Chapter 24 Red
Chapter twenty-four
Red
Although I’m officially camping out in front of the prison to demand Zack’s release, I can’t physically stay in the tent all the time. I still have a movie to film. And part of that process includes sex scenes.
I cross my legs and lean back in the chair, staring at the intimacy coordinator—a grand title for the sub-director who oversees the movie’s spicy parts. We sit in a small office at the studio, with Rickon, the director, and Bradley Jacks.
Visiting Zack drove the Red Ghost out of my body, but I’m glad the Center’s meds still calm me down, because otherwise this would pose a challenge—not that I’ll be on the prescription for long. Dr Leanne already has a phaseout plan in place.
Even on my current half dosage, I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself, and that empty space whistles constantly inside like a tunnel cut right through me.
Rickon places a protein bar and chocolate probiotic milk in front of me, subtly taking care of my needs and reminding me he’s present.
He looks paler than normal, his slender purple eye wings making him appear cat-like.
When he drops his backpack on the floor and settles in his chair, I take his hand. We’re both empty without our alpha.
“Okay, if everyone is ready, let’s get started,” the intimacy director says, calling us to order.
“Today we’re discussing the upcoming sex scene.
Since this is your first sex scene, Red, we’ll go slow and make sure you understand how everything works.
” She pauses and smiles at me to make sure I’m paying attention.
I nod.
“As per the scene, James picks Ashana up from the hospital and drives her home.” She checks her notes and reads from the script’s action instructions.
“Having faced the fear of losing her after the accident at the starting gate, as they’re about to part ways, he kisses her in the car.
After a lingering kiss, she hesitates with her hand on the door, and then invites him inside. ”
Rickon passes me a copy of the scenes with visual cues neatly printed on them.
He’s found a series of cute line drawings in his design app to represent the different actions, and I throw him a grateful smile.
I’ve practiced my reading over the months, so I’m getting better, but the words still swim on the page most of the time.
Even with the chaos in our lives, Rickon keeps feeding me scene notes and script recordings as I need them.
One night I found him up at 2 am, recording an update in the script that wrote in my fall at the starting gates.
“What?” he whispers when I stare too long.
I snort softly. “Just can’t take my eyes off you,” I murmur, quiet enough for only him to hear.
A faint blush runs up his neck. I get a visual of us in fifty years’ time, going gray and wrinkly with Rickon still blushing at every sweet word. If we can survive this season, I’ll make sure I whisper honeyed words to him every single day. He deserves it.
The coordinator pauses and waits until I give her my full attention before continuing.
“Now, this scene will contain moments with a mix of wonder coupled with desperation as the sexual tension comes to a boil. We’ll start with Ashana’s shirt coming off in the entry hall—” She points a pen in Bradley’s direction.
“Pay attention to Ashana’s bandages. Each one will remind you that you nearly lost her. ”
Brad nods. His brow furrows with concentration as he scribbles notes on his script, studiously avoiding my gaze. I guess you don’t become one of the world’s most famous actors without learning to separate work from personal feelings.
Not sure it’s going to be that easy for me, though. Brad’s scent repulses me now, and the thought of his hands on my body makes me shudder. Well, I need to suck it up for the sake of my job. This career is what’s making me famous enough for anyone to care about my press conference.
And I’ve been through worse.
The coordinator sets a padded portfolio on the table and rests her notepad on top.
“Now, let’s pause and make sure I have the correct details as per your contracts.
Brad, you’ve agreed to expose pubic hair and full ass shots.
Red, you’ve agreed to exposed ass and nipples but no visible labia or penetration. Do I have that right?”
Brad twitches and sneaks a glance at me, his expression unreadable. I guess he’ll be getting closer to my body than I wanted.
Ignoring the jerk, I swivel to face Rickon for confirmation.
My alpha gazes at me, brow deeply furrowed. “A lot happened, Red, so I’m sure they’ll be understanding if you want to renegotiate your terms.”
The love in his eyes makes me feel like I can climb all the stupid mountains Leanne talked about.
“It’s fine,” I say blithely. “I’ll just pretend he’s Zack.” Well, honestly, Zack’s bigger. Brad’s pretty close to Callisto’s build—more defined in his muscles thanks to his workout schedule, but somehow far less elegant than the classy lawyer. I smother a smile as Brad frowns at my declaration.
Fuck him . . . but not literally.
“All right, then.” The sex coordinator ticks two lines on her notepad and continues. “We’ll film in a restricted space, with only the bare minimum of team members.”
I exchange smirks with Rickon at the unintended pun.
“Now, because of the skin contact and scents, it’s very normal for arousal to occur, especially with a healthy alpha and omega in the room.
When it happens, if anyone gets uncomfortable, just ask for a cut and we’ll take a break until everyone’s ready to continue.
” After flashing me a reassuring smile, she flips open the folio.
“Since we’ve covered that, let’s get into the specifics of the intimacy. ”
I sip my milk and watch as she pulls items out of her folder.
She holds up a silky length that reminds me of pantyhose.
“For the men, we have nude penis wraps. This acts like a sock around the genitals, with a sticky liner to keep it in place on the groin.” She slides it across the table for me to have a look at.
“Brad’s done this before, so I’m sure he knows how they work.
” The coordinator glances at Brad, continuing after he nods in agreement.
“And for the women, we have two choices: Shibues and C-strings.” She places the tiny scraps matched to my brown skin tones within reach.
Rickon grabs a little silicone liner and slots it together with the Shibue, showing how it will adhere to my body, using his palm for reference.
The coordinator points. “Now, we prefer the Shibue because it’s less visible and most actresses say it’s more comfortable, but you’re welcome to take these and try them out and then let me know before we film.”
I stare down at the flimsy pieces in my hands.
“If you have questions, please ask,” she says, catching my hesitation.
I hold the scrap up and let it dangle from my fingers. “Not much to try, is there?” It has even less substance than the G-string I wore to the film festival.
Rickon makes a sound suspiciously like a laugh, but he turns it into a cough when I spin around to inspect him. He drops his gaze, and I just know he has something deliciously wicked on his mind.
“We’ll try them out,” I promise the coordinator, tucking the items into my handbag next to my beloved Fabby McStabby 2.0 cutlery set.
“Wonderful,” the woman says, closing her folio of sex secrets. “Let me know what your preference is before filming starts. Now, let’s head to the set and do the walk through for the scenes so we can work out where your hands will go.”
I glance at the graphics on the page. We’ll step through every line of the faked sex and go over it until the movements stick in my brain, and that requires pressing my body up against Brad’s.
Fuck. How on earth am I going to explain this kind of acting to Zack?
***
After a long, tiring day at headquarters, Rickon and I slurp down bowls of instant ramen in the OCB camper van before heading back to our tent under a twilight sky.
It’s strange to be out in the air instead of curled up in our love-nest apartment, but at least I’m doing something for Zack here. Otherwise, I feel completely useless.
Rickon glances around nervously. He’s been twitchy ever since we pitched the tent three days ago. Well, more like failed at pitching the tent. Luckily Agent Josef has a bunch of experience with camping, or we’d have been using the entire structure like a giant sleeping bag.
When my suspiciously quiet lover zips the flaps closed, I pop my hands on my hips. “Something bothering you?” I wince. “Besides the obvious gaping hole in our lives?”
Rickon comes over and rests one hand lightly on my waist. “I wouldn’t even know where to start, besides being petrified for Zack.”
I wrap my hand around his wrist, locking him in place. “Try.”
He sighs. “For one, I have the loveliest omega on the planet with just a thin scrap of canvas between us and the big bad world, and for two—” He stares at me in the gloom and then reaches up to cup my jaw. “Even if it’s just acting, I don’t think it’s the right time for you to be doing sex scenes.”
I lean into his warm touch. “We’ve done a lot of filming,” I remind him.
The months are blurring together, but we’re getting near the back of the manuscript.
We had to do some re-shoots around the script change after Director Yun got awesome footage of me flying through the air, but now we’re back on track.
Once we get through a couple of sex scenes, we’ll be approaching the big finale horse race where Ashana gets her chance to ride as an omega after all the struggles against the jockeys and corrupt owners trying to drive her out of the industry.
Then my first acting contract ends; at least until we start the pre-release campaign.
But what started as my lifeline became barely meaningful in the face of my newfound family.
I slide my hands up Rickon’s arms and clasp them around his neck. “Did I ever tell you why acting is so important to me?”
He touches his forehead to mine. “No.”
“We didn’t have much in the trafficking center. A gym with a pool, card games with the other omegas once a week, and a TV in our rooms. Well, we had books too, but as you know, those aren’t much good to me.”
He nods, his brow furrowing against mine in empathy.
“I spent half my time with the other omegas pretending to be insane so they wouldn’t get hurt . . .” I chuckle and shake my head, enjoying the silky touch of our skin and the faint tickle of his white hair falling around my temples. “Well, maybe not all of it was feigned.”
Rickon squeezes me tight, pressing me into his chest. “I know you’re not crazy.”
I brush my thumbs over his neck and throat. Rickon’s always been the most accepting human in the world. “I’m crazy about you,” I murmur.
“And I’m crazy about you.” His lips find mine, warm and touched with a hint of his lip balm. He tastes like ramen and onion, and I melt into his affection. After a few moments, he pulls back, breath warm on my swollen lips. “What were you saying?”
I chuckle. Easy to forget things mid-sentence around this stunning alpha.
“Movies and shows were pretty much all I had to make sense of the big world those bastards had barred us from. So many times when they left me tied to that table in my heat, I remembered those actors, and I imagined myself playing my own role.”
Rickon rocks me slowly side to side, a loving dance made just for this moment as I peel back the layers on the secrets I’ve never dared reveal.
“My favorite self was Red Hawk, an undercover spy being tortured for information. Her special training allowed her—allowed me—to endure pain and hunger and yeah, torture. I got through a lot with her help.”
I dig my nails into the skin on his upper back.
Not enough to bleed, but to ground myself.
“So I really am crazy, Rickon, because I have all these other people in my head. Wild Red takes over during my heats and imprisons me, and when I thought we’d lost Zack, Ghost Red froze me like a glacier.
But I’ve never truly lost myself because I also had my alphas’ voices.
You’re my anchor to finding my way back to myself, Rickon. ”
A few cold drops land on my neck as he cries on my behalf again. “What do we sound like in your head?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.
“Just a faint murmur, like you’re speaking in another room and all I can make out are some rises and falls instead of words. It goes quiet when you’re in line of sight. Actually, it went away once we connected through a bond.”
Rickon leans back and smooths a few strands of hair off my forehead. “Then . . . is Callisto the only one you hear now?”
I tap my temple. “In here, yes.” I shift my hand to my chest. “And you and Zack live in here.”
A smile breaks over his face. “So when you do that sex scene—?”
I nod. “It won’t really be me. It’ll be another Red, but she’ll come back to you.” I lean away from him and pout my lips. “But that doesn’t mean I’m thrilled to work with Loser Brad.”
He chuckles, and I wipe his tears with my thumbs. “I love you, Red Jones.”
“And I love you, Rickon Jones.”
He beams and presses a gentle kiss on my forehead. “We’re going to be okay. I promise.” He walks me backward, and we tumble gently onto the mattress on the floor.
I cling to his words as our lips meet.
Zack’s alive and currently safe in the hospital.
The OCB and Callisto are tracking down Ray’s secret life and I’m certain they’ll find a way to clip his wings.
The chokehold locked around me eases enough for me to breathe.
And my first alpha holds me in his arms and makes love to me as the secondhand bond between us thrums with shared adoration.
We’re okay. We have to be.