Page 12 of Hidden Fates

“I came to invite you to hang out with us after the show, not to fan-girl over your music. We’re going to this club called Knotty Nature. They have a VIP suite, so it will only be the bands and any crew who want to go, no fans,” she stammers.

…she wants to hang out? With me? At a club?

Wait, the bands, plural. So her pack will be there.

Of course they’ll be there, dumbass, they’re her mates. What pack would let their bonded Omega go dancing alone with a random Alpha?

Should I want to subject myself to watching the love of my life with another pack? No. Am I still going to go?

“Sure,” I tell her, because apparently I’m a masochist. But only for her.

“A few drinks and bar food will be a great way to celebrate a good show,” Joey chimes in, clapping me on the back hard enough to hurt.

“I’ll give your manager the details?” She glances at Bea, who quickly agrees, and then they’re gone.

My heart aches, but the feeling isn’t as overwhelming. The flood of nervous excitement from seeing Skye again surpasses the pain of knowing she’ll never be mine.

Bea reappears an hour later when Shattered Horizons’ set ends. I was tempted to sneak to the wings and watch them perform, but I couldn’t muster the will to witness the success of the men who replaced me.

“Ready to get out of here?” our manager asks, a wicked glint in her midnight-blue eyes.

Lee groans from his spot on the couch, already knowing our night is nowhere near finished. “You want us to go sign things for the fans, don’t you?”

Bea pulls stickers from her pocket for us to pass out. “Let’s get a move on, gentlemen. Your fans are waiting.”

Slipping a jacket over my cut-off, I toss the guys theirs and meet Bea at the door. We may be hot as hell after performing, but standing outside in the late October air with sweat-soaked clothes is a one-way ticket to regret when we get sick later.

“C’mon, the faster we get out there, the faster we get to leave.”

I’m in hell and suffering through endless moments of regret.

Knotty Nature’s VIP area is packed, but the crowd does little to diminish the overwhelming tides of uncertainty, arousal, and sadness from battering my already bruised heart.

I knew watching Skye with her mates would hurt.

What I didn’t expect was to enjoy it.

This has to be some voyeuristic nightmare I’ll wake from any second.

She’s on the dance floor, pressed between her tallest mates. Shattered Horizons’ lead singer and their drummer are both huge men, especially when standing next to her five foot three frame.

The drummer, Onyx, has one hand splayed across her stomach possessively, holding her against him, while the singer, Sterling, leans down and whispers in her ear.

The words fill her eyes with heat and her cheeks tinge a delightful shade of pink.

My cock twitches in my jeans, and I silently curse myself for agreeing to be here. He knows what it’s like to be welcomed between those silky soft thighs and sink into warm, wet heat to be smothered in her slick. And he’s ready to be there again. To remind her how explosive things used to be between us.

What my dick fails to realize is she isn’t ours, she’s theirs. We gave her up, and now we have to live with the consequences of that decision. Including watching her find happiness in someone else’s arms.

The couch beside me sinks as someone claims the open seat. I’m surprised to find Bellamy, their guitarist, sprawling out with a bottle of water in his hand. “If they had margaritas, I’d be in heaven,” he tells me when I eye his drink. Not that I care what he’s drinking, I’m just confused why he’s sitting beside me instead of joining his packmates across the room.

“Yeah?”

“Your set was sick,” he says with a wave of his hand. Strands of his long blonde hair fall down around his face where they’re escaping the bun he pulled them into, and he quickly brushes them back. “Love the theatrics. It’s like a concert and a movie all in one.”

“Uh, thanks. That was our manager’s idea. She’s pretty genius.”

Bellamy downs half his water and tucks the bottle between him and the arm of the couch. “Good managers are the best. Ours is too. And Q. He’s technically not our manager, but he acts like it often enough. I suppose it’s good to have him this time, though, so our regular manager can focus on helping Belemorph.”