TWENTY-NINE
MYLO
I never toldanyone where I was going when I went to check on Christine—she was easy to find thanks to her scent on the wind—so I don’t have any questions to answer when I slip back among the crew by the craft services table, ready with a lie about how I’d been there snacking the whole time.
I’m a littletoogood at sneaking back in, and with my stupid omega hearing, I catch my name from a nearby cluster of stunt crew folks.
“Mylo had another near-miss today. First Alanna, then the food poisoning, now this… the production might be cursed.”
“Oh, c’mon. That’s ridiculous.”
“I’m serious. You should’ve seen it. I about had a heart attack when I realized he’d gone up a different way and the mats weren’t far enough back. There was a nasty rock too; it would’ve been bad. Then Christine appeared out of nowhere. Like real life Electra.”
“Just because you have a crush on Christine?—”
“That has nothing to do with this!”
Only when I feel the vibrations in my chest do I realize I’m growling. Fuck. Stupid omega instincts. Like I care if she fucks someone else.
At the thought, unbidden memories replay: the clang of metal as she slammed me back against the elevator wall, pinning me with her tongue and breasts; her cunt around me, hot and tight, milking climax after climax as I utterly unraveled; the long, languid curves of her naked form, draped across that armchair…
Heat spikes through me, and my cock tightens again.
Then another memory?—
Knock it off.
Her voice echoes in my head. My blood cools. I grit my teeth and go find some ice water to chug, just to be safe.
Soon it’s time to get back to work, and I’m ready to burn off the excess energy buzzing through my limbs.
The schedule wheels on like clockwork, and I lose myself in the rhythm again.
I don’t like the idea that Christine’s command is why I’m able to get through the rest of the day without issue, so I chalk it up to her fucking off and giving me a break from her scent.
Maybe she even did it on purpose, but I’m wary of giving her that much credit.
As the sun dips toward the horizon and its light turns blazing gold and orange, we film one last shot of Melinoë stalking through the trees’ long shadows.
Bella calls a wrap, and just like that, we’re done filming on location.
The stunt crew rejoins the rest of the production as most of them head down to the beach, carrying a cooler.
When Haley invites me, I can’t refuse. Once I’ve changed back into my street clothes, I jog to catch up with them.
Haley buzzes about her scenes today, and I ask questions to keep her talking and deflect the attention from myself. It works like a charm, and I’m more than happy to field Haley’s gushing recap as I crack into a cold beer, find a rock to sit on, and watch the sun set.
When we’re on our second beers, and a sliver of the sun remains above the horizon, Haley asks me, “Are you sad to leave?”
That’s a question I don’t mind answering. “Yeah. It’s gorgeous out here. But nothing lasts forever, I guess.”
“Yeah…” Haley sighs. “It could last abitlonger, though.”
I hold my beer can toward hers. “I’ll drink to that.”
There’s the dulltinkof aluminum, and she takes a swig with a smile. “The studio here sounds pretty cool. They’ve built out all the spaceships and stuff. If it’s anything like that rig you and Tee were in, they’re going to be bloody brill.”
Well, she’s calling Christine ‘Tee’ now. Glad they’ve bonded. Good for them.
