Page 18 of Knot My Band: Part One
“Black suits you,” I say to Aiden, watching as a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Thanks, Oli,” he replies, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “You too.”
“Maybe Oli should wear something less revealing,” Dax ruins the moment by saying.
My spine straightens immediately. “We don’t judge women based on what they wear around here. I love this outfit. It makes me feel sexy and confident. You’re all dressed like a woman’s wet dream, so I don’t want to hear it. Fans love my style, and so do I.”
Dax throws his hands up.
“He’s an idiot, but he didn’t mean it like that. He doesn’t want everyone to see you like this,” Jack says.
Chase mumbles something I can’t hear.
I raise an eyebrow at Dax in question.
Damn, if the man doesn’t know how to wear an outfit like he’s about to conquer the world—or at least the stage. He’s all dark, brooding intensity wrapped in a midnight leather jacket that looks molded to his broad shoulders. The jacket’s open just enough to reveal a tight, deep V-neck tee that clings to his chiseled chest like it’s got something to prove.
“It’s an alpha thing. Don’t read into it,” Dax grumbles before turning away and giving me his back.
Jack
OMEGA BUZZ GOSSIP COLUMN
FANS ARE WORRIED THEY’LL LOSE THE OLI HART EXPERIENCE WITH THE EDGE’S SUDDEN COMBINATION
March 30th
The air backstage thrums with electricity, the kind that sizzles through my veins and has every hair on my body standing at attention. It’s not just the pre-show jitters or the bass vibrating the floorboards from the opening act, it’s Oli. She’s a live wire of energy, buzzing as she bounces around the room in her sexy, tight, little outfit.
It’s driving me crazy.
All of us, really.
Even Dax, who thinks he can pretend we don’t all know he’s jealous. All of us can feel how on edge he is through the bond.
I lean against the cool wall, arms crossed over my chest, unable to tear my gaze away from her.
There’s something about Oli Hart that draws me in, an obsession that’s been building ever since she burst into our lives, all spunk and laughter, with a talent that commands attention.
She’s perfect, but not just for the stage. I think she is perfectfor our pack. An omega like Oli, with her vibrancy and strength, would complete us. My alpha snarls in agreement, restless under my skin, craving to claim her, protect her, make her ours. It’s not just a passing whim; it’s a deep, primal need that settles in my bones.
But we are nowhere near that. Dax needs time to warm up to her, but that doesn’t mean I have to hold back from getting her as obsessed with me as I am with her.
“Are you ready to go out there?” I ask Oli, slinging an arm around her.
“I’m nervous. Performing with you will be new,” she admits.
“We will make you look good out there, I promise.”
She nods and then leaves us to go down under the stage for her entrance. I hate being separated from her, but I know it’s part of the show. Maybe I can find a way to get myself down there with her.
We move into place, settling with our instruments with the lights off.
She is lifted onto the stage, and then the lights hit all five of us as we hit our opening notes.
The stage erupts in a frenzy of light and sound. Oli Hart is a fireball, igniting the crowd into a unified mass of adoration. She struts the stage, herrose goldwaves catching the spotlight. Each strand is alive with electric vibrancy. The audience is hers from the first note that spills from her lips.
I’ve never played for a crowd like this and for the first time I realize what a big favor Oli is doing for us.
