Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

“Well, that’s gotta change. If we’re going to be expanding this pack, making it our family… I need to learn to check my pride at the door.” Cosmo leans forward and kisses me before standing briskly from his seat, suddenly energized.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” I grin, punctuating my pride with a good healthy slap to Cosmo’s buttocks.

He gives a little yip and a slight jump before we both dissolve into laughter.

“Alright, why don’t you wash that paint off of you and I’ll bring us back to Tern’s Nest. You’ve got some apologizing to do.”

“You’re right, time to go kiss and make up.” Cosmo gives me that hungry look, but before he can grab hold of me, I jangle my keys. Without needing to be told again, Cosmo doubles back—making a break for the shower.

When Sol and I get back to Tern’s Nest, the living room is glowing with dancing amber light and soft jazz playing from the stereo as the smell of candle smoke and cannabis wafts through the air.

Julian, Daphne, and Magnus sit together; Daphne reclining against Julian, her legs draped over Magnus’ lap—watching him intently as Magnus continues telling Daphne and Julian some sort of story.

As soon as Sol and I come into view—all three of them stiffen. Daphne swings her legs down off of Magnus as if she’s going to stand, but ultimately decides not to; all of us are frozen in place, waiting for someone to make the next move.

Since I am the one who needs to fall upon their metaphorical sword—I go first.

“I want to say I’m sorry to everyone,” I begin, slowly and quietly. “Not just for being a complete and total dickhead tonight, but for generally being an absolute fuck-wit when it comes to talking about my feelings or asking for help.” I look directly at Magnus as I say this part. He holds my gaze.

“There’s not a real easy way to tell you all about the reasons why I’ve been asking for extra money—why I had been taking more and more time away before we met Daphne,” I continue, less steadily, my palms sweating.

I should just be able to tell them now, to use my goddamn words like an adult. Still, something holds me back—feeds that old fear that my words will betray me. Somehow I can explain better by showing—like I always have; be it a painting, a sculpture, the monologue of a character on a brightly lit stage…

“I think I have a way that I can show you all everything—but it will take a couple of days to make arrangements. Do you think you can trust me until then?” I wring my hands, hoping that these words will be enough.

Magnus looks to Daphne and Sol, an entire conversation passing between the three of them without a single word passing their lips. In moments like these, I almost forget that she hasn’t bonded the rest of the pack yet. Daphne truly feels as if she’s always been part of Pack Silver.

“I accept your apology, along with the premise that you will show-and-tell your secrets within the next week or so.”

I bristle slightly. A week is going to be tight to make all the necessary arrangements—but I’ve already put this off far too long.

“I promise it will all make sense by this time next week.” I cover my heart with one hand, the other in the air to demonstrate the strength of my oath.

Daphne springs from her seat, moving confidently into the space between Magnus and I.

“I think that about covers the make-up part.” She bats her flaxen lashes at us.

“So how about we get to the kissing part?” Daphne puts her hands on her hips, looking around the room for any takers.

“I, for one, could blow off a little steam.” Sol rolls his shoulders, sauntering across the plush carpet of the conversation pit to snatch Daphne up in his arms.

Julian, Magnus, and I watch as Sol and Daphne’s golden heads drift closer and closer together until their lips lock—tongues pushing past one another as they deepen the kiss.

“Why don’t we take this upstairs,” Julian suggests, voice thick with want.

In wordless agreement, we travel up the staircase to the nest proper.

Daphne, eager to resolve any lingering awkwardness with a bit of skin-to-skin, strips out of Magnus’ sweater and Sol’s boxers. She bounces down onto the mattress, her golden skin warm and inviting against the crisp white linens.

“I think I’ll play the director tonight.” She grins mischievously—my bite still raised and red on the side of her neck.

All of our ears perk at this, the four of us standing around the massive round bed waiting—expectant.

“Sol, Julian—would you mind helping Mr. Wagner and Mr. Lamont part with their pesky clothing?” she purrs, crawling to the edge of the bed before us.

Doing as they’re told; Sol and Julian make their ways to myself and Magnus, respectively; Sol’s hands moving leisurely as they creep under the hem of my t-shirt.

Julian begins the careful work of undoing each of the abalone shell buttons down the front of Magnus’ linen shirt while Sol moves slowly, lifting my cotton tee up and over my abs and pectorals—stopping deliberately to press his lips to one of my hardened nipples—his teeth gently grazing the sensitive flesh before he pulls the shirt all the way over my head.