I walked around the room aimlessly, tracing my hand over the original bank molding which had been restored, replete with gold leaf. Ostentatious as hell. I cringed when I ran into a section where crimsonpaint had bled down to mar the metallic. It fit somehow though, imperfection inside the bank which once boasted a reputation for ‘perfect’ balance sheets. That was the venue’s whole schtick—the juxtaposition of the original bank, once dealing in legal tender, and everything that could be construed as… not so legal. Tagging buildings with spray paint, for instance. Or the bar they’d installed with the prohibition signs plastered across the countertop.
Moving to the room’s exit, the door already swung inward, I leaned against the doorframe and stared out at the stage crew making final preparations. We’d already done our sound check. The other guys were out in our tour bus doing their makeup or whatever the fuck. I thought it was stupid to drive that thing over here. Waste of gas. They’d reminded me that The Vault didn’t actually have dressing rooms. We’d gotten ready in the cramped bathrooms for our first gig here. I couldn’t fight them on that. Our tour bus was a veritable home away from home. Despite the fifty-minute drive, I’d chosen to prep at home. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if my shirt wrinkled or some shit. We’d all decided to go retro Oblivion Haze for our attire. The jeans were so ripped they were barely holding together, but damn the holes showed off my jacked quads.
How much had we made that first gig here?I tried to remember. Was it a flat fee or did we get a cut of the ticket sales? Fuck, I couldn’t recall. What was vividly clear in my memory was snorting lines until two in the morning and Tray being dangerously close to an emergency room visit. It was probably a very good thing that hard drugs weren’t something we gravitated to often, though our liquor conception was often off the charts. I often wondered why we even started doing that shit back in the day. When the crowd screamed for an encore, when the last note faded, there wasn’t a better high.
Well, I used to think that. Now I knew better.
I knew Tessa.
Her scent was the rush I chased now, the one that mattered most which pushed music firmly into second place. That heady scent of jasmine balanced with the rounded, earthy cedar did things to me that I couldn’t even put into fucking words. The way her personal perfumeleaned spicy when she was feeling sexy, or the way it soothed like hot, chamomile tea when I was losing control. Being around her cut through the bullshit. Her soft, settling presence shot straight to my core.
When I’d first seen her photo, something had sparked. Then I’d found out she was Ryder’s mystery Omega, and I’d been unsure. Hell, I’d almost resented her. Now the only thing left was this possessive, needful pull. I wanted her wrapped in my arms. I wanted her to always be safe. Having her leave the mansion today, even though it was what she wanted, and I wanted her to be happy, set my nerves on edge. We couldn’t control things here in public the way we could at home. But she couldn’t be locked away. Tessa wasn’t that kind of woman.
She’d fought tooth and nail for that cat of hers. Damn, I respected her for that. Respected her too much to ever try and control her, even if my Alpha instincts screamed to do just that.How the hell do you protect someone and honor their wishes at the same fucking time?Anxiety boiled inside of me, and I suddenly felt like punching the wall.
Get it together, asshole. You’re never going to lose control like that again.
I turned away from the venue to face the inside of the lounge again. Hanging my head, I closed my eyes and tried to find inner peace. Would be a lot easier if Tessa was here.
At that thought, the familiar scent of her flooded around me. It greeted me, instantly relaxing my insides, before I even felt her touch. Her arms wrapped around me from behind, fingers knitting together against my hard abdomen. Lids still tightly shut, I reached down and covered her petite hands with mine. I gave her a little squeeze.
“Guess who,” she teased, almost singing the two words.
Without hesitation, I played along. She had me hook, line, and sinker. I found myself being sillier lately, more carefree. After my friend’s overdose, after juvie, I didn’t think I’d ever recapture the worry-free feeling of being innocent and young. There’d been moments with Tray. He’d helped me heal in so many ways. I loved that moron more than I’d ever expressed to him, or to anyone. Yet, Tessa was this puzzle piece I didn’t even know I needed. No, we needed. I could tell she filled a hole in Tray’s heart too.
“Is it… Alice in Wonderland?” No fucking idea why that’s what I ended up saying. Other than Tessa was this pretty, dainty thing thrust into a mad, mad world with me and the guys. We were all a little twisted. A little backwards. And she just moved through our mess like it was all magical.
“Guess again.”
“Queen of Hearts then.” I nodded my head in a quick jerk, as if this had to be the answer.
She barked an adorable laugh. “Queen of your heart, maybe.”
“Not maybe,” I said, my voice losing the playful edge and my lashes finally parting. It took a hot minute for my vision to clear.
She didn’t say anything immediately. The quiet between us bloomed, and it wasn’t difficult or suffocating. It was comfortable.
“What if it wasn’t me?” Tessa’s sweet voice finally murmured. I think she had her face pressed into my back.
“Of course it’s you,” I countered.
“But what if it wasn’t?”
“Then I’d immediately push the ‘not you’ away. Obviously,” I chuckled a little, loving how she made me feel so damn bubbly inside.
“Because only I get to touch you. You, Ryder, Mac, Tray. It feels sort of selfish of me,” she teased.
“Selfish or sparing the world by taking on our misfit pack yourself.” I moved one hand behind me, feeling the curve of her body. She wriggled a little. Tessa was very ticklish. We’d found that out during a pillow fight turned wrestling match the other night. I deliberately traced my fingers lightly over any part of her I could reach. She giggled, shifting away. I whirled quickly, making her eyes widen, and I scooped her up into my arms.
Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, and goddamn I loved when she did that. I wanted to just hold her against my body and move through life like one fucking unit. Her softness. My hardness. Our scents swirling deliciously like they were right now. I turned us, walking into the room and pressing her against the mural wall. Those bright, impossibly blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and I couldn't help but grinlike an idiot. This woman had me,all of me,and there was no turning back now.
"Dixon," she breathed, her hands finding their way to my shoulders. "The door's still open."
"Let them watch," I growled; the sound echoed through the small room. Even though anyone could waltz into the room or see us, we were suddenly alone in our little bubble of chaos and jasmine-scented perfection.
Her fingers traced the upper edge of my black leather vest before tiptoeing down each metal button. I felt that familiar tightness in my chest—the one that meant I was teetering on the edge of control. Only, I didn’t want to destroy shit. I wanted to claim Tessa. I wanted to push my already-hard cock into her slick body. This wasn’t a destructive wildness, this was me wanting to be fucking whole. I wanted to mark her, mate her, and become fully alive.
"You're nervous," she said, reading me like I was some open fucking book.
