Page 4 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
Astrid’s eyes dart between us, brow furrowing. “This is a really weird prank.”
I let out a shaky exhale. “I wish it was a prank.”
We’ve been friends for ten years, so Astrid knows all my tells. Her mouth falls open as she realizes I’m not lying. “Wait,what? But…You’re a beta. That’s not possible.”
A cramp hits me and I have to grip the edge of the bar to stay upright. “I don’t know,” I say through gritted teeth as I ride out the pain. It’s like my worst period cramps, but paired with a fever and an achy, empty feeling that’s growing increasingly difficult to ignore.
“The first one is usually the worst,” Steph says with a sympathetic frown. She glances around and her posture stiffens as she sees the other alpha approaching us. “Maybe you can ask questions at the clinic rather than at a bar where random alphas are being drawn to an omega in heat like sharks scenting blood?”
“Shit.” Astrid’s eyes widen. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s go.”
I thank Steph for her help, and she gives me another hug and a murmured “good luck” before intercepting the alpha coming toward us. I lean on Astrid’s arm as we head out of the bar, sighing in relief as the frigid night air cools my burning skin.
It feels like ages pass as we walk to the car and drive the few blocks to the omega clinic. Astrid talks the whole time, butI can’t focus on anything she’s saying between my racing thoughts and my fevered senses.
When we pull into the clinic parking lot, the clock on her car dashboard reads 10:07pm—the time I was born.
Happy fucking birthday to me.
2
The automatic doorsto the omega clinic slide open, and a cheery little chime goes off to announce our arrival. A few heads turn as Astrid and I enter, but I’m too busy wincing against the fluorescent lights that are a blinding contrast to the dark outside to care much about who is looking. I swallow down a surge of nerves as I approach the receptionist, a kind-looking guy with light pink hair and matching scrubs.
He gives me a broad, sympathetic smile when I reach the desk. “Welcome to Peachtree Omega Services! Do you have an appointment?”
I blink back at him, taking a beat too long to reply, then shake my head. “No, uh, I’m…”
Dammit, I can’t get the words to come out.
The receptionist waits patiently, like a grown ass woman wandering in at night, unable to tell him what she needs, is a normal occurrence. My gaze darts around the lobby as if I’ll find something in this sterile space to help me explain my situation. Or give me an excuse to leave.
What looks like a mother and son pair of omegas peer at me in open curiosity, intensifying the urge to flee.
I shouldn’t be here.
I let Steph convince me I’m going into heat, but she was probably drunk. Why did I trust the word of some random bathroom stranger? It’s probably just cramps and hot flashes. My mom went through menopause early, so maybe I am too. The weird…wetnessis probably a side-effect that no one bothered to bring up because people never seem to want to give details about that sort of shit.
“I’m sorry. I’m in the wrong place.” I give the receptionist a sheepish smile and start to back away, but Astrid places her hands on my shoulder and holds me in place.
“Where are you going? I thought you’re going into heat. You can’t do that on your own.” Astrid pauses and turns to the receptionist. “Can you? I honestly don’t know a lot about…” she waves her hands around the lobby. “Omega stuff.”
“Well, you’re in luck, because that’s kind of my job,” the receptionist says with a chuckle. “I don’t recommend going through a heat alone unless you’re experienced with getting through it on your own, and you have a solid plan in place to help reduce pain and discomfort. Do you have experience with that?”
I shake my head. ‘No! I don’t… I’ve never…”
He holds up his hands in appeasement at my high-pitched reply. “Not to worry! Unexpected heats are nothing to be embarrassed about. Sure, we’d normally schedule things in advance so that you can select the most compatible partners, but bodies don’t always adhere to plans.”
“You’re telling me,” I mumble under my breath.
“What was that?” the receptionist asks, brow furrowing.
I flush. “Just agreeing with you. My body feels like it lostthe plot.”
He nods sympathetically, flashing a perfect pearly smile that contrasts his deep brown skin. “So I take it you’ve never visited one of our clinics before?”
I nod, and he grabs a clipboard and pen from the desk and hands it to me. “Just need you to fill out a few forms.”
I take the clipboard with numb hands, and glance down at his nametag. It has the name Bradley with a little omega symbol next to it and a heart icon that matches his hair and scrubs. “Th-thanks, Bradley.”
