Page 58 of Cold Moon

But I was just trouble. Hardly even worth the effort, barely a proper omega, not even...

I stopped and took a deep breath. That wasn’t me, not any of it. It was my mother telling me what she thought I was. But there was no such thing as an improper omega. Linden’s mate was an improper omega, and he was amazing, strong and terrifying. Brook was an improper omega, all solid and muscular, and was awesome and blissfully happy.

Was there really such a thing as a proper omega?

And who cared anyway? Who wanted to be proper, when the improper omegas I knew were also the best, happiest people?

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and trying to gather my thoughts. Okay. I could do this. I didn’t chat with people about heats, but this was Linden. He knew more about my body than I did.

“I’m going into heat,” I informed him, as clinically as possible, trying to emulate my own voice, when giving him less salacious information. Because just the fact that I was going to have a heatwasn’tsalacious. It was a fact of nature, of life, and there was nothing to be ashamed of.

I diligently ignored the fact that my cheeks felt like they were on fire, and met Linden’s eye steadily.

Linden? He was the best. He nodded, the only indication of his surprise a slight widening of his eyes that he quickly covered, turning to pull out the blood pressure cuff. “Makes sense to me. You’re running a little earlier than I’d have expected, given your irregular schedule and recent relapse, but”—he looked over at the clinic door, then back toward me, one eyebrow lifted—“maybe there are external factors contributing to your body deciding now is a good time.”

Was he saying I was going into heat because Dante... what, existed in proximity to me?

At the mere thought of Dante, the flush in my cheeks spread down my neck, and that was sort of telling, wasn’t it?

“Is that—” I looked at the door as well, biting my lip once again. “Is that a real thing? Is it okay? Should I be worried, or—”

Linden took one of my hands in his, but instead of holding it, he turned it, pressing fingers to my wrist to gauge my pulse. “It is a real thing, and it’s fine. It might just be when you’d have had it regardless, but even if being around Dante did trigger it, that’s fine. It just means that you feel safe enough for that to happen, and your body is prepared to handle it.”

“Is it?” My body didn’t feel any different than usual. Well, a little more tired, but that was the relapse, not some new and magical ability to get through my heat without being exhausted and pitiful.

Linden didn’t bother re-answering that, just wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm, not even bothering to wipe the smile off his face. It wasn’t smugness or anything obnoxious, though. He just smelled... happy. Pure and simple, Linden was happy. I didn’t think it was because of the Sterling people, particularly given how Dante had reacted to them, so it could only be me. Me and Dante.

After a moment, Linden nodded. “Okay, it’s still a little high, but you’re used to that. Since you’re going into heat, though, I need you to watch it closely. Check it every few hours, and if it gets too high, you call me, okay?”

I nodded, unable to form words around that vision of embarrassment.

Sorry Dante, I know we’re knotted together, but I need to call my boss to tell him about my blood pressure.

Not that there was any certainty Dante would want to knot me. Or heck, even have sex. There hadn’t been a lot of time spent on heat education in school, but they’d been very clear that some couples didn’t have sex—the proximity alone helped the hormone surges, if not in the same way as a good knotting.

Would Dante even be willing? Would he do it even if he didn’t want to? The thought made me a little ill. I didn’t want to take advantage of him. Too many people had done that; I wasn’t going to become the next one.

Linden, meanwhile, was gathering tools on the little table by my bed. A thermometer, a blood pressure cuff, his extra stethoscope, a handful of latex gloves. “I want you to set a timer on your phone,” he told me without looking up from the drawer of his desk he was looking through. “Every three hours, you’re going to write down your vitals, for as long as your heat goes on. Along with any other symptoms. You know how this works better than anyone, and you know your body.”

It sounded like a nightmare, if I was being honest, trying to keep track of my vitals so closely while... well. Yeah. I’d spent heats in the clinic before, during rough times, and Linden had done precisely that—collected my vitals every few hours the whole time. And now, he was trusting me to do it. Because I was an adult, responsible for my own health. Because Linden trusted me with my own health.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

With a smile of triumph, he came up from his desk with a little notebook. “There we go. You write everything down, every time. I’m trusting you to know if it’s too much. The second you’re worried, you call me. Got it?”

“I will,” I promised. “I can—I can check in sometimes if you want.”

“Only if you want to, Skye. You’re an adult. You don’t have to check in with me. But if it makes you feel better? Yeah, do it. It’s not going to bother me to hear that you’re all right.” He came back to the side of my bed, a leather bag in hand, and proceeded to stuff the notebook, a pen, and all the tools into it. “You can share your numbers with me or not, obviously, but it’ll be good for you to keep close track and note how you feel at every step. Knowing more about how your own body reacts is always a good thing. You’re already an expert at this.”

Me, an expert. I had to blink the stinging out of my eyes at the idea. At Linden, telling me that I was good, that my skills had value. So instead of answering aloud with my no-doubt wavering voice, I just ducked my head in a silent nod, accepting the case he handed me and clutching it against my chest.

That was when Dante came rushing back in, carrying more grocery bags than I went through in an average week, looking flushed and beautiful. I glanced at the clock, and sure enough, he’d taken just under thirty minutes, including the walk both ways, a walk that would have taken me most of the allotted time all by itself. “Half an hour and you got all that? That’s impressive.”

His response was a tiny, breathless smile.

Linden chuckled. “Why don’t I lock up the clinic and drive you over to... to Dante’s place? Seems like that would be more convenient than climbing all those stairs to yours, Skye.”

I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him again. I couldn’t tear my eyes from Dante. Beautiful, flushed, panting Dante, who had agreed on a moment’s notice to drop everything and spend a week with me.

---