Chapter 3 #2
“We’ll be here to pick up the pieces and help you move on, or to welcome him into the pack,” Sterling whispers, lips pressing against my temple. “If he’s meant to be yours, then he’s pack, precious, but there’s only one way to know for sure.”
“I have to talk to him,” I croak, chest aching with lingering worry.
“You know, there’s a club here that’s supposed to be super cool. Knotty Nature. We could book their VIP suite and invite his band out to celebrate with us. Make it casual and take the pressure off,” Bellamy suggests, palm rubbing up and down my arm.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Okay. Yeah. I guess I should go invite them?”
Quentin flexes his fingers against my hips. “After their performance tonight. If Caleb feels the way you do, we don’t want to risk throwing him off and messing up their show.”
I wish I could borrow their confidence, but I can’t muster any hope that this will lead to anything but disappointment.
Time drags slowly as the venue fills with fans. I caught an employee manning the merch table, who let me snag an Orbital Somatic shirt, one I plan to sleep in.
It may not hold the addicting blend of Caleb’s basil and black suede scent, but if I focus, I swear I can catch hints of it.
Or maybe that’s his actual scent in the air.
Fates, I’m so nervous and excited and overwhelmed. It feels impossible to have so many emotions trapped inside my body.
Quentin swings the door open and offers me his hand, silently signaling that the show is about to start.
Can I really go out there? I mean, sure, I’ve watched every video of Caleb’s performances since our band, Hollow Anchors, split, but seeing him in person is not the same as hiding behind a screen. Everyone will smell how much his presence affects me.
A hand settles on the small of my back, pushing me out into the hall.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go see what kind of show Orbital Somatic and your missing mate puts on.
” Emmett winks, adjusting his dangling feather earring where it had gotten caught in the lace of his sheer black button-up.
He always looks edible, more so when he’s fresh off the stage and covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
If I weren’t so nervous, I’d be a horny mess anticipating how strong my mate’s scents will be after they perform.
Heat flames up my neck and cheeks when he pulls me close and rumbles, “Mmm, you smell amazing.”
Cheering fills the air as we step into the wings, standing back so our presence won’t distract the band.
I can’t see Caleb yet, just the bassist and guitarist as they stand at the front of the stage, instruments in hand and one foot propped on the raised front edge.
The drummer counts them in, and their chords fill the air in rapid, rhythmic strikes.
It’s then that I hear the raspy, soft tone of Caleb’s voice as he speaks, commanding the crowd’s attention. He enters opposite us, thick tattooed arms flexing as he holds the mic. The cut-off band tee he’s wearing gives me an incredible view of the ink where it continues beneath the material.
Fates, he’s gorgeous.
When we last saw each other, he had a small handful of tattoos scattered across his body, but now they cover every inch of him.
I want to map them with my fingers and my tongue, memorizing all the changes to his body.
He joins his bandmates at the front of the stage, towering over the other men by several inches. The music cuts out long enough for him to ask, “Tell me, Portland, are you here to heal, or are you here to break?”
Those words are the catalyst for an evolution; their entire sound shifting from soft rock to heavy, bass-pounding metal. Caleb screams this guttural, growling roar that reverberates through my body, landing firmly against my clit and flooding my panties with slick.
Holy. Fucking. Fates. This is definitely not the same as listening to their songs online. It’s visceral and intense and so fucking arousing I have to shift on my feet.
When he cuts in again, his voice is back to the alto I remember. It’s just as wonderful; their lyrics packed with emotion and anger. The crowd loves it, forming a pit and singing along.
I fall into the music, soaking in each chord. Emmett wraps his arms around my waist, holding me as I sway to the beat.
Several songs in, I’m a puddle of slick desire, barely able to focus on the band as they move around the stage. No, not the band—Caleb.
The next song starts, and I’m immediately caught off guard when a sample from one of our Hollow Anchors’ songs kicks it off. That’s my voice.
Could this possibly mean…
I don’t want to get my hopes up, but it’s hard not to feel that spark ignite as I listen to words of regret and longing pour from my first love’s lips.
Maybe Caleb does feel the same.
Maybe this could be our second chance.
I’m a panting mess by the time the rest of my mates join us. My arousal was blasting down their bonds, so thick and heady that Emmett had to sneak his hand up my dress and get me off with his fingers before I ran on stage and climbed Caleb like a tree.
Guilt tries to bubble to the surface as my mates get ready for their set, but when they kiss me, hard and fast, I feel their reassurance through our bond. They aren’t upset that I got off thinking of Caleb. They truly meant what they said in the green room.
If Caleb is meant to be mine, they’ll accept him too.
“I love you,” I mouth as they walk away. Bellamy blows me a kiss as he walks backward onto the stage, but then their focus shifts to the crowd.
Roars of adoration fill the air as the lights raise and Sterling takes the mic. “Portland, shit’s about to get heavy. Are you ready?”
Part of me feels bad for missing the start of their set, but I sneak away while I have the courage. Quentin stands a few feet down the hall as I stop in front of Orbital Somatic’s dressing room.
This is it. Time to face my first love and see if that spark of hope can grow into a blaze.
My heart thumps wildly as I knock on the door.
It isn’t Caleb or one of his bandmates who answers, but a tall, curly-haired Omega.
She looks amazing in a bubblegum pink pantsuit with the cutest butterfly heels.
I want to ask where she got them, but she darts a glance over her shoulder and asks, “Do you want to come in?”
Was she getting the band’s permission?
If so, that means Caleb gave it. He might want to see me?
“Yes, please.”
I nearly trip over my feet, too busy staring at Caleb to watch where I’m walking. He’s here. Sitting right in front of me. The sides of his cut-off gape open, and he presses a water bottle to his head to cool off.
A layer of sweat soaks his skin, amplifying his scent. It’s headier. Soft, spicy, and confident. Like curling up beneath my favorite blanket after a heat.
“Hello Caleb, Orbital Somatic.”
Nervousness churns my stomach, growing in strength until I feel like I might tip into a panic attack. The combination has me word-vomiting, my face growing redder as embarrassment seeps in.
“I loved your show. Your music speaks to my soul. So deep and rhythmic, with the grungy undertones that make it metal. I still have goosebumps.”
Lifting my arm, I show them the raised hairs there. They glance at each other, puzzled expressions on their faces. Way to go, Skye, you’re going to scare him away before you can ask them to join you at the club tonight.
“Oh, right. I came to invite you to hang out with us after the show, not to fan-girl over your music. Sorry.”
Caleb’s face remains blank.
What is he thinking? Does he want me here?
Or is he secretly wishing I would shut up and leave?
Oh, Fates, why did I think this was a good idea?