Page 119 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
“We never got to have a bonding ceremony or celebration because of how busy things were with the case and moving, so we thought maybe we could do that tonight,” Ambrose says, squeezing our omega’s hand.
Tears well in Camille’s eyes as everyone smiles back at her. “I can’t believe everyone is here.” She spots her dad and rushes over to give him a hug, and after that all four of us are swept up in a sea of hugs and congratulations.
The sheer joy and love filling the room has my chest aching with an unfamiliar feeling of familial belonging. I grew up with dozens of people who were supposed to be my family, but it was never like this. I’d felt self-conscious that I had no one to invite to the party, The laughter and embraces and well-wishes of everyone here remind me that I don’t need the people who raised me to be a part of a family.
The bittersweet knowledge swells inside me. Camille catches my eye from across the room, subtly inclining her head toward the kitchen. I excuse myself from the conversation with Jackson and Camille’s dads and follow her.
“Hey,” she says, smiling and pulling me into a hug. “You doing okay?”
My brow furrows. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one we sprung this on.”
“I’m fine.” Camille kisses my cheek. “More than fine, actually. This is a wonderful surprise.”
I squeeze her hip. “Good.”
“So, you’re okay?” she asks again. “It felt like you were… dealing with a lot back there. I know it can’t be easy having everyone else’s family here while…”
“Always so perceptive, omega,” I say with achuckle. “But I’m fine.”
Her eyes narrow. “Promise? Because I’ll go hide in the laundry room with you if you want.”
Her offer has me chuckling and shaking my head. “I promise. Though I wouldn’t mind some alone time with you later.” I lean in and brush my lips against her ear. “You smell like sex, and it’s driving me crazy.”
Camille’s breath hitches, and I pull away with a grin, loving how easy it is to tease her.
“Shit, I put on scent neutralizer and omega panties before I came downstairs,” she says, her nose wrinkling.
“You’re fine, angel. No one will know except us. And if they do, well, good. Because you’re our omega, and I like you covered in our scents.”
The party goesby in a blur of congratulations for our bonding and winning the case against Pulse. It’s been all over the news, but I’m so used to being a spectacle after months of public scrutiny that it barely registers now.
There were countless times when I thought I’d been crazy not to take the settlement Pulse offered. When I regretted opening myself up to more media attention instead of protecting myself and my pack. But on that afternoon a week ago, when the judge gave their verdict in my favor—and in an important legal precedent for omega worker’s rights—it was finally worth all of it. The pain, the fear, the shame, along with all the moments of pride and determination that taught me I’m stronger than I ever imagined.
The 2.5 million they’ve been ordered to pay me in damagesdoesn’t hurt either, but I’ve already decided once we pay off the rest of the mortgage and buy that hot tub, I’m donating the bulk of what’s left. Although I was the figurehead for this case, it was never really about me. It was about omegas across the country dealing with discrimination day after day.
After going to the omega retreat and meeting dozens of incredible omegas working their asses off to carve their place in the world in spite of all the shit society puts on them, I realized the reason why they’re where they are is because of community. Because of omegas who hold each other up and extend a hand to those in need.
I never wanted to be an omega, but I am, and I’m going to make up for lost time. Make up for all the years I let myself float through life passively accepting designation discrimination and hate because I thought it didn’t affect me as a beta.
I never believed in fate before, or that everything happens for a reason. But being here with my pack, surrounded by loved ones and with the potential to make a difference in the world on the horizon, it’s hard not to think that maybe, just maybe, something was guiding me.
Or maybe that’s the two glasses of champagne and my pack surrounding me as we sit on the couch and they pass me bonding gifts, talking.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I protest as Ambrose passes over a box with a pale pink bow. “You already got me a house.”
Laughs fill the room, but one of Ambrose’s parents, a reedy older omega with a bristly mustache, shakes his head. “Yes, they did. You bond an omega, you get them presents.”
My dad and brother give each other a bemused look at that declaration, but everyone else seems to agree.
“See? It was mandatory,” Jackson says, nudging me with his elbow. “Now open it!”
I proceed to open my presents, which include a beautiful floral dress picked by Ambrose which he says is for our next dinner date, a new e-reader from River with a note on it about us using some of my smutty reads as inspiration, and a jumbo sized strawberry cow plushie that has Lauren, Astrid, and Rhea cackling.
“Thanks, saved the worst for last,” Jackson grumbles as Ambrose passes over the final wrapped item, a large flat rectangle.
I already know what it’s going to be, but that doesn’t stop me from gasping when I tear the paper off.
It’s a portrait, fully rendered from a sketch Jackson did the day we all had a picnic date together. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, not because I’m vain, but because I’m transported back to the day I realized for certain that I was in love with all of them. I can practically feel the breeze on my face and hear Dolly’s cheerful barks as I stare at the painting.
