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Why can’t I stop thinking about them? About their voices, their energy – how they filled the space, how their mere presence made the air feel thicker, heavier, like I could feel their weight, their power pressing on me from all sides.

It should have scared me. Itdidscare me.

And yet, it didn’t send me running. Now I hear music, a melody playing on repeat in my mind, as words and phrases – the tentative bud of something new – begins to take shape.

I’ve been alone for so long. I’ve built this life for myself where I don’t need anyone. Where I don’twantanyone. But something about them – about the way they were with me, and the way they almost weren’t – is stirring something deep inside. Something that’s always been there but that I’ve never acknowledged.

I feel the shift. The ache that pulls at my chest and coils low in my belly. My thighs press together instinctively, heat prickling beneath my skin, and I force myself to breathe through it, to ignore the way my body betrays me. It’s like a spark has been lit.

But it’s terrifying. The last thing I want is to be drawn into something I can’t control.

I stand up suddenly, pushing the sketchbook away, my hand shaking as I grab the herbal tea I’d forgotten about. The lukewarm beverage does little to soothe the tightening in my chest, the longing that refuses to be ignored.

And still the music plays on in my head.

I know they’re alphas. I know they see me differently, probably more like prey than anything else. And I know I’m not ready for any of it. Not for them, not for whatever’s starting to burn beneath the surface.

But I can’t stop drawing them. Can’t stop being drawntothem. Can’t stop myself from wanting them. From thinking of them. From composing this never ending song about them.

Even though I know how dangerous it is.

DANE

Ican’t focus.

The music isn’t coming. The ideas are there, but they don’t feel right. They feel off, like a beat you can’t quite get the rhythm of. It’s driving me mad. I can hear the faint tapping of Blaise’s fingers against his phone screen and the occasional shuffle of paper, but none of us are really working. We’re just…existing in this quiet, uncomfortable limbo.

And it’s all because ofher.

The omega.

I try to push the thought aside, but it lingers. The way she looked both yesterday and earlier today, standing there in the doorway, her arms crossed defensively, her eyes wary, but almost welcoming. No…that’s not right. Longing? Maybe.

Her strength, the way she held herself even though she was clearly terrified. And, of course, the way she tried to shut us out. I get it. I do. I don’t blame her for being cautious, for putting up walls. It’s hard not to put up walls when you’ve been alone for so long, when you’ve had no choice but to protect yourself, which clearly for whatever reason, she’s had to do. I dread to think what’s happened in her past to make her that way, to make her so untrusting of everyone, to cause her to isolate herself so severely when it goes against her very nature.

Still, I can’t shake it. There’s something there. Between us. Something I can’t quite put into words, but it’s tugging at me, pulling me back to her like some invisible thread.

It’s insanity, is what it is. The band, thepack,is not ready for an omega. I don’t know if weeverwill be despite what Xar wants. I don’t think an omega can magically fix our problems and I think we owe it to any future mate to be the strongest pack possible before getting romantically involved.

Obviously, that day will come eventually when we want to settle down, but with our music career going from strength to strength – or at least it was until the last couple of months – a relationship just isn’t possible for the foreseeable. Let alone one with anomega.We are not equipped to deal with an omega’s…needs, even if we were in a stronger position as a pack.

With our lifestyle, it would be impossible.

But that doesn’t explain why I, whywe,can’t seem to stop obsessing over one omega in particular.

“So, what now?” I ask, glancing at Xar, who’s been staring at his guitar for the past twenty minutes without so much as a strum.

Xar doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he scrubs a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. I know exactly what he’s thinking.

He’s besotted with her.

I don’t think any of us are immune to the pull she has. It’s like…something about her is calling to us, but it’s not just physical. There’s something deeper. Her isolation, her fragility, and yet, the way she fought back when we came to her door – it doesn’t sit right with us, with our protective natures, even if I admire her for it.

“Xar,” I say again, my voice low. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He finally looks up, his gaze intense, full of something that’s too much to hide. “I don’t know what it is,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck before his hand trails to his chest and rubs the spot right over his heart. Has he noticed what he’s doing? Why do my hands itch to mirror his actions? “I just…I can’t stop thinking about her. We’ve got to figure this out.”

I exhale, leaning back in my chair. “I get it, but you’re overthinking.”