Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
MYLO
Everything everywhere is a field of perfect blue.
In the distance, muffled waves crash on a shore.
My nose stings with salt and seaweed.
I can’t breathe.
I’m underwater.
Sinking, lungs burning, kicking wildly, crushed from every side, drowning, drowning, drowning—
My lungs spasm, gasping in a breath.
Heat and relief flood me.
The water turns warm, languid, caressing…
Reality splits, and I’m back in my tidy little hotel room, tangled in white cotton sheets. A specter of that dream clings to my skin, the feeling of that warm water and a ghost of all-encompassing blue…
Weird fucking dream.
My body aches, throbbing from yesterday’s abuse. I roll over to check the time—then wince at the pressure on my fully hard cock. Well, not all the throbbing is pain.
It’s not like me to get distracted when I’m on a shoot. One of the side effects of long-term suppressant use is decreased libido. Works for me. The whole point is avoiding heat: that desperate, deranged state where omegas lose control of their bodies and beg for the closest alpha.
While most of my problems stem from stereotypes about omegas, the potential for heat is my own body betraying me.
I spent my early teen years dreading getting older, entering the start of that vague eighteen-to-twenty window during which an omega’s second puberty hits. I combed the omega forums. If there was a supplement or sketchy pill that promised to delay heat onset, I took it.
That’s how I found a clinical trial. I got my first dose shortly after my eighteenth birthday. It would’ve been sooner, but my mom refused to sign the paperwork.
I’ve never gone into heat—and I never will.
I still hit all the usual milestones in my relationships, just on my terms, not heat’s.
And that’s why I’ll probably handle this with a cold shower. That’s usually all it takes to clear the occasional morning wood. The glowing clock on my nightstand indicates it’s ten minutes before my alarm. Just enough time.
As I move to stand, a hard throb in my cock sends a wave of dizzy heat through my head. I can’t have this cropping back up later today—not in that skin-tight costume.
So I slide my hand under the waistband of my boxers.
Fuck, I’m sensitive.
Even the slightest touch feels incredibly, irresistibly good.
I ease back my foreskin, and pre-cum already beads at my tip. At least I’ll be able to deal with this quickly. I kick off the duvet and wriggle out of my boxers.
It only takes a few strokes before heat coils at my base. Normally I’d need porn or a partner to get to this point, let alone so quickly. The pleasure is bright, intense, addictive. Hot pre-cum moves through me, spilling down my shaft, sending my back arching.
The peak catches me off-guard. I cum as hard as I ever have, hot streaks landing across my chest, cock dripping longer than I thought possible.
My heavy breathing finally evens as I melt back into the mattress. Holy shit. If this is how masturbating feels for other people, I guess I understand why they do it all the time.
I look down at my cum-streaked chest, then reach for a tissue and start wiping myself off.
Guess I’ll still be taking a cold shower after all.
With my hair still dripping, I gulp down my suppressant dose, then jog to catch up with the rest of the crew.
You learn how to make fast friends in this business. Though it’s only been a couple days, I’m already joking and riffing with the crew, learning where everyone’s from and how they got into film.
It’s a welcome distraction; motion sickness hits me with a vengeance, and I sip cool water to keep it at bay. It takes a while to clear once we get to the set, so I have a few salted crackers for breakfast.
The first shoot today is for a scene with Melinoe and her cronies, so Haley and I head over to the wardrobe trailer at the same time.
“Talk to me more about your process,” she says eagerly as we settle down side-by-side. “I love this angle for Melinoe. That little look back? Just perfect.”
I chuckle, holding my head still as Keysha pulls my hair back at the nape of my neck to prepare for the wig cap.
“My process was watching you and picking up on your energy, so I fear you’ll be the one with the answers.”
“Really? Because I was watching you! When you were practicing those jumps onto the boulder, so effortless and cool… I thought, okay, Melinoe knows she’s a bad bitch. She’s gotta walk like one.”
I chuckle. “I guess we make a good team, then.”
Haley beams. “I hope I’m not holding you back!”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Okay, maybe you can help me talk through something. That little look… and then I was exploring some things yesterday… it’s like, Melinoe wants it to seem like she’s over this, above it, not bothered by Electra, but actually she’s like…
obsessed. Everything’s about Electra, about getting under her skin, about this like…
hm… not praise, but… recognition. Sorry, did that make any sense? ”
My spine stiffens. I don’t like that explanation; I don’t like it one bit. Melinoe’s not obsessed with Electra. She doesn’t need or want Electra’s recognition or approval. Melinoe is over it, above it.
The thought resonates with another:
I’m over it, above it.
Fuck. Haley just read me for filth.
I put more of my own emotions into Melinoe than I realized, and Haley’s right; I clearly feel like I have something to prove to Christine.
At my pause, Haley waves a hand. “Sorry, it was just my weird rambling.”
“No, it—” I soften my tone. “It makes sense. You’re really insightful. I hadn’t thought about it that way before, but you’re onto something.”
If I spend the rest of filming taking potshots at Christine, I’m no better than she is.
I shouldn’t take her behavior personally.
It’s not like I could actually convince her to change; why would I even think I could?
The best thing I can do is relax, enjoy myself, and try to have some fun while I’m in fucking gorgeous New Zealand shooting the kind of movie I would have been obsessed with as a kid.
“Really?” Haley continues. “Okay, well… So I was thinking about something for today, when Melinoe is with the furies…”
We spend the next hour of makeup, hair, and wardrobe talking through Melinoe’s character. Haley really is insightful and easy to riff with.
Sharon and Keysha chime in as well, offering the logic that has gone into their decisions so far. We all bounce off each other, and a couple tweaks are made to Haley’s makeup, leaning into the emotional beats she’s going to hit today.
It’s electric. Exciting. It feels less like a feature film set and more like backstage at theatre camp, where we chattered in a rush of hushed voices about how to search new corners of our souls for the performance.
Our own little world, creating a thing together that only we could create, that could only happen in this singular moment.
I ride that high through a morning of filming.
Haley blossoms, finding a subtlety and force for Melinoe that leaves Lana thumping her palm against her chair in satisfaction.
We trade off seamlessly, shot-by-shot, co-creating this intense-yet-grounded, sensitive-yet-steel-skinned villain for all the world to fall in love with.
Haley and I sit next to each other at lunch, and we’ve already racked up enough inside jokes that we might as well have been childhood friends.
“You’ve never had steak and ale pie?” she asks, incredulous, stuffing an apple slice into her mouth.
“I have not, but that sounds pretty good.”
“Oh, it is. I’m fixing this. But it’s got to be my gran’s; hers is the absolute best.”
“Is this you inviting me to London?”
“Yeah, duh. We’re, like, family now. Is it weird if I say I’ve always wanted a big brother?”
“Yeah, it’s weird,” I say with a smile.
She snorts and nearly spits out her iced coffee. “Oh my god, that’s exactly what a big brother would say.” Haley grabs an orange peel off her plate and tosses it at my head.
I laugh as I bat it away. “No, but seriously, you remind me of my sister. I think she’s about your age? Graduates college next year.”
Haley nods. “Yeah, I’m twenty-three, so that’s about right. Were you two at each other’s throats growing up?”
“More like joined at the hip. I was always pretty protective. But I guess that changed when I moved to LA.”
“Oh, that’s sad. When’d you move?”
“After I graduated from college. My parents wanted me to stay with them in the Midwest. Safer there, that whole thing.” I leave out the part where my mom’s an omega and married a beta she fell for in a middle-of-nowhere omega haven. And the part where she never forgave me for leaving.
“Oh, overprotective?”
“Yeah, that’s an understatement.”
Haley gives a grimacing smile. “I understand. My parents are from this little town in Yorkshire. You should’ve heard how they talked about me moving to LA.
‘Oi ducky, stop yer faffin’. They’ll as soon grab your tit as shake your hand.
’” She rolls her eyes. “They’re starting to believe it’s different now, though.
When I told them I was coming to New Zealand, they were more worried about the dingoes than the film crew.
I had to explain to them that dingoes are in Australia, not here. ”
I laugh and shake my head. “Wow, yeah, your parents might actually be as overprotective as mine. I visited home a couple of times, but got sick of the whole visit being an argument. Kept inviting Mom out to see it wasn’t so bad, but you’d think I told her to jump off a bridge.”
“What’s your sister think?”
“She stayed closer to home. I think she feels like I broke Mom’s heart, so she’s gotta make up for it. She’s visited me a few times, and it was really nice, but either she has to keep it secret from Mom or get chewed out for it, so… it’s been a while.”
“Hence, you miss her.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, this is a pretty big film, right? Maybe they’ll see you and realize it was worth it.” Na?ve, beautiful hope shines in Haley’s auburn eyes.
“Maybe. Unlikely, but maybe. I like your optimism.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t have said it was a big film, now my nerves are acting up again…” Haley looks queasy as she stares at the mirror.
“It’s just a little project. No big deal. Maybe, like, five people will see it.”
She forces a deep breath. “Yeah, right right. Perfect. Easy. No problem.”
I chuckle. “Now you’re starting to talk like a stunt performer.”
Exaggerated shock crosses her face, then she grins. “You can’t take that back now. I need a little sticker. ‘Honorary stunt crew member.’”
“You earned that when you did your first ratchet pull. And if you wanted to be a full member…”
She shakes her head briskly. “Nooo, thank you. Honorary member only, please! I’ll happily leave the jumping off things and getting hit by things and hitting things to you.”
“And the fighting on a plane sixty feet off the ground?”
“God yes. I still think you’re insane for doing that. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“So you must have, like, no fear.”
I shake my head. “Oh, I still have fear. That’s your survival instinct kicking in. We like to say fear is your safety belt—it keeps you sharp. Makes sure you’re paying attention.”
“Wow. So, are you nervous for tomorrow?”
“I’m trying not to think about it.” I offer a wry smile.
Haley giggles—her nervous tic, I’m learning—and puts her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be heading over to the rig this afternoon to get some practice in.”
“Isn’t it terrible, being so sudden?”
“It’s actually kind of nice. I don’t have so much time to get in my head and worry about it. It’s just: keep doing the thing right in front of you.”
“Like eating lunch,” Haley says, pointing at my mostly full plate of grilled chicken and salad.
I laugh and pick up my fork. “Like eating lunch.”