Pack Fever: Omegaverse Romance

Chapter 17

Seventeen

I’m in the doorway at the rear of Fever’s building, tugging down on my hoodie to hide my face, just in case Nexus are watching. Even if it’s late evening and the rain is coming down in torrents, drenching everything in its path, I don’t put anything past the organization.

Thunder cracks overhead, and I hug myself, anxiety creeping through me.

Parked on the road a bit farther down is a massive bus, the Fever tour bus, even if it has no signage. Reed’s climbing onboard, Jasper close behind but pauses in the doorway and turns to me, waving me over. Seth sprints toward me with an umbrella from the bus, his gaze filled with concern as he reaches my side.

“Come on, Danica,” he urges, holding the umbrella over both of us.

But my legs are made of stone and won’t move. I can’t get them to budge, no matter how much I want to take a step closer to the tour bus to stop the fear crowding my mind.

A thunderous roar shakes the world, the buildings around me seeming to quake. I flinch, pulling back indoors. I’ve been standing here for what feels like an eternity while the guys have loaded our bags onto the bus. Yet I’m frozen in place.

Lightning streaks across the dark sky, and the monstrous rain feels like a suffocating shackle around my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Seth’s saying something, but I can’t hear him, not when my mind’s flashing with images of my dad and me screaming in the car that’s lost control in the rain, the empty look in his eyes, the agony, the loss. Then the bus racing down the mountain during a storm, the trauma of being trapped inside, the flames.

I gasp, grasping myself tighter, staring at the rain, knowing I can’t do this.

I just can’t.

My throat thickens as Seth reaches out for me.

“I’ll carry you, so you don’t get your shoes wet.”

I pull back instinctively, shaking my head. “I-I can’t go,” I stammer. I’m shaking hard, my head throbbing with my hammering heartbeat.

Seth’s brows pinch together. “Have you changed your mind?”

I blink at him, then turn my gaze back to the storm outside. Another deafening thunderclap has me shaking hard.

Seth studies me, his expression softening. “The storm scares you?” he asks tenderly. “I promise I’ll hold and protect you on the bus.”

But it’s too much. I can’t stop seeing my father’s dead eyes, and tears are forming in mine.

“No, you don’t understand,” I murmur. “It’s not just the storm. I mean, it is, but me and storms and buses and cars don’t mix. I’m bad luck, and I’m going to get us killed.”

His lips are pinching tight. “Wait! What brought this on?” His voice is soft, and there’s confusion dancing behind his gaze.

No words come out as tears well up in my eyes. Before I can find a response, another thunderous roar rattles the building.

I jump in fear, and without hesitation, I turn and bolt back into the building, rushing to our quarters. I don’t stop until I’m inside my room, the door locked, and I’m stumbling into the bathroom, also locking the door behind me.

I want to be alone. Alone. Alone.

I flick on the lights, and the walls feel like they’re closing in on me.

Tears stream down my face as my legs give out, and I collapse to the floor on my knees. I hug myself tightly, rocking back and forth, trying to stop the revolving images of my father’s dead eyes in my mind.

“Dad…” I groan, trembling, crying, terrified.

He’s suspended in his seat belt, almost like a puppet with its strings cut through, as his arms hang lifelessly, swaying slightly with the rocking of the car.

But his eyes steal my breath.

They’re wide open.

Staring at nothing. Empty.

All I can think about is that accident, as it vividly plays in my thoughts. Barely able to stand it a second longer, I shove myself up from the floor and stumble to the sink. With shaking hands, I reach into a hidden corner of the cabinet and retrieve a blade from a razor I’d stored there. It shakes in my hand, catching the harsh bathroom light. My head feels cloudy, my vision blurry with tears.

My head is a chaotic mess.

I yank down the sleeve of my top, over my shoulder and lower, revealing a heavily scarred arm. I cringe on the inside, hating the way it looks.

Marred skin with raised bumps from the countless glass cuts I endured during the accident. Some of the cuts are still red, like they never really want to heal, and there are areas where my skin looks disfigured. A horrid reminder I can’t escape, a reminder of everything I lost.

I hate looking at it, and I hate myself for what I caused.

My hand moves deftly with the blade in my grip, slicing the skin, the sting instant, blood already bubbling. I grit my teeth, welcoming the pain that chases away the memories. The sting sharpens.

A loud knock pounds on the bathroom door.

I flinch, dropping the blade into the sink with a light clanking sound, a few drops of blood rolling down my arm.

“Hey, Danica, can I come in?” Seth asks.

“No, wait outside,” I answer frantically, grabbing the blade, rinsing it, then shoving it back into the cabinet.

“No rush with the bus. We can wait until the storm passes, okay?” Silence. “Can we talk?”

“Just go without me.” I desperately snatch the white towel and soak one edge in the running water in the sink, then wipe my blood. Rapidly, I search for a Band-Aid in the cabinet when I knock over the plastic tumbler I keep my toothpaste and toothbrush in.

It hits the tiles, bouncing around, thunderously clashing each time it hits the floor.

I’m cringing, murmuring. “Fuck, fuck.”

As I dive for it, the door shoves open, the lock snapped open.

A yelp escapes my lips as I spin to face Seth in the doorway, the towel dropping from my grasp.

His gaze zooms in on my arm, and I freak out, rapidly tugging the collar of my shirt up and over my shoulder. Then I whip around from him, my chest pumping for oxygen while my cheeks are on fire. He can’t see the ugliness I am.

Heavy silence leaves me feeling exposed and cornered, knowing he must think I’m damaged and undesirable—broken.

“Danica, what’s going on?” His voice sounds almost brittle.

His footsteps approach me, but I can’t turn around to face him. I want to drown and escape. His hand is on my waist, and I flinch away.

“Talk to me,” he says. “Why is your arm bleeding? Did you do that to yourself?”

It’s unsettling to be attracted to someone so much that I’m terrified of him rejecting me.

I start to twist around to dart out of the bathroom, but he blocks my path with his huge frame. I don’t get far as he snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me firmly against his body.

“Danica, look at me,” he demands, his hand under my chin, lifting my head, making me meet his gaze.

I can’t stop the damn tears tracking down my burning cheeks.

“It’s nothing,” I murmur and hiccup for breath. “I accidentally cut myself.” Fighting his grasp, I push against him. “You can let me go.”

His stare is on the bloody towel on the floor, at the slightly ajar cabinet, at the tap still running with water, then on me. Those enormous eyes hold me, and I’m trembling in his arms. He knows. God, he knows the truth. He’s not an idiot.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I murmur. “I already know I’m broken, not good enough for any Alpha, let alone someone like you.”

My heart’s thundering in my chest as loudly as the storm outside, expecting rejection. Instead, he just stares at me, his lips tightening, and there it is. He’s finding a way to push me away because everyone wants the perfect Omega. A tainted one is an embarrassment.

I start to pull away, but his breathing quickens, and he draws me strongly into his arms, hugging me tightly like somehow, I’m his entire world.

We mold together, our bodies fitting perfectly as one. His chest rises and falls, and for a moment, it’s as though we’re sharing the pain and suffering. Which can’t be right. But he’s not releasing me, either. His hands are pressed to my back as if he’s afraid I’ll escape.

I have no idea how long he holds me, but I soften against him. Never before have I melted into a hug like this, the kind of embrace that can chip away at the darkness that’s been swallowing me whole.

He finally pulls back and walks me over to the edge of the bathtub, and I sit. He kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. I study the glistening in his eyes, and it hurts me to see him this way. It also confuses me why he’d react that way… over me.

“It pains me so much to hear you say those words,” he murmurs softly. “From now on, when you feel this way, when you want to hurt yourself, I want you to hate me. Punch me. Cut me. Whatever you need. Let me be your punching bag, okay? Throw it all at me, and I’ll carry all the weight of this world for you.”

My chin trembles, my chest constricting. I’m suddenly crying heavily into my hands. No one has ever said something like that to me, not even my friends. They were understanding, but even they were grossed out by my arm.

To have an Alpha, the frontman of Fever, say this to me is unexpected, too much.

I don’t deserve it…

He wipes my tears. “Will you promise me that?”

“So…” I blink through the tears, grasping his hand like a lifeline. “So, you still want me around?”

His brow furrows. “Why would you ever think otherwise? Do you have any idea how much light you’ve brought into the band, how much the three of us would miss you?”

A laugh spills past my lips, and I’m surprised I can even do anything other than cry.

“Reed would be happy to see the back of me.”

Seth shakes his head. “You’d be surprised to discover the truth of how he feels for you, even if he has no idea how to show it.”

I nibble on my lower lip, unsure how much I believe that after my few run-ins with Reed.

“The three of us,” Seth continues. “We went through hell growing up to get where we are. We are each scared inside and out.” He huffs. “I went off the rails earlier this year. The band broke up because I drowned my pain with the bottle. So, there is nothing perfect about us. But when I look at you, do you know what I see?”

I wipe away more tears, shaking my head and my chest squeezing.

“A strong Omega who gives sass as good as she gets it, a beautiful soul who’s been shoved into a shitty situation and just wants to be seen. Who wants to be given a chance to shine.”

I furiously blink my tears away as his words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I’m drowning in a whirlwind of emotions… embarrassment mostly, and fear that he’s just saying all these things in the moment.

“Let me clean your arm,” he says, already on his feet and grabbing the fallen towel. He opens the cabinet, and it doesn’t take him long to track down the loose blade hidden in the corner. He tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans.

I’m unsure how I’m supposed to feel, but I’m dazed.

Kneeling back in front of me, he has a tube of antiseptic cream in his grasp as well, and he’s staring at me, waiting.

I hesitate for a heartbeat, but his reassuring smile encourages me to reach over to the fabric of my shirt at my shoulder. Slowly, with a shaky hand, I peel the fabric down, revealing a disfigured mess of scars on my skin. I glance away, my brow furrowing, not wanting to see it, not wanting his disgusted expression.

“You don’t need to do this,” I mumble, quivering because I feel exposed, and I hate it.

When I start to pull the fabric back up my arm, his gentle touch is on mine, stopping me.

“Danica, the scars don’t scare me or turn me off. They are a story of something horrible you’ve experienced, something that one day you’ll share, but until then, it’s okay. It’s not something to repel me.” His fingers faintly trace my arm, the sensation pronounced. No one has touched my arm for years, let alone seen the damage.

Tension grips my insides. I’d like nothing more than to cover up and pretend this never happened.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Seth says as he cleans my cut, then puts antiseptic cream on it, which stings. I don’t make a sound, only clench my teeth. “Besides, you’re not the only special one with scars.” He’s wearing a quirky grin, which makes me smile.

“You look pretty perfect to me.”

Suddenly, he’s on his feet and tugs down the waistband of his jeans over a hip. Of course, having no control, I’m staring at every inch of skin he reveals, my pulse speeding up. There on his hip is a long, red scar that once had stitches. It looks wickedly deep, and I gasp at the sight.

“What happened?” I ask, my gaze fixed on the healed injury.

“I got into a fight when I was heavily drunk once. It was fucking horrible, and I got badly cut by a broken beer bottle.”

“Oh, shit.” I swallow hard. “It looks so deep.”

“It was. It was a wakeup call.” Then he wrenches his jeans back up.

I’m torn by the pain he must have gone through. I’d read the articles about him spiraling out of control, drinking so heavily, he got into fights at concerts, on the stage, and with the crowd. The man kneeling back down in front of me, fiddling with unpacking a Band-Aid, is someone different from the person the media portrayed.

As he plasters my cut, his fingers are on my hand, and I still struggle to look down at my injuries.

“I hate my arm, hate my skin,” I confess quietly, my voice trembling. I have no idea why I told him that.

He glances at me, balling up the rubbish from the bandage.

“Plastic surgery might be able to help so you feel more confident… even though to me, you’re gorgeous.”

I blush, then roll my eyes. “Then why didn’t you get your scar fixed?”

A wry smile spreads over his lips as he tugs my shirt back up my arm, covering me up.

“I decided to keep it as a reminder of how low I let myself get. How I let my fucking need to gain my father’s acceptance almost ruin me.”

I stare at this beautiful man with a face that has grazed so many screens that sometimes, when I stare at him, I’m convinced I’m dreaming. But the longer I spend with him, the more I’m starting to see him differently. Not as the rock star the world goes crazy over. But the Alpha who desperately wants love from his family. A man living with rejection and trying not to suffocate in it.

“Your dad has no idea how talented and spectacular you are… well, actually, he does know,” I reply with a small smile. “Except he’s too stupidly stubborn to admit it after all this time.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he answers, not saying much more.

I hate that he can’t put aside what his dad thinks. I remember growing up how desperately I wanted to make my parents happy. What if nothing I ever did gave them that satisfaction? What if they never praised me, never supported my decisions?

Chest tightening, I stare at Seth with his confidence exuding from every inch of him, yet on the inside, he’s as broken as I feel on the outside. A perfect pair we make.

“Forgot to tell you the other day, I loved that song you were playing in your room.”

His grin is infectious. “Is that why you ran away from me soon afterward?”

With a lopsided smile, I reply, “That was me afraid you wouldn’t…” I glance down at my covered arm and back. “That you wouldn’t accept me as I am.”

“Well, you were wrong.” He lifts my chin with his fingers, making me meet his gaze. “And I prefer when you smile.”

I shrug. “Me, too.”

“Then we’re going to have to fix that.” He climbs up and takes my hand, lifting me to my feet. “So, we have a deal, then? Okay?”

I think back to him wanting me to take out my hurt and pain on him. I could never bring myself to do that, yet just knowing he’s truly on my side, not judging me, chips away more of the heaviness encasing me.

“Deal,” I answer. “I promise to try.”

“That’s all I ask for. Now, how about something to eat while we wait for the rain to stop?”

“I would love that.” We enter my bedroom just as Reed and Jasper march in to join us.

“What’s the holdup?” Reed asks, his gaze on my face. Can he tell I’ve been crying?

Jasper approaches me quickly, taking my hand. “Little mouse, who hurt you? I’m going to destroy them.”

I chuckle, which is a nice change from crying.

“Pretty sure Seth’s got it,” Reed butts in. “But seriously, we waited forever down there?”

Seth raises his attention to his band. “We’re going to grab some food and head off once the rain slows. Okay?” There’s firmness in his voice.

Jasper’s hand squeezes mine, then he kisses the tips of my fingers and leaves me buzzing.

Reed’s expression takes me by surprise. Here I expect him to be an asshole about me delaying them, but he’s grinning.

“Sounds like a plan. I hate driving through rain, anyway. I’m ordering pizza. I’m fucking starving.”