Claimed by the Band (Fameverse #1)

Chapter 28 – KNOX

28

KNOX

T he early morning air is crisp as I slip onto the bus, trying to be quiet. Everyone should be asleep after the late night we had, discussing security measures and contingency plans. My head is still spinning from all the research I've been doing about the Sons of Epsilon. Easier said than done, considering how locked down they are. What little I could find on the Internet has only made me more worried.

I freeze when I spot Alex hunched over his laptop at the small dining table, the blue light illuminating his delicate features. He looks up, startled, and immediately starts gathering his things.

"Sorry," he mumbles, already half-standing. "I'll get out of your way."

"Please don't," I say before I can stop myself. The words surprise us both. "I'm only here to grab a couple of things before I go back to the hotel anyway."

He hesitates, those dark eyes studying me warily. There are shadows under them that weren't there before, like he hasn't been sleeping. Guess we have something in common besides Asher, after all.

"I'm sorry," he says again, sinking back into his seat.

I frown, confused. "For what?"

"I know you're only there because I'm here." His fingers fidget with the sleeve of his oversized sweater. "That the others outvoted you about letting me stay. Which... I get it. I wouldn't want me here either if I was in your position."

Something in my chest tightens at the resignation in his voice. Like he's used to being unwanted. Expected it, even.

"That's not..." I start, then stop, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "Why do you think that?"

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" He cocks an eyebrow. "You've been avoiding me for days. You didn't like me from the beginning, and now you know about my past. About the fact that me being here puts Asher and the rest of you in danger."

I stare at Alex, horror dawning as his words sink in. He thinks I've been avoiding him even more because I don't want him here. Because he's a threat. The truth hits me like a punch to the gut. I've been such an asshole that he actually believes he's done something wrong.

"Fuck," I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. "That's not... I've been avoiding you because I feel like shit, okay?"

Alex blinks at me, confusion written across his features. "What?"

"I made all these assumptions about you," I admit, the words feeling clumsy in my mouth. I'm not good at this vulnerability shit. "About why you were so secretive. Why you wouldn't let anyone get close. I thought you were just some arrogant hacker playing games with us."

Understanding dawns in his dark eyes, followed quickly by wariness. "And now?"

"Now I know I was wrong," I say simply, shrugging. "And I'm not great at admitting when I'm wrong, so don't get used to it."

A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. "That makes two of us."

I try to ignore the way my throat tightens at that tiny smile. "As for putting Asher in danger? That ship sailed long before you came along."

Alex's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"There have always been threats," I explain, leaning against the counter. "Ever since he first hit it big. Never anything like what happened last month, but..." I trail off, remembering all the hate mail, the protestors, the anonymous calls. "Being in the spotlight makes him a target for anyone who thinks omegas should shut up and stay home."

"And you're okay with that?" Alex asks softly.

I can't help but laugh. "Hell no. It terrifies me. But I knew what I was signing up for when I fell in love with him. Asher was never going to be some submissive omega who let his alphas make all the decisions and keep him locked away 'safe.'" I make air quotes around the word. "I wouldn't want that anyway. It's not who he is, and it's not why I love him. He's the kind of person who was meant to shine, and I'm an asshole, but I'm not a big enough asshole to want to dim that light."

His smile gets bigger. I think it's the first time I've ever seen it reach his eyes.

God, they're nice eyes. I can kind of see why Asher gets that glazed look whenever he stares into them, which is often. Probably not as often as he'd like, but often enough.

But I can still see the tension in Alex's shoulders, the way his fingers keep worrying at that spot on his wrist. He might be loosening up a little, but he's not convinced. Not really.

"Listen," I say, keeping my voice gentle. "Whatever you're running from? Whatever your brother and his cult are planning? You're not responsible for that. And you being here doesn't put us in any more danger than we were already in."

Alex looks down at his hands, and I catch a glimpse of something raw and vulnerable in his expression before he can hide it. "You can't know that."

"Maybe not," I admit. "But I know Asher. And the rest of the pack. And none of us want you to leave."

His head snaps up at that, surprise written across his features. "Even you?"

"Even me," I confirm, and I'm surprised to find I mean it. "Though if you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it."

That gets me another small laugh, but I can see he's still processing. Still trying to believe that he's not some burden we're tolerating out of obligation.

I shift my weight, studying Alex's tired face. "You hungry?" I ask, already knowing the answer. He's been up all night from the looks of it, probably running on nothing but coffee and anxiety.

"Yeah," he admits after a moment's hesitation. "But the others won't be up for hours. I don't want to wake them with a delivery."

I snort, already moving toward the mini kitchen. "Trust me, they'll wake up the second they smell food. It's like a superpower."

"You cook?" Alex asks, doubt clear in his voice as he watches me pull out pans and ingredients.

"Someone has to," I answer. "Can't survive on room service and takeout forever. Besides, I like knowing exactly what goes into my food."

It's more than that, though. Cooking grounds me, gives me something to focus on besides all the what-ifs and maybes that keep me up at night. Like right now, when all I can think about is Alex's brother and what his presence might mean.

"Need any help?" Alex asks, hovering uncertainly at the edge of the kitchen area.

"Sure," I say, tossing him an apron. "You can chop vegetables for the omelets."

He catches the apron with surprising grace, though he looks at it like it might bite him. It's one of Asher's, bright purple with "Kiss the Cook" bedazzled across the front. I don't even know why he has the damn thing, considering he's never set foot in the kitchen unless it's to steal food while I'm cooking or Damon is baking. The sight of the great and mysterious Echo wearing it over that oversized sweater does something weird to my chest that I choose not to examine too closely.

It's also hilarious. He's so not a rhinestones kind of guy. In fact, I don't even think I've ever seen him in a color that wasn't neutral. But I find myself wondering if that's a matter of preference, or just another piece of camouflage he's had to use to survive.

"I should warn you," he says, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm not exactly Julia Child in the kitchen."

"As long as you can handle a knife without losing any fingers, we're good," I tell him, pulling eggs and cheese from the mini fridge. "That's more than I can say for half the pack. We're just making omelets, not competing on Top Chef."

Alex moves to the cutting board I've set up, handling the knife with surprising skill as he starts dicing peppers. His movements are precise, efficient. Like everything else he does.

"You're pretty good with that knife for someone who claims they can't cook," I observe, whisking eggs in a bowl.

He tenses slightly, but doesn't stop chopping. "Guess it's more like I don't."

Huh.

"Well," I say, keeping my voice light, "Those are some perfectly diced peppers. If you choose to make a career leap from hacker to ninja, you'll do just fine."

His shoulders relax slightly, and I catch the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "Bell peppers aren't exactly preparation for an actual threat."

"Clearly you've never had Dante's version of an omelet,” I say, grinning as I start heating the pan.

That gets me an actual laugh. I've never seen him this relaxed. Knowing he doesn't let his guard down easily, it feels like an honor.

We work in companionable silence for a while, falling into an easy rhythm. I'm surprised by how natural it feels, having him in my space like this. Usually I'm territorial as hell in the kitchen. It's my domain, my safe space. But Alex moves around me like he belongs there, anticipating where I need to be and staying out of my way.

The smell of cooking eggs and vegetables starts filling the bus, and right on cue, I hear movement from the back.

"Told you," I say, smirking as Alex's eyes widen. "Supernatural food radar."

Sure enough, Asher appears in the doorway moments later, his hair a mess and eyes still heavy with sleep. He freezes when he spots us, blinking like he's not sure he's actually awake.

"Am I dreaming?” he asks. “Or are my grumpy alpha and my mysterious beta actually cooking together?"

"Technically, I'm just chopping things," Alex mumbles, ducking his head. But I catch the way his cheeks flush at Asher's words. At being called "his."

And he doesn't deny it.

Interesting.

"Don't sell yourself short," I say, sliding the first omelet onto a plate. "Those are some professional-grade diced vegetables."

Asher's eyes dart between us, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, this is a nice surprise to wake up to." He leans in to kiss me, then goes over to snake his arms around Alex's waist from behind.

To my absolute shock, Alex leans back into him.

I'm not sure if he means the breakfast or the fact that Alex and I are getting along, but either way, I find myself agreeing. This morning has definitely taken an unexpected turn, but not an unpleasant one.

Who would have thought all it would take was some early morning cooking to start breaking down the walls between us?