Bonding the Band

1. Meadow

Chapter 1

Meadow

April, Seattle

T uesday.

It was a goddamned Tuesday.

Tuesdays were meant for staying home, snuggling up in the nest, reading a good book, or maybe watching some gory true crime documentary—because nothing was cozier than serial killers.

The days between Sunday and Thursday were not meant for loud, over-the-top rock concerts.

What else could I expect from a band called Hard Knot Life ?

“You’re lucky I like you,” I grumbled to Clover, wrapping my leather jacket around myself, trying to stay warm. My bestie was the only person I’d freeze my ass off for. I couldn’t let her go to this concert alone, no matter how much I’d thought about shackling her ankle to my nest so we could skip it. I’d shackle her to her own, but then we couldn’t watch documentaries together, because god only knew who the hell had been rolling around in hers. My nose couldn’t take it.

Clover liked alphas, though. She thrived on the attention and was a social butterfly. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably become a hermit. I found most alphas overwhelming. Fictional alphas were the only ones I was eager to get close to. One day, I’d like to have an alpha, or even a pack, if they were all chill humans. But that was a problem for future-Meadow, once I’d graduated and wasn’t up to my eyeballs in essays.

“C’mon, Meadow, it’s not that bad.” Clover snuggled up to me for warmth, her mini dress offering basically nothing in terms of protection from the near-freezing temperatures.

“Clover, I can’t feel my fingers! It’s obvious you’re cold,” I grumbled, looking pointedly at her chest.

“I’ll risk frostbite if it means I look this cute. Maybe these glorious nips will get the band’s attention. If I get any colder, they can see them from space. The band will have no choice but to rescue me from hypothermia, and I’ve heard the best way to do that is to strip naked and snuggle.”

“I am not going to naked snuggle you if you get frostbite.”

Clover dramatically pouted and gave me her best puppy eyes. “I thought you loved me.”

Clover knew full well she wouldn’t struggle to find someone to warm her up. She was a knockout at five feet eight inches, with curves for days, hair like sunshine, a megawatt smile that disarmed even the grumpiest of humans, and a sweet, fresh peony scent that was delicious to any designation. Between Clover’s peony and my white rose and lilac scent, we’d joked many times that our dorm could be mistaken for a florist.

“I do love you. I sure as hell wouldn’t drag my ass out of my nest for just anyone, especially after I had already showered and put on my comfiest pajamas.”

“It’ll be totally worth it. I couldn’t pass up VIP tickets—there’s a chance we could actually meet them!” She whispered the last part so only I could hear.

I wasn’t living under a rock, and while I did aspire to be a hermit, I hadn’t quite achieved that status yet. Even I knew the songs of Hard Knot Life. They had been topping the charts routinely for years—their music was everywhere; you couldn’t escape it. Malls, bathrooms, doctor’s offices, anywhere with a speaker played the PG-13 version of the songs. Clover played the explicit ones in our dorm and sang along—loudly—so a lyric or two had lodged in my brain over our time as roommates.

According to Clover, the lead singer, Apollo, was the most stereotypical sex, drugs, and rock and roll alpha you could imagine. With a name like Apollo, I wasn’t surprised.

Clover bounced up and down on the spot. “The line is moving!”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the next several hours of loud, musical hell. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Clover squeezed me into an enthusiastic hug.

“For you ,” I said with a laugh. “I couldn’t see a thing behind the giants in front of us.” It actually hadn’t been the worst. As tempted as I’d been to pull out my phone to read, I’d focused on listening, knowing Clover would probably shove my phone down her titties if she caught me, or even throw it onto the stage…I’d have been escorted out by security trying to get it back, but I wouldn’t put it past her.

“Hey, the dude who lifted me onto his shoulders had a friend who was perfectly willing to hoist you up there too.”

“I am not putting my thighs on the shoulders of a strange alpha. Also, he smelled like cheese!” Despite standing next to such potent—and not in the good way—alphas, I’d caught hints of delicious woodsmoke and citrus but couldn’t find the source.

Clover sighed. “You have no sense of adventure. Clearly I haven’t rubbed off on you enough. Come on, I’m ready to meet my dream alphas.”

I followed her, begrudgingly, keeping a hold on the skinny strap of her purse so I didn’t get swept away in the crowd as we maneuvered to the backstage area. Security checked our tickets and ushered us through. That smoky citrus scent teased my nose again, but the source continued to elude me. I was pretty sure it was a person, but knowing my luck, it was probably a cleaning product.

Security led us to a bench where other VIP ticket holders were already sitting, and I sank down gratefully, relieved to have the weight off my feet. “I can’t believe you made me wear heels. I could’ve worn flats for all I got to see.”

Clover wiggled with excitement. “But you look so cute ! Cute trumps comfort; it’s a known fact.”

A known fact in Clover-land, and not one I subscribed to, but I decided this wasn’t the hill to die on. I didn’t want to be subjected to a two-hour lecture on how heels made the ass look incredible. The one last week had been long enough.

Security opened a door to a room draped in velvet—what I assumed to be the meet-and-greet room, since there were men seated across a gigantic couch.

Clover’s breathing spiked, her whole body vibrating before she started pawing frantically at me. “That’s them! Oh my god! Do I look perfect? I think I’m gonna faint.”

“You always look perfect.”

“Excuse you, I had a pimple last week.”

I snorted and patted her shoulder. “It was basically invisible, practically a freckle.”

Clover was on her feet the second the burly security man gave the gaggle of women lining the hallway the go ahead. I had exactly zero desire to stand up again. My feet were still crying.

“Meadow, come on! ”

“You go without me. I’ll just kill the vibe. I promise you can talk my ear off about every sordid detail later.”

She hesitated for about two seconds, which was longer than I expected, before dashing through the open door and into the space that was rapidly filling with women.

I settled comfortably against the wall, stretching my legs out to give my feet even more of a break, and scrolled through my library app in search of something to read while I waited. It wasn’t nearly as good as climbing into my nest with some tea, but it was better than being back out on the concert floor. The music had been decent, but being surrounded by the sounds of that much humanity packed into one room had also been overstimulating as hell.

The choice between a sexy billionaire pack romance and a dirty cowboy pack romance was occupying my mind when a weight dropped down next to me. Before I could even turn my head to see who it was—Clover was never that quiet when she crash-landed next to me—that absolutely sinful woodsmoke and citrus scent filled my nose. I turned slowly, taking in long, leather-clad legs, leading to a tight white T-shirt and hair like spun gold. Maybe my luck had finally turned because that was decidedly not a cleaning product sitting next to me.

Alpha .

My whole body thrummed with recognition.

“What’re you doing out here when everyone is in there, trying to meet the band?”

Fuck me, his voice was like velvet with a hint of rasp. Damn. It was the sort of voice I wouldn’t mind having growl in my ear a time or two. Did he work for the band? Or maybe the venue? I wasn’t really up on the list of jobs associated with pulling off events like these. He could be the lead singer’s ass-wiper, for all I knew. Regardless of what his job might be, he’d briefly caught my interest.

“Eh.” I shrugged. “I’m not really interested in meeting the band. I only came here so my friend wouldn’t be alone.”

He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “You…got a VIP ticket and don’t care about meeting Hard Knot Life?”

“Technically, my friend got the ticket. I came along for the ride to make sure some weirdo doesn’t convince her into the back of a tour bus or something.”

He snorted. “A considerable risk.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m here to supervise. Can’t be trusting rock stars, with a line of groupies a mile long, who are disappearing to another city every other day.”

“They’re not…No, never mind, they are.” He shifted to face me a bit more. “What’re you reading?”

I flipped my phone over to stop his snooping. He didn’t need to know my reading preferences when the smut started on page one. “Historical fiction,” I lied.

“Ooh, I read one of those. Pride and Prejudiced .”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that was the title?”

His forehead crinkled in confusion. “I think so.”

“You’re pretty close, but the last part is just Prejudice , no D.”

“If I were a little less mature, I’d say something about giving you the D. You’re lucky I’m a paragon of maturity.”

I burst out laughing, covering my mouth with my hand. “Oh my god.”

He beamed at me and my stomach did a little flip, that woodsmoke and citrus working its way deeper into my senses.

“Aren’t you melting?” I asked. “Those pants look like they’d be boiling.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered conspiratorially, causing a shiver to roll up my spine. “They are. I’m dying.”

“I’d say you should take them off and cool down, but that might be a threat to your status as a paragon of maturity.”

His fingers brushed my throat as he smoothed my hair over my shoulder. “You’re looking a little flushed there, too, beautiful. You need to take something off to cool down?”

I poked his forehead and pushed him back, even though every instinct was singing and urging me to bring him closer. “I’m gonna give you a pass on that because you’re very pretty, and I’m sure you’re used to girls falling at your feet. Do you just hang around here and get the groupies the band doesn’t take back to their rooms?”

He gave a mock gasp and clapped his hand over his chest like I had wounded him. “That’s a vicious assessment. And no, I don’t get castoffs; I get first pick.”

“The ego on you is truly astounding.”

“That’s not the only thing I’ve got that will astound you.”

I pressed my hand against his mouth. “You’re terrible. I don’t even know your name, and you’re talking to me like that?”

He tugged my hand down and pressed a kiss against my palm, which had my stomach fluttering. “Hendrix.”

“That’s quite the name.”

Hendrix shrugged. “Named after the late great. My mom was a huge fan. I think you need to tell me your name now, too. It’s only fair.”

“Meadow.”

“Oh, so I’m the one with ‘quite the name’ while you’re walking around named after lush pasture?” His voice was full of teasing, and those gorgeous full lips drew into a smile.

“What can I say? We both had eccentric moms.”

“Could I interest you in someplace a little quieter?” There was so much heat in his eyes, I had to give myself a second to breathe before responding.

I shouldn’t leave Clover . “I’m waiting for my friend.”

“She’ll be fine. They’ve got at least an hour in there.”

I chewed my lip and pulled out my phone, typing out a quick message to her.

Meadow:

I met a really cute staffer who wants to hang out while you’re in with the band

Clover:

GIRL, GO

Text me when you’re done “hanging out”

Her response almost made me want to refuse to go, but then Hendrix trailed his fingertips up my arm, making goose bumps erupt over my whole body.

I deserved a little fun…right?

What’s the worst that could happen?