Page 22 of Knot My Band: Part Two
Jack kisses her neck before biting softly. “That was a mistake, baby girl. You’re never getting rid of us now.”
“I don’t want to,” Oli says brightly.
Oli snuggles between us, with me at her front and Aiden wrapped around her back.
It doesn’t take long before Jack enters the room and lays across Oli’s feet at the end of the bed, but she’s already asleep and doesn’t notice.
What’s shocking is when Dax sneaks into the room and lies on the floor at the end of the bed.
“We can make room for you up here, Dax,” I whisper, trying not to wake Oli.
He snorts but doesn’t respond. This time, I don’t let it go.
“I mean it. We all feel this need to be close to her, and you’re fighting yours. She said we were all welcome in her nest. She’s opening the door for you. All you have to do is step through it.”
The silence lasts so long that I think he’s ignoring me, but then he whispers so softly that I have to strain to hear him.
“I have a plan, so I’m fine down here for now. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight then.”
I look up and see Aiden is still awake, staring down in the direction of Dax. He smiles and shakes his head, making me feel like he trusts Dax, and I should, too.
Oli
PACK EM UP GOSSIP COLUMN
WILL OLI HART AND THE EDGE BE BONDING?
June 6th
The last chord vibrates through the packed arena, my voice soaring over it, hitting that final high note through the speakers and not from me. The crowd goes wild, a sea of pulsating energy that echoes back to us on stage. I throw a wink at Chase, who’s hammering away on his drums like he’s born for this moment. Jack’s fingers dance over his guitar, and even Dax loses himself in the rhythm, his bass thumping with my heartbeat.
“Thank you, and goodnight!” Jack shouts.
I blow a kiss to the audience that screams louder, if possible. Sweat trickles down my spine as I strut off stage, the adrenaline still coursing through me. The high from performing never gets old. It’s like a shot of pure sunshine straight into my veins, even when I’m just lip-syncing.
But then, there’s Aiden—quiet Aiden—who’s suddenly anything but shy. As we step into the wings, away from the blinding lights, he’s right there, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. His body is a hard line against mine, and I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
“Well, hello to you too,” I quip, trying to glance back at him. My attempt to keep things light doesn’t seem to reach him, though. There’s an aggression in his hold, something dark and uncharacteristic of the man who usually hangs back, letting the rest of us soak up the limelight.
“Omega,” he growls low in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine—not entirely unpleasant, but unexpected. His familiar scent is different tonight, sharper. The chocolate is overpowering, pulling me to him.
“Hey, Aiden,” I start, turning to face him, “what’s got into you?” But the question dies on my lips when I see the fierce intensity burning in his soft brown eyes. They’re usually calm, like sheltered harbors, but now they’re raging storms, and I’m the ship caught in their pull.
“Need you,” he murmurs, and it’s not sweet or gentle. It’s primal. His hands tighten, fingers pressing into my flesh, claiming, owning. And damn, part of me has to respond to that call, every omega instinct rising to meet his alpha assertion.
“Okay, okay, let’s take a breath here,” I try, putting my hands on his chest and feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms. But it’s like he doesn’t even hear me, too wrapped up in whatever is going through his head—or, more likely, his body.
“Backstage isn’t exactly private, you know,” I tease, attempting to inject some humor to defuse the situation. But Aiden’s not laughing, and neither are my traitorous hormones that seem all too happy to tango with his.
“Mine,” he states, a possessive edge sharpening the word, and I’m momentarily lost in the heat of him.
Saint’s voice cuts across the post-show chaos. “Guys, over here! Need a quick debrief.” Jack rakes a hand through his tousled white-blond hair, grinning like he owns the stage even after the music has died down. Chase winks at me, not noticingAiden’s state, before pivoting on his heel, and Dax follows with that perpetual scowl that somehow looks appealing on him.
“Come on,” I say, pulling against Aiden’s grip, but he doesn’t budge, an immovable force glued to my back. His breath is hot and erratic against the nape of my neck.
“Oli, Aiden, you coming?” Jack calls over, eyebrow arched in question.
