Jaded Alpha (Omegas Inn Love #7)

Chapter One

Van

“What’s wrong, Van?” Galaxis’ bass player, Wolf, paused next to where I leaned against the wall backstage. “Another migraine?”

“Yeah.” I “only” got the aura kind. But being on stage with all the lights and intense sound made for a nightmarish experience. Some people got actual blindness, the doctor informed me, usually in one eye, and I should be grateful for the version I got. I was 100 percent thankful that I did not suffer pain, and beyond appreciative that the universe had not chosen to steal sight from either of my eyes. But in my line of work, having streaks and zigzags and other awesome visual effects was far short of helpful.

My fans deserved me fully there with them, giving them the Galaxis experience they were paying an insane amount of money to enjoy. It wasn’t their fault I’d been doing this nearly every night for almost a year as we toured first in Europe then Asia and finally the US. Nor was it the band’s fault. They had been real troupers throughout. As had the roadies and everyone else involved. As the front man, if I was off, everything would be off.

“I’m not too bad. We just have the encore left.” I could do anything for fifteen minutes.

“I don’t know, man.” He moved his face close to mine and shook his head. “You don’t look good. An encore is not guaranteed, you know. It’s a bonus.”

“We have never skipped the encore.” I blinked my eyes rapidly, hoping to clear the lightning streaks currently zapping my field of vision. “I can do this.” Standing, I took in a deep breath to a count of four, held it seven, and let it out to eight. It was supposed to be the ultimate relaxation technique, although I had not had a whole lot of good luck with it. “Let’s do this.”

I squeezed my eyes closed and let the audience’s cheers and applause wash over me. They were why I did this, why I’d been on the road for so long, even when my doctor told me my health was suffering. We had thrived together as a band for years, while other groups had their members fall away or even broke up completely. But this tour had started out as four months, and our management team kept adding dates. We agreed to it, but it was time for a break.

I only hoped the rest of the band would agree because I’d hate to lose them.

Technically, we were a group, but without me, they could not use the name. It was in the contracts we’d signed way back at the beginning when I was a little better known than the others. And it wasn’t something I’d give up without a fight.

The lights came up on stage, and I followed the others out, waving and trying not to trip over my own feet as the ocular aura effects intensified. Two songs… We did three if the audience was really into it, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to.

With the house lights down, I couldn’t see too many rows back, but the excitement and pleasure of our fans carried in the sounds and the rumbling of the floor under their feet. More than once, I’d wondered how the venues survived their enthusiasm.

“So, maybe you’d like another song?” I asked into the wireless microphone before taking it off the stand to stride around the stage and make all the sections of the arena feel seen. “Any requests?”

We already knew what we were going to play. Just as we knew what would be shouted the loudest. And we played all three of their favorites. If ever a fan doubted we’d be back to encore—despite the fact we never missed one—the fact we had not performed these songs should have made it obvious.

By the time we took our final bows, the roar of the crowd added to the lights and music and vibrations of the stage increased my optical effects to an unmanageable level. Not for the first time, I raised a finger to signal my distress and the band closed around me and guided me off stage. True friends, they had never, to my knowledge, said a word to anyone about my migraines, only stood by to offer support when I needed it.

A moment later, I was in my dressing room with a bottle of electrolyte-laden water in my hand and a cool towel on the back of my neck. When I looked up, it was to see Wolf, Andres the other guitar player besides me, and Boss the drummer staring down at me. Uh-oh. “What?”

“This has to stop.” Wolf took the lead. “We’ve been talking, and we have three more shows scheduled. Let’s cancel them.”

“What? No. We can’t let the fans down. We’ve never missed a show.” It was hard to see them with the special effects my eyes provided for me. “I won’t do it.”

“Fine.” Andres pulled out his phone. “But we take no more. I’ll let them know not to add any more.”

I opened my mouth to protest then saw the futility. I would do well to manage the last three already set up. But what about the others? “It’s not fair to all of you,” finally came out.

“Are you kidding?” Andres burst out, but Boss, who rarely spoke, waved him down.

“What is not fair to us is this endless road trip. We’re tired. We’re done.”

My jaw dropped. “I kept going because I thought you wanted to. None of you ever said a word.” I blinked rapidly, really wanting to see clearly for this conversation.

“You never asked,” Wolf said in a casual tone.

“No.” How did they even put up with my pushiness? “I am sorry. Do you all agree that it’s time to end this whirlwind, then? Let’s take a vote. All in favor of taking a few months off?”

Boss growled, “A year.”

I swallowed hard. “A year?”

“All in favor?” he asked and there were no naysayers. A year off it was. I could only hope it would heal me enough to continue on because without the music, I didn’t know who I was.