Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

I see Carla shake her head in disbelief, then she’s in motion, shooing Lois out of the way.

“Lolo, move it!” Carla hisses, tossing her giant fan brush and pan of highlighter powder into an open makeup bag as she does her best to waddle to the door of the makeup trailer in a hurry.

“You close the top vent!” Carla shouts as she’s almost at the door.

“Right!” Lois scrambles on top of a step stool and slams the overhead vent hatch shut.

The room is beginning to kick off sideways when Carla waddles back into view, motioning for Lois to help her get me onto the ratty couch on the far wall of the makeup trailer so I can lie down.

“You didn’t call an ambulance, did you?” I ask weakly, embarrassed that I’m broke, but not so embarrassed that I’m willing to eat a couple thousand dollars in fees.

Carla and Lois turn to each other and laugh.

“No, no silly girl!” Carla laughs kindly, kneeling beside the couch and gently stroking my forehead with the back of her hand.

“When did you get your designation, babydoll?” Lois asks sweetly.

I can’t remember either of the hair and makeup ladies ever being mean to me, but they certainly have never been this sweet or nurturing either. It feels like something in the room has shifted.

My eyelids flutter and a fresh wave of hot shivers pass over me, perspiration beading at my hairline, and over my lip.

“Eighteen, a little late—right about when I graduated from high school,” I groan, curling up into a ball on the worn couch cushions as if it will make my skin feel less tight.

Standing, watching over me curled into the fetal position, Lois and Carla exchange glances.

“It’s not as rare as you’d think.” Lois shrugs.

“I guess not.” Carla shakes her head again, incredulous.

I’m still not following, but I’m glad they haven’t caused a scene on set.

“I just need a glass of juice or something,” I offer weakly.

“Probably just low blood sugar, a little juice and a snack? I bet I’ll be good to go.” I lift a hand to my face to wipe the sweat from my brow, and I’m struck with Magnus’s scent once more.

Then, it hits me—an aching tightness, a liquid heat that shoots through me to my core. A wave of insatiable hunger crashes against me like the morning surf battering the sandy shore, then just as quickly abates—drawing back to the greater sea of my desire, leaving me almost breathless.

I struggle to blink open my eyes, looking to Carla and Lois. The pair exchange an expression of newfound certainty.

“Oh, she’s definitely perfuming as an omega.” Carla wafts some of my scent toward her, as a cook fans the rising vapors of a stockpot toward their nose.

“We’re going to have to get someone to help her out of here without causing an absolute mob scene,” Lois clucks protectively.

“Y-you can’t help me?” I stutter, momentarily grateful that it’s these two who I happened to be with in such a state, but worried about what will happen next.

“Babydoll,” Lois begins solemnly. “Two little old beta ladies like us aren’t the right kinda muscle to get a newly perfuming omega offa this set.”

“We’re going to need to bring in at least one male beta to get you out of here,” Carla agrees, shuffling her way to the door of the trailer.

The ladies exchange glances and nod.

“Carla’s going to go peek her head outside and see who we can get to help you. Don’t you worry, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, we’re going to make sure you get to the agency safe and sound. They’ll make sure you get registered, provide you with all sorts of suppressants and other things for your comfort, in addition to getting you set up to meet packs’,” Lois comforts.

“They’ll make sure you have plenty of birth control too!” Carla adds helpfully.

“She doesn’t need to be worrying about that right now, Carla! Now, get out there and find our girl some help!” Lois booms a laugh.