Chapter 33
Camille’s heat will be here soon. We barely made it through our picnic before she crawled into my lap and begged us to knot her right there in the park.
If it hadn’t been out in the open, and there wasn’t a rowdy little dog wanting to get in the middle of things, we would’ve happily obliged.
Despite what horny heat spike Camille demands, she’d have hated us for subjecting her to the possibility of being spotted and creating even more hubbub around her on social media.
Her heat is coming, and I hate that it’s taking away her choices.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that she’s living with us, and the prospect of helping her through another heat now that we’re all together has my alpha already halfway into a rut.
But Camille’s omega has been holding the reins for months, and I wish we had more time for her to relax into her new designation without the pressures of a looming heat.
I’ve taken her vitals every few days, and I estimate we’ve got two weeks at best before it starts.
Probably sooner. We’re scrambling to prepare, and it’ll be a miracle if things come together the way we were hoping.
Because yes, we’re having secret meetings without Camille to figure out a plan to make her heat something more than a biological necessity.
We want to use it as an opportunity to show her for certain that we’ll care for her, protect her, and cherish her.
A declaration of our love and commitment.
A few weeks ago, I would’ve thought we were coming on too strong, but it’s clear that Camille’s omega wants her to be claimed and her heart is open to us. This thing we’re building together is solid, and her heat will reinforce what we already know.
She’s part of our pack.
Watching my mate and my scent match argue over the merits of fictional characters as prospective packmates makes an absurd amount of love bubble up inside me.
It’s a delight to take in their flushed cheeks and the little dance they always seem to do where they start on opposite ends of the couch, but as things get heated scoot closer and closer together until their thighs are touching.
Camille scowls at River and pretends to shove him away.
He catches her hand and brings it to his lips.
Her flush deepens, and when her purr starts, so does River’s.
“Whatcha looking at?” Jackson appears beside me, his head peeking over my shoulder.
I startle, stumbling back and colliding with the solid wall of beta behind me. He grabs my shoulders to steady me, and the firm grip of his fingers feels good.
Too good, considering I’m not supposed to be giving him any indication of how attracted I am to him until after things settle down. Unlike River, I’m terrible at hiding my feelings. I’m worried my expression when I turn to face Jackson will be a big neon sign advertising how I enjoy his touch.
“Ah. Perving on our packmates. Nice.”
“I’m not perving!” I huff far too loudly, and wince as the pair shoot apart like opposing magnets when they hear my voice.
Ducking back into the kitchen, I grab Jackson and yank him after me before they look over and catch us.
Not that I was doing anything wrong! I was just appreciating them. I’m allowed to watch.
Jackson’s gremlin-like laugh at my scowl is enough to cool any heat caused by his hands on me. “Sorry, dude, but you went to check and see what they felt like eating for dinner tonight almost ten minutes ago.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt them,” I protest feebly. “They looked so…”
“Hot?” Jackson finishes for me.
I shake my head. They’re always hot. “Comfortable.”
Camille has been staying with us for almost a month now, and every day, the tension between her and River eases a bit more. Every day I can feel his adoration for the omega grow in the bond, and I may not have her bond, but I can tell from the way she looks at him, she’s falling for him, too.
“Oh.” Jackson’s teasing grin softens. “That’s awesome.”
There’s an ocean of emotion behind his simple words.
Jackson wants this pack to work as much as I do, but he’s been more guarded with River, like he’s worried it’ll only take one wrong move, and his best friend will be out the door.
He’s trying so hard to trust that it won’t happen, but I can sense his worry through the bond.
“You should have a game night again,” I blurt.
Jackson’s brow furrows at the sudden shift in topic. “Huh?”
“With River. Camille and I have our dinner plans next week, so it’d be the perfect time for you two to…
reconnect.” Hopefully the third time’s a charm for taking my omega out on a proper date.
My alpha loves taking care of her in the comfort of our home, but he’s eager to wine and dine her.
Show her how much she deserves to be spoiled.
I’ve gotten us a private table, thanks to the head chef at the restaurant being Bradley’s uncle, so she won’t even need to worry about others recognizing her and bothering us.
“We don’t need to reconnect. We’re fine.” The set of Jackson’s jaw very much indicates otherwise.
I’m unsure whether I should push him on this or not, but I don’t end up needing to say anything because Jackson sighs and shakes his head.
“Ugh, we’re not fine. I still feel awkward as fuck with him. I hate it. I wish I could be like you and snuggle up with him and let him kiss away my worries, but that’s not an option.”
A beat passes. Jackson’s eyes widen as he registers the way I’m gaping at him. “You know what I mean! He’s your mate, so it’s easier for him to get back in your good graces. Not that…” He coughs, clearing his throat. “Anyway, game night. I’ll ask him.”
I place my hand on his arm to help calm down the spike of agitation I get through our bond. I can’t help it. His eyes flick down to where we’re connected, then back up to my face, cheeks burnishing.
“If you ever want to talk about your connection with River, I’m here. Or about any of our connections.” It takes all my willpower to stay vague and not betray River’s confidence or reveal exactly what kind of connection I mean.
He shakes his head. “Nah, man, I’m good. Just being a baby about things.”
I frown. “You’re not being a baby. He hurt you. Just because you’re not lovers doesn’t mean it didn’t matter, or that he doesn’t need to work to make amends with you.”
“Yeah, but we need to focus on Camille.”
I grip his shoulder tighter. “Jackson, you matter as much as Camille.”
He snorts as if the words are comical.
“You do.” Jackson’s eyes widen at my adamance, but I keep my gaze steady.
He breaks eye contact first, looking down with a mumbled, “Thanks.”
I want to discuss this with him more, but Camille and River enter the kitchen, their eyes shining and cheeks flushed.
“So what do you want for dinner?” Jackson asks, sliding on his smile like a mask. When he looks my way again, he gives me a small smile and reassurance down the bond, letting me know he heard me. That he appreciates me.
It’s all I can do not to pull him into a hug right then and there. My chest expands until it aches with how full it is at the thought of this pack healing and deepening our connections.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss today?” Dr. Mike shifts back in his chair, calmly assessing me as he always does at the beginning of our sessions.
“Oh, just the usual. Worrying I’m going to fuck everything up.” My tone is flippant, but there’s a lightness in my chest when I make the joke. Like the constant companion of my worry and self-doubt is less a monster clawing at me and more a slightly annoying neighbor.
Dr. Mike must recognize the difference, because for the first time he actually cracks a smile when I say it. “What’s the thing you’re most worried about messing up right now?”
I take a moment to consider. That’s one of the best things I’ve learned to do from these therapy sessions—allow myself time to process and consider instead of getting anxious that I don’t have a good answer right away and shutting down.
The silence in the air while I think is less oppressive than in the past.
“It’s a tie between Camille’s impending heat and…” I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face, “Jackson.”
The enormous alpha across from me quirks a brow. “You sure it’s a tie? Or is it that you think you should be equally worried about Camille’s heat?”
The question shouldn’t take me aback after the many hours I’ve spent being expertly analyzed by my therapist, but it does.
“I’m not sure.”
He waits for me to speak again.
“Things are going surprisingly well with Camille,” I admit.
Dr. Mike nods. “Why is that a surprise?”
“Oh, uh, well, because I thought she’d still be upset with me.
To be honest, I feel like I have to pinch myself when I’m around her because while I try not to use the bond, I can still feel when she’s happy to be with me.
The sex I understand, because it’s a biological need for her with all the heat spikes, but, the rest?
” Just this morning she kissed my cheek when I had a cup of coffee and her usual oatmeal ready for her when she got up, and I felt a surge of affection that almost knocked me off my feet. “I don’t know if I deserve it.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I grimace and continue before Dr. Mike reminds me it’s not a matter of deserving someone’s love.
That I can’t earn love from someone who doesn’t want to give it, and I shouldn’t push people away who want to love me because I don’t feel worthy. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”
He chuckles at that. “Alright. If you were to make an educated guess at why she’s been less reticent to let you back in than you anticipated, what would that be?”
For the millionth time while working with him, I wish he’d tell me what he thinks is going on. But I know that’s not the point of this, even if I hate it.
I swallow hard. “Because her omega likes my alpha?”
Dr. Mike hums thoughtfully, even though it was an avoidant answer. “Could be part of it, sure. What else?”
I look down at my hands in my lap, where I’ve started stress-picking my cuticles. I shove them under my legs so I’ll stop before they turn into a bloody mess. “Because I’m being open about my emotions. Because I’m letting her in. Because I’m trying.“
“Yes, you are. I know you’re loath to do it, but I want you to take some time each day this week to step back and think about a moment where you put in the effort to be open about your emotions, either to yourself or someone else, and acknowledge it.
Say it out loud. Give yourself a moment to be proud. ”
“You’re right, I definitely hate that idea,” I say with a groan. “But I’ll try it out.”
“Good. Like other things, the discomfort will fade the more you do it.” Dr. Mike shifts forward in his chair. “Now, tell me about Jackson.”
An immediate flush washes over my face. Dr. Mike is an amazing, very progressive alpha, but he’s straight as an arrow.
I don’t know what wisdom he’s going to impart about my panic that I’ll look at Jackson the wrong way during the heat, he’ll know that I want him, and he’ll be disgusted and never want to talk to me again.
“Well, with Camille’s heat coming up, we’re going to be in close, intimate proximity with each other again. And that’s been getting increasingly…” Don’t say hard. “Difficult to navigate.”
“That makes sense. Sharing a bed and sexual partner with someone you’ve been romantically and sexually interested in for years would be difficult for anyone.” Dr. Mike taps his chin and sits back. “I’ll be frank with you.”
“When are you not?” I ask with a snort.
A smile curves across his lips. “You need to sit down with Jackson and talk to him about it ahead of the heat. You’ve told me multiple times you want to be the best alpha for Camille during her heat, and there’s no way to do that while juggling your secret attraction to your packmate.”
Shit. “But what if it freaks him out, and he wants to leave?” Blood rushes in my ears at the mere thought of having that kind of conversation, my abandonment and rejection issues rearing their ugly head.
“Everything you’ve told me about Jackson indicates he won’t do that. And if he does, isn’t it better for it to happen before the heat has started so he can take time to process and your pack can negotiate a rotation for attending to your omega?”
Dammit, he’s right. Ambrose is going to be frustrated when he finds out he gave me the same advice as Dr. Mike, and I didn’t listen to it when it came from him.
But that’s nothing compared to the cold, hard truth that avoiding this any longer is a mistake.
That this might be even more of a challenge to my quest to be open with my emotions and needs.
That I might ruin ten years of friendship by opening up.
I swallow hard. “Alright. I’ll talk to him.”