20. Jez
CHAPTER 20
Jez
Not all that many hours later, I blink awake. Sunlight has found its way in past the blackout blinds. But I’m so warm, cozy, and surrounded by the fluffiest pillows, the softest blankets, my own fleece from home?—
—and an arm.
I blink some more. Not just any arm, but Holden Pearce’s arm.
I have had sex with two of them. And not just sex, but I’ve taken his knot, too. Two Alpha knots in less than a day.
This fact alone pulls me out of my reverie, and yanks my body upright. I untangle myself from Holden’s bare, muscular arm which slips to the makeshift nest on the hotel room floor. He’s dead the world. And damn, as I stand and cross the room to step into the shower and prepare for the journey down to Leeds, I wince with each movement.
I am sore . Not just from his knot, but every muscle in my body screams in protest after clinging to that climbing wall.
The steamy water rains down on me as I wash the dried remnants of last night’s activities from my body. For just this moment, with no one to watch, forgetting I took two knots of my sworn enemies, I lean my head back into the streaming shower, close my eyes, and smile. It was magnificent.
Right now, I can’t care about anything else. He filled me, he eased me through my heat, and he is a breath of fresh air I never could’ve known I needed until he appeared beneath me. God, what a way to find out.
Clean, dry, and dressed for the first bus journey of the tour, I’m hopeful my heat is behind me. Nowhere near as frantic and long-lived as I’d been given to believe. Maybe due to the length of time I’ve been on suppressants—all of my adult life and then some. I don’t know any different, apart from everything the media, friends, and acquaintances say.
For example, I know that Viv’s first heat with her pack was basically a sex riot behind closed doors in Manuel’s apartment for five days. So far, mine’s been two. And it seems bearable—except when I’ve been on stage, leaving the stage, backstage, or, basically, anywhere where these four gorgeous, fit, but unfortunately very Fable Alphas happen to be. The moments in-between, where I’m alone in my room, grabbing food with Caylee, or doing vocal warm-ups or sketching out new songs, I’m unaffected and feel quite normal. It’s just whenever?—
It’s just whenever I’m around Fable on Fire.
I look in the mirror at my air-drying blue waves, probably in need of a slight trim. Another thing that Viv always nags me about if she doesn’t go ahead and book the appointment for me. My eyes shine with restfulness despite the few hours I actually slept. I feel revived in a way I could totally get used to.
“Jesamine—are you in there?”
Holden’s voice comes through the bathroom door. It’s one of those kinds that slide into the wall, a pocket door I think they call it. Makes me think of pocket dimension. And if I really had one here, my thighs are beginning to feel like they’d pull Mr Pearce into it and go for round two. Then maybe three. Then maybe?—
Maybe my heat isn’t gone after all.
By the time I round the corner and walk a few feet into the main room to face my slumber party guest, my panties are definitely damp, but the joggers I’ve pulled on are dry for the moment.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly shy.
He sits up, looks down, and widens his eyes comically. “Guess I didn’t pull any clothes back on last night.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind.” I give a tentative grin and he stands and walks toward me, his cock already at half-mast. Something about him just breathes sunshine on a sprawling beach, a coconut drink in my hand, coastal birds hanging lazily in the air. He chills me out. He’s like the human equivalent of a swim-up bar. I just want to lay there in the shade, watch the world go by with a drink in my hand, and not worry about the fact that I’ve just fucked another of Kai Hartley’s band members.
My shoulders tense up as we stand a few feet away, him naked, me dressed with slick soaking through my clothes.
“Heat still in action, huh?” Holden smiles, and his dimples are just ridiculous. Blue eyes, sandy hair, short on the sides, longer on the top, and an impressively-speedy beard growth.
“Ah, yeah. You can tell, I guess.”
“I most certainly can. And as I said before, I’m here for it. If you need any more assistance?—”
I swallow hard, holding my hands clasped in front of me. “I do. But I don’t think we have time. And what are we going to do about Kai?” A ridiculous bout of Deja vu hits me.
Holden looks at me a second longer with longing in his eyes. He raises a hand to scrub through his hair and gives a wistful sigh. “You’re right. Oh, God, what time is your assistant meeting you?”
I glance at my watch. It’s 5:49. I’d set an alarm to go off ten minutes before Caylee’s due. Was it 6? Or 6:30?
“Bugger. Soon,” I say shakily. I back up to the sofa and have a seat. A replay of last night crashes into my head. We really do need a pocket dimension.
Holden starts pulling on clothes and looking around for any of his belongings. He finds his phone, his water bottle, his hoodie, and his sneakers just as his phone rings. He answers it.
“Uh huh. Yeah. No, I know. It’s going to have to. Right. Well, five minutes then. See you down there. Save me a bagel, dickhead.”
He hangs up and looks at me. My lips are quivering and I can feel the heat rising in me. My hair feels like it might be steaming and my skin is hot everywhere.
Holden’s gone all business. He kneels before me and gently but firmly grips my arms just below the shoulders.
“Jesamine, I’ll work quick, but just bear in mind that my best work requires more time. Don’t hold it against me.” He winks and beams a cheeky, youthful grin at me. I’m shivering with the heat fever now, tucking my damp strands behind my ears as he easily pulls my joggers and panties to my ankles, and leans my back on the sofa.
“We don’t have—” I start, but he places one finger lightly to my lips, and my stomach shudders with desire, overflowing from my core. Just that one movement is enough to make me picture so many more with this man.
And, well, with Thomas, too.
Do I really want both of them? Yes. I do. I would take them both right now if Thomas was here.
But Holden takes my full attention as he spreads my legs and without any further warning, places his lips to my slippery-wet folds and slides his tongue inside. His eyes close as one hand traces up my body and slides under my shirt and bra.
Once inside, he expertly takes a nipple between his forefinger and thumb and twists it, pinches it, and draws circles over the almost painful tip that just begs to be squeezed. I want a mouth on each breast, one Alpha inside my mouth, and another sliding in and out of my entrance.
These images and more bombard me without invitation as Holden’s tongue sucks on my slit then slides between my lowers lips. In seconds, Holden has my hips leaping from the sofa as the electric current pulses through my body, juddering out in waves of exquisite pleasure.
“Can I just say wow .” Holden sits up, runs into the bathroom, returns with tissue and, thoughtfully, a clean pair of knickers from my pile of clothes. “You are—you taste—you are. Jesus.”
I lean against the sofa, legs flopped uselessly out, before giving myself a kick up the arse. I wipe myself down only slightly self-consciously, pull on the clothes, and slide into my sandals. Everything in the bathroom can be thrown into my tote bag, and my suitcases is already closed up, ready to go. Which is great because Caylee knocks on the door a moment later, just as the alarm dings on my watch.
I gape at Holden. We don’t need this to get out. He might tell Thomas, which is fine. But I don’t need all the crew chin-wagging about this for the rest of the tour.
The rest of the tour. Come on, you really think you’re going to survive it if you can’t go a few days without pulling your pants down for them?
But it’s heat. It’s a heat?—
—it’s a heat that’s accentuated by them.
My mind races back to Ten to One , and memories bombard me that I’d left buried. But I’ll have to attend to them later.
“What about Kai?” I hiss. Holden takes my hand and squeezes it hard.
“I’ll stay in the toilet until you guys leave. And Kai will find out when he finds out. He must already know you’re in heat, anyhow. And I guarantee he already knows what I can tell you right now: Jesamine Jacobs, you’re our scent match.”
The look of both pleading and magic, wonder and concern floods his face.
What the hell is mine doing? Because deep inside, this is what I’ve concluded as well, based on my body’s reactions to two members of Fable on Fire. But we have no time to compare notes.
I squeeze his hand back. And try very, here hard not to think about Kai Hartley.
“Just a sec, Caylee!” I say toward the door, taking the chance that it must be Caylee because who the fuck else would be knocking at 6 a.m.
“Take your time,” comes her voice. “I’ve got coffee though, large cold brew with chocolate cream, light ice, for Ms Jacobs.”
“Ha, perfect!” I try to project so as not to yell and wake up any slumbering neighbors. Fuck, oh fuck. We are scent matches.
I take both of Holden’s hands now. I stand on tip-toes and sniff at his neck, and God, do I want to bury my face there. He does the same to me, but there’s no point. He’s just been eating me out, and my scent is all over his face. I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to vomit.
I want to do it all again.
We are in a world of fucking trouble.
I wipe at his mouth with a spare tissue and hiss, “Wash your face really freaking good before you leave this room!”
“Like that’s going to matter,” he mumbles with a crooked smile plastered on his face. Then he does the most natural, but at the same time, the most godawful unthinkable thing ever: he leans over and kisses my cheek as if we’re a married couple, then quietly slips into the bathroom. I slam the door shut behind him.
“‘Kay, think I got it all,” I announce to Caylee in the hallway, then remember I don’t. Holden slides the bathroom door back open and holds out a now-closed makeup case and large-handled tote he’s shoved my remaining items into. I think I’ve left a razor in the shower but I don’t give a damn about that.
His protruding hand gives me a thumbs up and I do the only thing I can think of—I wrap my tiny hand around his huge thumb and squeeze, which almost makes me snort a laugh down. Then I slide his door shut, and undo the security lock and throw open my hotel room door.
“Ta da! I’m ready for coffee!”
Caylee looks me up and down. She’s typical Beta height, about three inches taller than me, but more importantly with typical Beta lack of heat and rut scent. So there’s no way she can smell what I’ve been doing, or that I’m in the throes of a seemingly very unpredictable heat.
But I think she’s seen a guilty face in her time before, because she simply gives me a smirk, nods her head, grabs my tote, and turns down the hallway, leaving me scrambling after her with my suitcase.
“Whoever he was, I hope he helped you forget about last night’s bullshit. Fucking Fable boys. That Kai. He knows how to fuck around. Time for him to find out though, right?”
I process what she’s not saying as I catch up to her brisk pace as we turn toward the lifts. “Is it?” I say, looking meaningfully at my watch. I have no idea what she means by the last part.
“Well, I had a pretty great night. Sad to leave Edinburgh, myself. Ran into Kai at reception earlier and he looked like pure misery guts, so I don’t think he enjoyed himself.”
“Shame,” I say, but don’t have the energy to inject the expected sarcasm.
I don’t wish them ill—I know this now. Especially not the two who have so generously helped me out, and in the kindest, most attentive, most tender manner.
And I don’t want to tear their pack apart. I’m not here to cause a disruption to them. I bite my lip as we ride down to the ground floor in silence, Caylee tapping away on her phone.
My heat wasn’t supposed to happen. And when it did, it needed to be a secret. If I hadn’t ended up alone in isolated spaces with two members of Fable, I could’ve maybe kept the secret until tomorrow evening, and then the suppressants would’ve buried it.
Instead, I’ve made it more complex. Kai might end up hating me even more when he learns what Thomas and Holden did. He could end up hating his bandmates, too. Then what? Fable could split, and then their fans would have even more reason to hate me.
But somehow these fears don’t erase my gratitude. I’ve heard horror stories and first-hand accounts of how vulnerable we can be in heat situations without a pack or any kind of protection. Especially for those unable to afford suppressants, or without work through the Guilds that provides health coverage. I know I’m very fortunate.
But the fact remains that I am far better off because of Thomas’s and Holden’s help. They kept me safe and made sure I was comfortable and my heat under control. They’re not strangers, they’re colleagues. They’re not my enemy. All this time, they were my catalyst.
This change in perspective, and perception, could turn a lot of my world sideways. The hate and bitterness has evaporated, though there are a lot of unanswered questions and there’s an undeniable disconnect between Kai and I. But it’s time to grow up.
Wouldn’t it be nice to let them be them, and focus on being me, and not always look over my shoulder to that moment in the past with an urge to strike out?
They say unforgiveness is a toxin you willingly keep in your own body. Letting go isn’t about accepting someone’s poor behavior . It’s about saying it doesn’t have the power to keep me there in the past.
Just when I start to worry the lift doors won’t open and that familiar sweat-halo around the top of my head breaks out, the lift dings and the doors swoosh open.
To a crowd of men and women holding phones and recording devices, and two people with video cameras. I look at Caylee, wondering if she’s just bagged herself a celebrity last night or something, and then it hits me.
“Ms Jacobs! Jesamine! Can you tell us how long you and Kai Hartley have been seeing one another? Did it start after your tour did? Or is your relationship with Kai the reason for the tour together? Are you joining his pack? Will you be writing new material based on your relationship? Are any of your current songs about Kai, perhaps?”
I turn back to Caylee, my eyes frozen open and my heart palpitating in my chest.
“Get me out of here,” I whisper in a crackly hiss, all the while trying to raise my cheek bones and prop a camera-ready smile on my face. My hair is air-drying and I’m wearing sweat pants with the waistband fucking rolled up, and I have zero makeup on. I’ve just been eaten out by a member of Fable. And I’m about ten seconds from a full-blown panic attack.
Caylee holds up a hand like the most seasoned of PR pros, “No questions at this time, thank you,” and hustles me right through the crowd and out the front door.
I don’t look back until she’s hurried me around the corner and onto the featureless black tour bus parked down a side street. Gasping for breath, I welcome the cramped confines of the bus over the crushing crowd pinging their terrible questions at my barely-awake brain.
Being almost on a TV show, playing at the festival, and before that, clubs, pubs, and the occasional beach festival or opening slot gave me a thicker skin for a sliver of limelight. And social media’s a different animal. But this? This has never happened to me. And it was so suffocating. They couldn’t have triggered my claustrophobia more effectively if they’d planned it.
Once the bus hauls away from the curb, I stare out the tinted windows at the mass of interviewers and busybodies pooling onto the street.
I stand there, holding on to an entertainment center just inside the bus door watching the hotel disappear, unable to form any kind of response to Caylee’s Are you okay? Jez, c’mon, let’s go find your bed.
That’s when I look at her as if I haven’t seen her in days, and then look over her shoulder. All four Fable members are sitting at a booth, two on each side, hands clasped in front of them, coffees and teas all around, and all staring at me.
* * *
“I’ve been puking my guts out for two days straight, so the guys insisted I came to the hospital last night. And I’ll probably be here another few days, it sounds like,” Viv is saying. The phone is smashed to my ear and I’m sitting cross-legged in the middle of the surprisingly Queen-sized bed at the back of the bus.
Ash put me up in the only bedroom, which actually a closing door. I say “door” when it’s really more like a sheet of paper with some hinges, another pocket door, but it’s more privacy than I could’ve hoped for. I still have to share everything else with Fable, but I’m relieved to have a space to myself. Caylee is up front with the driver just down to Leeds, then tomorrow she’ll be riding in a mini-bus with other crew.
Ash apparently asked Caylee to ride along with me on the first stint, and she completely understood.
He thought it would make you more comfortable, not being alone with a bunch of Alpha dudes. Well, Fable, in particular.
The driver’s a woman called Teresa, and I wouldn’t fucking mess with her. She looks like she could arm wrestle a crocodile and a python at the same time, so I can easily picture her pulling this thing over and raising hell if she needed to.
I do feel better with Caylee riding up front, and I’m sure Kai won’t start anything because the second he does, Ash will know about it.
Well, that’s the theory. I don’t plan to go running to Ash like he’s my damn dad. But that threat looms and he knows it.
“I wish I could do something to help,” I tell Viv. “It’s not fair that I get to be their auntie but I can’t transfer your sickness to me for a few days here and there. If I could take it for a week, you know I would.”
Viv laughs but it’s the laugh of the extremely weak and tired. “Girl, you’ve got a tour to do. And it’s the absolute last thing I’d wish on you. Don’t worry, I’ll rope you into plenty of fun-rock-star-auntie duties when the time is right.” She pauses for a minute, barely finishing the last word. Then I tear the phone away from my ear as she heaves into a bucket.
“Oh lord, Viv.” I wince.
“Bleh, sorry,” she comes back, as if this happens every ten minutes. Which I’m starting to think it probably does. I can hear at least one of her pack in the background speaking. “No,” she says to them. “Babe, it’s in the other bag. And my charger is, too.”
I glance up at my closed door. I cannot imagine being at the stage of life my best friend’s at. Her career is on hold but she has one, and the promise of much more to come. She has a family. A growing one, at that. Obviously pack-life and motherhood isn’t for everyone. Nowhere is it written that that’s the only life we should have.
But sometimes I think, I know, deep down, it’s still what I would like. Despite the things I’ve been through.
Just not now. I can live vicariously through her joy, and her sickness. Just can’t take either on and that’s how life goes.
“How’re you doing on the bus?” she asks. I know this is the part she was worried about most. And ironically, it’s been fine. I tell her so, and about the crowd of journalists and busybodies at the hotel.
“That probably helped your transition onto the bus. And you’ve got your own room, so that helps. Oh, shit! Reminds me. Did you get the stuff I had sent to your hotel? I meant to check with them before you left!”
“Yes, thank you for everything! I’m going to start decorating as soon as I get the energy.”
“It should help with the bus, as much as anything can. Just for the love of God, don’t miss any anxiety meds, okay? Are you caught up on that prescription?”
“Yes,” I say confidently.
“Well, I think you know what you need to do about Mr Hartley’s comment, right?” she asks.
“Tell him to stick it up his arse and pull it out his left nostril?”
Viv tsks. “Upload a video to your socials. Call him out. Be your honest self and just say, look, I heard what everyone else did in real time and if something was insinuated, let me make it clear: we’re not an item, never have been. It’s just playful tour mates’ ribbing on each other’s fans. But sometimes playfulness can turn sour, and I want to state that I hope all the fans that take time out and spend money to come to our tour in their free time come away feeling happier than they felt when they entered the venue.”
“I should be writing this down,” I quip.
“Do it. I want to see it on your account before tonight’s gig.”
“Aye, aye, captain. And thank you. I considered doing a live but honestly don’t feel strong enough to come up with spontaneous replies to any comments about Kai or Fable.” I let out a sigh. “And I sure as hell don’t want to do it on the bus with them on the other side of that utterly non-existent door,” I whisper into the phone. “I have a lot to tell you.”
“Jez, oh shit, I’ve gotta go. Let me—let me get some rest and I’ll check back in later, okay? Let me know when you get to the Leeds venue. We can talk more privately then I assume. I still plan to see you tomorrow night if all else fails, so we can talk then, too! But that’s why I gotta rest now. Doctor’s orders.”
“And pack’s orders,” I hear one of her guys say in the background.
“Of course, Viv. Get some sleep. Love you lots.”
She hangs up abruptly and I don’t let it get to me. She’s probably puking again and wants to spare me an encore.
The back of the bus is much smoother than I expected, and the ride down to Leeds is about four hours. We’re fifty minutes in, and I’ve been back here the whole time. After nodding to the guys who all said hello, except Kai, and Caylee leading me to my tiny bedroom to “debrief” me, I’ve sat alone and tried to stay that way.
Once on our own, Caylee promised she’d talk to Ash about the journalists and gather any advice he might have. Should I speak to them or not, that’s the question , I’d said. I was grateful for her for steering me through it and speaking on my behalf, but is this what it’ll be like from now on? I don’t mind answering questions and would love to sign autographs or pose for photos (maybe not without makeup and hair done). But having to answer for someone else’s lie is not on my wishlist for this tour.
Though that’s what being in a spotlight of any kind is about, isn’t it?
I pick at my nail polish then force myself to stop. I’ve got a manicure set I could dig out but my brain just wants to find the perfect words for Kai when I inevitably have to leave this space and interact.
I push this aside and record the video that Viv was right to insist upon. I set up my ring light, apply some normal day makeup, and straighten and style my blue waves. I don’t bother changing out of the custom tee I threw on this morning. The video’s about the message and certainly shouldn’t look like I tried too hard.
I check the tags that Viv tends to use when she uploads for me—I absolutely can do this stuff on my own but she’s the one who always remembers every useful trick. I write a little short note for the description, and hit post. Then I send Viv a quick message.
No need to call, just wanted to let you know I’ve done it. I’m sure you’ll see. I don’t want to wait around to read comments right now. Might try to get more sleep, three hours til Leeds.
I bite my lip then add: I hope we can talk more soon. I’ve got a serious issue on my hands, and it’s not just about being in heat.
She writes back almost immediately.
Great work, Jez. You’re being the bigger person here. He has no idea how deep a grave he’s digging for himself. I was on socials earlier. Believe it or not, your fans actually do overlap. More than I would’ve guessed, but certainly more than Kai can possibly imagine. And yes, we will talk as soon as I can reliably do so without interrupting every few minutes to barf.
Well, I reply , somehow that makes sense that we’d share fans. Fable was my favorite band back in the day. And I’m me.
LOL. Good point. Don’t look at comments. I’ll check in and let you know if there’s anything worth knowing. Sorry I had to go so quickly. Hyperemesis is the shittiest. I’m basically sick all night, and daytime isn’t much better. Apparently hormone levels with Omegas though can make it more intermittent, so I can have really great, normal days, and then several in a row that are sent straight from hell.
Get rest , I write back. And don’t you go hanging around on my post either. What will be will be, and tonight he has a chance to either just shut up and play his set, or keep shitting where he’s walking.
Haha. Nicely put. Good luck tonight, babes.
I hear the Fable guys in the common area joking and laughing, and someone’s got the TV on, playing some familiar tune I can’t place but start humming along to as I dig out my manicure set.
A half hour and a podcast later, I’ve finished my nails and I check my video post. Just a wee little check, nothing to obsess over, right?
It’s getting shares. An absolute ton of them. The general talk is that the truth that goes on behind the scenes is never truly seen by the crowd. Some say drama is impossible to avoid this early in the tour, others say it won’t end well with our history. And some think I’m hiding a torrid love affair.
Thankfully, those voices are the minority.
Someone’s even taken the tail end of the talk—the bit that came off-the-cuff from my head, not Viv’s—and stitched it into their videos. One is over a video of a girl walking her dog by the seaside, Cornwall, I think.
It’s kind of really lovely.
This tour, it’s just about the music. Nothing else is needed, and nothing else matters. We come out to take you away and make you dance and sway and sing and jump and feel and make memories. That’s what matters. If that’s why you’re joining us, we’re so happy to have you. If, however, you’re looking for something to play detective with online, trust me, the news stories of the world—the battles we need to face on so many fronts for a more united society and humanity against the problems that plague us from small to global—those are the more worthwhile stories to engage in and exchange ideas on. Together. Not for the sake of divisiveness. And not for that short-lived dopamine hit you get from pointing out someone else’s flaws or vulnerable spots.
That’s not the point of my music, and as a long-time Fable on fire fan, I can say that’s never how I’ve seen theirs, either. I wouldn’t be on this tour if I believed otherwise.
I pace the small space with my own words echoing in my head. Anger is what got me here, but I don’t want to cling to it anymore. I just don’t know how to take a next step. Thomas and Holden are so lovely, so fucking hot, so gorgeously attentive and kind while also being horny as hell. I need to be able to see them as separate to what happened and how I internalized it all. Because the truth is, I don’t know the whole truth either.
Still, no matter how blissful the release Thomas and Holden generously gave me, they’re still going to work each day with the Alpha who—let’s be real—broke my heart.
I’ve heard humming is a known nerve-calmer, so as the rolling hills fly past the bus window, I continue to hum the familiar tune coming from outside my door.
I should go out there, have a seat, have a drink. Join in a conversation. They couldn’t stop me. Maybe it would be the broken ice we need—all of us stuck on a bus together. Two of them having brought me to heat-relieving orgasms. And secrets between us that need to be freed.
But in the end, it’s not the secrets that stop me from going out there, but the image of those journalists, and one’s words ringing in my ear:
Is your relationship with Kai the reason for the tour together?
In a kind of way, yes. Yes it is.
Completely.
I unpack my video game console, spend ten minutes figuring out how to connect it to the TV in my room, connect to the bus WiFi, fire up my game, and disappear into a fantasy world where no one from the real one can disturb me.