Page 14 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
Ambrose: I’m sorry. It’s an emergency.
I’m stretching the truth, but he doesn’t need to know that. His curiosity matters a lot less right now than me doing my job.
River: Hope things calm down a bit. Sounds like it’s been an eventful night so far.
I’m not sure it can get any more eventful than meeting Camille and frenzied masturbation.
I set my phone down, and as much as my alpha protests at getting rid of Camille’s pheromones, I spray myself with a ridiculous amount of scent blocker before I head to see my next patient. I stop in front of the door to room 3, doing my best to smooth out the wrinkles in my shirt, though it’s a lost cause.
I’m going to be a mess for the rest of the night, no matter how hard I try not to be. How can I be okay when my world just got knocked off-balance?
6
A blood drawto test for STIs, a specialized heat birth control shot, and a boatload of consent waivers later, I’m barely able to suppress the whine building in my throat. My newly awakening omega is pissed that I’ve been doing paperwork and instead of getting filled up ASAP. I know they’re moving me through the process as fast as possible—it’s been barely thirty minutes since I got to the clinic, saw Dr. Stills, and finished up the medical side of the intake process. Sven, the giant nurse administering these things told me they need to get these steps done before my heat progresses far enough to compromise my ability to consent and make informed decisions.
My mind is still clear, and the idea of losing myself in a fog of lust is more than a little terrifying. The nurse said it varies from person to person, but it’s rare to lose all awareness and rational thought.
Rare, but not impossible. Given that I’ve already beat the odds once tonight with the revelation of my omega status decades later than average, I don’t want to discount the possibility that I’ll be a mindless hornball for days, waking up fromthe fuckfest sore and unable to recollect what the fuck happened. Though maybe it’s better that way. Can’t be embarrassed by what you don’t remember.
With that cheery thought, Sven finally escorts me to the heat services wing of the clinic, which is more welcoming than the medical section. No more migraine-inducing fluorescent lights or sterile plastic surfaces. He leads me to a cozy, dim room and gestures for me to enter. Inside, there’s a pair of squishy armchairs in one corner, a giant mattress raised a little off the floor by a short platform, and a stack of a wide variety of blankets and pillows along one of the walls.
Some of the tension in my chest eases as soon as I get into the room. I’ve always been much more comfortable in cozy spaces, but assumed that was a normal way to feel. Who doesn’t like soft, comfy things? Now I’m wondering if that preference was a sign of my true designation. What other things did I think were normal for a beta to feel that I didn’t examine? Have I been delusional my whole life?
No, Camille. You worked with the information you had. No one reveals this late. Or rather, no one that isn’t a medical anomaly.
I couldn’t have known. Maybe there were signs, but it makes sense that I ignored them. After all, no one wants to feel like they’re trapped in the wrong body. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have fallen for one of those scam pills or procedures that promises to turn you into an omega, but who knows? Living for forty years knowing my designation wasn’t right surely would’ve been enough to make me desperate.
Without thinking whether I’m allowed to or not, I grab a soft pink blanket and wrap it around myself as I push away that bleak alternate reality. I sink down into one of the chairs, which cradles me like a fluffy cloud.
The giant blonde nurse doesn’t enter the room,lingering in the doorway before giving me a nod, and leaving without a word. I stare at the door wondering what the heck happens now, and hoping I’m not left alone too long with my bizarre mix of panicked and horny thoughts.
Thankfully, barely a minute passes before a cherubic strawberry blonde beta woman in a buttery yellow dress appears in the doorway and knocks on the open door. She has a thick binder tucked under one arm, and I pray that isn’t the amount of paperwork I need to fill out in order to use heat services.
“Camille? Mind if I come in, honey?”
Usually I hate when strangers use endearments, but her soft southern accent and sincere smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes keeps me from bristling.
I nod, and she enters. “I’m Daisy, and I’ll be doing your intake for your heat services.” She lets out a little groan as she takes a seat across from me. “Sorry, I’ve been on my feet for too long, so this chair feels like heaven. I bet you’re glad to be somewhere comfy too, after what I’ve heard your night’s been like.”
As if in agreement, another cramp hits me and I stifle a groan. “Yeah, you can say that.”
She gives me a sympathetic frown. “Oh honey, looks like things are moving fast. Normally, I’d do a bit more foreplay before diving into the questions, but I don’t want you suffering any longer than you need to.”
I snort at her wording. “That’s fine by me. I don’t have much shame or dignity left after I hit on the hot doctor earlier.”
“Dr. Stills?” She looks unfazed by my admission. My face heats and I nod. “You’ve got good taste, and you’re definitely not the first omega to want a piece of that, so don’t worry.”
Her words should comfort me, but instead there’s a spike of jealousy at the thought that another omega might’ve gottenthe same tender care from Ambrose. Does he give out hugs to any needy omega who walks into the clinic?
Daisy gives me a knowing smirk, but doesn’t comment. She pulls out a small stack of papers from inside the binder, and pats the pockets of her dress for a moment before unceremoniously pulling a pen out from her cleavage. “I’m always losing the damn things, so I have to get creative,” she says with a chuckle. After clicking the top of the pen and testing it on the page, she focuses back on me. “Let’s start with the basics and drill down from there. Any preference for the gender of your partners?”
Isn’t the whole point of having a heat me getting filled up with alpha knots? “Uh, people with dicks, I guess.”
She arches a brow. “You guess? Our heat staff is a diverse range of gender identities, sexualities, and designations. Tell me whatyouwant, Camille. Not what you think you’re supposed to want.”
My cheeks burn at her call out and I hug the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I like all genders, but I’ve only had experiences with cis men. Mostly betas. Women intimidate me.”
Daisy nods, jotting something down. “So you’d like to stick to betas for your heat?”
