Page 43 of Your Wild Omega

He rumbles faintly before moving closer until our shoulders bump. Not sure which one of us is getting comfort from the touch, because I don’t like not seeing Red either.

The loudspeaker booms and my heart leaps into my throat. “We’re rolling. Three, two, one, action.”

Emotion wells up inside me. I can only partially see the movements of Red and the horse, obscured by timber beams, cameras at different angles, and a huge crew, but the glimpsesof scarlet hair show me her movements. She’s here, finally living her dreams. I did everything possible to give her this chance.

Now the rest is on her.

Chapter seventeen

Red

“Cut! Wrong side!”

I swallow down a groan and pass the horse’s reins to the handler—a real groom, not one playing a role like me. One who’s good at what they do.

Director Yun scowls at me, and I wither a little inside. “You do realize you need to be on the same side as James to converse with him, yes?”

I nod mutely.

The first day of shooting was easy. We covered different shots of me grooming and riding horses, coupled with an array of takes on our racing track that will serve as the opening credit montage, all with changing daylight.

And no speaking parts.

Day two marks my first dialogue scenes, and I’ve been hit with a realization I never considered before being on a set: actors stink. Watching movies hasn’t prepared me for the assault of body odors hitting my nose. And it’s not just the actors.More people crowd around us than I’d ever imagined, and the lingering breeze drives their combined scents straight up my nostrils. Now I’m on take four of a scene and so far I’ve stuttered, grimaced, and twice led the horse out on the wrong side while being distracted by odors.

Thank my lucky stars the scent of horses doesn’t make me want to puke.

A hand rests on my elbow. “Everything all right?” The scent of wine chutney swirls around me as Bradley Jacks, or rather James, crowds me. “If you need to take a break, we can.”

I cover my nose and mouth and step back. “No. Sorry, I’ll get it right this time.” Fuck, all I want to do is drag my face along Rickon’s neck until my nose clears, but everyone’s waiting for me.

I’m used to people looking at me like this. Watching to see if I’ll put a foot out of place again. If I get things wrong, I’m not just wasting my energy, but every one of the crew member’s efforts. It’s a lot of pressure.

The director calls the next take, and I reset my position to mount the horse. The scene’s called, and I dismount on the correct side and lead the big chestnut out of the exercise arena. James, the racehorse’s co-owner, leaves his conversation with the other racing elites and strides over.

“Ashana!” he calls cheerily, breaking into a jog to come up beside me. “How was his pace?”

I stroke the red-gold neck bobbing beside me, ignoring the camera that runs in front of us, fixed like a giant mechanical eye on our every move. “Very lively, Mr Heatherton.” I beam and turn to my co-actor. “He’s—”

A gust carries a hit of the cameraman’s scent right into my face. Apple licorice. I choke. Of all the disgusting scents in the world, it had to be that one. I cover my mouth, gagging.No matter how good I am at switching personas, some bodily responses I can’t escape.

“Cut!” the director yells again.

Fuck me.

“Let’s take a ten-minute break,” Mr Yun says with a disappointed huff, and my heart sinks to my toes. His jaw sets and he turns away to grab a water bottle. Is he regretting taking on a newbie actress? Cold, invisible hands close around my throat. It’s not too late for him to switch out the leading lady.

“Hey, Red,” Rickon murmurs.

I sigh in relief as his and Zack’s presences surround me. I know Rickon wants to be more hands-on with me on set, but he’s hampered by Zack, who doesn’t respond well when the other actors get close. But I’m never going to complain about having both my alphas nearby, even if it means Rickon can’t be as involved.

“Is something wrong?” He wraps one arm around me, and I dig my nose into his collar, not caring about my makeup. He’s wearing a shirt with a black pattern down just one side and has gone for a smoky look and a touch of gold dust over his lovely pale eyes. Rickon’s so gorgeous; I can’t believe he’s mine.

“All the scents,” I murmur, breathing deep in his vanilla frosting. “It fucking stinks.” His gentle scent soothes the nausea lurking in my stomach.

“You mean the horse?” he asks, confused.

“No.” I chuckle. “I’m talking about the people.” I straighten and tap the side of my nose. “Very sensitive nose here, remember? And it’s hard to breathe, let alone say my lines.”

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