Page 74 of Heat & Deceit
“Okay. And how were those?”
“Wonderful. The last one threw a drink in my face. One scolded me and stormed out of a fancy restaurant. Another called me a dickstick. The next didn’t like my tattoos or my bad attitude.” I laugh at that one and look at the therapist, curious to see her reaction to all my failures. “And the other omega barely even talked to me.”
Ms. Emberly hums, tapping her pen on her pad of paper and searching my face. “And what did you do?”
“I was an angel.”
This time, she laughs, a deep hearty sound. Her cheeks turn pink, and she gasps, slapping her hand over her mouth and giving me a wide-eyed look. It takes her a moment to compose herself. “I’m sorry,” she says once the fit has subsided. “That was inappropriate.”
Waving her off, I answer her question for real. “I was purposefully antagonizing. I tried to lure them into arguments. I said things I shouldn’t have. I did things I knew would ruin the dates.”
“Self-sabotage.”
“I don’t believe in labels.”
Ms. Emberly chuckles under her breath. “Why do you think you did those things?”
“Because I’m afraid to disappoint an omega.” I’ve thought about it a lot. The guys came into my life when I needed them, and the friendship and familial love I have with them is unshakeable. When it comes to an omega, I don’t know what to do. I was the reason my mother died. My fathers always told me I was good for nothing.
“Your fathers,” Ms. Emberly says, following what I’m implying without needing all the context.
“Are off-limits in this conversation.”
She nods. “Okay. Let’s talk about your pack. Do they know how you feel?”
I shrug. “In one way or another.” They know me better than I know myself sometimes. On those days when I lose sight of who I am, they’re there to drag me back to reality.
“And how’s the omega search going now?”
“It’s not.” I glance at the clock. “Or it wasn’t. There is someone.”
“Oh? Tell me a little more about that.”
“So demanding,” I murmur, closing my eyes and picturing Carmine. “How do you feel about the rain?”
“The rain?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” Ms. Emberly begins, humoring me like a good therapist. “Depending on the temperature, it’s cold. The clouds that come with rain block the sun, and that makes me sad. I love the sunlight. Things are most beautiful when it’s sunny.”
“And what do you feel when the rain hits your skin?”
“I’m supposed to be asking the questions,” she says with a chastising laugh before answering, “I feel wet.”
“I don’t think things are most beautiful in the sunlight.”
“And why do you say that?”
I open my eyes and look at Ms. Emberly. “The sunlight is simple.”
“And the rain and clouds?”
“Anything but. Do you know what I feel when it rains?”
She shakes her head.
“Before it rains, I feel the atmosphere shift. The air around me changes, fills with musk and earth. My skin softens as the air thickens. And then the clouds open and it rains. Sometimes, I lie down in the driveway during heavy storms. I don’t feel wet. The rain thrums over me, like the blood rushing through my veins. It makes me feel alive.”
