Claimed by the Band (Fameverse #1)

Chapter 30 – ASHER

30

ASHER

I lead Alex through the racks of formal wear, watching his eyes widen at the sheer volume of options. He looks like a deer in headlights, which is honestly adorable. For someone so confident when he's working, he's completely out of his element here.

"Okay, let's break this down systematically," I say, slipping into teacher mode. It's kind of fun being the expert for once. Usually he's the one explaining things to me, all patient and knowledgeable about security systems and coding. "First, we need to figure out your color palette."

"My what?"

I hold up different shirts near his face, studying how they interact with his skin tone and those fascinating dark eyes with their gold flecks. "See how this navy brings out the warmth in your complexion? But this cool red kind of washes you out."

He blinks at me, clearly overwhelmed but trying to follow along. "There's a difference?"

"Huge difference," I assure him, running my fingers over a silk blend shirt in deep burgundy. It would look amazing on him, especially with those leather pants from before... but I force myself to focus. Now is not the time to get distracted by those kinds of thoughts.

"What about this one?" Dante holds up a sheer top that makes my mouth go dry imagining Alex in it. But one look at Alex's panicked expression has me shaking my head.

"Too flashy for undercover work," I say smoothly, though my mind definitely files that image away for later. After spending two consecutive nights cuddling with Alex—even if last night I ended up back with my alphas—I'm having a hard time keeping my thoughts purely professional.

Who am I kidding? I've never been this horny. When four alphas can't even take the edge off, you've got a problem.

Then again, none of them will let me do any of the things I want to do to Alex. Spoilsports.

"Right, the mission," Dante says with a knowing smirk.

I turn back to Alex, who's fidgeting with his sleeve again. He only does that when he's really amped up. "Trust me?" I ask softly.

He meets my eyes and nods, something vulnerable in his expression that makes my chest tight. "Yeah," he whispers. "I do."

My heart soars at those simple words. I know how much trust costs him, how carefully he guards himself. The fact that he's willing to put himself in my hands, even just for something as simple as clothes shopping...

"Okay then," I say, gathering an armful of carefully selected pieces. "Let's start with these."

I guide him toward the dressing rooms, trying not to think about how good he's going to look in everything I've picked out. The burgundy silk shirt, tailored black slacks that will hug his legs just right, a fitted jacket that will emphasize his narrow waist...

"We'll be right out here if you need anything," I tell him, forcing myself to step back as he disappears behind the curtain.

Damon catches my eye from his position by the entrance, raising an eyebrow at whatever he sees on my face. He knows exactly why I'm antsy. We all had a long talk about boundaries last night. About how even though they're okay with whatever develops between Alex and me, we need to let him set the pace.

They're right, of course. Alex has been through too much trauma to rush into anything. But watching him emerge from the dressing room in that burgundy shirt, looking shy and uncertain as he tugs at the hems.. it tests my self-control in ways I wasn't prepared for.

"You look amazing," I breathe, drinking in the way the silk drapes over his shoulders, how the color makes his skin glow. "But here, let me..."

I step closer, carefully rolling up his sleeves to just below his elbows. He tenses for a moment but doesn't pull away, letting me adjust the fabric until it falls just right. I notice he's still wearing those thick leather cuff bracelets. I tried to help him out of them when we were cuddling the other night, and the result was immediate panic. He's definitely hiding something underneath them, but I know he's not ready to share that yet.

It doesn't make the protective fire in me burn any cooler, though.

"There," I say softly, stepping back to admire my work. "Perfect."

A blush creeps up his neck, staining his cheeks pink. It's possibly the most adorable thing I've ever seen. "You really think this will work for tonight?"

"Absolutely," I assure him. "You look insanely hot, but very sophisticated. Exactly what we need."

The smile he gives me, small but genuine, makes my head spin. I want to kiss him again so badly it hurts, but I force myself to behave. Tonight's mission is too important to risk making him uncomfortable.

But later... later I can dream about all the other outfits I'd love to see him in. About how that blush probably goes all the way down his chest when he's flustered. About what other sounds I could draw from those perfect lips.

I watch Alex fidget with the sleeve of his new burgundy shirt one last time before disappearing back into the dressing room to change. He's been doing so well, letting me guide him through this whole shopping experience. I want to keep that momentum going.

"Alright," I call through the curtain, "since the first outfit was a hit and we've still got plenty of time left, let's check out some casual options while we're here."

There's a pause, then Alex's voice comes back hesitant. "I really don't need?—"

"Need? No. But want? Come on, live a little!" I answer, excitement building. "You can't tell me you enjoy drowning in oversized hoodies all the time."

Another pause. "They're... comfortable."

"Everything can be comfortable if it's the right size," I counter. "Trust me, I perform in leather pants. I know my way around making statement pieces wearable."

He emerges in my borrowed sweatshirt, and I have to bite back a smile at how he immediately seems to relax once he's back in his comfort zone. It's cute, but also a little heartbreaking.

Not that I can complain about the sight of him in my clothes. Or the scent. Fuck, that does things to my head. Now I understand why Damon purred the last time I put on his shirt because I couldn't be bothered to pick mine out of the pile we left on the floor.

"Come on," I say, holding out my hand. Alex takes it after only a moment's hesitation, which feels like a victory. "Let's see what catches your eye."

We make our way to the casual section, Dante and Damon trailing behind us like particularly attractive security guards. Alex's eyes scan the racks, but I can tell he's not really seeing anything.

"So," I prompt gently, "what kind of style do you like? If you could wear anything?"

He blinks at me, looking startled by the question. "I... usually just go with what's practical. Easy to move in. Nothing that stands out."

"Right, but if everything was equally practical," I press, running my fingers over a soft cashmere sweater in deep forest green that would look amazing with his coloring, "what would you choose?"

Alex opens his mouth, then closes it again. His brow furrows like I've just asked him to solve some impossibly complex equation. "I... I don't know."

The lost look in his eyes hits me right in the chest. It suddenly occurs to me that he's probably been running for so long, focused solely on survival, that he never got the chance to figure out who he actually is. What he likes. What makes him happy beyond just being safe.

And yet, despite that—or maybe because of it—he's the most fascinating person I've ever met. The way his brilliant mind works, how he can crack any system but gets flustered by simple kindness. The fierce protectiveness he shows for everyone else. The walls he's built so high, yet somehow still lets me peek over occasionally.

"Well," I say, keeping my voice light despite the ache in my gut, "that's what today is for. Experimenting. Finding out what makes you feel good, not just what helps you blend in."

He looks uncertain, but I can see a spark of curiosity in those gorgeous eyes. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"That's what you've got me for," I tell him with a wink, delighting in the blush that spreads across his cheeks. "Let's try some different styles, see what resonates. No pressure, no expectations. Just... exploration."

I sound like I'm talking about something else entirely. Fuck my gutter brain.

"Like a science experiment?" he asks, lips twitching into what might be the beginning of a smile.

"Exactly!" I grab the cashmere sweater, along with a few other pieces that catch my eye. "We'll establish a baseline, test different variables, collect data..."

He actually laughs at that, the sound making my heart soar. "You're ridiculous," he says, but there's fondness in his voice that makes me want to pull him close and never let go.

"Maybe," I agree, adding a leather jacket to my growing pile. "But I'm also right. Fashion can be fun when you're not using it as armor."

His smile fades slightly at that, and I know I've hit a nerve. But instead of retreating like he usually would, he reaches out to touch the sleeve of the leather jacket. "I think I'd like to try that one," he says softly.

Well, that's promising.

"Then let's start there," I say, taking his hand again. His fingers curl around mine like they belong there, and maybe they do. My heart certainly says so, but my head says there are a thousand mental hurdles Alex would have to clear to get to the same place.

But he doesn't pull his hand out of mine even when the alphas approach, so that's something. I try to hang back a little as we continue exploring, letting him take the lead. By the time we head back to the dressing room, he's got a decent stack to try on, almost all things he's picked out for himself.

I watch Alex emerge from the dressing room for what must be the twentieth time in the past hour, and my breath catches. He's wearing fitted black jeans that hug his legs perfectly, paired with that forest green sweater I picked out earlier. The soft material drapes just right, making him look both cozy and elegant.

"That's definitely a keeper," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. The way he's slowly started to relax into this, actually engaging with the process instead of just humoring me... it's thrilling in a way I didn't quite expect.

"You think?" He turns to check his reflection, and I catch Dante and Damon exchanging knowing looks behind him. They've been just as captivated by this transformation as I am, though they're trying—and failing—to be subtle about it.

Almost as badly as I'm failing at not checking out his ass.

"The sweater brings out the gold in your eyes," Damon says, his deep voice warm with appreciation.

Alex blushes, tugging at the sleeve in that nervous gesture I've come to find so charming. "Thanks," he mumbles, clearly not sure what to do with the compliment.

We'll just have to desensitize him. But I know my pack is up for the challenge.

While Alex disappears back into the dressing room, Damon sidles up next to me. "Now you know how it feels," he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear.

"How what feels?" I ask defensively, though I'm pretty sure I know where he's going with this.

"How an alpha feels."

I scoff, but I can't quite bring myself to deny it. Because he's right. The protective instincts I feel toward Alex are unlike anything I've experienced before. It's different from how I feel about other omegas I've been with. This is deeper somehow. Raw.

Before I can dwell on that too much, Alex emerges one final time in his original clothes—well, my sweatshirt, technically. But it looks better on him. If I can't be wrapped around him protectively, it's the next best thing. "I think I've made my choices," he announces, holding a small pile of carefully selected pieces.

"Let me see!" I bounce over excitedly, pleased to note he's kept most of my suggestions, including both sweaters and that leather jacket that made Dante actually walk into a rack when Alex first tried it on.

"You've got good taste," I tell him, genuinely impressed by his selections. They're all pieces that will work together in different combinations, practical but stylish. Just like him.

"I had help," he says softly, giving me a small smile that has no right to affect me the way it does.

As we head toward the checkout counter, Dante starts listing off takeout options for lunch. He never stops thinking about food. Not that I'm much better.

I'm reaching for my wallet when I see Alex pull out a guard and practically trip over myself lunging for the counter. "What are you doing?"

"Paying for my stuff," he says, blinking.

"Uh-uh," I say firmly. "It was my idea to come here, it's my treat."

"But—"

"You're not letting us pay you," I remind him, ignoring the curious glances the clerk is giving us. This shopping trip is probably going to be break room gossip for a solid week. "But you said we could cover supplies, and this definitely counts as that."

He opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but Dante interrupts, bless him.

"You guys coming? We're literally wasting away to nothing over here."

Gotta love my most dramatic alpha. Sometimes his timing is perfect.

"Fine," Alex grumbles like I just asked him to sign away his firstborn, but I'll take it.

I hastily make my way through the transaction, tip the clerk even though I'm not sure that's something you're supposed to do, and grab the bags before Alex can fuss about that, too.

Damon reaches to take them but I'm pretty sure I look like I'll bite his hand if he does because he yanks it back. Smart man.

"Dante is right. We should probably eat before tonight's mission," he says with a knowing chuckle. "Something light but filling."

"Thai?" Damon suggests. "That place near the hotel had good reviews."

My stomach does a nervous flip at the mention of tonight. I almost forgot what all this was for. But it's our best chance at getting answers, both about the attack on my concert and about whatever connection there might be to Alex's past.

"Thai sounds perfect," Alex says, pulling me from my worried thoughts. "As long as they have those spring rolls you were talking about yesterday."

"The ones with the peanut sauce?" I perk up immediately. "Oh my god, yes. You're going to love them."

It's one of about a million things in this world I want to experience for the first time all over again by sharing them with him. If he'll let us.

But first, we need to get through tonight. Need to figure out what his brother is doing here and how it connects to everything else. Need to make sure Alex knows he never has to run again, that he has people who will fight for him now.

As we load our shopping bags into the SUV, I find myself studying his profile. He's more relaxed than I've ever seen him, chatting with Dante about different types of curry while Damon calls in our lunch order. He belongs here, with us. I just hope he'll let himself believe that.

Soon, I tell myself. Soon we'll have answers, and then maybe Alex will finally feel safe enough to stay. Safe enough to let down those walls completely and let us—let me —in.

But for now, I'll take this.

Alex in my borrowed sweatshirt, debating the merits of pad thai versus drunken noodles, slowly but surely becoming part of our strange little family.