47. Red
Chapter forty-seven
Red
Time blurs a little as Rickon and I reacquaint ourselves after weeks of separation. We doze in a steaming, damp pile, only to start touching each other again the moment one of us throws off enough sleepiness or takes a bathroom break.
The languid convenience of lying in each other’s arms for as long as we want is beautiful. I take everything I want from my alpha, soaking it in like a drought-starved plant. And he gives and gives as if he knows everything I need.
When we finally keep our hands off each other long enough to shower and head downstairs, Callisto’s gone.
Rickon catches me poking around to double check the apartment is empty. “He works fourteen-hour days. Sometimes even sleeps at his office.”
“Okay, so it’s just us?”
My alpha leans his elbows on the marble breakfast bar. “Yeah. But we don’t have time to laze around, I’m afraid. Table reads start on Monday, which means we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip. No rest for the wild. “So I have three days to learn my lines?”
“Yes, but, before you panic, I have a little something for you.” Rickon dashes upstairs.
I listen to the thump-thump of his bare feet on the stairs and track the sounds as he runs into his room. If I can hear him walking, then sure as hell Callisto heard us bumping uglies all morning. Is that why he ran away in a hurry?
I giggle into my hand. Serves him right. Maybe I’ll be louder next time.
Rickon pounds back down the stairs and sets a stack of items on the breakfast bar. I recognize the film script on the bottom.
“These are for you,” he says, opening a small black case. He passes me two wireless earbuds. “And—” He swipes open a tablet. “Finger here please.” I offer my hand, and he scans me into the device’s biometrics. “Code is 1111 if you ever need it. Now wait for it!” He taps on the screen and grins, watching me expectantly.
His voice crackles into life in my ears. Omega’s Race. Scene One. Setting: A racing stable practice track. Two jockeys with horses ride to the start gate, with more riders exercising horses in the background.
I gasp. “Did you—?”
His grin widens and he taps a pause button on the screen. “You said you learn best when you hear it read to you, right?”
A cool shiver rustles across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “You recorded the entire script?”
He nods, sending his damp platinum bangs flopping across his eyes. “I had some time on my hands over the past two weeks.”
With a squeal, I launch myself off the stool and into his embrace.
Rickon staggers back, laughing. “I take it I did good?”
“So good!” I cry, nuzzling into his neck for a hit of butter-loaded vanilla and squeezing him until his ribs pop. “I’ll be able to learn this in no time.”
He kisses my cheek. “I’m glad you’re happy. You get started with that and I’ll order us some food. Then I need to take your measurements. Tomorrow you start horse-riding lessons, and I’ve lined up a voice coach—if you want.”
He pauses, his grip loosening enough so he can peer into my face. “I’m not saying you’re lacking, but some stuff producers specifically ask for and you might need to know how to respond. Diction, intonation, emotion in the voice. Heaven forbid they want a specific accent.” His fingers flex on my upper arms and his brows knit together with worry. “If I’m overstepping, just say the word.”
I lean in and silence him with a kiss. “I get it. You’re my manager, so I trust you. Book whatever you think I need.” It’s true everything I know about acting is self-taught. I might be good at it, but I can always learn more. Now that we’re a family, I can’t let my alpha down, not after he’s put all his eggs in my basket.
Rickon’s face lights up, like no one’s ever said they trusted him before. I resolve to tell him often. Maybe over time we can heal each other’s insecurities.
My alpha pulls away. “Okay, very serious decision to make.”
The intense look in his eye sobers me right up, so I give him my full attention. “Yes?”
He pauses for effect, and then asks, “Chinese or Indian food for dinner?”
I keep a straight face. “Oh, that is serious.”
He smirks. “Life-altering.”
I set my hands on my hips. “But we shouldn’t be frog-marched into just those two options.”
“No, no.” He wags his finger in my face. “If we include other options, we’ll spend all day haggling. And me and you, babe, have lots to do.”
I lean over and lick his finger, just to watch his eyes go wide. “Thai,” I murmur, nibbling on his skin. Never had it, but that’s what Kayla Grants in Crime Scene Squad orders for the team during tough lock-in cases. Always looks delicious.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I can’t win against you, can I?”
I grin unrepentantly. “Glad we got that straightened out up front.”
He laughs, but it turns to a delicious whimper as I suck his digit all the way into my mouth. “Biscuit! Oh, shit, you got me hard all over again.”
That little endearment of his ratchets up the fledgling flames burning in my core. I run my hands up under his shirt. “How long does it take to deliver?”
“About thirty minutes, but I gotta order first.”
“Well, go ahead. Don’t let me stop you. I want one of those coconut soups with noodles in it. And spring rolls.” I slide to my knees and unbuckle his pants.
“Fuck, are you serious?”
I smile slyly and roll his trousers down. “Order, babe. And while you do, I’m gonna listen to my script.”
He stares down at me, blinking furiously. “While we make out?”
“Mm-hmm. It’s a horse-riding scene, isn’t it? May as well practice that too.”
He swears again, and when he dials, I slide his waking cock between my lips. Fuck, he’s big enough down here to choke me, but I like it. I can pull away any time I need to. Rickon groans and leans on the breakfast bar while he restarts the audio in my ears. I chuckle softly as his free hand comes to tangle in my hair. Every time he tries to order, I suck harder, making him gasp into the waiting server’s ear. His fingers tighten and his knees quiver.
I’m quite enjoying my entrée, but the moment he hangs up, he pulls me loose and tugs me over to the couches. The movie scene playing in my ears drowns out his panted complaints. Wild with joy, I push him down and straddle him again.
Time to ride.
I know I boldly told Rickon horse riding can’t be that difficult, but I wonder if I’ll have to eat my words as the Omuber car drives up a lane bordered by fenced paddocks containing horses in all colors. We pull up in front of a barn with a side extension labelled as the office in big white letters. To the side, a series of wash bays and a feed shed back onto outdoor pens and a round yard. A woman in shiny black boots leads a saddled horse out of the barn and down a path.
“Were horses always that big?” I murmur, tracking the pair’s progress toward an arena set up with colorful jumps.
Rickon settles his hand around my waist and tugs me close. “Many are bigger,” he whispers back, green eyes twinkling with merriment. “That one’s only around fifteen hands.”
A woman on the upper end of middle age comes out of the office, wearing tight-fitting beige pants and a long-sleeved shirt with a horse head logo on the breast. “Rickon, welcome, darling!” She swings open the gate between the driveway and the stable courtyard and holds her arms out. “How do you manage to look more gorgeous every time I see you?”
“Hello, Serena,” he says, genuine warmth in his voice as he hugs her, and then pulls back and ushers me closer. “Red, meet Serena, owner of Equinus Events and four-time Alphainus Grand Prix show-jumping champion. Serena, meet Red.”
“Oh, hush with that,” the woman says, backhanding his chest. “I’m just a horse fanatic, and his adopted ma’s best friend.” She tucks brown curls escaping from her tight braid behind one ear, and then rests both hands on my shoulders.
“Darling girl, today I induct you into the inescapable void that is the world of horses. Breathe your last breath as a normie.” She rolls her hand, coaxing me to take a breath.
I grin, loving her melodramatic air, and breathe deep. Smells of hay, wood, and animal hair. And crap.
“Good, now in we go! Let’s meet the stars.” She hooks her hands through our elbows and tows us forward, talking a mile a minute. “Rickon said you’re doing a jockey movie. Honestly you’re too tall to really be a jockey, but never let facts get in the way of telling a good story. I digress. We’re going to start from the very bottom and work our way up so you feel right at home with saddles, bridles, and, of course, our furry friends.”
She stops in front of a stall and a coppery head pokes out over the divider. “This here is Saffron. She’s our favorite for beginners because she’ll plod all day but still has a bit of spark when you ask for it.”
As if knowing we’re talking about her, the horse snorts.
“See? What did I tell you? Attitude.” Serena strokes the soft nose lovingly. “Get over here, Red. You two are about to become best friends.”
I step up to the front of the stall. This close, the horse towers over me. I have to reach up even to pat the hairy chin. Serena shows me how to cup my hand with my fingers pressed tight together, and then she drops a long piece of sweet potato into my palm. Saffron lips it up.
“I thought horses ate apples?” I say, staring at the trail of slobber left on my palm.
Serena chuckles. “Oh, they’d eat apples all day long, for sure. Just like kids would eat candy if it was on offer. Sweet potato and carrots as treats help keep the fructose count down.”
Saffron noses me to see if I’m hiding more food, knocking me off balance. I wobble backward.
“Now, don’t be scared,” Serena says. “Just put your hand out and be firm. You’re entitled to your personal space.” She demonstrates how to push the big head away. “We need to get inside, so give her a gentle push on her body and click your tongue to tell her to back up.”
I rest my hand on her warm, furry chest, feeling the strength and power beneath the skin.
Serena moves further into the box, running her hands along the horse’s flanks. “They’re big but gentle if you treat them right. Show them you’re trustworthy and they’ll do their best for you. Always move slowly, run your hands over them so they know where you are, and don’t startle them with sudden noises or movements.”
She skims her hands around the animal’s rump as she circles behind. “Saffron here would never kick, but with other horses, don’t stand behind them. Now, grab a brush out of the box and let’s get started with some grooming. Rickon says you need a crash course in all things horsey.”
I turn, looking for the brush, and Rickon hands me something that looks like a bathroom scrubbing brush with a strap across the back. He shows me how to slide it onto my hand.
“You seem like a pro at this,” I say as I check the fit.
He grins, but Serena chimes in first. “Of course. Rickon’s practically half horse. It’s a crying shame he never went into eventing.” She winks at me. “Those darling boys were always running around underfoot back in the day. Oh, have you met Callisto? They were an inseparable pair.”
A pang shoots through my heart, just from his name.
Rickon leans on the stable half door. “Yes, she has. We’re currently staying at his house.”
“Oh, lovely. Say hello from me. I suppose he’s still working himself to death?”
“Some things don’t change,” Rickon says, flashing a wry smile.
“Apples and trees,” Serena adds with a sigh. She mimes long brush strokes for me, down the horse’s neck and shoulder.
“What do you mean about apples and trees?” I ask as I copy her movements, dragging the brush along Saffron’s side.
“Press a little firmer,” Serena coaxes. “You should see some hair coming away on the brush. And I just meant Callisto’s so much like his father. He was a brilliant man, but worked himself into an early grave. Wouldn’t listen to anyone who told him to slow down.”
I hesitate. “Callisto’s dad passed away?” My gaze flicks to Rickon. He said he didn’t have parents either. Sounds like both men have a lot of pain in their pasts.
Rickon nods. “Nearly ten years ago now, but it impacted Calli and his mom a lot.”
“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.