Wilder pats my back. “If he does, I’ll kick him off set for you.”
Mateo balks and stands, crossing his arms over his T-shirt clad chest. “You can’t kick me out, then who would do your lights, compa?”
“Your crew.”
He mutters curses in Spanish before stepping in front of Wilder. “They’re good, but they need me and you know it.”
Wilder and Mateo bicker like an old married couple, their chests puffing out as they do their Alpha posturing or whatever. There was a time when I was younger that I wished I’d designate as an Alpha, but I’m very happy being a Beta. I like not having to worry about ruts or being the biggest, most dominant in the room. I’m perfectly happy writing screenplays, being the calming balm to my Alphas, and giving Mateo the love he deserves. Maybe someday we’ll have an Omega too, but with Jett’s fame and our pack’s studio getting busier, that seems less likely every year.
The attention we get from Omega’s now tends to be from those that want to use us for fame or money, and not because they want to be a member of our pack. There’s also something else. From the outside looking in, you’d never think my manly Alphas are romantics, especially with the playboy rep the pack tends to get due to our openness when it comes to sex outside of the pack, but they are. They dream of finding our scent match, even if that’s rare.
I won’t lie and say I haven’t dreamt about it too, especially since Mateo and I are as close to a scent match as a Beta and Alpha can be and we’d love to start a family one day. I knew he was mine the moment our honey and basil scents twined together that day he sat next to me in Film 101 our first day of college. Finding Wilder with his sharp yet soothingmint and Jett with his tart lemon later that year only made our pack complete. Well, almost complete. We’re just missing something…
Or should I say someone.
“You know you could never function without me,” Mateo scoffs. “Tell him, mi amor.”
“You know you couldn’t, Wilder,” I say, meeting the large Alpha’s gaze.
He opens his mouth, most likely to joke that everyone is replaceable, even though we all know that’s not true. Mateo is the best cinematographer in the game right now. Moreover, Wilder would shit if anyone else tried to light our films. The two of them just like to push each other’s buttons like brothers would, but it’s always in good fun. The worst that’s ever come of it is one not talking to the other for a few hours, but then they always make up and life goes on.
“I know this was already approved, but do you like this shirt?” Jett walks up, interrupting the conversation before Wilder can speak. “Or will it wash me out?”
The three of us turn to look at our missing packmate who’s standing next to Mateo now. The white linen button up is partially open as his deft fingers work each small button into its slot, slowly covering up some of his scattered tattoos, and six pack dusted in dark blond chest hair. His blue eyes meet ours as he finishes the last button, sliding his hands over the sleeves to smooth them out.
“Did you just ask me that question?” Wilder chuffs.
“Are you lighting?” Jett volleys.
Mateo snickers and slings his arm over Jett’s broad shoulders, grinning smugly at Wilder with a clear message playing on his features:See, you need me.
Our Prime just shakes his head and Mateo grins wider, pulling back from Jett so he can see his full outfit.
“It doesn’t wash you out. Especially with that gold California tan you’ve got going on.”
Jett cringes. “Fuck, did I screw up? I didn’t mean to stay out in the sun that long this weekend, but I took advantage of the last days off.”
We know he did. The man was gone for the entire weekend, to the point any of us hardly saw him. I thought maybe he was sowing his wild oats but I guess he was surfing. He’s not originally from California, but you’d never know. He’s a southern boy from the landlocked state of Kentucky, which I think is why he likes the ocean so much and picked up surfing during college. If he’s not acting or finding a female or females to spend the night with—or ones to share with Wilder—he’s at the beach or the gym.
Mateo’s gaze flicks over him again with a critical eye. “Hmm, it doesn’t wash you out, but…” He trails off, and I watch as his brain works. His dark brow furrows and his pupils track back and forth as he thinks. I’m not going to lie, it’s a turn on.
I love smart men, and Mateo’s not only smart but incredibly creative and an artist of light. He’s been taking photographs and honing his skills since he was a child. He’s won multiple awards, including several Mexican-American Film and Television Festival & Awards and his first Oscar win last year. Like I said, he’s incredible. And mine.
Wilder knocks my shoulder and leans over so only I can hear him. “Don’t make the set smell like an Italian restaurant.”
I shift in my chair, cheeks turning pink with a new type of embarrassment. I wouldn’t make the whole set smell like basil since Beta’s pheromones aren’t as strong as Alpha’s or Omega’s, but with our pack bond and awareness of each other’s scents, it’s not a surprise that Wilder smelled my little spike of arousal. Normally I’m able to control myself but I think my nerves over meeting Iris and the first day of shooting have let it slip a little.
I clear my throat. “Sorry.”
Wilder quietly laughs as Mateo steps next to my chair so he can get a better look at Jett. He leans over, his lips brushing against my ear. “Later, miamor.”
My damn basil scent spikes again and I bite back a groan, hiding my slight hard-on with my laptop.Fucking Alphas.
“But?” Jett asks.
“Actually”—Mateo walks around him and studies the bookstore set beyond before stepping back in front of him—“I think it’s fine. We haven’t shot anything with you yet so we won’t need to worry about color correction there. But you realize you’re going to have to keep this tan through the shoot for continuity.”
He nods. “That shouldn’t be a problem as long as Wilder lets me out of the studio and into the sunlight.”
