Page 36 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
I watch, besotted, as they have their tearful reunion. I know we have a lot to figure out, but at this moment, I can’t imagine anything other than us all ending up together.
Camille gives Dolly a kiss and tucks her back under the blanket, then rises. “Okay, sorry, I’m ready for whatever testsyou need to do. I think maybe whatever was going on has passed, so they might not even be necessary. I can go home and?—”
“No,” River interrupts her. It’s the first time he’s spoken since they’ve arrived, and the adamance in his tone surprises me. His posture is rigid as he stands outside the door to my room, like he’s worried about coming into my space. Or getting closer to Camille.
Camille’s brow scrunches, but Ambrose speaks before she can respond to River’s command. “We’ll take you home if you’re uncomfortable being here, but please at least let me do the tests before you go.”
“Let the dirty doctor do his tests, Cami,” I say, infusing teasing into my tone to try to get her out of the worried headspace she’s slipping back into. “If you don’t, he’ll be a menace, checking up on you via text every five seconds the moment you’re out of sight.”
Ambrose huffs, but Camille’s frown goes away. “Alright.”
She lets us lead her to Ambrose’s bedroom down the hall, but hesitates in the threshold. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable…” she murmurs, unable to hold any of our gazes. “I don’t want you to think I expect things to go back to how they were because I needed your help with my heat spikes.”
“They won’t.” River’s adamance makes her wince, and I shoot him a “what the fuck, dude?” glare that has him blanching. “Things before weren’t healthy. I made a lot of mistakes and…” He swallows hard, his jaw setting in determination. “We won’t go back to that.”
Camille’s face softens. “Okay.”
I want to ask what that “okay” means.
Okay, we’ll start fresh and make this work?
Okay, she agrees the dynamic was unhealthy and doesn’t want to try again?
Now isn’t the time to press her. She says she’s feeling better, but when I squeeze her hand before she follows Ambrose into his room, her skin is too hot.
I’ll wait to see what our alpha doctor’s tests say, but if my experience with omegas holds true, Camille is going to need more before the spike breaks. Even with the uncertainty of what happens after, I’m desperate enough to hope it’s not over yet, because that means I’ll have a chance to be with her again.
16
Okay,maybe I wasn’t being honest when I said I was well enough to go home. Because the heated need under my skin returns when I go into Ambrose’s room and find his scent permeating the space, turning it into an intoxicating oasis. The room is decorated in creams, blues and grays, and there’s a surprising number of photographs in a gallery along one wall, but the lights are too dim to make out who they feature.
Ambrose guides me to sit on his bed. Before I can think better of it, I grab his pillow, clutching it to my chest and inhaling greedily.
As soon as I stop huffing his pillow, and scent marking it in the process, my cheeks burn. I shouldn’t be touching his stuff. I shouldn’t even be in his bedroom. It will give them the wrong idea.
Won’t it?
My head is still fuzzy enough with the bizarre dichotomy between my physical discomfort and the pleasure from being touched and surrounded by scents my omega craves. I should’ve shut this down already. The way Ambrose andJackson are looking at me is so hopeful and adoring, it makes me want to fall into their arms and never let them go. River’s guilt-tinged overtures seem so real, and the idea of forgiving him and starting fresh is almost irresistible.
I don’t know which of these feelings are real, and which belong to my omega’s instinct to avoid pain by finding a pack to protect and provide for me through the heat spike. What if, when those needs go away, I realize my relief, remorse, and desire to get back together are gone too?
I don’t want to hurt them, and it’s impossible to believe that they’ll be okay if I walk away from tonight and pretend like nothing has changed.
“You’re thinking way too hard, Cami,” Jackson says, plopping down beside me and wrapping an arm behind my back.
The tension in my spine eases at his touch, and I sag against him, resting my head against his shoulder. It hurts how much I’ve missed this. I’d convinced myself I was okay getting by with my sad little cow plushie, but when given the real thing, it’s almost laughable how feeble a stopgap measure that was.
“Thank you,” I murmur, placing my hand on Jackson’s thick thigh, needing to touch him back. My pulse spikes when he lets out a shuddering exhale at my touch, like he’s missed this as much as I have.
Jackson presses a kiss to my temple, stroking broad circles across my back. Ambrose heads to his closet, cursing as he digs around to find his medical bag in the jumbled mess of stuff crammed inside. The sight makes me smile, though logically a messy closet shouldn’t endear him to me. It’s just nice to see a side of him that isn’t perfect, when he always presents a solid, unflappable front.
Ambrose catches me watching him as he turns around with the medical bag in hand, and I quickly look away, only for myeyes to land on River. He meets my gaze, understanding clear in his eyes. Despite his rigid posture, there’s a hint of a smile on his lips that tells me he also finds Ambrose’s mess endearing.
“Dude, do I need to stage an intervention?” Jackson asks, clearly not as charmed by the older alpha’s closet. He leans forward, eyes narrowing as he looks into the closet. “Hey, is that one of my paintings? I threw that out!”
Ambrose shrugs, unbothered by the beta’s shock. “It’s beautiful. I couldn’t let it end up in a landfill because you’re too critical of yourself.”
Jackson sputters, but has no comeback for that.
