Page 6 of Hidden Fates

Skye bumps against my back, leaning around me to kiss him so that he can’t mouth off to Sterling and Onyx and earn himself a punishment tonight.

“Set the table, brat,” Onyx rumbles, sliding plates across the counter.

Bellamy winks at our Omega as he takes them, swaying his hips as he walks away. My mate giggles, eyes glued to his ass and the ridiculously short jean shorts he’s wearing.

Rich, smoky perfume fills the air, drowning out the scent of dinner. Her thighs press together and her eyes darken. Guilt rises in my chest, knowing she’s been suppressing her need while we were out.

Emmett meets my eyes over her shoulder, banishing the feeling with the same acceptance my Omega grants me.

“Are you needy, darling?” I ask, sliding to the edge of my stool and forcing Skye to press against Emmett’s chest. Her eyes soften as I lean in and press my mouth to hers. The kiss is sweet and comforting, contrasting the lust raging in her bond. “Want your Beta to stuff your empty pussy with his fingers while your Alpha’s watch?”

She whimpers, head bobbing rapidly. Emmett’s hand slides down her stomach and into her white shorts. A groan parts her lips as he starts to play with her.

Dinner is forgotten as he teases her, the flow of arousal in the air and in our bond drawing Onyx and Sterling closer. I slide her shorts to the floor, leaving her in dainty white panties so wet with slick they can see everything he does to her.

Pretty jade-green orbs track me as I step back, letting Emmett stretch her thighs apart to give the others a better view. Warmth fills my heart as her eyes flutter closed, and I slip away.

I may not feel turned on watching them together, but I can appreciate the moment for what it is: my Omega being taken care of by her mates.

After dinner, I pull Onyx aside, leaving Bellamy and Emmett to clean up. “I would like to borrow you.”

Averting from his path to the living room, he joins me in my small office. I only fit a small desk and a short loveseat into the room. Motioning to the latter, I close the door behind us.

“Skye needs a break.”

“From the industry,” he states, already sensing where this conversation will go. He may not be a man of many words, but he pays attention. I’m not surprised he cataloged her exhaustion.

Sliding my chair out, I sit behind my desk and pull up my Omega’s schedule. There have been many points where I’ve tried to convince my packmates to transition me as their manager, but they’ve refused, not wanting to add to my plate. A ridiculous notion when taking care of them is already my job within our pack.

“What is Shattered Horizons’ schedule like for the rest of the year? Contractually.”

An email catches my eye, and I click it open, giving Onyx time to forward me access to their schedule. The label is hosting charity concerts on the East Coast to help the anti-designation cult victims, and they’re seeking bands to fill the slots.

Clicking on the calendar notification from Onyx, I see their manager has already signed them up for two shows. Aside from those, they have a few public relation tasks, and then they’re free until late January.

“I haven’t spoken with our manager yet, but we have one tour left on our contract,” he explains. “We can push it to next year, as long as we spend some time in the studio between now and then.”

As if any of my packmates would willingly step away from music for longer than a few weeks. Performing is in their blood.

Tapping my fingers on the desk, I consider the two schedules. Several years ago, I bought Skye her dream home in New York. We’ve visited the estate a few times since purchasing it, approving renovations and hiring staff for upkeep. If we accept slots in the charity show tour, we could temporarily move there. Giving my mate several months of vacation.

Scrolling back to the email, I open the document where we can claim performance dates. As I scan through them, an idea starts to form in my mind. Each stop is a smaller band paired with a big-name band, balancing popularity with exposure. And one of the openers for the guy’s shows is the up-and-coming rock group Orbital Somatic.

“I have an idea, but you might not like it.”

Chapter Three

Most of my life was spent traveling from one place to the next.

As a child, the road felt limitless. A paved path to endless possibilities and the chance for freedom. But after eleven years of tour buses, hotel rooms, and flights, the lack of permanent roots is getting to me.

What would it be like to have a space where I can just exist? One that wraps me in the warmth and comfort I feel in my mates’ arms? A place to grow a garden and walk barefoot through the grass?

Our apartment in Los Angeles is nice, but it lacks the magical feeling that would make it home. And we’re never there for more than a few days at a time thanks to our busy schedules, making it feel like another hotel.

Bland and impersonal.

A sigh puffs against the plane’s window, my forehead leaning against it as we roll down the runway. Last week, Quentin announced the guys would headline two charity shows on the East Coast.