Page 18 of No Strings Attached (Omega’s Preference #4)
Elias
I try to control my breathing as my knuckles tighten around the motorbike’s handles, the raw skin along the back of my hands stinging more than they did yesterday.
My flannel’s damp with sweat, sticking to my back as I roll to a stop at the starting point.
I’ve run through this damn routine twice already, each time pushing the bike a few shaky feet, but Nander’s called for a reshoot both times, his voice grating over the set’s speakers.
My stomach churns from a mixture of nerves and the familiar heat from this morning, my preheat threatening to derail this entire operation. I’m irritated, uncomfortable, my body fighting me as much as Nander is.
One of the crew, a small Omega with wide brown eyes, darts up with a water bottle, her hands trembling as she hands it to me. “I’m so sorry, Elias,” she says, her voice rushed, apologetic for the hundredth time. “I thought the last shot was perfect. I don’t know why they’re making you do it again.”
I force a smile and take the bottle, the cool plastic grounding me for a moment. “Thanks,” I mutter, my voice rough. She’s been keeping me hydrated all morning, hovering like she’s worried I’ll collapse. Maybe she’s right to worry.
Nander’s voice crackles through the air. “One more shot, Elias,” he yells, leaning against a crate, his smirk sharp despite the bruise on his nose from when I shoved him earlier. “Make it count.”
I nod, my jaw clenched, and down the water bottle before handing it back to the little Omega. My vision tunnels for a second as I shake my head, trying to focus on the path ahead. Fuck, this can’t be happening right now.
“Elias, are you in heat?” she asks, cutting through the haze. “You can’t be doing this!”
“I got this,” I force out, an unusual roughness to my tone. Heat curls in my belly at the same time my cock stiffens in my pants. It doesn’t help that my Alphas’ scents are still swirling around me, pushing me closer to that feeling from this morning.
She shakes her head, her hands twisting together. “I don’t know if you’re just stubborn or you don’t know, but everything goes up in flames during our preheat. We lose the ability to focus. You could get seriously hurt doing this!”
I wave her off. “I do this or I lose my job. I’ll be okay.”
She hesitates and then hurries back to her spot.
I’ll be okay, I tell myself. It’s a lie that I’m holding onto, hoping that this will be the last take.
I’ll go home afterward and curl up in my bed.
Maybe one or both of my Alphas will be free for me to fuck, to get rid of this heat sensation before I fall apart completely.
“Let’s go!”
I rev the bike a few times before taking off down the dirt path.
I know the routine and I’ve already made it over the small ramp once so this should be just as easy.
The bike kicks up dust around me, my gaze focused on that small jump where I’ll be in the air.
It’s only a few seconds but feels like an eternity.
I start my countdown as the wheels start rising, the bike launching over the edge of the ramp.
My vision tunnels for a second, the world blurring at the edges, but I blink hard, forcing it back.
For a few seconds, I’m weightless, the bike soaring across the door path, but my hand slips on the handle, my grip loosening just enough that I no longer am in control.
A whine of terror escapes my throat as I grab the handle again, my fingers scrambling for purchase.
The bike slams into the ground, the impact jolting through my body, pain searing through my right arm as I hear a sickening pop.
I bite my tongue, the copper taste flooding my mouth, and hold on, steering the bike to a stop.
My chest heaves as the crew starts cheering, Nander yelling out, ‘that’s the shot! ’
I can’t focus on anything other than the pain, though, as I climb off the bike, my arm screaming with every movement.
I try to weather my expression, forcing a neutral mask as one of the Betas runs up to me, his face lit with excitement.
“Say something to your fans!” he says, shoving a phone toward me.
“They just saw you pull off this stunt with only two days of practice!”
I manage a feeble wave, my left hand barely rising, my right arm clutched against my chest. The camera’s lens glares at me, but I can’t find words, not with the pain and the heat clouding my head. As soon as the Beta darts away again, I turn away, stumbling toward where Nander and Tristan are.
Both of them seem rather proud of the last shot, Tristan even giving me the rest of the day off…
which is a surprise. “Take the rest of the day off. I need to speak with Warren about your upcoming schedule since you didn’t network at all last night.
Make sure to take a shower and get rid of that Alpha scent.
You don’t need to parade your one-night stands everywhere. ”
There’s no need to fight back and tell Tristan that it was more than a one-night stand, that some part of me is already thinking about a forever.
I just grunt and stalk toward the parking lot, hoping and praying that there’s a stray rideshare car waiting to take someone somewhere.
I blink a few more times, the pain threatening to pull me under but I can’t pass out here.
I don’t trust Tristan or Nander and the fact that Warren isn’t here doesn’t make me feel better. Especially after he all but told me I’d be moving into the Hart house. Fuck that.
Light footsteps crunch behind me and I turn to see the Omega from the set, her brown eyes wide with worry. “Hey, I had to wait to get away, but are you okay? You don’t look okay. I was watching, and you let go of the handle and…”
I cut her off, my voice strained. “Do you have a car?”
She nods, pointing to a cute little blue car parked at the edge of the lot. “Yeah, over there.”
“What’s the chance you could take me to the hospital?” I ask as I start to pant, my breathing uneven. Even sucking in lungfulls of air hurts at this point, the pain in my arm spiking with every word.
Her eyes widen, her hands twisting together. “Did you hurt your hand?” she asks, glancing at my arm, cradled against my chest.
“Everything hurts,” I tell her, “but if I say something to medical here, that’ll just add to the problems. If anyone asks, we’re just going for a coffee.”
A nervous laugh tumbles from her lips as she starts walking with me to her car. “Everyone knows you don’t do anything but hike and shit,” she teases. “No one has ever seen you at a restaurant or a café, let alone in public outside of some really expensive galas or shooting locations.”
Her words hit me right in the stomach. She’s right.
My life—it’s not mine. I’m a product, a brand, a thing for Tristan and now Warren to sell.
The realization sinks in mixing with the heat in my gut and the pain radiating from my shoulder.
I’m not living. I’m just existing for their profit, my Omega secret their leverage.
My chest tightens as I force myself to keep moving, climbing into the passenger seat of her car.
The door shuts with a thud, and I lean back, the chaos making my head spin.
It feels safe in this space, her sweet scent cradling me as I try to stay conscious.
However, the moment she pulls off onto the road, I can’t hold on any longer, the darkness taking me under.