Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Last night was fun. I could see the weight our night out took off Caleb’s shoulders, helping him to feel like he fits in.
Or at least it did until Onyx joined us at the table for breakfast. Those two need to talk.
Caleb can’t be intimidated by our pack leader, and Onyx can’t keep blaming Caleb for something he didn’t know was happening.
Ever since we explained the bond sickness to him, he’s stepped up.
Watching Skye’s emotions and making sure she gets plenty of physical touch and scent pheromones from him.
Onyx is just being stubborn. If he doesn’t knock it off, I’m going to lock the two of them in a small room. Well, I won’t, but I will suggest it to Bellamy, and he absolutely will.
“I want to practice today,” Skye announces, her head leaning against Quentin’s shoulder. His eyes narrow, lips twitching when she slaps a hand over his face to hide his expression. “Not actual work, Q. Think of it as exercise. My voice needs stretched.”
Sterling tugs on a strand of her hair, pulling her away from Quentin. “That’s a good idea, precious. We should all ‘exercise’ today.”
Skye beams at him. Her attention shifts to Caleb, who sits rigid in his seat. “You too, Caleb.”
His hand raises to scrub across the shaved part of his head. “Ah, I don’t want to impose.”
“It isn’t an official practice,” I tell him. “Just a jam session.”
When Skye juts her bottom lip into a pout, hitting him with her best puppy eyes, he quickly caves. “As long as you’re sure.”
After cleaning up from breakfast, we meet in the music room. Quentin is the only one missing, having gone to his office to work instead of sitting in. He gets on us about making this a real vacation, but the man hasn’t stopped working since the day he turned sixteen.
Reminding myself that he’s capable of taking care of himself, I walk over to the stands where our guitars sit. Feeling the smooth wood beneath my fingers sends a thrill of excitement dancing across my skin. Music has always been my passion.
Shattered Horizons is my first and only band. There were times I thought of leaving. Calling it quits when things were falling apart around me.
Until Onyx, Sterling, and Bellamy showed up at an audition. We clicked instantly, that feeling of pack undeniable between us. And when we performed together? I’ve never felt anything so perfect.
Hopefully, Caleb will feel the same. I don’t know what his role will be, but there is no doubt he has one.
Settling onto the stool for the piano, I drag my guitar into my lap and start tuning it.
The motions are comforting and help get me into the right headspace.
I love the feel of the strings and the smooth, black wood.
This is my third guitar. I got my first six-string at sixteen, replaced it at twenty, and picked this seven-string up three years ago.
Some musicians swap their instruments every year, but I prefer to think of them like wine. They get better with age and use. As long as you take care of them.
Caleb scans the room before awkwardly carrying his instrument into the room. His ax is beautiful with a black neck and a sleek body, finished in an iridescent black that reflects beneath the stage lights. When I saw his guitar the first night of the charity tour, I was in love.
His comfort with the instrument shows when he riffs on it. It’s an extension of his body, the same way my seven-string is of me.
Glancing at the rest of our pack, I cross my fingers and hope that this impromptu jam session works the way we need it to.
“You should sing, too.” Skye claps her hands together, grinning at Caleb. He’s stuck to his instrument, avoiding the mic for the forty minutes we’ve been in here.
At first, I assumed he didn’t know the words, but he played perfectly alongside me and Bellamy, and I caught him mouthing along with Sterling several times. His hesitance must be insecurity. He’s still uncertain of where he fits in here. We all are.
In Orbital Somatic, he was the frontman and added guitar work. But Shattered Horizons already has a frontman and two guitarists. If he knew how to play a different instrument, like a keyboard or a saxophone, that would be different.
“Not for one of their songs,” Skye clarifies when Caleb shifts uncomfortably. Her hand flops toward us. “Oh. You guys should play Hex’s collab with Candy Courage. It has dual vocalists, so you’ll have a chance to stretch your vocal chords.”
I wait, holding my breath to see if Caleb will deny her request, but she hits him with those damn puppy eyes again, and he quickly jerks his head.
“If that’s what you wish, bunny. I know the lyrics, but I don’t know the guitar piece.” He glances at Sterling, insecurity blaring in his aura.
Sly doesn’t blink; he just bumps into Caleb. “I’ll take Azalea’s part since her pitch is higher.”
Our Omega plants her ass on the edge of the couch, hands clasped beneath her chin and jade-green eyes shining like gems beneath a full moon. We run over the chords again. Mistakes are inevitable with a song we aren’t as familiar with, but this isn’t about perfection; it’s about fun.
Onyx counts us in with his drumsticks, and we’re off.
Bellamy and I battle with our chords. The warring dynamics can be jarring at first, but that clash is why metal fans around the world love the song.
The grittiness fades away as Sterling sings.
His raspy voice is lighter than Caleb’s deep notes, proving how accurate his choice to sing Azalea’s part was.
We’re all hanging on, waiting for the bridge. When it hits, Caleb blows us away. He doesn’t just sing Hex’s part; he owns it.
Everything falls into place as we play. Our pack bonds, our friendships. This is the moment that shapes our future, giving us insight into how to make things work with our new packmate.
Skye jumps to her feet when the song ends, whistling and cheering. “Holy shit, guys. That was amazing. More than amazing. The way your voices mesh together—I can’t get enough of it.”
Her rambling continues as she bounces between us, showering us with praise. She leaves a trail of honeyed perfume along her path, stirring our cocks as we scent her growing need.
Oh, our girl definitely enjoyed that.
As she rounds the drum kit, Onyx stands and sweeps her against his chest, burying his nose in the curve of her throat. I’m entranced as his lips flutter a path up to her ear, and shocked when he sets her down, half-expecting him to drag her out of the room.
He pats me on the shoulder on his way by, stopping between Sterling and Caleb. We’re all frozen, afraid to move and disrupt this moment.
“You are extraordinary,” he tells Caleb. “The two of you together sounds incredible, and, if everyone agrees, We would be lucky to have you join our band.” His hand extends, a peace offering between the two Alphas.
Caleb stares at it, his lips parted and eyes wide. “You want me to join your band? But your songs-”
“Can be reworked,” Sterling cuts in. His eyes are trained on the sunlight leaking through the curtains, his thoughts already lost in whatever song he’s writing. Their performance inspired him, and I can’t wait to see what he comes up with.
“He’s right, dude.” Bellamy joins them and wraps an arm around Caleb’s shoulders.
He’s inclined to touch Caleb whenever he can. More than the playful wrestling he does with me and Quentin. I think he likes him. What I don’t know is if Caleb returns those feelings. He doesn’t shy away from Bee’s touch, but he never initiates it either.
“Let’s kick ass on stage together. And in the studio.”
“Emmett? This is your band? Are you okay with this?” Caleb asks.
“Our pack. Our band.”
“Well, I...” Caleb shrugs. “I suppose we can give it a try.”
Excited smiles are shared as we discuss the future of Shattered Horizons and clean up our instruments. It’s almost dinnertime, which means Quentin will be tracking us down to demand we get back to our vacation.
My phone rings as we’re leaving the music room.
Omi’s weathered face fills the screen. It’s my favorite picture of her.
She’s sitting on the back veranda in a dark wood rocking chair, the sun shining on her face and a cup of coffee in her hands.
That’s how she spends her mornings. Watching the world come to life and reading the paper.
“Good evening, Omi,” I answer, pressing a quick kiss to Skye’s temple before I head upstairs. Sometimes she joins my calls with my family, but I know she’s focused on their conversation tonight.
“Emmett, does your pack have plans for Saturday evening?”
Switching the call to speaker, I open the calendar app. This weekend is open, with only a cryptic Q2A listed for Sunday morning.
“We’re free. Would you like us to come visit?” The thought of going home and seeing my family soothes a part of my heart. I never realize how much I miss them until she asks.
“Isolde didn’t want me to tell you since you’re busy integrating a new pack mate and enjoying your vacation, but she’s receiving an award at the hospital gala. I was hoping you could surprise her by showing up. The hospital will sell me as many tickets as we need.”
My hand is on my bedroom door, but I pivot and head across the hall. Quentin doesn’t answer right away, so I push through his room and down to his office. His head pops up from the puzzle he’s building, brow raised in question. I relay Omi’s request, wanting his input before giving her a number.
“Isolde is our sister now, too,” he says. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
“We will be there.”
Saturday morning, we split between our cars and begin the several-hour journey to my hometown in Rhode Island.
Frederictown is a borough of the state capital, Providence.
It’s considered the ritzy part of the city, home to the area’s old-money families.
Generations of wealth have been passed down there, including the Kingston family fortune.
Meeting my grandmother, it’s easy to guess she comes from money.
She doesn’t flaunt it, but she has the aura of someone with influence.
Listening to her talk tells a different story.
Silke Kingston is progressive. Her influence that taught me empathy and acceptance.
To see someone in need and help them instead of trying to profit from their misfortune.
Unlike many of the older generations, my grandmother has not fallen prey to anti-pack and anti-designation bias. She adapts to the changes in our world and encourages others to do the same.
“Isolde is going to be upset you told them,” Oskar tells Omi when we meet them outside the venue where the gala is being held. He rolls his eyes when our grandmother gives him an unapologetic stare. “We better head inside.”
Skye loops her arm with Omi’s, chattering excitedly about Isolde’s accomplishments as they slowly ascend the steps into the building.
Caleb falls into step beside me, his blue-gray eyes trained on Skye. Ever since her pre-date meltdown, he’s hovered around her, his guilt palpable. We’ve tried to reassure him he isn’t to blame for the bond sickness affecting them both, but he refuses to listen.
He’s too stubborn, which shouldn’t surprise any of us since he could somehow stay away from our Omega for the past eight years.
Black and white decorate the interior of the venue.
The decor is minimal but tasteful, and soft music fills the air from a violinist in the corner.
Attendees already mill about the open space, socializing and enjoying the appetizers being carried by waitstaff.
My pack has attended award shows where a single gown costs twice the rental price for the venue, so the simplicity of the event is weirdly welcoming.
I look at Caleb to gauge his reaction to being here, but he hasn’t noticed our surroundings.
His focus is still solely on our mate. Meeting Sterling’s eyes over my shoulder, I silently communicate my concern.
Alphas obsessing over their Omegas isn’t unusual, but given the symptoms of their bond sickness and the length of time they were apart, bringing him along to an event of this caliber may have been a mistake.
Without being bonded to Skye, his instincts may ride him harder than usual, which could lead to an unwanted altercation if he perceives another guest as a threat.
Sly shifts so that he, Bellamy, and Onyx are closer to Caleb and ready to intervene if needed.
“Omi, I told you not to bother them while they are enjoying their vacation.” Isolde’s voice draws my attention away from my newest packmate. She gives our grandmother a pointed look, one filled with the exasperation she refuses to air.
I step forward and throw my arm around her shoulders, careful not to crush the curls falling down her back. “What are you talking about, Issy? I’m offended that you thought my vacation was more important than celebrating your achievements.”
“We always want to support you, Isolde,” Skye adds. “The same as you do for us.”
Isolde rolls her eyes, but the twitch of her lips belies her happiness.
She appreciates our being here, even if she believes it is a burden to us.
“Well, the catering company they used this time is supposed to be phenomenal, so at least you won’t have to force down dry chicken while you’re regaled with the hospital’s successes from the past year. ”
“And what of your success?” Oskar asks, returning to our group with a server in tow and a tray of champagne flutes for each of us. “Are you going to tell them about your research?”
We find our table so that Omi can sit, and listen as Isolde shares with us her accomplished research into the treatment of Omeovania, a genetic mutation some Omegas experience that affects their ability to produce pheromones normally.
She leaves a few moments later, pulled away to introduce herself to a potential donor.
Our evening passes in a flurry of quick introductions to her colleagues, downed drinks when she has a moment to sit with us, and an incredible dinner that we enjoy while the hospital announces new projects and grants it has received for the following year.
Isolde is one of four staff members being honored for their dedication to advancement in their field. We cheer loudly when she accepts her award, her cheeks pinkening as she gives an acceptance speech dedicated to her continued research into Omeovania and her hopes for a future treatment.
When Omi finally stands, announcing she’s ready to return home, I find Isolde and give her a quick hug. “I’m proud of you, Issy. You amaze me, and I cannot wait to watch where your brilliant mind takes you next.”
“Thanks, little brother,” she jokes with teary eyes. I squeeze her shoulder as she brushes the wetness away, and then she walks back into the crowd, already being called away by another guest.