Page 9

Nolan

M oving through the crowd of groupies surrounding my bus, I ignore their pleas, their grabbing hands, and the dirty looks directed at Ava. Since I didn’t spend much time backstage, the fans have followed me here. I step up into the bus, my only true place of solace while on tour.

My driver, Ezra, looks up from his book and greets me, “Good evening, Nolan.”

I give him a quick nod and introduce Ava, then step into the kitchenette and begin to give Ava the grand tour of my home away from home. The sound of the fans shouting and pleading for me to let them into my personal space continues outside. Supernatural hearing gets old.

“So, this is the kitchen and dining area, with couches to relax.”

The interior is exactly how I wanted it, designed in my favorite sage green and gray colors. The kitchen space is nice, but the TV and electric fireplace are even better. A rich dark wood dining table and couch make the space inviting. It’s just what I need after performing all night.

“Geez, your bus is crazy nice. So open and calming. I never knew they looked this luxurious on the inside. It’s so fancy. There’s an electric fireplace and everything.”

“Yeah, it was custom-made to my specifications. Everything I need to feel comfortable while on tour is here. Come on, there’s more to show you.”

I walk down the corridor that runs the length of the bus and point out the two comfortable bunks built into the wall and the bathroom with a full shower and tub.

When I get to the stairs at the end of the bus, I wait for her to catch up.

She takes in every detail, which I find fascinating.

When she doesn’t realize anyone is looking at her, her emotions are apparent on her pretty face. I can see her excitement and wonder.

It’s annoying that I don’t hate her. She fascinates me in a way that other women don’t, including other Omegas. She fits in with the band and Stella. There is no strained weirdness, like there was with Larissa. She holds my attention.

“Let’s go upstairs to the main rooms and my recording space.”

“You have a recording space on your bus? That’s convenient.”

“I’m often inspired to write after a show, but that hasn’t happened lately. Rex does the arrangements, and I write the lyrics, for the most part.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

We make our way up the stairs, and her jaw drops. The seating area with my laptop and mixing board is nothing fancy to me, but Ava seems to find everything impressive.

“Nolan, this is a dream space. You have everything you need to create music here.” She wanders to the photos and record albums hanging on the wall, smiling at the snapshots of the band’s rise to where we are today.

“You all look so young and happy. You guys are so close, and with Stella too. I love that.” She sounds wistful and lively even this late at night.

She’s also oblivious to me watching her, lost in her own world.

“Yeah. We’re happy with our success.” I glance at the old photos, remembering each day as if it was yesterday. “The band and Stella mean the world to me. I would do anything for them.”

“Is a vampire interacting with humans looked down upon?”

“My dad thinks I should be around vampires more often. He wants me to have more ties and connections to the house. Vampires often struggle outside of houses. And, of course, he wants me to settle down with an Omega.”

“Oh.” She sounds intrigued. Her eyes take in my expression. “I see. Is that not what you want? You’re young—you have time. I mean, you look young, like twenty-five. How old are you really?”

“I don’t want to claim an Omega yet, if ever.

” Chuckling at her question, I answer, “I’m thirty.

Vampires age like humans do until around twenty-five.

We age visibly only a little bit each year from then on.

” I didn’t mean to open up to her, but she’s easy to talk to and seems to view the world on a deeper level that most people overlook.

I looked at her feed, and she’s a great photographer.

An artist in her own right. I hate to admit it, but I can sort of see why my father thought she’d be a good fit for the band.

I continue to the second bedroom and open the honey-hued wood door. “So, this is the spare room. You can sleep here when we aren’t in a hotel.”

She walks past me into space and turns around numerous times, taking it all in. “This is amazing. There’s a full-size bed and my own bathroom. This is better than a hotel.”

“I hope so. I get tired of hotels.” I’m smiling at her. She gets blown away by the simplest things. “From the look on your face, I’m assuming you love it.”

“Well, I like a nice hotel room. It makes me feel like I’m worth the extra expense. But this is amazing.”

Nodding, I take in her small stature. The room looks bigger with her in it. She’s about 5’1’ to my 6’5’. The height difference between us is almost comical, but her size brings my protectiveness to the surface. I want to keep her close and safe.

My instincts need to chill out.

She looks more flushed than when we were backstage at the show, and I wonder if her Omega nature is kicking in.

My presence in her space and our biology will impact us both.

My dad’s actions have put us in a tricky situation, and there’s another possible complication that could affect the tour.

She could go into heat. I hope it’ll hold off until I can get her to the sanctuary after the Las Vegas show.

Of course, she had to be twenty-one when she crossed paths with my dad, the average age at which Omegas can be uncloaked.

“How are you feeling, Ava?”

Her eyes meet mine and widen. She pushes her glasses up her nose and blows her bangs out of her face, “I’m good. Why do you ask?”

“You look a little warm.”

She studies me as if assessing my words, and then smiles. “Now that you mention it, I am feeling warm.”

She looks at the ceiling and sees the fan, and her shoulders relax. Interesting. Temperature changes are the first sign of an Omega needing to nest, and nesting is the first in a long list of signs of an Omega’s oncoming heat.

I’m thankful right now for the Alpha education required of all Alphas in our house.

“Come on, let me show you my room, and then we’ll get you settled in here. We’ll hit the road soon. Vegas is our next and final stop. Then back home to San Diego.”

“Okay, although I’m not exhausted.” She looks at me, her eyes shimmering silver.

“I’m not either. I want to play some guitar and see if inspiration strikes me.”

“That sounds cool. Your dad said that you lost your muse. That must be nerve-racking.”

I narrow my eyes. My father needs to keep his mouth shut.

I don’t need any undue pressure or other people knowing that I can’t seem to produce any music.

Why would he even tell her that? She’s easy to talk to; it’s like she pulls others to open up, because she gives the impression of being so open herself.

I find that I have a hard time holding back from her.

I’m not sure if it’s an Omega thing or something unique to her.

The band needs this next album, and it’s driving me insane that I can’t write. Of all times to get writer’s block. Once we deliver the final album on our contract, we can create our own label and have a lot more creative freedom.

But first, I have to create.

“Yeah, I hope that will change tonight. Come on, let me show you my room so you know where to find me if you need me.”

We enter my private space, and I try to look at it as she might. Will she judge me from what she sees in my room? What does she see when she looks at me? I know what other women think of me, but not Ava. Would she, as an Omega, feel safe in my life? I’ve never questioned it until now.

My king-size bed sits in the center of the room with wooden cabinets and drawers along the adjacent wall where the flatscreen TV hangs.

The windows showcase the night sky, but the blackout screens can be lowered at the press of a button, keeping me safe from the bright and deadly sun.

My bathroom is large enough for two people, though I never let others in my space—well, until now.

Ava looks at herself in the full-length mirror and peeks into the bathroom. She runs her fingers over the comforter on my bed, another indication that her need to nest is coming on. Seeking out soft things is typical Omega nesting behavior. She glances at the oversized plush chair in the corner.

“What’s wrong, Ava?”

“Oh, um, I just have the most bizarre need to remove the pillows, climb on the chair, and get comfortable.”

I grin at her. It’s confirmed. Being around an Alpha—me—has awoken her need for comfort.

Then I frown. I hope her heat holds off until after the final show; I really don’t want to go into rut with an Omega. Uncontrollable mating is not what I want...but maybe with Ava, it would be different.

No . That’s just my Alpha instincts fighting for dominance.

I can see the appeal of the chair. It’s soft and plush, with arms and the wall near it providing some security.

Perfect for a pseudo-Omega nest. The second bedroom has no such place.

She would need to use the bed, which isn’t bad, but for her first nest, her instincts must be riding her hard.

This is just the kind of thing I don’t need on the road.

Just as I get rid of Larissa and her drama, I now have an Omega in preheat to worry about.

If it happens on the road, I’ll need to send her home on a jet to get her to the Sanctuary.

What’s the harm? I kind of want to see what she does. I move to my bed and remove a blanket, then place it on the chair.

“What are you doing?” she asks a little intensely.

“Well, Omegas like comfort, and they need to build nests in safe spaces. From the way you’re looking at the chair, I get the sense that you want to build a nest on this chair.”