Page 51 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
Shit. Maybe I can’t work on this. How can I ask Camille to put herself out there for even more attention and potential ridicule after what she’s been through?
I watch Camille’s smile falter as she considers Sandra’s words. “Oh. Wow, okay. I hadn’t realized how…important my case might be.” She releases a weak laugh. “I was expecting you to tell me that omegas get fired all the time for this kind of shit and that it’d be a waste of time.”
Sandra shakes her head. “It’s precisely because of the rampant disregard for the law that it’s not a waste of time. Omegas are typically reticent to reinforce the stereotype of being needy or complaining, which means that they under-report these situations and companies grow comfortable in their discriminatory practices.”
“Right.” Camille reaches for the glass of water I’ve poured for her while Sandra was speaking and takes a sip. “That makes sense.”
The look on my omega’s face tells me she wishes she couldcrawl under the table and hide from the responsibility and weight of what Sandra’s saying.
“Why don’t you tell us the details of what happened when you were terminated, so we can get the full picture and discuss your options from there?” I ask gently, hoping that grounding the conversation in the facts of what happened rather than the lofty potential of her case will help her relax. I hate to make her relive it, but it’s important for us to know.
Camille nods. “Sure. So, a few months ago, I went into heat unexpectedly…”
By the timethe meeting has ended, Camille’s already pale complexion is drained of all color. She asks if she can visit the restroom before she leaves, a dazed look in her eyes, and Sandra turns to me as soon as Camille is out of earshot.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for her, and I know I came on strong.” Her brow furrows, and for a moment I think she’s going to urge me to find a way to convince Camille to pursue legal action. She sighs, and a soft smile curves her lips. “Take the rest of the day off. Be with your omega.”
I blink at her, surprised. Though I don’t know why I am. Sandra is an alpha in the best sense of the word—strong, determined, and deeply caring and protective. Of course she’s empathetic toward Camille. “Thank you. I’ll come in early on Monday to?—”
Sandra waves her hand at me dismissively. “No need. Whatever you were going to do this afternoon can wait.”
Camille emerges from the bathroom, looking a little less like she’s on the verge of passing out. Sandra nods and says her goodbyes, and I escort my omega to the elevator with a hand on her back. When I step inside with her, her brow scrunches.
“I’m starving. Let’s go get some ice cream.”
“Don’t you have to work?” Her protest is half-hearted at best, a smile already curving her lips at the prospect of getting a treat with me.
“Nope. I have the afternoon off.” The elevator door slides shut, and I turn, wrapping my arms around her now that we’re alone. “Hey, gorgeous,” I murmur, savoring the feel of her plush body sinking against mine.
God, I could hug this woman forever, especially when a soft purr starts in her chest and she squeezes me back, scent marking my cheek with hers.
“I’m so glad you were there with me,” Camille sighs. “I’ve missed you,” she adds in a whisper, like she shouldn’t be admitting that.
My chest swells with so much damn love at those simple words I’m worried I might burst. It isn’t lost on me that out of everyone in the pack—Dolly excluded, of course—I’m the one she lets herself trust. I used to think that being a beta meant being an afterthought in a pack. After all, that’s how the omegas we attempted to court before Camille behaved. There were more than a few nights I spent wishing I were different. Beating myself up about not being “enough” because I’m not an alpha.
But being a beta means I can be my omega’s rock. The steady place she knows she can depend on when she worries she’s getting lost in her omega’s needs. The one that doesn’t care for her because instinct demands it, but because Iwantto. Because I choose her of my own volition.
If that isn’t a fucking great reason to be a beta, then I don’t know what is.
“Of course you missed me.” I grin when she huffs and pushes against my shoulder, giggling when I squeeze her hips and pull her back to me. “I’m amazing.”
Camille gazes up at me, the rosy glow in her cheeks returning. “You really are,” she murmurs. She raises up on her toes, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that’s cut way too damn short by the elevator doors sliding open and the sound of conversation of those waiting to step inside.
I grab her hand and tug her out into the lobby, loving the way her palm feels cradled in mine. Loving it even more when she doesn’t let go the whole way to the ice cream place a few blocks away, or when we stand in line and she deliberates over what flavor to get.
I get coffee flavor, because,duh. She laughs, her eyes glittering when she notices the special flavor of the day just so happens to be Earl Grey.
When she gives her cone a lascivious lick, her eyes fluttering shut on a soft moan at the taste, I groan. “Such a tease.”
She laughs when I lap at my cup of ice cream even more suggestively, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed as she stares at my mouth. Then we’re leaning toward each other, kissing again, our flavors mingling together in a blissful, unexpected harmony.
Someone nearby clears their throat when Camille lets out a muffled moan against my lips, and she pulls back with a sheepish smile.
“Probably shouldn’t be making out like that in public.”
I cock a brow at her. “Why the hell not? It’s better than me crawling under the table and burying my face between your thighs like I want to.”
“Jackson!” Her eyes dart around in alarm, but no one heard me.
