Page 4 of Empty Heat
“But what doyouthink after what I’ve told you and what you read in my files?”
“Honestly? I think we can help you.”
2
Lev –The Elegant Deception
Set apart from the parkland and guest cabins, beyond sight of the patients, was the four-story barracks where medical personnel lived.
We called it the barracks, but in truth it was a quite luxurious apartment building. Every therapist, healer, surrogate—even housekeepers and groundskeepers—lived here in their own suite complete with a mini-kitchen. The rooms were nice-sized, and our board was free. Our generous salaries could then be used for whatever we wanted.
Most of us had investment profiles because it was well-known that the turnover rate in this paradise was an average of three years, not because the job got too stressful, but because our work led us quite often to finding our true mates. Some called it fated mates. Once that happened, especially with sexual surrogates like me, we often chose monogamy.
And with non-surrogate personnel, while mates were welcome to live in our suites, most didn’t want that. As stunningly gorgeous as this island was, it was a healing center for sexual dysfunctions, and not a great place to raise kids.
I’d been in sexual surrogacy for five years. I loved my job, but I kept my heart under lock and key. I never fooled myself I was doing anything other than performing a medical service in aid for healing. My patients loved me. But had I met my fated mate? Not a twinge. I wasn’t even sure I believed in such a folk tale.
In my spare time, I read, swam, jogged and watched movies. I shared bonfires and camping trips with a good circle of alpha and omega friends. I also dabbled in drawing and watercolor, having amassed quite a collection of colorful jungle bird portraits. Some of my favorites decorated my suite.
Today I showed up early for my new assignment.
Kestor’s office was in the main building near the front gate. He loved his job and came in early every day, but even I had beat him this morning in my eagerness to start a new case.
I went to a nearby patio and lay back on a bench in the early sunlight, watching the shadows of leaves dapple my white kimono. I looked up into the leafy branches overhead and saw spoonbills and parrots, all bright red, yellow and blue, hopping around and looking for insects.
It wasn’t too hot yet, and I undid the clasp on my shoulder-length hair and let it hang loose on either side of the bench. My hair was brown with sun-bleached streaks. It was quite straight, from my mother’s side, which was Japanese heritage, and tended to stray unless I sprayed it or kept it tied back. Sometimes I used a headband. I’d had shoulder-length or longer hair since I was a kid and it had become a part of me. I’d never entertained a thought of cutting it short.
Finally, I heard a rattling sound come from Kestor’s office.
I got up and instead of going around in the hall entrance and to his main door, I knocked on the plate glass window that led from the patio into his workspace.
At sixty, he was still a good-looking omega with a passel of grandkids on the mainland. His hair was still dark with whispers of silver at the temples and sideburns. His alpha mate lived with him but often visited their kids and grandkids and stayed away for weeks at a time, but they were a very happy couple.
Kestor opened the door and ushered me in. “Hey, Lev, you’re early. Ready for your new assignment?”
I crash-landed into an easy chair by his desk, pulling my hair back into its clasp as I went.
“Other than paperwork, I’ve had the past week off and I’m ready to get back to work.”
“Well, we have a match for you, but it’s not that straight-forward.”
I leaned up in the chair. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
Kestor tossed a small tablet toward the edge of his desk. “His name is Callum. He’s twenty-five and he can’t take a knot.”
I reached for the tablet and opened Callum’s file. “Mentally or physically?”
“Read the report. His doctors have said all sorts of things. Somewhere in the middle is probably the right answer. But that’s not your challenge.”
I looked up from the screen. “What, then?”
“He’s skittish.”
“So? I’m good with that. Non-threatening, easy-going. I stop and start when told. I don’t get carried away. I have a gentle touch. My surrogacy record is impeccable.”
“I know. That’s why you’re matched. But the team took a look at his sensitive situation and decided to handle it in a less straight-forward manner.”
I raised an eyebrow. This did not sound like it was going anywhere good.
