I cringe and bend down, head beside the horse’s whipping mane. The position unbalances me, and I scrabble for a grip in the long chestnut hair to stay on board.
The horse pitches forward like he’s found another gear, rocking me backward. True fear grips me. If I fall at this speed, my last spill will seem like a marshmallow landing. Ashana and Red merge into one person, both clinging with a death grip to an out-of-control horse.
Acting is one thing, but acting at high speed is another kettle of fish entirely. I thought I’d learned to gallop well, but this feels more like riding a detonation.
My belly churns as if my heat’s already here, and I scream out in agony. Last time, I realized I couldn’t go through my heat without all my alphas, so I set out to find Zack. I thought I could endure if they were in my arms instead of voices in my head, but now Zack’s gone.
I clutch at my stomach, feeling the vacant bond, hollow like a straw. He should be here, in the stands with Rickon, but he’s not.
The end markers flash by in a blur of white. I’m supposed to slow down before half falling, half sliding off the horse’s back while screaming just off the track before paramedics hustle me away. But if Ashana feels even a fraction of the pain and shock I experience with every heat, that wouldn’t be possible. We keep going, running away from the agony. The camera van barrels along parallel to us, light glinting from the lenses.
Tears stick in my lashes and I drop the jockey’s stick as my hands cramp around the reins. Dimly, I see the track officials ride out to intercept us, and my horse slows.
As if my acting has somehow made it real, heat roars through my body. I gasp as it burns under my skin. With a groan, I clutch at my body and discover real slick soaking the silks on my legs. My fingers come away sticky, and I stare at them, wheezing in shock. Have I acted so much I made it real?
A track official grabs my reins, and we slow to a trot. He looks over his shoulder, concern written on his face. “Are you all right?”
No, I’m not. My entire world’s imploded, as both Ashana and Red.Reshanais in agony. We halt, my horse blowing from the run and swinging sideways, bringing me right into view of the camera van. I slither one leg over the back of the saddle and as I’m lowering down, I release my grip, tumbling to the ground. Glancing up at the cameraman’s assistant, I let out a distressed omega whine—a lament for my missing alpha. And then I crumple to the dirt.
As I close my eyes, Zack’s concern barrels into my chest, thin but real. I spasm with realization. He doesn’t know I’m acting.
“Cut!”
We’re in the wrong location, but the director runs with my ad-libbing, hustling the medical team onto the track. As we film them carrying me off, the heat in my body slowly dissipates, leaving me cold and achingly lonely.
And now I’ll have to do the scene again and again to fix any mistakes, get more dramatic, capture new angles . . . just like endless rounds of a heat squeezing the life out of me.
Rickon wraps a blanket around me and reaches for my cheeks. “Red? Talk to me.”
I stare at him, unseeing. “I can’t do it,” I mutter.
The phantom heat was a warning sign. I’m not in control of myself now, and it’ll only get worse in a few days when Wild Red descends. And this time, Zack’s gonna feel me lose control without knowing why. We’ll be thirty miles apart but joined in the cruelest way imaginable. Who knows what kind of rebound I might have from Zack’s fear? Or what he might do when he feels my terror? My heat could kill us both in this state.
I can’t do that to him, or to myself.
But only one other method can silence a heat; one I swore I’d never allow again.
I throw my arms around Rickon and cling to him, my shaky legs too weak to support my body weight.
“Let’s give them a moment,” someone says, voice hushed. An alpha, my haywire omega senses tell me. Notmyalpha. But the man is right. I need a moment to register the insanity of my decision. A moment before I pull Ashana’s skin back on and film her new omega heat agony in close angle.
I draw back and sniffle into my sleeve, and Rickon lovingly wipes tears from my eyes with his thumbs.
I assemble my courage and meet his tender gaze. “Rickon, I’m going to the Omega Center for my heat.”
The blood drains from his face.
Chapter nine
Callisto
The OCB meeting room smells like cloves. I wrinkle my nose as I slide in at a desk where it feels like being back at college. Except instead of legal procedures and theoretical morality, we’re here with a special task force to discuss a vicious attack on my friends.
Agents file in around me, big alphas with domineering auras and betas with calm energy, all serious in the face of crime.
Leroy swings into the room and scans the group, head dipping in acknowledgment when he spots me. “All right. We’re all here, so let’s get down to business. I’ve created this task force to trace the attack on Red Jones two days ago. Joining us today is Barrister Callisto Wren, who was also a victim.” He lifts his hand to point me out to his team, and the closest agents offer welcoming smiles.
I expected them to be wary, but any extra hands to help with a case seem to be appreciated. The OCB legal team accepted me in the same way.
