"Do you have to do the meet-and-greets?" Alex asks, her face pinching. How many times has she voiced the same question? At this point, she doesn't know. All she knows is that it irks her. "They make you stink."

And they do. There's so many scents around you after shaking so many hands, exchanging hugs, and receiving stupid letters to the point it snuffs out yours. Alex hates it. She adores to see you on stage, performing what you love doing. It's your fans she doesn't like, whether alpha or not.

They get too close. Too friendly. They give you gifts that are crappy in comparison to what she can ─ and does ─ buy you.

Maybe it's on her. Alex has yet to bond you to her, and though the two of you have been in a relationship for years, it doesn't deter those fond of your band from drooling over you. It's a bit of an exaggeration, but Alex sees it that way.

Her protectiveness doesn't stem from the fact that she's an alpha and you her omega. Alex simply doesn't like to share. If it were up to her, she'd be right at your side on the stage to glower at the crowd.

Alex started off as being your band's bodyguard once Besos Azules started to gain traction around Madrid. Miguel, her long-time friend and singer of the band, was the one to offer her the job. She didn't think it'd change her life for the better.

Alex stands before you backstage with arms crossed, the leather jacket straining against her biceps. It's been five years since she began to personally escort your band to and fro areas and ensure no one gets close, four of those in which you have been hers. The paparazzi has made your relationship known. Not that Alex minds it. It serves to let the public know you're together.

It also let everyone know she has yet to bond you. That kind of thing is reserved for marriage in society's eyes. Alex hasn't gotten down on one knee just yet. She wants to, but do you? Do you think it'd affect your career?

Alex doesn't know. Her hand reaches out to wipe away a stain of lipstick on your cheek, "They're like animals."