Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

I had made sure to get to stake out a spot early, laying out my beach blankets and opening my big, striped beach umbrella. With a base set up, I wrestle the big blue cooler, stuffed full of cold drinks, fresh fruit, and several carefully constructed deli sandwiches underneath the umbrella’s protective shade.

With everything in order, there is nothing more to do but slather myself in protective tanning lotion, pop in my headphones, crack the spine on my new book, and to stretch out on my foldout lounger—waiting for Sol to call or text that he’d parked and made his way onto the boardwalk.

I had just settled into my reading, when suddenly, a familiar tanned finger tapped the top edge of my book.

After my brain takes a second to place the dark knuckle hair and the large gold pinky ring, I realize it’s Vinny.

Suddenly my choice of bikini, with its daringly low scooped neck, and its scandalously cheeky bottoms, feels a little obscene.

“Vinny!” I try to gulp down my surprise—crossing my legs and laying my open book across some of my cleavage.

“What a coincidence seeing my favorite little omega ingenue here!” Vinny, in a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of bermuda shorts with a large gold cross visible in his dark chest hair, grins from behind a pair of huge mirrored sunglasses.

The way Vinny is making such a big deal out of the coincidence makes me think it’s anything but.

Still, I’m so baffled by his presence here, at my beach, that I almost don’t notice the bronzed god of a man beside him.

Vinny, the eel, clocks me checking out bronze adonis almost instantly.

“Jesus—where are my manners?” He makes a show of pretending that he hasn’t been gagging to introduce me to the man he has clearly brought to the beach for precisely this purpose.

“Daphne Dale, meet Maxwell Daemon.” Vinny ushers Maxwell forward—his chiseled body deeply tanned and covered in oil, his long dark hair swept up into a high topknot—eyes invisible behind an oversized pair of sunglasses.

I lean forward to shake his hand, Vinny yammering all the while, “The other night when I took you to see the Lost Daze boys, Maxwell was at the Luthiers testing out his new custom axe for the new video.”

As soon as he’s close enough to clasp my hand, I catch his scent; sandalwood, saltwater, bright satsuma, and a hint of vanilla. I’m surprised by myself when I feel my grip tighten on his hand, pulling him closer to me before I really know what I’m doing.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the twinge of tight heat between my legs at the scent of this alpha. Maybe it can be blamed by all the bells and whistles of courting Pack Silver making me uncommonly hot and bothered, but this is more than a little disconcerting. I can feel myself drifting toward the edge of loss of control.

Just smelling Maxwell shows me how, with very little coaxing, my omega biology might take the wheel and turn me into a brainless hormone.

I took my normal meds—the refills Vinny picked up from the center for me. I did talk to my team at the Omega Center about courting Pack Silver and starting to taper down my dose—but it’s still so early in the process that I haven’t even told Vinny yet. I’ve just been taking my birth control and my suppressants like usual.

I clear my throat and do my best to sound normal, not flustered.

“Nice to meet you, sounds like we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.” I hurry to make small talk, loosening my grip.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person. I must look like quite a flake, since you’ve already met the other guys a few times.” His voice is gravelly and deep, nothing like Johnny’s melodic tenor.

I’m about to protest when the ringtone of Vinny’s cellphone begins to bleat its three note fanfare.

“Please excuse me—you two feel free to chat. Max—I gotta take this, I’ll be in the car.” Vinny dismisses himself before Maxwell can argue, taking off down the beach at a brisk pace.

I could kill Vinny.

“So, Maxwell, can I grab you a drink or anything? I’ve got iced tea, some fancy sodas, and bottled water in here,” I offer, tapping the top of the cooler—handily avoiding any conversation about my previous interactions with the rest of his pack. Especially Johnny.

Maxwell’s eyes follow Vinny for a long moment until he has all but disappeared into the distance and the crowd. Once Vinny has completely gone, he turns to face me.

“I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to do this,” he chuckles weakly, pulling his sunglasses down his Roman nose to show his arrestingly blue eyes, a ring of gold around the pupil.

“Don’t have to do what?” I smile, cracking open the cooler and pulling a lemon soda in a long, frosty glass bottle from inside.

“You don’t have to humor me because Vinny’s a pushy, old creep. Pawning me off on you in a last-ditch effort to make a match between you and my pack.” He gives me a wink and a roguish smile.

“Even if the rumors have it that you’ve already decided to start courting another pack” He makes a playful pout, one of his hands roving absentmindedly over his own well-defined abdominal muscles.

I look him up and down, suddenly ravenous.