Page 19 of Knot My Band: Part Two
She tilts her head back, eyes closing as a small, blissful sigh escapes her. “You’re like my personal stress-reliever,” she whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Only the best for my favorite omega,” I tease, a smirk playing on my lips. The air between us crackles, charged with our unspoken connection. We’re in our own little world, just the two of us, and it’s electric.
The moment shatters when Riley’s phone erupts into life, jarring against the tranquility we’ve woven. Her expression tightens as she steps away, thumb swiping across the screen. “Brad,” she mouths before answering.
“Hey, Brad, she’s—” Riley’s voice is cut short, her face blanching as whatever Brad’s saying slices through her composure like a knife.
I can’t help but overhear; his voice is a sharp edge, loud enough even from this distance. He’s snapping at her, words harsh and unforgiving. Concern flickers in my gut—Riley doesn’t deserve that. No one does.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice low, after she ends the call with a strained, “I’ll talk to you later.”
She offers me a tight-lipped nod, but her blue eyes are stormy and troubled. “He’s just… worried about tonight’s performance. You know how alphas get. He isn’t usually like this.”
“If he keeps acting like that with you, Riley, then you have to tell us. We will take care of it,” I reply, my brows knitting together as I watch her force a smile.
“Damn right, we will,” Oli snaps.
Riley nods. There’s something off about that exchange, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. But right now, Oli needs us both centered and focused. So I shove my concerns aside and flash Riley a reassuring grin. “We’ve got this, right?”
“Right,” she echoes, her professional mask slipping back into place.
Returning my attention to Oli, I gently kiss her head.
She glances up, her green eyes meeting mine, and something fierce and protective swells within my chest. It’s a primal urge, an alpha instinct that claws at my insides, demanding I take care of her and keep her safe. But then there’s a twist, a subtle shift in my body that signals something more—a prelude to a rut. Not now, not when Oli needs me clear-headed and by her side.
I clamp down on the rising tide, forcing my focus back to her.
With her makeup complete, she stands, and I’m right there, my presence a silent vow of protection. I watch as she takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the stage. “Aiden…”
“Whatever you need, I’ve got you,” I promise, my voice a low hum that’s meant to soothe any lingering unease. “And when we’re out there, with the crowd going wild, remember—it’s you they came to see. You’re the one they adore.”
“Even if I’m just… lip-syncing?” There’s a vulnerability in her question, a crack in her usual confidence that makes me ache to fix it.
“Even then. They come for your energy, Oli. Your spirit. The music’s just a bonus.”
“Thank you,” she breathes out, and I can tell she means it. My heart gives a satisfied thump. If I can be her rock, her anchor, then damn any rut that tries to interfere.
“Always.” I flash her my best grin and lean down to press a soft kiss to her temple. “Let’s go show them what we’re made of.”
“Showtime,” the stage manager’s voice slices through the charged air.
My hand finds hers, large and enveloping. I’m aware of how my fingers dwarf her own, a silent reminder of the strength she has backing her up. “One more thing.”
Without waiting for her response, I pull her toward me, and it’s like gravity—she fits against my form like she’s drawn there by some magnetic force. I’m all hard lines to her soft curves, a contrast that never ceases to send a thrill down my spine.
“Relax,” I whisper just before our lips meet. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, an assurance. With one arm wrapped around her waist, I draw her closer, my other hand cradling the back of her head, gentle but firm. She’s delicate in my grasp, yet nothing has ever felt so right.
Our lips clash in a heated dance, a mix of urgency and tenderness. Her mouth opens under mine, sweet and inviting, and I dive into the taste of her.
I explore the softness of her lips, coaxing them apart further with the tip of my tongue, savoring the quiet moan that escapes her. There’s a fiery edge to our movements, a hunger that’s always simmering beneath the surface. Our bodies press together, hers petite against my towering frame, and the contact sends a jolt of desire straight to my core.
“Oli,” I murmur against her mouth, my voice rough with emotion. The name is both a sigh and a declaration, a sound carrying all the weight of my desire.
She responds with equal fervor, her hands sliding up to tangle in my spiky black hair, pulling me down to deepen the kiss. It’s wild and desperate, as if we can’t get close enough, can’t get enough of each other.
When we finally break apart, chests heaving, she’s flushed and beautiful, her eyes sparkling with that same fierce energy that first drew me to her. “Now go own that stage,” I say, fighting to keep my voice light despite the storm raging inside me.
“Only if you’re with me,” she shoots back, her usual cheeky confidence breaking through.
