25. Jez
CHAPTER 25
Jez
Caylee and I join my band for lunch at the best rated pub in the area, a hulking listed building with what feels like a dozen different dining rooms, a sun lounge, a patio, and a huge play park. Luckily it’s a Thursday daytime so it’s not rammed with people. Just a few small groups on their lunchtime breaks, and a trio of elderly women.
It’s got a nice vibe and I can be fairly sure that no one here will know who we are. In other words, safe from questions.
Murray, Shay, Ry, and Gareth choose a big table in the room furthest back, right in the corner with the sunlight pouring in. It’s a gorgeous day outside but a bit chilly, and I didn’t bring a jacket or jumper, just a light knit shirt on over my t-shirt. “Sorry, guys, I don’t mean to spoil the party.”
“It’s all good, Jez, no worries. Peaceful in here,” says Shay. “What’s the tour bus like? Did you all have a lovely little chat?” She chuckles.
“Not a chance,” says Murray with a small grin.
I shake my head as I sit down and peel my thin outer layer off and hang it on my chair back. Caylee places a plastic menu in front of me. “I’ve been assigned the only bedroom on the bus, and I’m rather grateful.”
Murray leans forward, closing his menu. “So you didn’t talk to them at all? Have you spent any time with them, one on one? Maybe that’d be an easier way to try to make things civil.”
My face burns but I will my hands to stay in my lap and force down the urge to make any telltale shows of nerve. “Not on the bus, no.”
Caylee leans over. “What do you want? I’ll place the order.”
“I’ll come with you and get these guys’,” Gareth says, standing up from the table.
“Ah, Blue Moon and the nacho bowl. Extra sour cream, please.” I pull out my wallet and Caylee shoos this away.
“I got it.”
My heart wrenches at this. She’s no doubt earning way less than I will on this tour, but I wonder if Ash has given her a budget to pay for meals. Either way I say thank you and steal a glance around. We’re alone in this back room, so I turn back to my band.
“I ran into Holden last night at the gym, and Thomas and I shared a lift yesterday.” I pull my hair around my shoulder and start to braid it.
Shay raises a brow and Murray nods, while Ry is looking intently at something on his mobile.
“How were they? They’ve been friendly with us, and I even had a long chat with Nico after the show last night, just talking about gear and whatever,” Murray says.
“They were—kind.”
Murray nods as if he expected nothing less, but Shay smiles to herself, and then her head pops up, her eyes widening.
“Incoming,” she mouths.
I turn without thinking and sure enough, Fable on Fire plus Ash file into the room, each with a pint in hand.
My eyes search Thomas’s first, then Holden’s. Neither gives anything away, but both show a hint of a smile and nod at me. Holden holds my gaze, leans his head slightly at Kai, who’s standing behind him chatting with Ash and hasn’t seen me yet I don’t think.
Holden shakes his head slightly. They haven’t told him they know yet.
I take a deep breath.
“Coming to sit with us?” I say. My voice seems to shake Kai from his conversation with Ash.
The usual expressions of disgust, annoyance, revulsion, irritation, or mockery are nowhere to be seen on his angular face. His strong jawline is tensed, but he smiles and those green eyes surprise me with their openness.
“Bet Ash has ripped him a new one,” Murray says under his breath. “How’re ya, mates?” he says, voice raised.
Nico nods at us. “Mind if we sit back here? You don’t have to make room at your table. You lot scored the most private section in the pub.”
“There’s a reason for that,” Caylee mutters, returning with drinks, napkins, and cutlery.
“Nah, we can budge up,” says Murray. We all shift along on the bench on our side, against the wall, just as Gareth returns from the bar as well. Everyone finds a seat.
With Caylee on the end beside me, and Ry to my left, I feel a bit hemmed in. How I ended up in the corner, I don’t know. Murray’s across from me, and then, without warning, Ash and Holden drag chairs over to our end of the table.
Caylee places a hand lightly on my wrist as my other hand pulls the pint toward me. “Is this okay?” She looks meaningfully around at the cramped corner we’re now in.
“It’s—it’s fine,” I say, and at that exact moment, I notice a spreading dampness between my legs. I’m wearing the sort of jeans that will not be forgiving.
Shit. Shit. Fuck.
Holden sits right beside me with Ash next to him, squeezed in the small space that existed between Caylee and I earlier. My blood feels ten degrees warmer than it did a minute ago.
I pull my top away from my neck and give up on the braid, drawing my tangled hair up into a bun on top of my head. As I tighten the knot and shove the ends into the mess, Holden leans into my ear, making no attempt to hide he’s doing so, and says, “Heat.”
I lean back against my chair and force a smile, looking as unbothered about anything in the world as humanly possible, instead of projecting my off-kilter surprise. I take a long sip of my beer. Without peeling my eyes off Caylee across the table, I whisper softly back.
“Just now.”
“When we walked in, right?”
“When you sat down,” I say.
He looks at his hands in his lap and Ash leans in beside Holden. Caylee’s brows are narrowed and thankfully, Kai and Gareth are having a friendly argument about football, with Ry piping up that if they were real sports fans, they’d follow American football instead.
I lean over toward Ash and Holden, and Caylee stays where she is but she watches us with interest. I swallow like sandpaper lines my throat. “Did you talk to him?”
Holden shakes his head. “We thought you should be there.”
“Well,” I tilt my chin toward my band mates. “I don’t want to in front of them. But he must already know, about the match. Right? That’s what we can agree on given his circumstances?”
They both nod. Great. He knows I’m in heat, and he must know we’re scent matches. When do we stop the charade and question what this means for the rest of the tour?
I squeeze my thighs together even knowing how futile it is as the first flush of slick begins soaking into my jeans. The room feels like a sauna and I find myself wanting to pant. Caylee waggles her finger at my pint and I slide my hands around the cool glass and chug about a quarter of it down. When I set it back, I lock eyes accidentally with Kai, diagonally across the table from me, and he raises his eyebrows in an unreadable expression.
Ash clears his throat and says something at a louder volume to Holden about the last time they played in Leeds, and the two enter a performative conversation as I narrow my brows back at Kai and tilt my head, hoping to send the message that we need to talk.
And I realize: I am conflicted. It’s something of a shock as I lower my eyes to check my lap. Kai really was quite pleasant after I dragged him off to the alley and reamed him out. And not just pleasant but—something like sincere.
I don’t know what this means yet, but I know I don’t want him giving me a pity orgasm.
I take another huge gulp of beer as two servers start bringing the first round of food out and there’s general commotion as everyone swaps around to get the correct plates.
Caylee gives me a nudge with her toe under the table and leans in, covering her mouth to whisper. But before she does I look up at a group of four men and two women entering the back room. They head for a table in the corner but two of the guys look our way and their faces light up.
“Shit. Spotters, eleven o’clock,” says Holden brightly.
“Oh, oh no,” Caylee moans. Holden shuffles his chair closer to me, in what I think is a protective manner, as the two guys who recognized at least someone at this table approach.
“Hey! Shit, Fable on fucking Fire! We’re coming tonight! Can we have a quick photo?”
“My fucking girlfriend couldn’t make it tonight and she’ll piss herself when she hears. One photo, please?” says the second guy. The other people hang back a bit, looking more like typically nervous fans than the ones brave enough to beeline for celebrities minding their own business.
I try to lower myself and shrink into Holden’s side. Ry is nowhere near the size of any Alpha but he puffs his chest up and crosses his arm on the table in front of him, giving me a bit of a cover. I don’t know if my band knows I’m in heat, but they have a pretty respectful attitude toward me which I haven’t been grateful enough for.
I’m pretty sure he’s also trying to push his biceps forward with his hands. Bless.
Kai stands up. Presumably he’s who they recognized, and most want to see anyhow. He turns and holds out a fist to bump with the two forward fans. “All right, mate? Good to see you. Sure, you want a photo with the four of us?” He gestures with a thumb.
“Yeah, great!” The guy with the supposedly absent girlfriend pulls out a phone and hands it to one of their friends, who fiddles with it, getting it ready.
“I’m not going anywhere,” says Holden quietly.
Ash gives him a nudge. “I’m here, Holden, just get up and get this over with.”
With a sigh, Holden stands and Ash immediately slides into his chair beside me. My legs are soaked with sweat and slick now, and my hair at the nape of my neck is curling and wet. The humidity in the room feels thick and my rolling nausea has returned.
It’s okay. It will be fine. Tomorrow at this time I’ll be at the doctor, getting a new suppressant prescription. I just need to get through until then.
“No way, man, is that Jez Jacobs? Hey, can we have you in the photo too?”
My stomach lurches. Caylee stands up and faces him. “Can we pass on that? She’s just arrived and needs to chill.”
And has no makeup on and feels like shit and has slick pouring out between her legs because she’s in her second-ever heat and is surrounded in close quarters by her scent-matched Alphas, one of whom she wants to kick in the fucking nuts.
“Aww, just one photo, innit? Won’t be a bother after that.”
Okay, they’re that type of fan. Just a bother now. Grand.
“Sure, not a problem,” I say tightly, standing and trying to block out Ash’s, You don’t have to do this, Jesamine.
He stands, though, letting me out. I walk around the table as Ash grabs my long-sleeved shirt from the back of my chair and stuffs it in my hand. I tie it around my waist, nod my thanks, and join the group of Fable waiting for me in the middle of the dining room. God bless Ash’s wife Cami, who has probably made him more aware over time how much Omegas have to contend with on the daily.
The Fable guys part in the middle like the Red Sea, making space for me to slide between Nico and Kai.
I couldn’t feel more like my tits are on display, wearing the babydoll shirt with my MMO character printed on the front and my nipples like rockets ready to take off. I would’ve rather put the shirt back on than around my ass, hiding the sopping wet spot back there because that’s not going to be in the photo.
As I step up to the line of Fable guys, both Nico and—surprisingly—Kai put their arms around me. Nico’s arm goes around my shoulder, and Kai’s slides around my waist.
The second his skin touches mine it’s like a firework goes off inside my belly. I jump without warning, my breast pressing into his side, and let out a little yelp—which I hope is just inside my mouth.
It’s similar to the reaction I had with both Holden and Thomas, but instead of slowly over minutes as they spoke to me in hushed tones, it’s all at once. Maybe the only time Kai’s skin has met mine. He was the one of the four of them who wouldn’t shake my hand when we met on the Ten to One set, thus kickstarting my searing hatred.
And now, it’s as if time stops.
The heat of my skin surely steams in the air. I feel his arm pull tight on my waist and his own intake of air as the camera sound on the fan’s phone goes off once, twice, three times, and the photographer even moves around, switching angles and from landscape to portrait as if this is a full shoot.
Before I know it, between the beer lining my empty, nauseous, dehydrated stomach, the rush of heat, and the insanity of whatever Kai’s touch is doing to me, I start to slip from their grips.
Everything that happens next is a blur. I cry out, turning toward Kai as I begin to slip to my knees, then I bury my face in his thigh. Caylee is quickly at my side, whispering frantically in my ear, her arms under my armpits, lifting me to my feet. Ash is on his, hustling the fans out the door, some of whom are protesting loudly, with Ash commenting that they’d been told I wasn’t feeling well so this really wasn’t the time.
As Caylee, Shay, and Murray help me over to the bench to lie me down horizontally, my heat-soaked eyes just blink, trying to get a grip of the anxiety I’m pressing down and the need for my Alphas cocks. Right fucking now. And I can’t say a word. Not with all these ears. Not in public. And not with my band there.
Caylee or Ash might’ve clued them in beforehand because they don’t seem shocked but do look keen to help. Bless them.
Before I know it though I hear Murray and Holden arguing, and Thomas getting a word in, too.
“It’s not for you to worry about it, she’s our singer,” Murray’s saying.
“While I appreciate that mate, she’s not your scent match,” snarls Holden.
And the room stops. In seconds, Ry, Gareth, Murray, and Shay are led out of the back dining room with Caylee leading the way, speaking quickly and quietly. That leaves me with Fable standing around the table, all but Holden who is kneeling beside my head, one hand on the top of my messy bun, and Ash taking a seat opposite me. Everyone’s food sits and waits, growing cold.
This is all my fault.
I squeeze my eyes closed.
“I don’t want this,” I murmur. Then I wince. The pain of this heat is more than I expected. The pain of—is it having them near? And not having them in me?
This is what I was taught to fear. Feeling out of control of my body, a body that just wants to mate, that wants their teeth on my neck, their knots inside my anywhere they can fit, their tongues painting murals of their protection and adoration for me across every inch of my skin. I lift a hand to cover my nipples, and find my fingers rubbing over them through the t-shirt.
“We can’t stay here like this. Let’s get you into the minibus and to the venue. We’ll get you guys back onto the tour bus because you have to talk. She can’t stay like this, and she sure as hell can’t perform while this is going on.”
Ash’s voice is low and solemn as if someone just died. Then I hear him swear under his breath as he stands and walks a few feet away, mobile to his ear as he makes a call.
In minutes, Caylee is back, leading me by the hand to the minibus, and five minutes later we’re back at the tour bus. Ash files us all on, me last, with Caylee behind him. I slide into the booth in the common area immediately, pulling my legs up to the cushion and hugging my knees to my painful chest still begging for attention. I’m pretty sure my long-sleeved top is now soaked through. I just want to be in my bedroom so I can take care of this myself. I nearly came sitting in the back of the minibus as it bounced around Leeds’ fucking potholes.
Ash looks around at all of us. “I think we all know what’s going on, and no one wants to say it. Caylee and I will sit in the front of the bus. You five need to discuss. And then we can decide if this tour can continue as planned or not.” He looks at me through serious and unblinking eyes, then climbs into the front cab with Caylee, who sends me a sympathetic look of concern. They close the divider.
I’m left staring at my scent-matched Alphas, who kicked me off my quest to this very lifestyle three years earlier—and their leader, looking into my eyes as though he’d like to be anywhere else in the world.
“I—I don’t know what to say. It’s my fault that I didn’t get my heat suppressant prescription refilled before tour. I’m getting it tomorrow, at a GP in Knightsbridge. Things will settle down then and this won’t be a continual problem.”
I clear my throat, aware my voice sounds very meek and mousy. But I feel like any further energy required of me will start a serious of orgasms I do not want to have around these four together. Thomas and Holden were one thing; all of them is a definite not in this lifetime.
And then I finish, though it takes a few seconds and a few inhales to stuff down the urge to just spread my legs and ram my fingers inside myself while they watch.
“One more thing,” I say, almost panting. “It’s not my fault we are matches. It’s not my fault I smell good to you, and your bodies and minds are saying you need to take care of me, because I know your heart at least couldn’t give the tiniest fuck in the universe.”
I say this last part looking at Kai. I try not to notice they’re all covering their erections, or that Holden keeps lifting the hem of his t-shirt as though he’s ready to tear it off. The scent in here is so thick I could choke on it.
“Please,” I whimper, “can I please just go to my room and—and I’ll be fine for tonight. Just let me take care of this.”
At last, one of them speaks.
“Jez, I know this doesn’t seem ideal, but it’s our job to help you,” Holden says. “We all know that now. We’ve talked about it. And we agree, we will help you in any way we can. We don’t have to mark you. We don’t have to make you ours. None of this has to be personal or professional. It’s about simple biology. Our bodies and yours know what to do together. That’s nature, darling, and if we don’t help you and you want continue this tour, there’s no telling how much wilder your heat might become.”
Thomas and Nico nod, and then, the one I didn’t expect to hear from speaks.
“It could affect your sets, and that’s good for nobody,” Kai says. His voice is tight, and it sounds like he has to force the words past his lips. His face is pale, and his eyes looking everywhere but mine. He continues. “This show—if you want to avoid thinking about the personal side of things, think of the show we have to put on another fifty-six times. Let’s all do the best we can, and us helping you helps that.”
I bite my lip hard. He’s right, and it’s absolutely fucking futile to deny it. But the rational part of me that’s quickly evaporating as the heat prepares to fully take me under murmurs one final vehement argument: Just thinking of himself and his image. What more could I expect?
Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, preparing to shut it down, then see it’s a text from Viv. And I’ve got about 40 notifications besides.
I click the link she’s sent with nothing but about ten question marks before it, and it opens a photo on social media.
My stomach drops, I toss the phone on the table and lower my legs to wrench forward, burying my face in the cushion, and heaving in breath.
“Oh God, oh fuck. Oh no,” I moan.
I hear Kai reach for it and the Alphas’ collective swearing as they must all see the photo the fan inside the pub has shared—a zoomed-in image of just Kai and I in the moment I fell to my knees with my head against his thigh, my nipples visible under my shirt, and one arm wrapped around his ass.