, a blur of faces and voices swirling around me as I struggle to keep my feet firmly planted. The heat coils within me, a treacherous serpent ready to strike. My scent, thick and sweet with an edge of urgency, wafts through the narrow corridors, drawing concerned glances from the crew.
I wrap my arms around Jack. “I need you.”
“Damn it, she smells like she’s going into heat,” Dax growls from behind us, his hazel eyes narrowing as he catches the full brunt of my scent. He’s close enough for me to see the concern etching lines into his usually impassive face. “We need to get her out of here, now.”
“Agreed,” says Jack. “This place is crawling with alphas. It’s only a matter of time before—”
“Before they start sniffing around for real,” Dax cuts him off, jaw set in a hard line. “Her suppressants aren’t holding up.”
I want to argue, to insist that I’m fine, but the cramps twisting in my gut say otherwise. Dax is right. I can’t risk staying here.
“Alpha, I need you,” I turn to the next alpha and try to get his help.
The cramps twist and pull at me, a relentless reminder that my body is calling for something I can’t ignore. The throb between my legs is insistent, demanding attention only a knot can satisfy.
“Alpha,” I pant as we stumble backstage, my voice coming out more like a plea than I intend. My senses are on fire, and every inch of my skin is screaming for contact, for relief.
“Okay, we need a plan,” Jack says, his voice a low rumble.
“Hotel,” Dax chimes in, tapping away on his phone. “There’s one five blocks from here. A heat suite is available. It’s designed for these situations—soundproof walls, complete privacy, everything Oli needs.”
Chase picks me up, carrying me outside while the other alphas follow.
“Good thinking,” Chase murmurs, his breath hot on my ear. Despite the circumstances, I can’t help the flutter in my stomach when his lips graze my skin. He’s always been flirty, but tonight, there’s a tenderness to his actions that tugs at something deep inside me.
“Let’s move, then.” Jack scans the area, the ever-watchful guardian. “We do this quickly and quietly. Priority one is getting Oli out without drawing attention. Chase, you take Oli on the bus and try to talk to her about what she wants. We will get a car and be back.”
“Hey, it’s okay, little rose,” my caramel alpha says, his voice a soothing balm to the chaos in my mind. His hands are steady and warm as he guides me to the back bedroom, away from prying eyes. “I’ve got you, my sweet little omega.”
His sandy brown hair brushes against my forehead as he leans in, and I can feel his breath, hot and heavy with concern. He knows what I need, and there’s no judgment in his green eyes, just an unwavering promise to care for me.
