Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
MYLO
I’m vaguely aware of Christine shifting underneath me, and I’m too tired to fight the urge to cling to her.
There’s a rush of water, and when it stops, warmth rises around me as Christine sinks into the room’s soaker tub.
Her hands sweep suds over my arms and shoulders, then massage shampoo into my hair.
I lean against her chest all the while, floating in a glow of warmth and safety unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
She tests the temperature of the tub’s sprayer wand on her hand before gently sweeping it over my head, washing all the suds away. She opens the drain, rinsing us with warm water until we’re clean and the tub is empty.
Then I’m wrapped in a fluffy robe and carried back to the bed, which is now stripped down to just the fitted sheet. I guess the duvet was… collateral damage.
I have all the warmth I need tucked against Christine, robe open so there’s nothing between us. My chest rests against her side, my cheek settles on her shoulder, and my upper arm drapes between her breasts.
Our mingled scents, sweet and spiced with sex, linger in the air like a heavy blanket, tempting me to drift asleep.
Everything is good and right and lovely.
Too bad it’s all a lie.
I stir to a beam of early morning sun striking in from the eastern windows.
Christine’s arm lies warm and heavy over my chest.
I slide out from under it, padding onto the cool floor and running a hand through my hair.
Christine sighs quietly and remains asleep.
Gooseflesh rises on my limbs, and I pull my robe tighter as I take a few steps through the suite. I’m cold—actually cold, not that insufferable shivering when my skin is already hot and drenched with sweat.
I feel fine now.
Well, as fine as one can feel the morning after an ill-advised one-night stand.
Fuck.
When she kisses me, it feels like I’ve been suffocating and she’s oxygen. When her tight heat slid around me…
Phantom warmth ripples through my core.
It was relief like scratching the worst itch, like opening the release valve on a pressure cooker.
Just that. Relief. Nothing more. Christine was wrong. It’s not heat. Heat wouldn’t go away this quickly. It was just something I needed to get out of my system, and now it’s out.
A muffled trilling makes me jump: my alarm.
I dive for the sound before it can wake Christine, uncovering it from a pile of shredded clothes by the edge of the bed.
As I silence the alarm, my brief relief buckles, giving way to panic.
I need to take my suppressants, but they’re in my hotel room, still sitting on the nightstand.
How was I so stupid? I’ve never, ever forgotten. We were right there at the hotel, and I didn’t even think…
Shit. Fuck.
My chest tightens as I slide down to my knees.
What the fuck am I going to do?!
Wait—
With trembling hands, I piece through the remnants of my clothes until I find my wallet. Tucked safely within it is a folded tissue with a single precious pill at its center.
There’s a cup by the coffee maker in the kitchenette, and I splash water into it. But as I settle the pill in my palm, nausea ripples through me.
I can’t ignore the pattern anymore.
Why is my body intent on betraying me now, of all times?
I take a few deep breaths, stretching the exhale twice as long as the inhale. My nervous system calms. I keep my thoughts placid as I swallow the pill, breathing deeply until the nausea subsides.
Warm hands wrap my waist, and I startle, pulling away.
God, I forget every time just how tall she is; my eyes are at the level of her breasts, bare and round and perfect. Last night, they were so soft against my palms…
I force my eyes upward to her quirked brow and growing smirk.
“Tch.” I twist away, staring at the countertops even as my cheeks heat.
Christine reaches around me, slotting a pod into the coffee machine and hitting the button to start it.
Her smell washes over my nose, like a peaceful morning after fresh rainfall.
She places a leather-bound menu in my hands. “Pick something for breakfast.”
I drop the menu on the counter. “I’ll eat on set.”
She picks it up again, holding it in front of me, and leans toward my ear.
“Pick. Something. For. Breakfast.” Alpha command laces her words, softer than a bark but more insidious, sliding under my defenses.
It winds its way down my spine, curling around my bones, and I take the menu from her hands, flipping it open.
She steps back, and I’d drop the menu again if not for my stomach growling. My accumulated hunger from the past few days hits me all at once, and I ignore the sneaking suspicion that it’s because her presence puts my omega instincts at ease.
Fine. Whatever. If I’m going to eat on her tab, I’m going to eat well. I skip down to the most expensive options on the menu.
“I want the smoked salmon and avocado bagel,” I say, “and the truffle omelette, and…” I rattle off dish after dish, some recognizable with a pretentious twist and others nigh unpronounceable.
By the time I finish off with a farm-to-table multigrain protein bowl, I’ve totally lost track of what I ordered.
I expect Christine to coolly ignore what I said, or even get annoyed, but she heads over to the phone by the bed and repeats every item verbatim.
My omega instincts soften, and I brush them aside with a huff. Actors have to learn lines quickly; it’s a skill that benefits her, nothing more.
I loiter at the kitchenette, keeping my eyes down as Christine reaches around me again, fetching her coffee. Even though I’ve never really cared for the stuff, I make a cup for myself, just to have something to do with my hands.
I dump an embarrassing amount of cream and sugar into it, then take a tentative sip. As I turn back toward the rest of the suite, it sputters from my mouth.
Christine drapes along an armchair, naked and glorious in the cool morning sun. Her hair shines like spun silver, and curves and muscles ripple down her length. Those piercing blue eyes flick to mine above another smirk on her pink lips.
It is… entirely unfair how hot she is, and absolutely insufferable that she knows it.
I yank a different chair over to the window, plop down into it, face away from her, and sip at the over-sweet coffee I barely taste while staring at the harbor vista I barely see.
Room service arrives a few minutes later, and I stay in my chair as Christine slips on a robe and receives the food.
Once the door is shut, I venture from my chair. Her robe is tied, but as she leans over the luxurious food cart, the deep V falls open and reveals the inner swells of her breasts.
I snatch up a plate bearing an overly fancy slice of toast piled with a rainbow of toppings and drizzled with a light, creamy sauce, and take it to the table.
I intend to eat quickly and get this over with so we can return to set, but the melody of flavors unfolding across my tongue stops me short.
Fuck, this is good.
Alphas and omegas tend to have heightened senses, and I’d always considered that a liability as I choked down freezer-burnt pizza and stale gas station sandwiches.
I’d never even thought there could be this kind of… olfactory bliss.
I slow, savoring each bite. This meal is on track to ruin me for all other food. I would regret the waste of ordering so much, but hunger seems to have rendered my stomach bottomless.
Christine has returned to her chair, and she reads from her phone as she sips a pink smoothie.
Without looking up, she says, “My doctor friend is sending a nurse to take blood for tests.”
I finish chewing a bite of an art sculpture whose ingredients resemble those of eggs Benedict. “It’s fine now. Tell them not to bother.”
There’s a light rap at the door.
“Oops, too late,” she says lightly. “You wouldn’t want them to have wasted their time, going out of their way to come here, would you?”
I glower at the alpha as she stands, sauntering to the door. I tug my robe tighter around myself as she welcomes the nurse, a middle-aged man with short, dark hair and kind monolid eyes.
His name tag identifies him as Akio Sato and an employee of Artemis Pharmaceutcials.
“G’day, I’m Aki,” he says with a light Kiwi accent, striding over to offer his hand.
I stand and return the gesture. “Mylo.”
Christine returns to her chair as Aki walks me through a series of paperwork on a tablet, collecting my medical history and walking me through various consent forms.
I fill everything out on autopilot, just trying to get this over with.
Once it’s all confirmed, Aki sets the tablet aside. “This won’t take long. How do you do with needles?”
“No problem.”
Aki pulls out empty vials and a sheet of blank labels, then writes my information.
“Please confirm your name and date of birth.”
I do, and he gives me a professional nod of thanks.
I push up the loose sleeve of my robe. Aki ties off the tourniquet and sanitizes my inner arm.
Within a minute, the needle is in and out, and the vials are filled.
A bandage holds a wad of cotton against my skin, stemming the bleeding.
If I asked, he’d probably tell me to avoid vigorous activity for the rest of the day. So, I don’t ask.
“Should have your results within seventy-two hours,” Aki says.
I nod, not really caring what the tests are for.
“You’ll get a message to the phone number you provided with instructions for the online portal.”
Aki hands me a card with his name, extension, and a ‘patient services’ number circled in red pen. There’s that logo again: ARTEMIS PHARMA in crisp, minimal font circumscribed by a crescent moon.
“You can also call us for the results, or with any questions.”
“Thanks.”
“No worries, mate.”
After parting pleasantries, Aki takes his leave with a friendly “G’day.”
I spin the business card between my fingers and head over to Christine, perching on the chair across from her.
She looks up at me innocently. “Hm?”
I flip the card around to face her and tap the back. “You an investor or something?”
“In what?”
“Artemis Pharma. You said you have a private doctor.”
“I have a doctor friend,” she replies, not missing a beat.