Page 5 of Fight or Fly

“Hello,” he greeted. “It’s last minute, but I was able to acquire everything you need. Still comfortable with your choice, I hope?”

“Committed, anyway,” I replied. “I’ve got a bit too much of a crawling-out-of-my-own-skin thing going on for the word comfortable to feel appropriate.”

He nodded, unperturbed. “You’re getting close, it seems. If you’re ready, I can administer the contraceptive shot for you now. There’s probably no point in putting it off.”

I swallowed and nodded agreement, watching as he drew a sealed syringe and an unlabeled vial from the bag. He tore open the syringe’s plastic packaging and plunged the needle through the vial’s rubber seal, drawing up its contents. After flicking the syringe to loosen the air bubbles, he pressed the plunger until a bead of liquid dripped from the needle tip. Then, he turned to me.

“This will prevent ovulation,” he said. “Normally you’d release an egg with every peak. With this stuff in your system, you won’t. There’s also a selection of condoms, along with three sizes of cervical caps. You’ll need to try them ahead of time to see which size is most comfortable and secure, but as an omega who’s never been pregnant, I would guess the medium size is your best bet.”

Kam had been standing nearby, watching the exchange. “You know,” he said with a hint of wry humor, “it’s a bit surreal watching you dispense information on cervical caps when I’ve also seen you wearing a balaclava and waving an Uzi around.”

“It was an AK-47,” Beckett said placidly, and Kam gave a little snort.

“Well, I for one am grateful for both of your skill sets,” I told him. With a gesture, I indicated the syringe. “Is that going in my shoulder?”

“It’s intramuscular, yes,” he said. “Your shoulder will be fine. Left arm?”

I nodded and offered him my left shoulder, bared by the tank top. He steadied my arm and a moment later I felt the pinch of the needle entering. A few seconds later, it was done. Maybe I should have had more misgivings about letting this person I barely knew inject drugs into my body... but he’d saved us twice. He was the one and only reason I wasn’t currently awaiting a show trial followed by a messy execution at the hands of Enoch Sloane.

Also, there was the small matter that I’d been using drugs provided by people I barely knew to control my omega biology since I was sixteen.

“Thank you,” I told him. “And not just for the shot.”

Beckett gave me the same small, tight smile that I’d seen several times before. It was a smile that said he appreciated the sentiment, while also hating the reasons behind it. I wondered how long he’d been fighting as part of the underground, and how he dealt with the frustration of things never changing, except for the worse.

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

I’d been poised to ask him the same question I’d asked Alex—am I making a mistake?But somehow, that wasn’t the question I needed answered anymore.

“Is there anything you think I should know, going into this?” I asked instead. “My parents were betas, and I’ve been suppressing my heats for fifteen years. I’m going in blind; I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Kam’s hand found mine, our fingers tangling as he gave me a supportive squeeze. I squeezed back.

Beckett leaned back on the couch. “The first rule of a heat contract is to choose your alphas wisely. You’ve done that already. As much as I hate to say it, beyond that, hormones will pretty much dictate that you’ll take whatever they dish out, and probably beg for more. Hence the importance of rule number one.”

I thought back to my vague memories of Romania—of begging for sex barely an hour after I’d explicitly refused it, a slave to my own desperation.

“Point taken,” I said.

But he shook his head. “Don’t take that the wrong way. You’ve chosen three honorable alphas, one of whom will be on guard the whole time to make sure no one gets carried away. Your heat should be a time of joyful connection. Sharing it with packmates and friends is a blessing. Cherish it.”

My throat tightened, and I had to swallow against the thickness there. I gave him a nod of understanding in lieu of words. In a perfect world, I would be the sort of omega who wanted pups, living in a world where that dream posed no danger. Kam and I would be mated to a pack of alphas, sharing my heat joyously and without reservations.

Failing that—living in the world we inhabited now—this heat contract might be the only taste of that kind of happiness I would ever get.

Kam shifted beside me. “I understand that this is a sensitive question you may not be able to answer, but do you ever get to share heats with your mate?”

Beckett’s answering smile was achingly sad. “Not nearly as often as we’d like,” he said. “That’s how I learned to cherish the times we do have.”

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