Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

The best part? It is still long before dawn. We managed to finish well ahead of schedule—plenty of time to enjoy one another’s bodies again and again as a fully bonded pack before the sun would rise.

It’s only been five weeks since the start of shooting Green Planet, but already our bonding night, those first few days when the island was fresh and new to us seems like years ago and our lives together in LA seem lifetimes away.

I’ve learned all the best places near the villa to buy fresh fruit, and which local beaches are the best for surfing—but most importantly, I’ve learned which of all the surfaces in our villa is best for fucking the brains out of my packmates.

Tonight is special though, no time for a quickie on the massive dining room table or a speedy knotting on one of the cushy pool loungers.

My dear friend Ursula has come all the way from the mainland to do my makeup for Winnie and Martine’s joint 60th birthday party, and Lotte and Cammy should be arriving by seaplane sometime in the next three hours.

“Daphne, darling!” Julian calls to me—carefully balancing a beautiful gown that looks like it’s made of spiderwebs and stardust across his outstretched arms.

“We need to get you into this thing before I start your hair or it’s never going to get done,” he shouts over his shoulder as Magnus and Cosmo shuffle in from the bedroom, fiddling with their co-ordinating onyx and alabaster cufflinks as a lit joint dangles from Magnus’ lips—the long feathery ash threatening to marr the crisp snowy white of his tuxedo shirt.

Nothing escapes Julian, who clicks his tongue disapprovingly at our packmaster—the rose gold of his bond band winking in the light.

“Magnus if you get ash on that shirt after I’ve freshly pressed and starched it, so help me god…” He warns menacingly.

Sol emerges from the deck, still shirtless, and plucks the joint from Magnus’s lips with his tanned fingers, as he passes to the open kitchen.

“Thank you, Sol.” Magnus nods—threading his silver silk bow tie under the stiff points of his collar.

“I keep telling Julian he needs to take a vacation—head home and do some preparation for the nursery or whatever,” Magnus laughs, beginning the complicated process of tying his bow tie.

Sol stamps out the joint in the kitchen ashtray before I can ask him to bring it to me—though I know Julian would bitch and moan about me getting ash on my dress twice as bad as he rags on Magnus, so it’s probably for the best.

“You can’t keep saying shit like the nursery so casually—as if Daphne’s already pregnant.” Cosmo grumbles, struggling to tie his own bow tie for the sixth or seventh time.

“Someone’s going to hear you and make a quick buck selling the story to the tabloids, then my sisters will catch wind of it and hound us until we actually are pregnant,” he groans.

“What’s this we talk, when it happens—it’s only me that’s going to look like I’m smuggling a beach ball under my shirt for the better part of nine months,” I tease, stepping into the delicate dress as Julian holds it open for me.

This draws a laugh from everyone.

“But seriously.” I blush, Julian zipping me into the elaborate gown.

“I’m not quite ready yet. I want to finish this film—to make Magnus’ western—to travel the world with you, my pack, and really enjoy each other before we bring new lives into this world.” Everyone drifts toward me, their hands outstretched toward mine.

“Well isn’t that convenient,” Magnus beams.

“Just so happens to line up with all of our plans.” Cosmo leans down and places a kiss on my lips.

“Yeah, there’s no rush. We’ve got all the time in the world,” Julian hums happily, leaning over to press a kiss to my bare shoulder.

“Time, time is our friend, Sunshine. Because for us, there is no end.” Sol places a soft kiss in the tender bit of flesh poised in the center of the venn diagram made by his and Cosmo’s bites. Two rings, interlocking. Two hearts, interleaved with my own.

My hand moves to touch the scarred bite at my ear, my eyes on the gentle twinkling of Julian’s band of gold.

Yes, I think this time—we’re all going to live happily ever after.