Page 115 of Wild Omega

“Well, I didn’t mean to bring down the vibe,” Serena says as I move from the horse’s shoulder to her flank. “Let’s stick to horsing around, shall we?”

I grin. “Sounds good to me.”

She nods brusquely and selects another tool from the box. “Let me show you how to clean hooves.”

After we’ve cleaned and saddled the horse, Serena leads her out to a round riding yard. Grooming a horse is one thing, but riding is another story altogether. I gulp as I peer up at the towering horse. I can barely see over her now saddle-clad back, but I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. The Ashana character in the movie lives and breathes horses. To her, this comes as naturally as getting out of bed.

“Red?” Rickon whispers, brushing my elbow. He holds the horse’s lead rope in one hand. “You’ve got this, Biscuit.”

The butterflies in my stomach pipe down like trainees listening to a drill sergeant. Rickon believes in me. It makes a world of difference when someone has your back. Like he’s handed me a pair of omega wings.

I step up onto a mounting block and I slip my toe into the stirrup, hovering awkwardly on one leg for a moment. Then I jump, pulling myself up onto the saddle and swinging my other leg out wide. Just when I think I haven’t quite made it, Rickon gives my ass a little push and I rock into the curved leather seat.

“Great job,” Serena praises, helping me tuck my boot into the stirrup on the far side.

I’m up high, but it feels like a cool lookout rather than a trapeze swing. This is the character Ashana’s happy place, and a cool rush flows through me, like I understand her perfectly. The limitations of my own body fade away, and suddenly everything feels possible. The obstacles on the ground seem smaller, less threatening.

Serena shows me how to hold the reins, instructing me to keep them loose, then steps back. “Okay, keep that dainty ass in the saddle, heels down, eyes forward. Off you go, Rickon.”

Rickon clicks his tongue and steps forward, and Saffron follows. For a moment I tilt like I’m going to fall. The horse’s head seems so low and far away that nothing is stopping me from sliding right down her neck. But with her next step I rock back a little, finding some balance.

I sink into the movements, my hips tilting as the body beneath me rocks. Four legs moving instead of two. I wasn’t wrong about practicing riding Rickon’s cock. Not that it’s anything like sex, but the more I relax my hips and let them move with Saffron, the better it feels. Natural.

“Damn, Red. Looks like you were born to ride,” Rickon says, casting approving glances over his shoulder as we circle the high-fenced round yard.

I grin back at him. “Not Red. Ashana.”

He chuckles. “My bad. You’ll be racing in no time, Ashana.”

I feel invincible as we complete our first lap of the ring. So this is what partnership with an animal feels like. I’ve never even had a pet before, so this seems like a miracle. She’s so big, she could gallop away on the both of us, but like Serena said, Saffron wants to please.

“Doing well,” my instructor calls. “Ready to try a little trot now?”

I grin. I was born ready.

Chapter forty-eight

Red

I cling to Rickon’s hand as he leads me through the studio. Last time we were here, only a couple of other people hung around, but now the building teems with life.

Rickon notices my surprise and squeezes my fingers. “They were between movies when we came last time, but now all the action’s started again. First, we need to get your fittings done, and then we’ll head over to the boardroom for the readings at ten.”

I nod and follow, watching everything with delight. How many times have I dreamed of being part of a real set like this?

Rickon guides me past the costume warehouse we visited last time. “Did you bring back my disguise?” I whisper as we walk by the big roller doors.

“Yeah, that week.” He tugs me a little closer to his side, as if disturbed by the memory of the OCB hunting for me. We step into the room next door, which extends in a long, wide hall, with dividers set up along the length. “Welcome to Costume Design.”

I hold in a smile as the setup reminds me of the horse boxes in a stable, minus the stall doors.

Rickon points to the booths. “Each one of these is for the designer in charge of a lead actor. And right here, we have the amazing Callie Bambinec, who’ll be taking care of you.”

We turn into one of the booths. Rolling garment racks fill one side, a storyboard covered with images of clothes takes up most of the back wall, and the third wall hosts a worktable with sewing machine and a mannequin.

“SweetRickonn!” Callie, a rail-thin woman with purple hair, croons as we step inside. Her heavy Italian accent gives a rhythmic staccato to all her sounds. She spins toward me and lifts her arms. “And the surprise star of the show. Red Junz.”

She sashays forward and kisses me on both cheeks. “You’re even more beautiful than he tells me.”

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