Too Many Options

Chapter 1 – Cove

Chapter One

Cove

My little brothers are thirteen. Despite their age, they’re the size of full-grown men, which is a problem considering they’re out on our lawn trying to start shit with Riot and Creed Matthews.

My fingers press against the glass of our front window as I try to determine if it’ll help or hurt matters if I go out there.

Riot and Creed are old friends and two of my four bandmates in Darkest Nights.

I glance over my shoulder, barely holding myself back from snapping at my sister. Lily just had to ask how I felt about being trapped on a tour bus with the guys I lost my virginity to.

She’s such a pain in the ass. She didn’t even make sure that my bedroom door was closed.

Now my brothers are apparently defending my nonexistent honor?

I roll my eyes.

They’re ridiculous.

It happened over two years ago.

There’s nothing to defend.

Riot and Creed are friends, and that’s the extent of it. This is why being an omega is so frustrating. I always knew my heats would eventually start, but I wasn’t expecting them to begin so quickly.

I was barely eighteen, which I guess isn’t bad.

My mom’s heats started when she was seventeen.

She’s always been vocal about how awful she thinks suppressants are for an omega’s health.

Without alphas to ride out a heat, omegas are in for cramps, pain, and pure suffering, but we can’t even start suppressants without having our first heat.

The doctors won’t allow it, at least mine wouldn’t. I know because I begged over and over again.

That’s why it makes no sense that my little brothers are currently beating the hell out of Riot and Creed.

Would they have rather I met alphas through the government-run OPA? Or I guess they expected me to suffer through without a knot?

They’re annoying little shits, but I think their hearts are in the right place.

They’re just not old enough to understand that Riot and Creed actually did me a favor.

Granted, we’re never going to be more than friends.

We have zero chemistry outside of heat sex, but it was better than the alternatives.

I frown as my little brother punches Riot directly in the face.

Riot’s nose instantly bleeds. Unlike my brothers, who are identical, Riot and Creed are easy enough to tell apart.

They both have the same dark brown skin tone, but Riot has locs to his shoulders, and he’s a bit thicker than Creed.

Creed has short black curly hair and more tattoos than his brother. Although, both of them are fairly covered in ink.

Another thing they currently have in common? They’re both getting their asses kicked by my brothers while their parents stand around, laughing.

“Is no one seriously going to stop the twins?” I ask, frowning out the window. It’s starting to get a little violent.

Killian is one of my family pack and the twins’ biological dad. He peeks out the window and sighs. “Aww, shit.” He bolts for the door. “Someone, get the ice packs.”

I glance around at my family.

The last thing I need is this making the rounds through my dads. Those little assholes better keep their mouths shut.

Turning back to the window, my eyes fall on Ravvi and Damian Sinclair. They’re my other two bandmates.

It’s weird because all four of the guys—Riot, Creed, Damian, and Ravvi—are all in the same family pack, but they’re not all related. I suppose biology doesn’t matter too much because they were all raised together.

Ravvi’s eyes meet mine in the window, and I briefly consider jumping back. It would be useless. He always knows everything.

We first met when I was three and he was six. He was convinced then, and he’s still convinced now, that we’re going to end up together.

At least he’s consistent.

I blame Ravvi for the miscommunication that ended with me hooking up with Riot and Creed. He’s always made it seem like the four of them were supposed to be my future pack.

Why else drag Riot and Creed’s mom and her side of the pack along on family outings and to get to know each other?

His creepy spirits got that one wrong. Not to mention, he straight-up refused to participate in my first and only heat. It wasn’t an age thing, either. I was eighteen.

Ravvi smirks, and even from twenty feet away, that look sends a shiver down my spine. He’s so gorgeous, it’s hard to look at him sometimes.

His curly black hair is longer on top and shaved close on the sides.

It falls into his eyes as he smiles and nods over at me.

He’s got on dark jeans, combat boots, and a long-sleeve button-down with the sleeves rolled up.

His forearms are covered in tats, and they flex as he shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks on his toes.

Ravvi’s brother is at his side. Damian glances my way, and I can’t help myself. I give him a little wave.

Where Ravvi is pushy and determined that we’ll one day end up bonded, Damian is quiet and mysterious.

Damian’s shoulder-length, wavy blond hair falls around his face as he offers a wave in return.

I’ve known him as long as the others, but he’s hard to get a read on.

He’s a musical prodigy, like his mom, playing something like six or seven instruments.

It’s kinda ridiculous, considering how long it took me to learn one.

Damian is a beautiful man, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s also emotionally distant. We’re friends, but I know him the least out of the four guys that I’ll be living and touring with.

Damian has that sharp bone structure that’s perfect for a future rock god. He’s hot enough that he could have been a model, but he’s not interested in fame.

My stomach wobbles, and I have a brief moment of guilt.

Neither Damian nor Ravvi particularly wanted to dive into the music industry.

They were content working at their mom’s charity and writing music for other bands.

It wasn’t until I decided I was going to make a go of it, with or without them, that they finally caved and agreed to come along.

Riot and Creed were with me either way, but honestly, I didn’t want to do it without Ravvi and Damian, and not just because they’re crazy freaking talented. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being around them regularly.

Damian pushes up the sleeves of his cardigan as he leans against the truck he and Ravvi are standing by.

He’s got this eclectic style, like his mom.

It shouldn’t work for him, but, for whatever reason, it does.

He’s completely capable of looking the tattooed rock-star role.

I’ve had more than one murderous thought when we perform because the ladies love him when he’s in his element.

Damian is never more himself than when he’s making music. He’s named after his grandpa, Madness superstar, Damian Sinclair, but he died before our Damian was born. The press loves to compare them, though, and not only due to the name thing.

Killian comes in, dragging my little brothers, and reality sets in.

I’m about to head out on tour.

It’s a lifelong goal, but I’m also freaking the hell out.