Page 29 of Heat Clickbait
And maybe that was the point. Maybe that was enough, at least for now.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Callie
The spare bedroom they'd chosen for my meeting with Dr. Yates felt wrong. Too clinical, too separate from the nest where I'd spent the last three days discovering what my body could do when it wasn't fighting against suppressants. I sat on the edge of the pristine guest bed, my legs bouncing with nervous energy that made my borrowed, and therefore oversized, tee flutter against my thighs. The room smelled like air freshener and furniture polish, nothing like the complex tapestry of pack scents that had become my new normal.
"She'll be here in five," Nova said from the doorway, his usual composed demeanor cracking slightly around the edges. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles where he'd been running his fingers through it, a tell I'd learned meant he was calculating variables he couldn't control. "We thought... privacy might be beneficial for your first consultation."
The careful way he said "consultation" made my omega bristle beneath my skin, an instinctive rejection of anything medical after what had just happened between us.
"You called her," I said, not quite an accusation but close. "During my heat. Without asking."
Nova's jaw tightened, that little muscle jumping in a way that would've been imperceptible if I hadn't spent hours memorizing every microexpression on his face. "Your temperature spiked to 104. We needed medical guidance."
"I needed—" I started, then stopped, because finishing that sentence would mean acknowledging what was potentially happening between us.
Milo appeared beside Nova, a mug of chamomile tea materializing in his hands like magic. His honey-and-cinnamon scent wrapped around me, immediately soothing the sharp edges of my agitation. "She's nice," he offered, pressing the warm ceramic into my hands. "She's helped us through stuff before."
I wrapped my fingers around the mug to stop them from shaking.
Ghost materialized in the doorway, and I meant that literally, the man moved like smoke, his tablet already in hand. He showed me the screen.
He had pulled up a very professional looking website for Dr. Yelena Yates, Omega Specialist and Pack Dynamic Counselor. The photo showed a woman in her mid-forties with silver hair and kind eyes that somehow conveyed both competence and compassion through pixels alone.
"She's safe," Ghost said quietly, and the fact that he'd used actual words instead of typing made me pay attention. If Ghost vouched for someone verbally, it meant something.
The doorbell chimed through the house's smart system, a gentle melody that still made my oversensitive omega instincts catalog it as 'potential threat at the border.' Blitz's voice carried from downstairs, warm and welcoming in that way that made his thirst-trap followers swoon, followed by Crash's enthusiastic greeting that probably included too much information about our last three days.
"I'll bring her up," Nova said, straightening his shirt like he was preparing for a business meeting. The gesture was so perfectly him that something in my chest unclenched slightly. "Unless you'd prefer?—"
"Just... give me a second?" I set the tea aside, pulling my knees up to my chest. The movement made me aware of how sore I still was, muscles protesting from three days of activities my body had been chemically prevented from experiencing for years. "With her. Alone. Before you all hover like protective mother hens."
Milo looked like he wanted to protest, his instincts practically vibrating through the air, but Nova's hand on his shoulder stopped him. They retreated with obvious reluctance, their combined scents lingering like a protective barrier even after they'd gone.
Dr. Yates appeared moments later, and my first thought was that she looked nothing like the trauma counselors my mother had dragged me to after her public breakdown. No severe suit or clipboard held like a shield. She wore soft colors, a pale blue cardigan over cream slacks, and carried a leather bag that looked more like an artist's satchel than a medical kit. Her scent hit me a moment later, lavender and chamomile tea with an undertone of something steady and grounding, like river stones warmed by sun.
"Callie," she said, not asking permission before settling into the chair across from the bed, creating a comfortable distance without the barrier of a desk or medical equipment. "I imagine this isn't what you'd prefer to be doing right now."
The directness caught me off guard. "I didn't imagine any of this," I admitted, gesturing vaguely at myself, the room, the entire situation. "A couple of days ago, I was the independent Omega who didn't need anyone. Now I'm... this."
"'This' being?"
I pulled at a loose thread on my shirt, probably Ghost's, based on the size and the faint pine scent, trying to find words for the chaos in my head. "Claimed but not claimed. Bonded but not bonded. Theirs but still mine. It doesn't make sense."
"Pack dynamics rarely do when you try to force them into binary categories." She pulled out a tablet, fingers moving across the surface with practiced ease. "Before we discuss anything medical, I want to be clear. I’m here for you. Not them, not the media narrative, not even the biological imperatives. Just you."
"They're probably listening," I said, not even bothering to lower my voice. With Ghost's security system and everyone's protective instincts firing on all cylinders, there was zero chance this conversation was actually private.
Dr. Yates smiled, the expression reaching her eyes. "Of course they are. New pack bonds, especially ones formed under intense circumstances, create hypervigilance. It's actually a good sign, means the emotional connection is developing alongside the biological one."
"Is that what this is?" I touched my neck where the skin still felt too empty, too unmarked despite the fading red marks from their mouths and hands. "An emotional connection wrapped in biological chaos?"
"What do you think it is?"
I wanted to deflect, make a joke, fall back on the savage persona that had built my empire. But something about her steady presence made honesty feel possible. "I think I scent-matched with five Alphas who spent days proving they respect me more than they want me. Which should feel like rejection but instead feels like... the opposite."
"Because they refused your heat request for bonding bites?"
