Page 17 of Broken Heat
In my heart, I knew my theory was correct. When he first entered grief on the death of his mate, it was like his body and mind had gone out of alignment. Everyone experienced this. A transformation.
This incident had informed Elon’s body that his mate-less state left him too vulnerable to continue as he was, and it stood to reason Elon had subconsciously suppressed his omega nature.
Now, he did not project pheromones to attract other alphas. His mind and body had taken their own private route to protect him because they did not feel safe enough to expose Elon to something as intimate as a heat.
Until this moment, Elon had not shown me this side of himself.
It seemed almost too simple. Why hadn’t other therapists or doctors come up with this idea?
But I also understood Elon showed the world what he wanted it to see. As anyone would be, he was on his best behavior when he went to his appointments. Other therapists and doctors would not have observed him as I had for the past two days. This was why Omega Island existed, and why therapists here took patients one on one, spending almost every waking moment with them. It was why our rehab worked when others failed.
My conclusions also made me wonder why I felt aroused by him. He was so closed in. Yet a deep sense of protectiveness overwhelmed me. It was more than my therapist instincts kicking in.
He inspired a need in me to shield, defend, shelter. To keep close by him. To reach out as more than a medical professional.
It had happened so fast.
Sometimes alpha ruts brought up those instincts. But I had safely rutted months ago on my vacation, although that hadn’t gone well.
Elon broke the silence. “You’re not saying anything. Which means you’re thinking. You’re not mad, are you?”
“Mad?” I sat forward in my chair. “About what?”
“Because I didn’t really answer your questions. I don’t mean to be frustrating.”
“You’re not.” I forced a smile.
Elon had been cut off from the life he had grown used to. As a result, he’d lost even more.
My heart wanted to break for this lonely omega sitting in front of me.
Elon began to speak. “I didn’t answer your questions right. I know that. I don’t always know how to talk about it. It’s hard. When I get started, sometimes I don’t want to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop if you want to talk,” I said.
He blinked, gazing at the coffee table between us. “I—I feel weirdly guilty talking about him. I loved him, but he could be difficult. And I don’t want to speak ill of him. Not ever. I would never betray him.”
A minor warning tingle went through me. “Of course not. He was your mate.”
Elon’s face jerked up, then down as I said that. As if he was about to interject something. His mouth opened. Closed.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I prompted.
“I was really young when I met him. Just out of college—twenty-two.” He paused, tilting his head. “There is such a thing as feeling your mate when you meet, right? Like just knowing. That fated mates thing?”
“I believe so. Yes. You were lucky to experience it. And so young.”
“No.” He hugged one of the pillows to his chest. “You misunderstand. I didn’t feel it. Not for a long time.”
“Oh?” I pretended not to be surprised.
“Coah felt it, though. He told me he did, over and over. He said if we bonded I’d feel it, too. He said I was young and a virgin and that was maybe why he felt it and I didn’t. But I really liked him. He was so strong. He knew what he wanted and he always got it. I guess that’s why I’m rich now.” He smiled.
Curious now, I asked, “Did you eventually feel it?”
“Yes. I did. After we married.”
“After?”
