Page 85 of The Rogues

I hear suitcases being unzipped, closet doors opening. Lennon throws one of his carry-on bags out of his room, and it lands with a thump right in front of me. Malaki marches out of his room with a mound of clothes in his arms and drops them right beside me.

“What were you thinking? A T-shirt? I have this one.” He pulls out a dark maroon shirt, his scent blazing off it so much that I have to stifle a moan. “Or you can have a jacket or hoodie, just in case you want to wear a couple of our things at once.”

My omega apparently loves that idea because she conjures up images of me wearing all of their clothes, an item making it onto every piece of skin that they can find.

“Do they have to be worn?” Remi asks, stalking in with a shirt in his hand. “I wore this to the hotel gym last night.”

I hold in a groan at that statement, and my omega forces me forward to snatch it from his hand. He gives me an amused smile and my face turns beet red.

“Shut up,” I hiss at him.

“Oh, Omega,” he leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I will never be over how feral you are for us. You want to know why?”

I shake my head.

“Because we’re just as feral for you.”

Before I can respond, the other three walk back in. They all have a million options, and they make little piles on the floor, separate from each other so everything can be distinguished.

Jamie steps forward, his hands full of hairbands. “These are the ones I’ve worn recently,” he says. “Maybe you can use them in your own hair.”

My hands close over them and my eyes gloss over. “That’s way better than anything I would have ever thought of.”

He grins, the bashful, boyish quality of it sending me into a tailspin of emotions. When Cyrus comes back in with a designer leather jacket and plops it onto his pile, everyone stands still once more, the suite of the room filled with my scent matches’ clothes.

“Take whatever you want, Omega,” Cyrus says, presenting his pack’s stuff. “If we need to buy more clothes, we will.”

“And then we’ll give you those, too,” Lennon says.

I feel my heart expand so much, I think it might burst. Then my omega comes to the surface, and—despite the earlier embarrassment she caused me—I let her loose. She sorts through each pile, inhaling item after item, feeling the material for texture, and sorting through the mess that the boys just laid at our feet.

Even just with this gesture, I’m already feeling more secure within the pack, comfortable with letting my omega instincts free no matter how inconvenient they feel. They’re never going to dismiss or ridicule me. The realization of that is the best feeling in the entire world, and nothing can stop me from basking in the comfort of it.

TWENTY-EIGHT

TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA

“Well, we’re so happy to have you four here,” the host—I think her name is Trixie—says. “How has Canada been treating you?”

Cleo takes the reins with answering that question. I don’t even remember which network or show we’re on right now, just that it’s popular here in Canada and they’re the nicest people I’ve ever met.

With our tour being as long as it is, there are certain appearances we’ve had to make along the way. Most of the time, celebrities are pretty hidden while performing, only really getting seen by paparazzi and whenever their team deems it necessary. For us, we have to make these appearances to stay relevant, and why not spread the joy while we’re already here?

Zoe, our publicist, has a lot of these things planned. Talk shows, interviews, backstage footage that Tom is required to obtain whenever he has the time to boss someone around to do it. It’s all meant to help put out content of us, so we stir up a buzz even though we’re traveling across the continent.

It’s exhausting, yes, but I don’t know how the industry works that much, so I’m trusting the people we hire to do it for us.

“I’m so glad we’ve been able to extend the kind of hospitality that Canada has become known for. We’re super excited about the rest of your tour dates. Have you had a smooth time going from city to city?” Trixie asks.

“The bus is always comfortable,” Nicola answers. “And every city is just as beautiful as the last, so we’re having the greatest time!”

“And The Rogues,” the other host, Willa, starts. “How has it been working alongside them? Are they as wild as the American tabloids would have you believe?”

I pray that the camera won’t be able to pick up on my discomfort, my body tensing as the question processes.

“Oh, you know the saying, Willa,” Cleo says, flashing a charismatic smile. “Boys will be boys.”

“They will, won’t they?” Trixie laughs. “But how have you two been coping with this—if I can say this bluntly—unconventional way of touring? You’re both star acts in your own right; I’m sure sharing the spotlight can be challenging.”