Page 1 of Heat Clickbait
CHAPTER ONE
Callie
The bass from the main convention hall thrummed through my chest like a second heartbeat as I stood outside the Creator Speed Dating event, staring at the neon pink banner like it might spontaneously combust and save me from this humiliation. Eight hundred and fifty thousand subscribers, a brand built on being the Alpha-proof Omega who gave savage dating advice, and here I was, about to peddle myself like some desperate wannabe looking for a collab boost.
My strawberry shortcake vape trembled slightly in my grip as I took another hit, the synthetic sweetness doing nothing to calm the nervous energy crackling under my skin. The scent blockers I'd applied in three separate layers this morning were already making my skin feel suffocated, but they'd hold. They had to. I'd tested them extensively after that disaster at VidCon years ago where some Alpha's cedar-and-dominance combo had nearly triggered a panic attack on camera. I tucked the vape back into the pocket of my artfully distressed jeans.
"Stop catastrophizing." Michelle's manicured finger jabbed between my shoulder blades with the precision of someone who'd been managing my chaos for years. "You're not hereto find a mate. You're here to network. Strategic content partnerships. Brand expansion. Remember?"
I spun around so fast I nearly knocked into a potted orchid that probably cost more than my entire streaming setup, my bubblegum pink hair whipping across my face. "You literally registered me forspeed dating, Michelle. The optics alone… What if someone recognizes me? What if this ends up on drama channels? 'Callie Cross desperate for Alpha attention despite years of preaching independence'?"
"The optics are fantastic." She adjusted her power suit jacket with military precision, the movement releasing a fresh wave of the artificial Beta scent that she bathed in religiously. Even after years of working together, that sharp citrus-mint combination still made my nose itch and my eyes water slightly. "Callie Cross, successful independent Omega, so confident in her own skin she can handle Alpha speed dating without losing her mind or her dignity. Besides, after what you did for Kara during her transition to being openly Omega, your audience expects you to be visible at these industry events."
The mention of Kara made my stomach twist with a different kind of anxiety. "Kara didn't have to speed date Pack Wrecked, Michelle. They practically scent-matched from across the city. If that whole true mate thing even exists outside of fanfiction and horny teenagers' dreams."
"No, you're absolutely right. She just accidentally went into heat on a livestream with tens of thousands of people watching." Michelle's expression softened slightly as she finally lowered her phone from her face, her dark eyes showing the concern she usually kept buried under layers of professional ruthlessness. "Look, babe, twenty minutes. Three minutes per table, five minutes to make notes and rotate between rounds. You've survived worse. You can survive anything for twenty minutes."
I popped my strawberry shortcake vape again and took a long, desperate drag, letting the synthetic sweetness coat my throat and pretend to calm my nerves. The industrial-strength scent blockers were making my neck itch where they covered my Omega gland, but I'd rather suffer through chemical burns than let some random Alpha catch even a whiff of my actual scent. Michelle had warned me when we first started working together that it was memorable. I said it was a liability.
"Fine. But if some knothead Alpha tries to tell me how I'd be prettier if I smiled more, or suggests I'd get better numbers if I 'embraced my natural submissive tendencies,' I'm walking straight out that door and we're posting a thirty-minute rant video about why speed dating is a patriarchal nightmare."
"You'll be perfect." Michelle reached up to smooth down a strand of my pink hair that had escaped from its carefully arranged clips, her touch gentle despite her razor-sharp exterior. Her fake Beta scent made my nose itch but I ignored it. "You always are when it counts. That's why you have nearly a million people hanging on your every word."
The double doors burst open like a dam breaking, releasing a concentrated wave of mixed pheromones that even my industrial-strength blockers couldn't completely filter. Alpha scents crashed over me in overlapping waves — cedar and leather, pine and coffee, something sharp and metallic that made my teeth ache. My stomach clenched hard enough to almost double me over, and for a terrifying moment, my body reacted like a struck match to concentrated Alpha presence.
A year off suppressants, and I still wasn't used to feeling anything below the waist. The suppressants had locked down more than just my heat cycles. They'd muted every biological response that made me Omega. Now, without that pharmaceutical safety net, every Alpha scent hit like a reminder of everything I'd been hiding from.
Inside, the conference room had been transformed into what could only be described as dating, sorry, I meannetworkingcentral command with a corporate twist. Twenty small round tables arranged in precise rows, each equipped with two chairs facing each other like some kind of romantic interrogation setup. Pink and blue LED strips snaked along the walls because apparently we couldn't escape gender coding even at StreamCon, the most supposedly progressive convention in the industry. Professional cameras mounted in every corner caught every angle, because of course this was being filmed for someone's content empire.
The whole setup screamed 'manufactured chemistry for maximum viral potential,' and I was about to be part of it.
"Welcome, creators!" A Beta woman materialized in front of us like she'd been summoned by convention magic, her headset and clipboard gleaming under the artificial lighting. Her smile was so bright it could've powered the entire convention center for a week. "Oh my god, Callie Cross! I literally cannot believe you're here! I love your streams so much. That video where you rated Alpha pickup lines while building that IKEA bookshelf? Pure genius. The way you just kept assembling furniture while absolutely destroying those terrible lines?Chef's kiss.I've watched it like fifteen times."
"Thanks, bestie. That was a fun one to film." I forced my dimples to show, slipping into the practiced smile that had gotten me through a thousand meet-and-greets and sponsor obligations. The smile that said 'confident Omega content creator' instead of 'terrified girl who hasn't had a real conversation with an Alpha outside of business meetings in over a year.'
"So here's how this whole thing works," she continued, consulting her clipboard with the enthusiasm of someone planning a space launch. "Alphas are seated at their assignedtables, Omegas rotate clockwise around the room. Three minutes per interaction. We keep it short and sweet to maintain energy levels, then our adorable little bell rings"—she actually said 'adorable little bell' like we were in kindergarten craft time—"and you'll have exactly five minutes to make notes on your cards and move to the next table. We're keeping things super casual and professional! This is absolutely about finding collaboration opportunities and expanding your creative networks, not necessarily romantic connections, though we certainly won't get in the way if sparks fly between creators." She winked at me with the confidence of someone who'd probably caused twelve public mating bonds through sheer force of organizational will.
Michelle snorted quietly beside me, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. We both knew that was complete bullshit wrapped in corporate speak. StreamCon's Creator Speed Dating had produced twelve highly publicized mate bonds in just the last two years, complete with viral announcement videos and follow-up documentary series. The event was basically catnip for true mate believers, romance content creators, and entertainment reporters hunting for their next viral moment.
"There are fifteen Alphas participating today," the coordinator continued, gesturing toward the tables where Alphas were already settling in like territorial animals claiming their spaces. Their combined scents were creating something akin to a heavy fog that even the industrial ventilation system couldn't quite handle. "We've got an amazing mix of solo creators and established packs, all looking to expand their collaborative horizons. You can skip any table that makes you uncomfortable, no questions asked, no judgment, no explanations required. We have security stationed right outside both entrances, and we have medical personnel on standby just in case anyone has an unexpected biological reaction."
Unexpected biological reaction.
Industry speak for accidental heat or rut triggers, the kind of convention disasters that ended up as cautionary tales whispered between creators in hotel bars. I'd seen enough footage of convention meltdowns to know how quickly things could spiral from 'professional networking' to 'viral humiliation.' My mother's face flashed unbidden in my mind, that awful, crystal-clear footage from when I was a kid, her eyes glazed and desperate as her heat crashed over her in the middle of a live television interview, the cameras catching every humiliating second as she collapsed into biological chaos while millions watched?—
"Callie?" Michelle's hand landed on my shoulder, grounding me before the memory could drag me under completely. "You good, babe?"
"Perfect." I took another hit from my vape, the strawberry sweetness sharp against my tongue. "Let's get this networking nightmare over with."
The other Omega creators were already clustering near the starting tables like nervous prey animals, their energy a mix of excitement and barely controlled panic. I recognized a few faces from the convention circuit. There was Lauren from BookishOmega with her perfect curls and 2.3 million subscribers (must be nice to have that kind of financial security), Holly who was a gorgeous travel influencer, Marcus who did those gaming streams where he wore cat ears and somehow made it work (cringe but undeniably profitable, and I had to admit he did look adorable), and a handful of smaller creators I'd seen around previous conventions but never actually talked to. Most were obviously fighting nerves, adjusting their clothes and hair with obsessive precision. One girl who couldn't be older than twenty was literally trembling, her hands shaking as she tried to apply lip gloss.
"First round begins in exactly two minutes!" Headset Beta chirped with the enthusiasm of someone who'd definitely had too much coffee.
Michelle walked me toward the first table like she was escorting me to my execution, her heels clicking against the polished concrete floor with military precision. "Remember, you're not here to make friends or find your one true love. You're here to expand your brand presence and identify potential collaboration opportunities. Think of it as market research with a side of performance art."
"Market research where I have to sit across from Alphas and pretend their pheromones don't make me want to crawl out of my own skin."
"The scent blockers will hold." She checked her phone for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour, her fingers flying across the screen as she monitored my social media mentions in real-time. "Though maybe don't lead with your whole heat-trauma-turned-content-empire origin story. Save the heavy emotional stuff for actual collaborative discussions."
