Page 42 of Knot My Band: Part Two
“Absolutely.” I nuzzle my nose against his. “Are we done, though?”
I look down pointedly at the hard-on that’s pressing against his shorts and into me.
“Yeah, we’re done. Tonight was about you.”
The nest is a cocoon of warmth, Dax’s arm slung over me like a promise when the soft shuffle of footsteps approaches. I tilt my head to see Jack slipping into the space on my other side, his presence a familiar comfort.
“Room for one more?” he teases, those piercing blue eyes crinkling with mirth.
“Always,” I reply, shifting to allow him to wrap an arm around me. His body heat seeps into my skin.
“Hope you’re not starting a party without us,” Chase chimes in from the doorway, his timbre laced with amusement. He’s followed by Aiden, both of them wearing easy smiles that mirror the camaraderie of our group.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, my voice airy as I beckon them closer with a waggle of my fingers. They don’t need to be told twice; Aiden finds a spot near my feet, his touch light against my ankle, while Chase gently kisses my forehead before settling beside Aiden.
We’re a tangle of limbs and quiet laughter, each alpha finding their own way to connect with me. It’s not sexual, just pureaffection, a pack’s nurturing embrace that says I’m theirs and they are mine.
Dax, still close at my side, watches the exchange with a softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before.
“Comfy?” I ask, turning my attention back to him. Our eyes lock, and there’s a silent conversation, an understanding that this moment is more than just physical closeness—it’s about emotional threads knitting together.
“Never been better,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the quiet of the nest. There’s no need for words when his body pressed against mine speaks volumes.
The nest hums with the collective breathing of my alphas, a rhythm that lulls me toward sleep. I feel cherished, surrounded by their strength and loyalty.
Dax and I settle into a comfortable silence, the events of the night wrapping around us like a blanket. Even with my eyes closed, I sense the weight of his tender and watchful gaze.
Oli
PACK EM UP GOSSIP COLUMN
WERE MAY THORNTON AND THE ALPHAS OF THE EDGE INVOLVED BEFORE HER DEPARTURE FROM THE BAND?
June 17th
The bristles of the makeup brush sweep gently against my cheek, a soft caress that sends a ripple of anticipation through me. I’m perched on the edge of the makeup chair before our second show in Orlando.
The air around me is thick with the odor of hairspray and the buzz of backstage energy.
The stylist works her magic, transforming my long, rose-gold hair into waves that cascade down my back like a shimmering waterfall. I catch my reflection in the mirror, and the bangs perfectly frame my green eyes, which are already singing with the thrill of what’s to come.
“Oli,” Miranda calls out.
I turn, and there she stands, clutching a stack of papers. Her brows are knit together, lips pressed in a thin line that spells concern. Miranda is all business—her fingers tap-tap-tapping against the papers.
“Hey, Miranda,” I greet her with my usual spunk, but she’s not biting today. Something’s up, and by the look on her face, it’s nothing to do with the setlist or the lighting cues. My heart skipsa beat, wondering what could have thrown a wrench into things. “What’s wrong now?”
Miranda steps closer, urgency emanating from her. “I just found the paperwork about the schedule.” She lowers her voice. “The music festival Trevor scheduled overlaps with when your heat is supposed to start.”
Oh,that.
“It will be fine,” I say, trying to catch my reflection’s eye in the mirror as the stylist adds a final dash of shimmer to my cheekbones. The sparkle almost masks the concern brewing in my gut.
“It’ll start right after the show. I might have to deal with some pre-heat symptoms. We can make it work,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
Miranda doesn’t smile at my attempt to lighten the mood. Instead, she places a steadying hand on my knee, grounding me back to reality.
“Oli.” Miranda leans in, her gaze insistent, locking onto mine. “We can’t just brush this off. This could be serious. You know as well as I do that if your heat starts and we’re not prepared, it won’t be pretty.”
