Page 49 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
“It does. Is that foolish of me to say? He was awful to me, and maybe I shouldn’t let him back into my life. But… god, this is going to sound cliché, but he’s… different.”
Lauren nods, surprising me with her agreement. “Yeah, he is. We had a talk.”
I can only imagine what that talk involved. Probably torture tactics.
I shake my head at her dark tone. “Please tell me you didn’t implicate yourself in a future murder if he ends up hurting me again. Because I really need this job.”
She brushes her braids off her shoulder. “We just had a friendly chat.”
I snort. “Sure you did.”
“So, it’s going well then? They’re not fucking things up?” The soft concern in Lauren’s voice makes me want to hug her. I still don’t quite get why she decided to care about me, and every day I’m grateful for all that she’s done to support me.
“No. They’re amazing. I’m the problem.”
She scowls at me. “No, you’re not! You’re a goddess, and if they’re making you think that?—”
“They’re not!” I release a gusty sigh, hating that I’m going to sound like a broken record when I explain what I mean. “I still don’t trust my omega. I’m trying, but it feels like I don’t know how to integrate these new instincts with the person I was before. So it scares me how good it feels to be around them. Especially when I let myself lean into that feeling before and got burned. So, yeah, I’m the problem.”
“Camille, you’ve been an omega for less than six months. You had a whole forty years of not being one. Of course you’re having a hard time! You’re experiencing as an adult what most of us endured as teens, when everyone is expected to be a tragic mess, not a responsible, productive member of society. You’re doing fine.”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“Oh! I know what you need.” Lauren’s face lights up, and she moves over to her desk, rustling through a chaotic pile of notes. For the head of a startup poised to be a huge success, the woman is shockingly disorganized. There must be a method toher madness because she finds what she’s looking for and holds it out for me.
My brow furrows as I try to read her indecipherable handwriting.Omen Treat?That makes no sense.
“What is this?”
“It’s an omega retreat that one of our clients is hosting. She’s bringing in all kinds of specialists who work on tapping into the power of your omega and integrating it into your life. She offered for us to attend as a thank you for our work, but I’m going to Rekha’s cousin’s bonding ceremony that same week. But you should go!”
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” The idea of going to a retreat for a bunch of high-achieving omegas makes me want to go hide in my nest. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.
“Don’t make me tell you to do it as your boss. Because I will.”
“Lauren, I…”
She holds her hands up to stop me. “At least think about it. These retreats are legit—I made sure before taking them on as a client. I really think it might be exactly what you need.”
I swallow my protests, not wanting to argue with her when it’s a very generous offer. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Good. If you don’t believe me, ask your hot daddy doctor. He’ll back me up.”
My cheeks burn at her casual use of the word “daddy” in reference to Ambrose. There’s no way she could know about our dynamic.
Lauren laughs. “God, look at you. You’re as obsessed with them as they are with you.”
There’s no point in denying it. I may still be worried about what will happen with them and how I’ll ever reconcile my new omega needs with my past self, but one thing is abundantly clear.
I’m falling for them, even harder than before.
My first weekback working in an office goes surprisingly well. Sure, it’s a lot smaller than Pulse PR, and half the space is still in the process of being set up, but I was worried, given how infrequently I’ve left the safety of my apartment in recent months.
It helps that the small staff Lauren has hired so far is composed entirely of omegas. I know she’s planning on hiring more people in the future and she wants to get other designations on her team, but it’s nice to not go into the office worrying about some alpha bro telling me how to do my job, or a beta who thinks I’m being overdramatic about the harsh fluorescent lights over my desk. Everyone here gets it. And the designer Lauren hired to set up the office has made this place as comfortable as a workplace can be for omegas, both for employees and clients.
Going from being alone and on the verge of a mental breakdown at any moment to working a dream job and chatting with a pack determined to demonstrate how good they can be for me, makes me braver than I’ve felt in ages. The stares I get when I go out and occasional catcalls from dumbass alphas on the streets who recognize me have become more bearable. I’ve done my best to stay away from social media, but there’s been an uptick in attention since the launch party—someonedidget a photo of me sprawled on the floor, and my viral infamy flared up again.
What made me scared and want to hide away from everything is now also a source of indignance. Why should I hide myself away? I didn’t do anything wrong, and cowering only gives the assholes talking about me more power. They wantme to feel shame. They’re using me in their narrative of omega oppression disguised as protecting us.
