Page 31 of Heat Clickbait
"Different. Your heat is receding, but isn't completely over and the compatibility you've established is going to make itself known. Think of it like... your bodies have learned each other's languages. Now they're going to want to keep conversing."
"That's the worst metaphor I've ever heard."
She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Medical school doesn't include creative writing. The point is, you're going to need to make conscious choices about how to proceed. No more hiding behind heat hormones or biological imperatives."
A knock at the door interrupted whatever response I might have made. Nova's voice, carefully controlled: "Dr. Yates? Callie? We've... we've prepared lunch. If you're at a stopping point."
"Milo stress-cooked," Crash added helpfully. "There's enough food for thirty people. Again."
Dr. Yates looked at me, eyebrow raised in question. "Your call."
I thought about the five Alphas waiting outside, probably pressed against the door like puppies. About the nest room down the hall that still smelled like sex and need and something sweeter. About my mother's warnings and my own fears and the way Nova's hand had felt in mine at that convention table, right before everything changed.
"Yeah," I said, standing on legs that barely wobbled. "Let's go eat Milo's feelings."
The doctor followed me out, and immediately I was surrounded by concerned Alpha energy. Ghost checked me for signs of distress with those dark eyes that missed nothing. Milo's hands fluttered like he wanted to touch but wasn't sure if he was allowed. Blitz flexed unconsciously, a protective display he probably didn't even realize he was doing. Crash vibrated in place, clearly bursting with questions. And Nova... Nova watched Dr. Yates with the calculated intensity of someone preparing for a business negotiation.
"She's fine," Dr. Yates said mildly. "Recovering well, hormones stabilizing, though the heat's not over yet. We should discuss ongoing care at some point, especially regarding future heats."
"Future heats?" The words cracked out of me. "I just survived this one."
"Which is why planning is essential." She accepted the plate Milo thrust at her, immediately noting, "This is too much food."
"That's what I said," I muttered, but I was already reaching for the dinosaur nuggets I could see hidden among the gourmet spread. Milo's pleased sound made warmth spread through my chest.
"The next one will be different," Dr. Yates continued, settling at the kitchen island like she belonged there. "Now that you've established compatibility, your body will expect certain responses. We should discuss whether you want to maintain boundaries or..."
"Or?" Nova prompted when she trailed off.
"Or pursue formal bonding." She took a bite of whatever Milo had made, looked like some kind of fancy quiche, and made an appreciative sound. "This is incredible."
"He cooks when he's anxious," Crash explained through a mouthful of food. "This represents about DEFCON 2 levels of worry."
"DEFCON 1 was yesterday," Ghost added quietly, and everyone turned to stare because he'd spoken twice in front of a stranger.
"What was DEFCON 1?" I asked.
"Soufflé," they all said in unison.
"Three of them," Blitz added. "All perfect. It was actually terrifying."
The normalcy of the moment, sitting around eating Milo's anxiety while discussing my biological future like it was a normal Tuesday, made something loosen in my chest. This was what I'd been afraid of losing, the savage independence, the ability to make my own choices. But here I was, surrounded by Alphas who'd proven they valued my autonomy over their instincts, making jokes about soufflés while a medical professional helped us navigate something that would've sent my mother into a breakdown.
"I want to know everything," I said suddenly, looking at Dr. Yates. "Every option, every possibility, every way this could go. No sugarcoating, no Alpha-placating medical speak. Just truth."
She smiled, that warm expression that made her eyes crinkle. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."
We spent the next two hours discussing everything from hormone regulation to bonding ceremonies to the psychological impacts of pack dynamics. The Alphas asked questions I hadn't thought of, took notes (Nova physically and Ghost digitally), and never once tried to make decisions for me. When Dr. Yates finally left, with a follow-up appointment scheduled and what seemed like a genuinely warm goodbye from everyone, I felt more in control than I had since the convention.
"You okay?" Milo asked, already cleaning despite the disaster zone his stress-cooking had created.
I thought about it, really considered the question instead of deflecting. "Yeah. I think I actually am."
"Even without..." Nova trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his neck.
"Especially without," I corrected, understanding flooding through me. "You gave me something more important than marks. You gave me choice."
The smile that spread across his face was worth every moment of uncertainty. And when Crash launched himself at me for a hug that turned into a pack pile on the kitchen floor, laughing and tangled and whole without being claimed, I thought maybe my mother had been wrong.
