Page 14 of What the Hex
Standing off to the side of the raised dais, King stared out at the crowd assembled in the grand ballroom. Nearly two hundred lucky fans had paid to meet their favorite celebrities in person, and they hadn’t come empty-handed, either. From blinking signs to printed photographs, they waved their treasures in the air as they waited for Storm and Damien to take the stage.
They appeared immeasurably excited, but also surprisingly young. One girl in the front row really couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Hell, she’d probably come straight from school to be there.
Knowing they would all sacrifice just about anything to take his place felt incredibly surreal.
His and Storm’s first kiss had been relatively tame, yet he still felt the effects of it three hours later. His lips tingled from the memory, and his pulse still hadn’t returned to a normal rhythm. Of course, that could have been partly from nerves, but he experienced a spike in his heart rate every time he exhaled and caught a hint of Storm’s unique taste that lingered on his tongue.
While not something he would typically find appealing, the mixture of cinnamon gum and dark coffee had now become his favorite combination.
“Are you okay?”
Startled out of his thoughts, he blinked at Arlo a couple of times, trying to make sense of the question. “I think so.”
“You look pale.”
Did he? Odd. He felt like he was on fire. “I’m really okay.”
“Nervous?”
“Obviously.” He saw no point in lying about it.
“Worried?”
That one was a little harder to answer. He trusted Storm, and he believed they were doing the right thing. Neither of them wanted to hide their relationship, and after that kiss, feigning disinterest would be damn near impossible.
At the same time, he did have concerns. Not so much for himself. Despite Storm’s warnings, he honestly didn’t think his life would change too drastically. His mate, however, had his entire career on the line. Possibly even his life.
That might sound dramatic, but Storm wouldn’t be the first celebrity to fall victim to some obsessed fan. Granted, as far as he knew, the shifter didn’t have any deranged stalkers, but crazier things had happened.
“A little,” he finally admitted.
Distracted by the conversation, he didn’t hear Skye announce the guests of honor, but he knew the moment they took the stage, thanks to the deafening cheers. It wasn’t just the noise, though. The entire ballroom erupted into a frenzy. Fans flew out of their seats with screams and squeals. Some waved their signs and banners. Others jumped up and down as they flailed their limbs like a one-person mosh pit.
He even spotted a few violently weeping after being so overcome with emotions. Flattering, sure, but also mildly frightening. He didn’t think he’d ever been that excited or passionate about anything, let alone another person.
“Wow,” Arlo said. “I mean, I get being excited, but this is—”
“Insane.” King supplied with a dip of his head.
“I don’t know how they do this all the time.”
“I guess they’re used to it.”
King shrugged, but honestly, he had to agree with his friend. He didn’t think he would ever be able to get used to this kind of reaction every time he entered a room.
“You look good, by the way.”
Priya had wanted to make sure that he looked the part of a celebrity’s mate when he took the stage with Storm. As such, she had dressed him in a pair of artfully ripped jeans with a cream-colored blazer over a black V-neck. Then he’d been buffed and polished to a shine by the makeup team, and his unruly curls had been tamed into something almost manageable.
Storm had found the entire ordeal insulting, insisting that he looked perfect just the way he was. He appreciated the sentiment, but he hadn’t shared his mate’s offense. Frankly, he had been happy to accept any help he could get.
“I thought I looked pale.”
Arlo snorted. “Shut up, asshole. You know what I mean.”
“I do, and thank you.”
It took another few minutes for the room to quiet enough for Damien to speak. The instant he opened his mouth, however, the uproarious din started all over again.