Page 54 of Heat Clickbait
"Same time next week? I was thinking hiking. Or rock climbing. Something where we can just... play."
"It's a date," I said, and meant it.
Because that's what these individual dates were really about, not confirming physical attraction, which was obvious, but discovering who we were beyond our designations, our brands, our biological imperatives. Learning to play together, to be vulnerable, to choose each other for reasons that had nothing to do with scent matches and heat cycles.
And Blitz? He was definitely worth choosing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Callie
The waiting room at Dr. Yates' private practice felt too quiet after a week of constant pack presence. I shifted in the leather chair, hyperaware of the clinical smell that couldn't quite mask the mingled scents of anxiety from previous patients. My phone showed five different text threads, each Alpha checking in despite knowing I'd only been gone forty minutes.
"Callie?" Dr. Yates appeared in the doorway, silver hair pulled back in its characteristic neat bun, lavender and chamomile tea scent immediately soothing my frayed nerves. "Come on back."
Her office was full of warm wood tones, soft lighting, no traditional medical equipment visible except for a discrete monitoring station in the corner. She'd been treating me since the morning after our viral heat bonding, but this felt different. This wasn't about managing heat cycles or checking hormone levels.
"The others wanted to come," I said, settling into the familiar couch. "I told them this needed to be just me first."
"Good." She poured tea from a pot that seemed to materialize from nowhere, the china delicate in her steady hands. "Before we run any tests, tell me why you're here. In your own words."
I accepted the cup, letting the warmth ground me. "Everyone wants answers about what we are. The comments, the media, other creators… they're all demanding to know if we're really thinking about bonding or just riding biological compatibility for content."
"That's what everyone else wants. What do you want?"
The question hung between us, deceptively simple. Through the windows, I could see the city continuing its normal Tuesday afternoon routine, oblivious to my internal crisis.
"I want to understand what's happening to me," I admitted, setting down the untouched tea. "Without the public pressure, without their expectations, without even the pack's influence. Just... what is this? Biology or choice? Real or just really good chemistry?"
Dr. Yates pulled out her tablet, fingers moving across the surface with practiced efficiency. "We can run comprehensive testing including brain scans, hormone panels, and pheromone analysis. But Callie, I need you to understand something first, the answers might not be what anyone expects."
My pulse spiked. "Meaning?"
"Meaning the binary everyone wants, real or fake, biology or choice? That's not how pack bonds actually work." She turned the tablet toward me, showing brain scan images I couldn't interpret. "These are from established packs I've studied. Twenty-year bonds, fresh bonds, arranged bonds, love matches. Want to know the secret?"
I leaned forward, studying the colorful images that meant nothing to my untrained eye. "They all look different?"
"They all look different," she confirmed. "Because every bond is unique. What we'll be measuring isn't whether your bond orthe potential for it is 'real', it's understanding what kind of bond you're forming."
She led me to the examination room, where a medical assistant had already prepared various equipment. The brain scanning helmet looked like something from a sci-fi movie, all white plastic and blinking lights.
"First, we'll do baseline readings," Dr. Yates explained as I settled into the scanning chair. "Then we'll expose you to various stimuli including scent samples from your pack, from strangers, visual cues, audio recordings. We're mapping how your brain responds to them versus neutral stimuli."
The helmet was lighter than expected, though the electrodes against my scalp felt strange. On the screen in front of me, images began appearing. Landscapes, abstract patterns, then suddenly Nova's face.
My brain lit up like Christmas, the monitor beside Dr. Yates erupting in color.
"Interesting," she murmured, making notes. "Now this."
A photo of a random Alpha model appeared. My brain registered it as pleasant but nothing more, a mild blip compared to the fireworks of Nova's image.
We continued through photos, each pack member creating similar explosions of neural activity, while strangers barely registered. Then came the scent tests, small vials passed under my nose while the scanner recorded everything.
"Energy drinks and rain," I murmured. Immediately identifying Crash's scent sample and my whole body responded despite it being just cloth he'd worn.
"Your dopamine and oxytocin levels just spiked 300%," Dr. Yates noted. "That's... significant."
We cycled through all five pack members' scents, each creating distinct but intense responses. Then came the controlscents. Other Alphas, other packs, even one that smelled similar to Rex Hamilton's (how she'd gotten that, I didn't want to know).
