Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

I let out a little whine, unable to produce a more coherent response.

“It’s ok, dear. Help will be here any minute,” Lois coos.

I close my eyes and try to process what’s happening. It’s not impossible for someone to be assigned a false designation, to unexpectedly perfume—to ripen at an older age.

Hell, the famous Ingrid Paloma didn’t perfume as an omega until her early thirties. I am still young by her standards.

This just isn’t the sort of thing that happens to me, ‘the plucky sunshine comic relief beta.’

Never the pretty one, the sultry other woman, the girlfriend. I am hardly ever even the best friend of the aforementioned pretty one, certainly never a romantic lead. I am always the hanger on, the comic relief, the maid, the background girl.

Without warning, all that stands to change.

There’s a faint knock at the door and Lois gets up from her knees, already in motion towards the turning handle.

“Just stay right there Daphne. Sounds like Carla found someone to help you.”

I can’t manage any words. I just bobble my head in a string of weaving nods, listening to her footfalls as they move away from me.

I close my eyes tighter, as if somehow by blocking out the sight of the outside world, I can somehow preserve this moment on the precipice of complete transformation.

I’m too out of it to hear the fine details of their hushed whispering, or the shuffling of feet over the linoleum floor of the trailer, but my nose is still functioning, still attuned and alert.

At first, it’s hard to separate anything from the overwhelming aroma of Magnus, but quicker than I realize, the bouquet shifts and I can pull the other notes of fragrance from the symphony assaulting my senses. Beneath the bitter-sweet smoke of the alpha director is a more delicate palette of citrusy floral bergamot, cut green grass, and sweet agarwood.

Instantly, my muscles begin to soften, the prickling of my fevered skin cooling as if soothed with a balm. Up until this moment, the scent of a beta has never soothed me.

After all, as far as I knew, I was a goddamn beta up until—what? A couple of minutes ago?

I open my eyes, and my world spins further out of control.

The fresh, clean, calming beta scent belonged to none other than the beautiful, kind creature who had been keeping company with that arrogant son of a bitch, Magnus Wagner.

“We just keep running into each other today, don’t we?” he smiles, carefully taking a seat at the edge of the sofa.

I can still only manage a little whine from my place on the couch. The man’s eyelids flutter and his nostrils flare gently in response.

“Sheesh, you ladies weren’t joking, it is… Pungent in here.” He shakes himself a little before he offers me a hand.

“C’mon Miss Dale.” He offers me a wink with one of those soft green eyes.

I take his hand, allowing him to bundle me to his lean chest with his lithe arms, my nose finding the hollow of his neck and his calming scent–to encourage my biology to take the wheel.

I feel myself regain some of my lucidity, my strength.

“That’s a good girl,” he soothes, and I almost let slip a little moan. While I’m able to stifle the sound, I’m still embarrassed as I feel the tiny shred of praise make my nipples hard against the light lining of my bra.

“This makes twice in one day you’ve saved my ass,” I manage to get out as he helps me up off the couch and onto my feet.

He laughs, the sound high and sparkling, musical, like his tone when he speaks. He takes me under his arm, draping it over my shoulders.

“Does my savior have a name?” I venture, mouth dry, but emboldened by our comfortable proximity and the lulling security of his scent.

“Magnus likes to say that people recognize me by face rather than by name, but this absolutely proves that false.” He snickers and braces me against his side, grabbing my purse from beside the couch and slinging it over his free shoulder.

Mortified that I’ve clearly made another blunder and somehow slighted this gorgeous creature, I flounder to make amends.

“No, no—I’m just a country bumpkin b–” I stop myself just short of the word ‘beta’, course correcting.