4. Rian
Rian
T he drive back to San Fransico was beautiful. It was a cold and clear afternoon, the ocean on our right most of the drive, like a big piece of the sky had fallen down.
Originally, I’d wanted to go to the beach after the matching session, but now all I wanted was my nest. And my alpha, fucking me into oblivion.
I touched Ben’s arm, and he laced his hand in mine.
“You okay? I know it was a lot.” Ben asked, his face turned up to the weak winter sun.
“I’m fine,” I said, unable to hide my grumpiness. I didn’t know what raised my hackles, but something did.
It wasn’t the feisty omega back at Cosmic Bonds. She was a redhead with beautiful curves and seemed more than ready to go toe to toe with me.
I couldn’t tell if she hated me or was two seconds away from climbing into my lap.
Hell, I didn’t know which way I fell on that question.
Hate was a strong word, but my immediate reaction of “ no ” was hard to ignore.
She was another omega. I didn’t mind the idea of sharing Ben, and unlike some omegas, I didn’t need to be the center of the pack. But if we did choose another bondmate, we needed someone calm and relaxed. Serene.
I was high-strung and filled with anxiety about everything. Ben was easygoing until he was working and then he was laser focused and all type A alpha. We complemented each other, and I didn’t think someone as opinionated as Ember would balance us.
The sex would be hotter than a volcano erupting, but after that it would fizzle, or we would bicker and then it would be awkward.
Better to focus on the nice, quiet beta woman we were going to date instead.
“We don’t have to date anyone.” Ben squeezed my hand gently. “It was just an idea.”
“One I liked as much as you did,” I reminded my alpha. He would feel like he pressured me into dating if I wasn’t careful.
When Ben suggested using a matchmaking service, it felt like lightning went off in my head. It was the perfect plan. We were both workaholics, practically living in the music studio. We didn’t go out much, and when we did it was with fellow musicians.
Anyone we dated connected to the studio always acted like Ben was their next step to fame and glory, so we learned early on to politely decline any date requests.
A matchmaking service would provide us with new people to meet and a safe way to do that.
None of our matches would recognize Ben as one of the foremost sound producers in San Francisco. Unless someone was deep in the music scene, people didn’t realize a sound producer could make or break their career.
And almost no one knew who I was. Who I had been, once a long time ago. An angry omega who put together an album, expecting two people to buy it, one of them being me, and the other being Ben.
But the album, using the stage name Burns for my mother’s maiden name, was a hit and took off.
I stole a glance at Ben. I wondered if I could ever be that person again. Ten years was a long time.
Too much time.
People still wondered where Burns had gone.
The only photo of my face was done at twilight, in profile, so I wasn’t recognizable. I was safe in my anonymity, but I still could recite entire comment threads talking about how deeply Burns had spoken to them, and how much they wished I’d produce another album.
The hell of it was that I hadn’t stopped for lack of desire.
“I love you.” Ben squeezed my hand. “We can take this slow, or not at all.”
“I know.” I focused on the ribbon of highway in front of me. Tried not to think about the pretty omega we were driving away from. Ember smelled good, and her face was expressive. “Ember is pretty, as I’m sure you gathered. Hot.”
Ben just smirked.
He’d told me a long time ago he knew who was attractive based on how people spoke around them. “She has red hair, big blue eyes, and nice curves. Shapely waist, long legs, great breasts.”
Ben’s fingers flexed, like he wanted to touch her. I couldn’t blame him for the urge.
“But she told us three times she wasn’t available,” I said.
“And yet her perfume…” Ben trailed off.
“Was fucking amazing.” I sighed. “But Cindy seems nice. We should give her a chance.”
Ben nodded. “Okay, Rian. You’re my omega. Whatever you want to do.”
It was the same tone of voice he used when he knew I had my head up my ass but was waiting for me to be ready to remove it.
I hated that he was probably right, but it didn’t stop me from digging in. “We need someone calmer. The three of us would get into one argument and then have to figure out how to hide the body of the loser. Let’s head over to the studio, see what’s going on.”
“No.” Ben shook his head. “We’re going to your nest. Unless you want me to rail you at the studio?”
Heat flushed in my veins, and I couldn’t get back home soon enough. My alpha knew me better than I knew myself at times.
Maybe dating would be enough to drown out the panic to do something, anything with my own music.
Ben loved me no matter what, but we bonded when I was a struggling musician. I hardly ever wrote my own songs anymore, preferring to work as a backup guitarist at Red Rock Studio, the place Ben co-owned with his business partner Stan.
Did Ben wish I’d made more music? Wrote more songs? He’d heard the attempts I made over the years, the unfinished tapes, the half melodies. My alpha told me over and over he didn’t care; he wanted me happy.
And I believed him with all my soul. I felt it from him every day.
But I wasn’t happy. Making music was part of me, but every time I tried to produce something amazing, the perfect follow-up album, the pressure threatened to crush me.
Dreams could be light and airy, could carry a person away on the thinnest filament of hope. But they could also turn sour, strangling them with the lost potential, dead fruit rotting on the vine.
Ember smelled like everything I could have wanted in another bondmate, but I was already nursing the death of a dream. I couldn’t handle it a second time.