Chapter 15
“How’s the roommate?”
One of the studio’s audio interns grins as I get both guitars situated. Aaron gets under my skin on the best of days. Between Dominic being an utter asshat at lunch and me still stewing over what happened this morning with Jasper, this is the opposite of a good day. The last thing I need is to be in a room alone with Aaron’s dumb bullshit right now. I scowl, not controlling the growl that rumbles through my chest.
For once, he seems to have an ounce of self-preservation, leaving the room at not quite a run. Good. One more look at his cocky ass smirk, and I’ll probably damage something expensive in the booth.
My hands shake as I set about unpacking everything. Forcing my mind to quiet, I sort through my things and organize it all in preparation for the marathon recording session we’re about to start for one of the lesser-known pop stars in the area. I’m just finishing adjusting my pedal set-up when Mark walks through the door, a frown already set on his face.
“What’s up?” I ask the audio engineer, twisting around but staying in my crouch.
“Change of plans from the record label. They want the third song to feel more punk than pop.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“You’ll need your heavy distortion.”
Fuck.
“I’ll see if someone can grab it from my place. I didn’t bring that pedal.”
I try to only bring what I need. Pedals are expensive, that particular one especially. The less I move them around, the less likely they are to be dropped and the more likely they’ll survive until the next royalty check comes in.
He nods.
“We’ll run through the other songs first, then. I don’t want Jonas to be running any type of solo work for this album.”
What the hell did Jonas do to piss you off?
I bite back the question as he heads back out of the booth, turning off one of the overhead lights. Instead, I grab my phone from the stool I’ve claimed as my own for when I’m here. I send a quick text to Liz. She lives closest to the studio, so I’m hoping she has a chance to swing by and grab the keys to get it. Or one of her Alphas, at least.
On it. Be there soon.
We settle into the rhythm. Unlike most nights we’re here, though, I don’t quite manage to sink into the music, my body still tense with everything happening outside of the studio. Jonas and Trent are more aware than Aaron, though, and they tread lightly with each spike of my scent—tangy with my barely banked rage—that happens across the playtime. We work through the first two songs before I start to worry that Liz might have gotten distracted. When Mark tells us we’re going to move on to the next song, I check my phone for the third time.
“Shit, I think whoever you texted is here, Rylan,” Jonas mutters, picking out a half-familiar melody on his simply painted Fender.
His foot pressing the volume pedal to the floor keeps his guitar muted in the monitors, though I pull my in-ears anyway. With a quick glance at the control room, I catch Mark standing and Aaron grinning. I twist, intent on storing my guitar to go greet Liz and hand her my keys when the door to the recording booth opens.
“Hey Huntley,” Jonas says, suddenly shy.
I turn fast enough the room spins for a moment. What the hell is Huntley doing here when I texted fucking Liz?
“Hey Jonas,” she says, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes catch on mine, and she smirks, shrugging before handing me the pedal I needed. “And before you ask, no, I had no idea which one you needed. Jasper grabbed it when Liz texted to see if he was at your place.”
Jonas laughs. “Shit, Rylan, were you going to tell the rest of us peasants? That moved fast.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I snarl, using the pedal as an excuse to turn away from them both.
Jonas reads my voice and backs down, picking that same melody after a moment of hesitation. Huntley, however, just laughs.
“Trust me, Jonas, you’ll be one of the first to know if anything actually happens, I’m sure.”
Why the hell didn’t the Council teach Betas a single damn thing about interacting with Alphas? The last thing I need tonight is to end up in a fucking fist fight with a coworker.
I snap the instrument cable in my hand and toss it aside, breathing heavily through my nose, forcing my hands to stop fucking shaking. I cross the room to the small stack of replacements—though they’re actually on standby for when more instrumentation is needed.
“You ready to head out?” Jasper leans against the door frame of the studio, his hands tucked into his pockets.
Huntley turns toward him and nods, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Good to go. I’ll get a ride share ordered really quick.” She pulls out her phone, tapping on the screen a few times, and then waves to Jonas. “See you later.”
Jonas smiles and nods, his hands not faltering on the strings. “You guys still do trivia on Thursdays?”
Huntley nods. “You interested in getting your butt kicked?” she asks, smiling again.
“Jasper won’t let me end up on the losing team,” Jonas jokes. “He likes me too much to let that happen.”
Jasper laughs. I growl. Huntley steps toward Jasper. My growl grows and my hands shake too much to hide them even by stuffing them into my pockets. The room quiets.
Fuck.
“Rylan?” Huntley asks, turning toward me. “You all right?”
Jonas rests his guitar against his legs, moving slowly just within my line of sight. His body is relaxed, but his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pulled low into a heavy frown.
“You good, Rylan?”
I shake my head.
Mark’s voice slices through the silence of the studio. “Everyone take five. We’ll start in on track two of the album when we come back.”
Jonas cuts across the room, moving just fast enough to give away his nerves. Huntley brushes past Jasper, and the contact she makes with him has my growl growing deeper. I’m across the room and in front of him before I even realize I’ve made the choice.
Jasper’s gaze is careful, his hands hanging limp at his sides as he straightens and takes a step into the studio.
“You all right?”
His voice is low and calm like this morning. Any other day, and the calming effects of his being a Beta might actually work. But not right now, with the memory of his hands on me and those hickeys still visible on his neck and just under his collar. Not with Dominic’s pestering laying me open for him and the reality of what I’ve agreed to with him hanging over my head.
Dominic couldn’t possibly mean to ask Jasper to be the third man, could he? I’d have to back out, tell him to find someone else, some other Alpha. The last week in the apartment has been hell enough for me. No way could I spend another six months living so close to him and expect to remain sane by the end.
“Rylan?” Jasper cuts through my inner panic. “You were fine a few minutes ago.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t been fine.”
“All right.” He agrees without fight.
It should soothe me. My eyes lock on the hickey just under his collarbone, and the growl deepens in my chest. The bergamot scent explodes from me, tainted by the sour notes of my rage.
“You okay to keep playing? Mark probably can’t afford much longer of a break.”
“Yes,” I say but shake my head.
Jasper purses his lips. “What set you off?”
The last portion of my rational brain clicks off, all those instincts screaming at me finally winning out.
“You,” I grunt. I grab his throat and pull him to me, keeping my thumb and forefinger on the pulse points just under his ears. It hides the hickeys, and part of me calms a fraction.
“That’s not possible,” he murmurs, though his eyes keep dropping to my lips like he wants to kiss me.
Take that, Dominic.
“Why would it not be possible?” I ask the question to distract myself.
“I’m just a Beta.” He says it so plainly, it shocks me to stillness for a moment.
And then I’m slamming my lips to his.
“Does it seem like I care, Jasper?” I mutter the words against his lips, breathing them out even as I breathe him in.
I pull him even closer, forcing him to take a step into me, and then grind against his hips. His hands settle on my waist, his fingers tracing shapes along my sides even as his body stays relaxed against me, completely willing to let me control whatever the fuck this is I’m demanding of us right now. Using my grip on his throat, I push him into the doorway, utilizing every single scrap of the two inches of height difference between us to make sure I crowd over and around him. He melts into me, his tongue exploring with a thoroughness that has a bolt of lightning shooting down my spine and straight into my dick.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and Jasper forces the kiss to slow and shallow out. When I open my eyes, I’m confronted with his stark gaze, the unspoken question clear in them.
If he asks, I’ll be honest. But to offer anything of what’s roiling inside me without prompt? Absolutely not happening.
“Jas?” Huntley’s voice is cautious as the door edges open. “Our ride is here.”
“Be right out,” he says, only a little breathless.
His throat ripples under my palm as he swallows. I force my hands to drop and take a step away, not dropping his gaze. A purr starts low in my chest, and I don’t try to hide it. He runs his hand through his hair before messing with a necklace tucked under his shirt.
“I…” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
He doesn’t wait for me to offer anything, say anything. His strides eat up the distance between the studio and the door leading out of the control room. Huntley opens the door wider as he nears her, her brows furrowed as she looks between us. She says something that I can’t quite hear, and Jasper shakes his head.
The band is filtering into the room the moment Huntley and Jasper are out of sight, settling back into the feel of recording. Mark takes one look at me and sighs.
“Change of plans. Let’s do track seven.”