Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

I should dismiss him outright—I’ve started courting Pack Silver, this is not Daphne thinking here only brainless hormones.

“Well, it was certainly a good effort—albeit a little too late.” I let the backhanded compliment land, pressing the cold soda to the hollow of my neck, drawing it slowly down toward my breasts to cool myself off. A little part inside me thrills as I watch Maxwell’s eyes follow closely.

He pushes his sunglasses back up and shifts backward.

“Don’t write us off, Princess,” Maxwell laughs.

“I know Johnny is shit at first, second—hell, even fifth impressions; but he’s not as creepy as he seems,” he pleads his case for himself and his pack.

The mention of Johnny’s name transports me back to the billiards hall, the wrongness of him and I together, like ammonia salts after a fainting spell. I’m snapped out of my body chemical daydream and back to regular, thinking Daphne. No more brainless hormones.

“Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” I place the soda in the cupholder on top of the cooler, no longer drawing it distractingly across my body.

“Well, Mr. Daemon, I’m actually meeting someone here today,” I chirp happily, pulling my keyring with its handy bottle opener and conveniently located canister of pepper spray.

His smile falters slightly, but he says nothing. At least giving the appearance of a gentleman, he bobs his head in acknowledgement. Before he can protest, or continue—I double down on my dismissal with another cheery call of, “I’ll see you on set next week,” I smile, popping the metal cap from my fizzy drink with zeal.

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that Sol had timed his arrival to coincide with the exact moment that I began to unload all of the delicious goodies I had packed away into the cooler for lunch.

A happy coincidence. He arrived at the beach blanket with a delightedly surprised expression.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” Sol tips his straw pinch front back on his golden waves—his mirrored aviators almost as sparkling as his smile.

“Beautiful woman, gorgeous day, perfect beach, a cooler full of food and drinks.”

I make sure to turn around, giving Sol a full view of my nearly thong bathing suit bottoms.

I can actually hear him sucking air in through his teeth as if he’s touched something burning as I bend over and pull a cold drink from the cooler for him.

“So, do I get to hear what we’re going to be doing for your part of the date tonight?” I pry.

When I turn back, Sol is grinning, a charming sparkle in his eye.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Without another word, he tugs his worn t-shirt over his head. His rippling abdominal muscles and cut pectorals glisten with a light down of golden chest hair.

I better not see too much. My suppressants are slacking big time today.

I worry at my bottom lip with my teeth. Just looking at Sol shirtless, watching the flex of his oblique muscles as he reaches up to tie his golden hair back in a messy low pony—I’m suddenly short of breath.

“C’mon, Sunshine, I’ll race you to the water!” Sol challenges.

I bobblehead along, offering a breathy, “last one there is a rotten egg,” as I watch him, golden and perfect, running to the water’s edge.

While our afternoon at the beach was magical, I’ve had to take not one, but two of my supplementary suppressants that are only supposed to be used ‘just in case’. I can’t figure out why I’m feeling so desperate while taking my normal meds. Sure, the romantic in me wants to say it’s because I’m just so overcome by being close to Sol… But I know the way my body reacted to Maxwell Daemon today. It’s not just the pack I’m happily courting.

Though the smart thing to do would likely have been to tell Sol how I’ve been feeling, as embarrassing as it might be.

I never said I was smart.

Horny, infatuated, and desperate as can be, to make things work between me and the pack of my dreams—I decided that the best course of action was to simply continue on with the date, against all my best judgment.

Sol and I dropped my poor old pony back at the apartment, which I refused to let him see the inside of. I made sure to feed Rupert, who let me know how he felt about me leaving him alone for another evening, with a salvo of piercing yarls.

I grabbed my bag with my change of clothes and hopped back into the pink Cadillac for a ride to Sol’s place, The Ranch.

Sol’s “humble” abode was much smaller than Cypress House and even slightly smaller than Tern’s Nest. A mid-century-modern ‘ranch’. The small, white stucco and glass box emerged from the desert rocks and cacti like it was a part of the landscape. Only the beautiful blue topaz pool seemed misplaced, but even then—a welcome oasis.