Page 6 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
She reaches over and squeezes my hand, catching my eye with a solemn look. “I’m not going anywhere until I know they’re going to get you the care you need. Hell, if you need me to be your emotional support beta while you’re getting your medically prescribed railing, I’ll do it.”
I laugh, her offer bringing me the first genuine feeling of levity since the bar. “I think Jeff might have something to say about that.”
She shrugs, a twinkle behind her amber eyes. “Eh, as long as I give him a blow-by-blow after, he’d probably be cool with it.”
I roll my eyes. She’s wrong. Her husband Jeff would probably murder anyone who did anything remotely sexual in her presence. He’s not bad for an alpha, but he still gets all growly and possessive about his hot beta wife. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass. It’s going to be bad enough having sex with a stranger without you giving helpful tips from the sidelines.”
“Strangers.”
My brow knits together and Astrid smirks at my confusion. “Strangers,” she says again, emphasizing the “s”. “You’re going to need more than one person tending to you during your heat. Alphas have stamina, but you’ve seen heat porn, right? One is nowhere near enough.”
My heart rate spikes at the thought that I’ll probably be having sex with multiple partners in the very close future. I’ve told Astrid that it’s been a few years, but even that was a generous estimate. It’s got to have been almost five years. After spending seven years never getting off with my ex, and three disastrous hookup attempts when I finally broke it off with him, getting laid wasn’t a priority at all.
I’ve only recently started feeling the need tofind something other than my hand and my favorite vibrators, so I let Astrid convince me to go out and try to find someone to bring home with me to scratch that itch. Maybe that should’ve been a sign that something was different with me.
Swallowing down the mix of nerves and heat thrumming through my body, I head back over to Bradley to turn in my forms and pass over my insurance card. He gives me a warm smile as he takes it. “Thanks! I’ll get this input into the system and someone will be with you in just a few minutes.”
I only get a few steps away before I hear a soft throat clearing. “Um, Ms. Clairmont?” I spin in place to see the omega receptionist frowning down at the clipboard I handed him. “I think you may have made a mistake with this. We need to know when your last heat was. Even if it was over a year ago.”
I clasp my hands together, unable to keep from wringing them together as I step back to the desk. “This is my first heat.” My voice sounds flat as I try to keep myself from bursting into tears at the acknowledgement of my situation.
The receptionist’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and he looks back down at the form. “The birthdate is accurate?”
“Yep.” I pop the “p” and it’s almost comical how his mouth hangs open in shock. I feel bad for making his brain short-circuit. “I know it’s hard to believe from looking at me,” I say in a weak attempt at humor.
Bradley fixes a more professional look on his face and gives me a forced smile. “Right. I would’ve sworn you were thirty-five at most, Ms. Clairmont. With your…unexpected situation, we’ll need to do some bloodwork, and the on-call doctor will want to see you before we determine the best approach to heat services for you.”
He sounds so apologetic, and his soft lavender scent has started to smell like the heating pad I accidentally burned in the microwave. I have the urge to comfort him, even thoughI’m the one that’s freaking out. “That all makes sense, and I’d definitely like to consult with the doctor. Thank you, I really appreciate your help with my…weirdness.”
“You’re not weird. You’re special!” Bradley sounds so genuine I have to stifle a laugh.
I scoff. “Yeah, the type of ‘special’ that ends up as a clickbait headline.”
“Oh no, your use of our services is strictly confidential!” Bradley’s mouth twists into a teasing smile. “No one will know about your unique circumstances unless you decide you want to do the morning talk show circuit and tell them yourself.”
“No way. If you’re going to get famous for this, you at least need your own reality show,” Astrid yells over from her chair, obviously eavesdropping on our conversation. “You could star in the next season of Omega’s Choice!”
I roll my eyes. Astrid is obsessed with that trashy show where they take idealistic, unattached omegas and shove them in front of a bunch of fame-hungry alphas. I sat through one episode with her and it was patently obvious how none of them had any actual interest in forming a real pack or connecting with the omega. I’d rather go back to the bar and lick that pervy old alpha’s balls than be in that sort of situation.
Bradley claps his hands together in delight. “Yes! Oh my god, you’d be perfect for that show. They’re always looking for a fun new twist. Did you see how last season, two of the omegas ended up bonding and leaving the show together?”
I give him a blank look, but Astrid is up from her chair and over beside me at the desk in an instant, ready to gossip. “Yes! But did you hear that Joshua was secretly sleeping with the host?”
“What? No!” Bradley says, aghast. He looks at me andsobers, clearing his throat. “Sorry, Ms. Clairmont. I’ll finish checking you in and a nurse will be with you ASAP.”
“Thanks.” I observe the excited gleam in Astrid’s eyes, knowing that she’ll pester me about her “brilliant” new idea until the doctor is ready for me. “I need a minute to, uh, process. Why don’t you stay up here and dish about the latest rumors?”
Slinking back to my chair before she can argue, I groan as I sit on the hard plastic abomination. Thankfully, the cramps have lessened a bit and the slick leaking out of me seems to have waned, but now it feels like it’s a million degrees in here. My thighs make a terrible noise as they unstick from the chair as I shift in place, trying to get comfortable.
I’d give anything right now for an ice-cold shower. Or maybe a walk-in freezer.
Part of me is still clinging to the hope that these are all weird menopause symptoms. Yes, I’ll feel like an idiot for coming to an omega clinic tonight, but that would be so much better than the alternative.
I know it’d seem strange to most people that I’m not excited about revealing as an omega. Media tells us all the time that being alpha or omega is somehow more special, and that betas are the basic bitch version of being human. There are literal fairy tales about the sad beta finally revealing as an omega and being courted by rich and powerful alpha royalty.
But life isn’t a fairy tale and I’ve certainly never wanted it to be one. I’m not the kind of beta out there pretending that she loves trying to take alpha knots because she wants to be “special” like an omega. I’m practical about who I am and what my life is. I’m happy being a beta. There’s so much less pressure to be any particular way. I don’t get treated as fragile and needy, nor am I expected to be dominant and posturing. I can just be… me.
Or I could. Please let this all be a misunderstanding. One of the good things about getting older is that I finally have a grasp on who I am. I don’t want to go through the hormonal stress and insecurities that I dealt with before. Aren’t my forties supposed when I’m finally past all that bullshit?
