I’d just like it if everyone would stop asking me if I’m okay.
Whatever psychic abilities he was born with probably give him as much insight as a doctor would have. Which makes it silly that he continues to ask me.
“I know you know who Oakley Graves is.” Ravvi grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “She’s an omega. During her very first tour, my grandfather had to cancel shows for weeks because she went into heat unexpectedly. It didn’t tank Wicked Truth’s career. Neither did scheduling in breaks every three months.”
“Your uncle Marcus was huge back then. The paparazzi wanted any information they could get on Angel Rae.That’swhy they made it big.” I shove his hand away and cross my arms over my chest.
“Oh, you think we’re any better than they were?” He laughs derisively, and goose bumps break out along my arms.
I’ve only ever heard that tone when he was verbally eviscerating someone for fucking with his little brother.
Ravvi is normally easygoing. He’s always smiling and laughing, but he can be vicious when he wants to be. He’s not above using his ghostly friends to get dirt on whoever he needs to, making the shit talking really burn.
The only time I’ve ever seen him stoop that low was at summer camp at Damian’s Way—the music charity that his mom runs. Some of the kids were pretty hateful about one of Damian’s meltdowns, and Ravvi spent the next two weeks emotionally breaking each and every one of the guys who participated in making it worse.
Before he was done, he’d made all of them regret the error of their ways. It was impressive and terrifying all at once, and I really don’t want to see him turn that vindictive streak on me.
“Come on, Clover.” He quirks a dark eyebrow. “You really believe we got signed as the opening act for one of the biggest names on Ruined Records’ roster, and it hasnothingto do with the fact Damian and I are related to the owner of the record label?” He laughs again. “You know better, and you werefullywilling to take advantage of your connections to make it happen.”
“Oh, fuck you,” I hiss. My jaw slides from side to side, and I shake my head. “You’re an asshole.”
“But I’m not a liar,” he says in a voice that’s a little too sing-song for the line he just delivered. “You wanna make it in the industry. I respect that. We’re making it happen. Just take the advice being handed to you from people who know this life better than you do.”
“Have a good night, Ravvi.” I sidestep, trying to get away from him, but he follows me.
“Your career won’t mean much if you completely destroy your body in the process. None of us want to see that happen. You can be an omega and make a name for yourself. Taking time off for heats isn’t going to fuck with your ability to be a star.”
I take a step back as my face twists into a frown. “The only thing that would do is make me completely reliant on alphas.”
“If you find the right alphas, they won’t hold you back.” He follows me forward, cradling my cheek in his hand. “Based on how much you hate the idea of pack life, I’d swear you grew up in an environment where you watched an omega be taken advantage of, but I know that’s not the case.”
“My mom and I are very different people.” I stare into his deep brown eyes, trying to hold my ground.
It’s complicated.
I’m drawn to Ravvi in some unexplainable way. It’s almost like my system aches to touch and be close to him, but I know what that would lead to. He denied me the first time I went into heat, and it broke me in ways I’m not prepared to admit.
Before
Sweat beads on my brow and between my breasts as another cramp rips through my stomach.
“We should call an ambulance,” Damian says, frowning.
At least, I think he is.
That look might be more of a grimace. He’s on the opposite side of the bed in my hotel room, and my vision is fuzzy, so it’s hard to be sure.
I flew out to Colorado three days ago, and I was fine. We’ve met every day to write and practice, but with their family packout of town, we stick to the Ruined Records offices. His family wouldn’t care, but mine was serious about me not sleeping over at their houses while Lyric and Love are away with their guys.
I’m eighteen years old, making that request a little ridiculous, but I still live at home. I try to respect my parents’ wishes whenever possible, so I’ve had them bring me back to the hotel every night.
I knew something wasn’t right when they dropped me off last night.
I was just too stubborn to say anything.
Shit.
My lower stomach cramps so badly that I wail, curling up in a ball.
