Love Like Cyanide: chapter 2
Alpha idol paranormal romance
Chapter 2: Natalie
From forcing my way through the crowd near the stage, I’m overheated like Satan himself has a blowtorch held to my feet. I fumble in my pockets as I finally reach an open bubble of space near the backstage area, sucking in a grateful breath of cool air before sprinting to my kit and table. I curse under my breath, realizing I carelessly don’t have a single damned medical mask on me. I’ll just have to cope with it.
Heavy footfalls come pounding behind me, with Dante carrying Haven in his arms like the smaller alpha is his bride. I subconsciously press my wrist against the suppressant patch on my neck, making sure it’s still secure with how much sweating I’m doing. The audience is chanting for the second encore that I know the group has every plan to deliver.
Valentine gives me a concerned glance, and I avoid his gaze. Something is wrong with me, and I can’t put my finger on it. “Get him on the table, Dante. You guys have to get back out there, ASAP.”
Dante gingerly sets Haven on his side, not arguing with me for once. He handles the other man like he’s made of porcelain and bound to break at any moment. Haven clutches at his side, breaths sharp and shallow.
“You’re having spasms, right? Where are they, and what got tweaked when you did that stupid damned backflip?”
Pretty ocean blue eyes look up at me with tears shimmering in their corners. His deep voice comes out strained. “Lower left side of my back. I don’t think anything tore, but damn it… It really fucking hurts, Nat.”
I nod, not wasting any time. “I’m gonna lift this vest out of the way and poke around real quick, make sure you’re not just getting in an ambulance.” My hands do their job without me needing to think about it, seeking out abnormal lumps and knots in the already wiry muscles of Haven’s lower back.
Air hisses between his teeth when I find the culprit. “This is gonna burn, so deep breath in, ok?” I barely give him enough time to inhale before I drive my knuckle right into the middle of the knot, gripping his hip with my free hand to keep him from jumping off the table.
Dante takes a step towards Haven in distress, but Valentine holds his arm out, barring him from getting in the way. I meet Dante’s gaze with a challenging stare. His eyebrows rise in response, but he wisely doesn’t say a word.
“What’s your last encore song, guys?” I exhale heavily, matching Haven’s breathing as I feel the fibers under my fingers begin to melt and calm.
“Beat Tectonic,” Kannon and Everest intone at the same time. It feels like The Twin Towers share a brain cell, sometimes.
I grip Haven’s thigh with one hand, pressing my other palm just below his ribs, giving his whole body a few rhythmic shakes. “Pick a different song,” I say flatly, my eyes only on the man on the table, focused on my work.
“You can’t be serious!” Ryker complains with a sneer.
“Did I fucking stutter?! Pick a different song, or I’m putting him with the med team, right now. If he does that choreo, him getting hurt is going to be on your ass!” There’s a hint of a growl under my words, and the other man backs down almost immediately in the face of my fury. …Weird.
“Please, guys. Choose a softer song, or he’s going to pull something so badly he’ll end up needing surgery.” My voice softens with a sigh, realizing I’m more worked up than I need to be. I can feel the warmth flowing through my hands into his clammy skin, and Haven’s breathing stabilizes.
“Parkway Serenade, or something. It won’t be as flashy, but the group won’t be down for weeks or months in the middle of this tour because you wanted to make him tough it out. The audience will love the extra song, no matter what it is.” I offer him a hand to help him sit up.
After a very brief conversation, they settle on the song I suggested. Sterling dashes off to inform the audio techs and the band about the change.
I lightly press my palms to either side of Haven’s face, rubbing his temples in small circles with my fingertips. “Close your eyes and breathe for a second. You’ll need to rest tonight, but you’ll be good to go for tomorrow. Okay?”
Long, dark eyelashes rest on snowy cheeks, and I watch as the extra tension leaves his posture. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine for a few seconds. We let go at the same time and he hops to his feet, doing a slow and experimental side-to-side sway with his hips.
“Good enough to get this encore over with,” he says with a crooked little smirk. He knuckles the tears from his eyes and sniffs once, shaking his arms out and getting himself back into the zone. “Thanks, Nat.” He claps me on the shoulder and I smile back at him.
When the Sunshine gives you a dazzling grin like that, you can’t help but join in. “Grab a drink and wrap it up. We’ll work that shit out a little better after we’re back at the hotel. Don't make it worse, okay? Quit making me work so damned hard!” I add the last with a little laugh, despite suddenly feeling like hell.
Haven nods and they move off. All except for Valentine. He stands a few feet away, and I can practically taste his scent on my tongue from this close. I mentally vow to never not have a whole box of masks in my kit, from this day forward.
My face is flushed, but I can feel uncomfortable warmth coursing through my entire body. What the hell is wrong with me? If I’m sick, it shouldn’t have come on so suddenly.
“You good, Doc?” His voice is a pleasant rumble that I can feel rattling inside of my ribcage.
Oh... Oh, shit. I nod quickly. “I just need to grab some water and get some air. Really hot up near that stage tonight.” I fan my face, trying to cover my ass. I know I’m failing spectacularly.
Dark brown eyes watch me appraisingly for a few seconds, not buying an ounce of it. Full, inviting lips turn down in a small frown of disapproval. “We appreciate that you try so hard for us, but don’t forget to take care of yourself. Alright?”
“Yeah,” I agree, knowing I need to get as far from him as I could manage, and fast. “Thanks, Valentine.” Now I know why I’m being aggressive and sweating my ass off…
He nods and jogs off to join the others for their last extra song. I scurry to find myself some ice and legitimate fresh air, because my heat cycle is hitting me early and I don’t have anything extra on hand to deal with it.
~*~
Back at the hotel, I work on Haven until my hands ache and my knuckles are swollen. I’d slapped an extra two patches on my lower back, well hidden beneath my baggy black tank top.
He was bunking with Sterling and Ryker, so they’d gotten him settled. I apologize to Ryker for how snappy I was earlier, and he apologizes for the way he’d spoken to me. All things considered; I’d been the truly bitchy one. But we both dropped it. Emotions always run hot during a performance. It’s part of the reason why Inferno is so popular.
When they feel something, they make sure that you can feel it, too.
After tending to a few minor aches and pains that the other members of the group had, I’m left to my own devices. I have a room of my own, which is one of the perks of the job. That also means I have the opportunity to head down to the fitness center to try and burn off some hormonal energy.
I spend close to an hour exercising, doing my damnedest to wear myself out. And before you get too judgmental about me not being prepared for an accidentally early heat cycle, you have to understand something. I was adopted.
I was rejected by my alpha parents when I was born. To acknowledge that they had given birth to an omega would have brought great shame to the family. And so, rather than killing me, they put me up for adoption. And I was subsequently taken in by a completely normal human family, with no alpha or omega genes for several generations.
I was raised as if I wasn’t an omega, which was perfectly fine. Until puberty hit, and we weren’t in Kansas anymore. My average, boring, perfectly human parents and siblings knew nothing about the interplay between alphas and omegas. A heat cycle is nothing like a normal menstrual cycle. But once I began presenting, their immediate response was simple denial.
If they just ignored it, it would pass, and it would fade. Or so they hoped. Unfortunately for all of us, my parents couldn’t have been more wrong. They did the best they could with the knowledge they had, but they didn’t go out of their way to learn more. And I didn’t have the means, at the time, to seek out more information.
It’s still difficult to find remedies and soothing techniques, if you don’t have a more experienced omega in your life. And that is my reality. Human physicians don’t want to help because they consider us to be dangerous. Most of us aren’t even capable of physically shifting forms. We just have this overactive pheromone gene that activates animalistic nesting behaviors and can give the males certain… physical traits. Nothing says scary like curling up in a ball with a giant bag of peanut butter M&Ms, crying your eyes out, and just wishing you had something to fuck.
I’m tragically lacking those same M&Ms, so I do the next best thing to fucking that I can manage: exercise until everything aches. I contemplate getting room service to satisfy the craving for sweets but decide against it.
It’s late, close to midnight, when I finally emerge from the shower. I know I’ll regret staying up this late, but I can always grab a power nap in the afternoon tomorrow. The group has another day of performances and interviews before we’ll be moving on to the next city.
I check inside my luggage to make sure I have enough extra suppressant patches to get me through this damned heat cycle. Unsurprisingly, I have enough for the bare minimum of a normal day, but not the extras to keep my omega status under wraps. “Damn it,” I say with a sigh. I’ll have to make a trip out to a pharmacy to grab more, and do it discreetly. “I just got comfy…” I whine in disappointment.
Finally clean and a bit cooler than I’d been feeling, I’m just wearing an oversized t-shirt and panties. I’m been ready to go to bed, so it only makes sense.
And the Universe decides to spit in my face and kick me while I’m down. There’s a knock at the door, and I open it without even thinking to check through the peephole. Who the hell would be knocking at my room this late?
“What the hell do you want?” I huff, glaring up into the emerald green eyes of none other than the Devil, himself: Dante.
Chapter 3»