It gets a laugh out of me, which is more than I was expecting after Raelynn’s phone call. For a split second, the whole situation feels normal. Almost like I belong here, even if the arrangement is as fake as Raelynn’s accent after three vodkas.
The guys keep talking, but I tune them out, fixated on the song I know I’m about to write. I pull my phone and start a new note, thumb hovering over the keyboard. I want to write about secrets. About hiding in plain sight. About wanting someone so badly you’d let the world misunderstand everything, just to keep them close.
I glance up at the three of them—Kellen with his effortless charisma, Nolan with his impenetrable calm, and Elliot with his silent intensity—and wonder, not for the first time, if this is what pack life is supposed to feel like. Messy, loud, dangerous, and… safe. Even when you’re the only omega in the room.
I jot down the first line:If I could, I’d keep you secret like the moon keeps night.
It’s not genius, but it’s honest.
CHAPTER 10
Nolan
I’m parkedin one of the egg-shaped bucket chairs in the back corner of Reverie Rest’s main recording studio, right next to the glass wall that separates the sound engineer from the music magicians. I’ve made a sport out of counting the panic attacks Raelynn Roberts has over the course of a standard Piper Sumner session. So far, we’re up to three, and it’s not even lunch.
Nearing a record.
Piper’s in the booth with headphones on prepping the next bit to record. Her hair is shoved up into a messy bun with pink-dyed streaks fighting to stand out against the floodlights. Piper’s voice floats through the studio like a sunbeam through stained glass, each note impossibly clear yet warm enough to make the hair on my arms stand up. Even the sound engineer—a guy who’s worked with every A-lister from here to Tokyo—closes his eyes for a moment, forgetting to fiddle with his precious levels.
She’s doing a stripped-down run of the new “love song” Raelynn commissioned a few days ago to hammer home the idea of Piper + Kellen = Epic Love Story. Piper’s trying not to laugh as she sings it. I can tell because every time she gets to the chorus, her eyes flick to me, searching for backup, and I have to suck my lips in and stare at my phone like the world’s worst bouncer.
But she’s not laughing because she doesn’t feel at least something for Kellen. I think it’s because shedoes. For all of us. Yet here we are, meant to put on this charade as if we’re not a slowly forming pack.
Pack.Yeah, I’m still processing that.
Raelynn’s moved to her office, visible through the glass wall, but everyone in the building can sense when she’s paying attention.
The song ends and Piper yanks her headphones off. “I need a break before I go crazy trying to work this out.”
The sound engineer leans into his mic. “All right, let’s take five. I’ll have playback up when you’re ready.”
Piper steps out of the booth and stretches her arms overhead before walking straight toward me like a bee to honey. I stand and meet her halfway as her cherries and vanilla scent hits me like a wall.
I gladly let it envelop me.
Piper grins. A soft purr begins in her throat before she speaks. “How bad was it on a scale of one to ‘someone dig me an early grave?’”
“Three shovels, tops,” I offer dryly. “The harmony’s nice. The lyrics are just…” I fish for a word and come up with, “optimistic.”
Piper snorts and collapses into the egg chair next to the one I just vacated. I retake my seat, too, mirroring her. Always mirroring her. “Optimistic is polite. I think I’ve lost a year of life every time I rhyme ‘devotion’ with ‘potion.’ Raelynn’s going to have me doing infomercials for literal love potions by August.”
“Not if she kills you with a motivational retreat first.”
Piper barks a laugh but sticks her finger out at me. “Don’t speak that into existence. I think thissituationis enough machinations from Raelynn.” She leans back into the seat and smiles up at the ceiling. “Like, I don’t hate the song, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t know how to force it out of me. I’m not oneof those artists who can just write what they’re told to write, you know? Even the poppiest tracks of my catalog have something of me in them.”
I nod. I’ve not written music but I’ve always been able to tell what parts of the real Piper Sumner end up in her music and to what degree.
Piper opens her mouth to speak again but she shuts it and suddenly looks down the hallway toward the security desk. Her pupils dilate and her soft purr returns.
I go to ask what’s caught her attention but there’s really only one obvious answer given her reaction. An answer confirmed when the studio door opens and in walk Prince Kellen Hale and Elliot, trailing him like a ghost. Elliot’s eyes are particularly dark today, like storm clouds on a collision course. It sets me on edge because if he’s nervous about Kellen being here, then I may need to be worried similarly for Piper.
Piper leaps to her feet, not even pretending to contain the glee. And itisreal glee now. Something’s shifted between all of us over the last week. Like this situation has gone from PR stunt to the foundation of something more. Even I can’t deny it. “You made it!”
Kellen offers her a devastating smile. He’s fantastic at playing the “prince in love” role, I’ll give him that. Helps that a lot of this fake-dating act is starting to become real. But right now, the show is all for the sound engineers and other record label staff inside the studio.
Kellen opens his arms, and Piper charges in for a hug. They do the whole slow-motion, twirl-you-off-your-feet thing. Raelynn’s voice crackles over the studio intercom: “Let’s keep the PDA family-friendly, please.”
Piper breaks away, flashing the window an obscene finger gun, and then half-drags Kellen over to the chairs. Elliot postshimself up against the wall near the exit, arms folded. His eyes never stop moving.
