Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
CHRISTINE
How do I tell Mylo that when Lana pitched the kiss this morning, I did everything I could to talk her out of it, short of saying something that would incriminate him?
How do I say that as soon as I scented him, I nearly ran off set, and only the memory of his pain and exhaustion yesterday kept me in place?
How do I get him to understand that every second of kissing Haley was a struggle not to gag—about which I feel doubly terrible, because Haley’s a lovely person and kissing for the camera is part of the job—and that I just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible?
How do I convince him that I would quit for his sake if I could, that I would take a bullet, stop a train, throw my career down the drain, do anything to protect him, anything to make him happy?
How do I even attempt to say any of that when he’ll just accuse me of acting?
When it’ll only make things worse?
His tears finally stop.
Once his breathing calms, I force my grip to loosen, even as my instincts scream that I’ll be letting him escape. I lift a hand to dry his cheek, and he flinches away from my touch.
Right.
I release him, and Mylo scrambles to his feet, wiping his face on his shirt.
I stay on the ground; I’ll startle him if I stand.
He takes a few deep, steadying breaths. Then he turns his ear toward me, but doesn’t face me.
“This never happened,” he says quietly. “And last night never happened.”
It’s not like me to sit and take something like this on the chin. It’s not like me to let somebody give me as many bruises as he just gave me, either.
But my instincts leave me frozen.
I’m supposed to find my omega when he’s gone, soothe him when he’s pained, fuck him when he needs.
But what do I do when my very presence is what harmed my omega?
He’s not your omega, I remind myself. And maybe I can believe that when he’s far away, when I can’t smell him.
With his citrus and peppercorn in my nose, those defiant eyes looking down at me, limbs vibrating with fury, there’s no doubt in my soul.
He’s mine.
Fuck, he’s magnificent.
And such a goddamn little shit.
“Got it?” he snaps. “None of this ever happened.”
“Got it,” I say quietly.
I remain unmoving on the forest floor, instincts screaming their protest as I watch him walk back to set.