Pack Fever: Omegaverse Romance

Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

He loves me.

The words echo in my mind, a song that seems to still the world around us. I’m frozen in the passenger seat of the car, locked around him, his gaze on mine, a depth of emotion swirling in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Tears well up in mine at the depth of what he’s just revealed.

“Y-You don’t have to say that if you think I want to hear it,” I murmur, the shakiness in my voice revealing my vulnerability, my fear that he’s just teasing me.

He stares at me for a long pause, a strange silence between us.

“Is that your way of saying you love me, too, Danica?” His voice grows gentle, laced with a serious undertone that tells me he meant every word. “Because I don’t say those words lightly. Or to just anyone. You have no idea how much those emotions have been bouncing around inside me, how much you mean to me. I can’t imagine a life without you, and I’m keeping you as my Omega. And yes, I love you so damn much. I mean every word, and I hope you realize that.”

His declaration sends another jolting shock through me. A tear rolls down my cheek as my chest fills with a warmth so profound, so all-encompassing, it’s like a cure to all the wounds I’ve ever felt.

“You have no idea how much I love hearing you say that,” I confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been trying to resist my feelings for you, but when you lay it out like that, it’s like you’ve opened up a door in my heart, in my mind, telling me I no longer have to hold back.”

“So, you wanted me to say it first, is that it?” Seth chuckles, and the sound vibrates through me. He cups my face in his hands. “What are you saying then, sweetheart?” he asks, hanging on my every word.

I grin back at him, and the realization of what I’m about to say makes my heart dance.

“I love you so much, Seth. I don’t even know how it happened, but it hit me as fast as the heat that comes over me. I can’t help but wonder if it’s so intense because of how I feel about you.”

Before I can say another word, his lips are on mine, a soft, stealing kiss that seems to draw the breath from my body. I melt into him, the world around us fading into insignificance as I give myself over to the kiss, to the moment, to the man who has captured my heart so completely.

Did I just tell Seth, the lead singer of Fever, that I love him? Oh my God, I did.

His arms wrap around me, full of love and protectiveness. Then, softly, he starts humming a tune. His warm breath plays against my ear. I recognize the song as the melody he was playing back at his place, the one I overheard while eavesdropping on him in his room. The song envelops me, cocooning us in our own world.

I close my eyes, letting the music and the man holding me fill me until I’m lulled by the gentleness of his voice and the warmth of his embrace. I finally drift into sleep, the words, I love you, following me into my dreams.

Days have whirled by in a blur of anticipation, and now, the first concert night has arrived, igniting a firework of excitement inside me. My stomach is aflutter with nervous butterflies, my veins thrumming with the exhilaration of it all. The venue is teeming with energy, every nook and cranny packed with excited fans, and I’m here, backstage, trying my best to blend into the shadows, my hoodie pulled tight over my head. The presence of a few paparazzi, granted exclusive access for snapshots and quick interviews before the show kicks off, has me extra cautious.

Especially after that last encounter of being chased away from my mom’s place. Seth insists that his guards say there are no extra Nexus enforcers appearing at Mom’s house, but that doesn’t ease the worry at the back of my mind.

But I push those thoughts aside and focus on my first concert…

There’s a special backstage pass experience, a golden ticket for those who shelled out ten thousand dollars for the privilege of a behind-the-scenes tour and a chance to mingle with the band in the refreshment room. They’re the lucky few who’ll also grace the after-party, although I’ve heard the guys plan to make only a brief appearance before disappearing into the night, with me, of course.

I’m grinning like crazy.

The buzz backstage is like a live wire. I find myself caught up in the whirlwind, darting through the hallway with a stack of freshly printed price tags for the merch team, a last-minute update that couldn’t be avoided. My heart races as I navigate the backstage maze, the adrenaline pumping through my veins making me feel alive.

Reaching the merch booth at the front of the venue, the energy is electric, the team buzzing with anticipation. A blonde guy sporting one of Fever’s iconic fire flame shirts, mirroring my own, greets me with an enthusiastic smile. “Thanks, these are just what we’re missing,” he beams, taking the price tags from my hands.

“How’s it coming along?” I ask, barely able to contain my own excitement.

“Amazing,” he assures me, his eyes alight with the thrill of the impending chaos. “Once they come pouring out, they’ll snap up everything. It’s going to be chaos,” he chuckles, and his infectious laughter only adds to the buzzing energy coursing through me.

“It’s crazy in there,” I comment, hearing the audience from our location booming and calling out for Fever.

“Oh yeah, Fever never fails to sell out every concert,” he agrees, a note of pride in his voice.

Despite the whirlwind of activity and the electric atmosphere, a part of me still can’t quite believe I”m here, part of this incredible journey. After everything that’s happened, from the terrifying encounters with Nexus to the intimate moments shared with the guys, it feels surreal to be standing on the brink of something so monumental.

As the minutes tick down to showtime, the reality of the moment sinks in as I return backstage, then take a small sneak peek out at the audience. My mouth drops open as the wave of people, and I’m nervous for the guys. Though I doubt they’re anxious.

I’m about to witness the magic of Fever from the wings, to see the guys in their element.

As I peer through the slightly ajar backstage door, the vast sea of fans stretching out before me sends a ripple of nerves through my body, excitement and anxiety mingling in a tumultuous dance. I’m so lost in the moment, so wrapped up in the swell of emotions, that when a hand gently lands on my arm, I jump, a sharp gasp cutting through the buzz of backstage preparations.

It’s Seth, his presence immediately soothing even as my heart continues to race.

“Hey, it’s only me,” he murmurs, followed by a soft chuckle in his voice. “Is everything alright?”

I attempt a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “I think I’m more nervous than you guys about going on stage,” I admit truthfully.

Seth laughs, the sound deep and sexy, and it’s then that I truly take him in. He’s the epitome of a rock star, his shirt hanging open, revealing a tantalizing expanse of skin, the fabric catching the light in a way that makes him seem almost ethereal. The tight leather pants curve around his form perfectly, and his hair, pushed back from his face, coupled with the stark line of black eyeliner, completes the image. This is Seth, the superstar, the heartthrob adored by millions, and here he is, standing right in front of me, the man who whispered I love you in a moment of quiet intimacy.

But the moment shatters with a sudden shriek from nearby, snapping Seth’s attention away. Instinctively, I tug my hoodie down, seeking to hide my identity as a group of backstage fans converge on him. Their adoration is overwhelming, one even breaking into tears at the mere sight of him. They swarm around him, their concept of personal space nonexistent, hands reaching out to touch, to claim a piece of the star before them.

As I watch, a fierce, unexpected surge of jealousy ignites within me. My skin prickles with the intensity of it, a primal reaction to seeing others so close to him, touching him with a familiarity that I crave. My hands clench into fists at my sides, the urge to intervene, to tear them away from him, to break those hands are swallowing me. It’s irrational, this fierce protectiveness, this desire to claim him as mine and mine alone, yet I can’t seem to quell the storm of emotions.

Seth, for his part, handles the attention with a grace and ease that only fuels my jealousy further. He laughs, unfazed by the hands that grope at him, even as security steps in to firmly peel the fans away. And all the while, I’m burning up inside, consumed by a jealousy so intense it colors my vision red, a monster within me roaring to life, demanding action.

It’s a side of myself I hardly recognize, this fierce, possessive instinct, and it leaves me shaken, caught between the desire to pull Seth away from the world and the knowledge that he belongs to it, just as much as he belongs to me.

As the guards usher the fans away, Seth turns back to me with a grin that’s all charm and confidence. But all I can muster is a frown, my emotions tangled in a web of jealousy and frustration.

“My sweetheart, are you jealous?” Seth’s voice is a soft purr, teasing yet gentle as he leans in, careful to maintain a respectful distance given the public setting.

I can’t help but narrow my eyes at him, my voice tinged with disbelief. “How can you let them just touch you like that?”

He shrugs, his smile unfazed. “It’s barely a few seconds, but to them, it means the world. They’re my fans, and they want their moment with their idol, right?” His grin widens, but my heart is still racing, my chest ablaze with a cocktail of emotions.

Then, unexpectedly, his hand cups the side of my face, a gesture so tender it cuts through my anxiety. I want to protest, to remind him of the prying eyes around us, but instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, utterly captivated.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he assures me, almost cooing. “There might be close to 20,000 fans out there, but none of them compared to you. If you’re upset, I”m staying right by your side to convince you otherwise, until I see that smile again.”

I gasp at his words, the notion of him foregoing the stage for me both absurd and heartwarming. “You can’t do that. That’s crazy,” I protest. “All those people are waiting for you.”

“You seem to be missing the point. I only care about you,” he vows.

His words send a new wave of emotion through me, this time a sweet, overwhelming affection that makes my heart race faster. Before I can respond, Reed and Jasper are suddenly there, their presence enveloping me, shielding me.

“Everything okay?” Jasper’s gaze is on me, tracing over me as if searching for something that’s hurt me. Reed’s just studying me, guarding his reaction. So typical.

“Yeah, all good,” I manage to insist.

Seth’s gaze holds mine, searching, questioning. “Are you sure? I won’t leave if you’re upset.”

The sincerity in his eyes, the readiness to put me above everything else, thickens my throat with emotion.

“You better get up there, or I’ll really be upset if you don’t,” I finally choke out, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me.

There’s a charged moment, heavy with unspoken promises, where I want nothing more than to close the distance between us. I see the same longing in Seth’s eyes, but this isn’t the time or place, and we both know it.

With one last smile, a silent vow, they turn away, and I’m left watching as Fever, the band that’s captured the hearts of millions, strides through the door toward the roaring crowd.

I stand there, drowning in strangled feelings, my heart firmly entwined with the men who”ve just stepped into the spotlight.

Quickly, I follow them and slip into the back of the stadium, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nerves. I inch my way to the side where a few guards are stationed, their attention fixed on the crowd and the stage. I’ve got my staff badge around my neck, letting them know I’m not a lost fan.

The stage is an explosion of lights, an energy that pulses. Seth stands at the forefront, bringing the microphone to his mouth and thanking the audience for joining them tonight. Of course everyone goes ballistic in response.

The backdrop is alive with flames, a video display that moves and shifts, creating a backdrop of fire that looks so life-like. Occasionally, real flames leap up from the front of the stage, eliciting gasps and cheers from the crowd.

Reed, with his guitar slung low, commands the stage with his mere presence. And behind them, Jasper is clicking his drum stick together, ready to start.

The first chords of their opening song fill the air, the song that catapulted their latest album to the top of the charts, and the crowd erupts. Every person in the stadium is on their feet, the collective energy of thousands of fans creating an unstoppable force that seems to lift the music, elevating it to something intoxicating. I feel the song in my bones, the bass vibrating through the ground and into my very soul.

Seth bellows out the song from his soul, Jasper a whirlwind on the drums, while Reed’s fingers are flying over the strings, his head bobbing with the beat.

My pulse races, my heart swelling with a pride so fierce it brings tears to my eyes. Watching them up there, my three men, each lost in the music, in the moment, is an experience beyond words. The music thunders out, filling every corner of the stadium, every space in my heart. I’m caught up in the wave of sound, in the sheer exhilaration of being part of something this incredible.

For a split second, Seth glances my way, knowing that I’m there, watching him, and he winks at me. A whole bunch of fans are screaming their excitement in front of me, most likely thinking it’s for them. Except, I know better… I know that he was sending it my way.

In this moment, nothing else exists but the music, the band, and the indescribable feeling of witnessing the people you love doing what they were born to do. It’s a moment I’ll carry with me forever, a memory etched in light and sound and fire.

As I stand in the shadows, watching them pour their souls out on stage, a realization hits me with the force of a thunderclap—I can never look at them the same way again. They’ve transformed from the men I knew to legends in their own right before my very eyes. And amidst the roaring crowd and the echo of their music, I’m reminded of my father, his constant support for my hidden dreams of singing.

I wipe the tears falling down my cheeks.

How I wish more than anything that he was still here, that perhaps, one day, he might have seen me up there on a stage, under the blinding lights, sharing my voice with the world.

The night has left me reeling and captivated, the aftereffects of the concert still coursing through me, hours later as I sit backstage, my body trembling with feelings that overwhelm me. Seth’s voice, the lyrics, the melody—they’ve all seeped into my very soul, leaving me wondering how I, a mere nobody in the grand scheme of things, ended up with the legends that are Fever.

Lost in these thoughts, the door suddenly bursts open, and Jasper storms in, his appearance as wild and electrifying as his performance on stage.

I flinch from his abruptness.

His shirt is gone, a casualty of his fervent drumming and the heat of the spotlight when he ripped it off and sent the crowd into a frenzy. He locks the door behind him, and the intensity in his eyes pins me to the spot.

“Are you okay?” I ask, slightly worried but also curious what he’s up to.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, little mouse,” he breathes out. His statement, so full of longing and raw intensity, sends a shiver down my spine. “All I’ve thought about on stage was you, and I’ve had a rocking hard-on for most of the concert, thinking about sliding Goliath into your tight little pussy.”

I raise an eyebrow. “He has a name?”

He steps closer, grabbing the erection tenting his leather pants. “Do you disagree?”

I”m gasping for air, caught between laughter and an overwhelming sense of awe at his approach. “Y-you were amazing out there, by the way,” I flattered as Jasper popped open the button on his pants, eliciting another gasp from me.

His gaze softens for a moment, but the intensity never wanes. He’s in front of me, his hands suddenly on my waist and he walks me backward until my ass hits the desk near my laptop. Next thing I know, I’m sitting up on the table, and he’s nudging himself between my legs, spreading them while pushing my skirt up to reveal my white thong.

It’s in that perfect heartbeat, that my breathing turns ragged, my nipples tighten.

“Jasper,” I moan. “I guess you were serious?”

“Fuck, little mouse, you have no idea.”

That’s when I look down between my thighs to see his huge cock free from his pants, thick and hard, the tip glistening. His fingers are already pulling at my thong and he starts tugging it down my hips. I giggle as I lift myself so he can wrench them off me in his urgency.

The moment his fingers reach down between us, pressing between the soaked folds of my crease, I moan out. His touch is magic as he rubs my clit, then rubs the length of my pussy before pushing two fingers into me.

I completely lose my mind, my legs pushing wider for him. “Yes, that feels incredible.”

“Fuck me, look how greedy your pussy is, sucking down on my fingers. I need it to be my cock,” he affirms while pulling out his fingers and pushing his cock into me.

I’m barely catching my breath, not even protesting, but do I want to? Especially when I’m dying to be fucked by him.

I’m leaning back on the table, the pens and notepads under my palm, while he grabs my hips, tugging me closer to him as he rams all the way into me. I cry out. He growls, and his urgency is driving me crazy.

I cry out my pleasure, my need for more.

Buried in me, down to his hilt, he scoops a hand across my back, heaving me up against him, chest to chest.

I’m breathless while he’s kissing the edges of my mouth so tenderly I want to cry.

“Every tune, every beat of the drum, every fucking thing I did on stage,” he confesses, then licks my lips. “Everything I give out there, it’s for you. Never forget that.”

His declaration, so heartfelt and profound, anchors me against him. Then with a wicked grin, he pulls out then slams back in. And he’s fucking me so hard, the whole table skids across the wooden floor, but that doesn’t stop him.

I’m holding onto him, moaning, knowing that just with a few moments of him coming at me like a savage beast, I’m on the verge of an orgasm.

Jasper’s presence, commanding yet tender, shows me just how deeply he”s etched himself into my heart, and in this moment, filled with the raw intensity of his passion for me, I find myself wanting everything he”s offering and more, ready to embrace the depth of connection that’s blossomed between us. And in that same breath, I cry out my orgasm just as someone’s knocking on the door, followed by Seth’s voice…

“Fuck, Jasper, no wonder you rushed off stage!”

I burst out laughing as Jasper never relents, but grins at me all knowing, then whispers, “I think I love you, little mouse.”

I gasp out, my words pouring from my mouth automatically. “I love you too.”

Days pass, concert after concert, without missing a beat, I’m there, watching them every night. And I shed a tear each time I listen to them. Truthfully, I love how at the end of each show, Seth and Jasper take turns coming to claim me. Should I be worried how much I’m enjoying them, how addicted to them I’m becoming? Or that fact that I am secretly craving for Reed to finally give in and join.

But I guess he gets his fix, most mornings when I wake up in his bed. Blushing at the thought of how I can’t stop touching him when I’m asleep, I shake away the thoughts.

Today, I’m in the office, backstage, working, my mind still on Jasper and Seth, both of their declarations of love making me smile endlessly.

I’m hunched over my laptop, juggling between drafting social media posts and sifting through an avalanche of emails for the band’s customer service. The inbox is a battlefield, and I’m on the losing side, my cursor hovering between responding and the much more tempting option of outright ignoring the bulk of them.

As I’m about to take a much-needed break, another email notification dings, pulling me back in. With a resigned sigh, I click it open, already bracing myself for yet another request or complaint.

Dear Fever Management.

I am writing to inquire about the possibility of arranging a booking for my Omega daughter, who is nearing her heat cycle. We come from a well-established family, owning a prominent banking institute, and believe she would be an exemplary match for one of the esteemed Alphas of Fever. Your consideration in this matter would be greatly appreciated and urgent.

I stare at the screen, my initial shock turning into a simmering anger. Who do they think they are? With a flick of my wrist, I delete the email, the click of the button harsher than necessary. The nerve of some people, treating the band like some sort of matchmaking service for their personal agendas.

And it’s not an isolated incident. Today alone, I’ve trashed over a hundred similar emails, each one a desperate plea masked as a business proposition. Two more pop up even as I stew in my frustration. I understand the desperation, the desire to avoid Nexus at all costs, and the allure of being linked to Fever, the hottest band on the planet. But it’s misguided, misplaced.

Their desperation, while pitiable, is directed at the wrong people. Especially if I have anything to say about it. Because, in my heart, Fever is mine, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone use them as pawns in their schemes.