Chapter 37
Hestia
Ikeep my eyes closed as if that will stop my thoughts from rushing back in. I focus on the soft cloth running over my skin, the herbal scent of the soap. The warm water is relaxing my sore muscles after being folded every which way for the past several days.
Right after I woke up, Cato whisked me away for a bath, my heat having apparently broken overnight. I vaguely remember them washing me several times during my heat, but this is the first time I feel totally present for it.
One of the thoughts beating on my brain is that I wish my heat hadn’t ended. Or more accurately, that we didn’t have to go back to being just teammates.
But I can’t think about depressing thoughts like that now. With my post-heat hormone fluctuations, I’m very likely to start crying, and I don’t want to have to explain what’s upsetting me.
Cato is shampooing my hair, and I moan when fingers massage my scalp, quickly biting my lip to stifle it.
I cannot moan in front of them anymore.
Just because they helped me with my heat doesn’t mean anything has changed.
I hold back a whimper as he runs his fingers through my hair, gently combing out the tangles from rolling around on mattresses.
As much as I enjoyed being with them, I wish they hadn’t been forced into helping me. I wanted to wait until we were free to choose to be together after my training is over.
But my stupid heat ruined that.
I’m glad Cato brought me up here so I can process things in relative privacy. I wouldn’t want to be completely alone, not with my hormones urging me to be coddled by my alphas.
Speaking of alphas, I’ve been trying to block out the intimate details of what we did during my heat since that’s too much vulnerability to process yet. But it’s strange, I could swear I remember Cato having a knot.
Maybe my omega just jumbled up my memories. He smells like a beta now, delicious and chocolaty, but distinct from an alpha.
His scent has always been stronger than other betas, and now I know why. With everyone’s descenters and suppressants worn off, it’s undeniable.
I’m scent matched to my bosses.
Drugs and air filters can’t completely hide scent matches from each other, which is why I relied on good old self-denial while living with them for weeks.
Except during my heat, Cato smelled like an alpha. His chocolate scent was richer and deeper than it is now, and I don’t think it was just from arousal.
An image of his face, partially covered by a muzzle, appears in my mind.
Alright.
I couldn’t have hallucinated that.
Maybe it’s a kink thing, but why would Cato have that with him at work? Now that I think about it, he had Orion get it for him.
I psych myself up to ask about it. It will feel less awkward if I’m not looking at Cato directly, which is perfect because he’s sitting behind me while I soak in the tub.
I clear my throat and say, “Um, did you…”
But my courage dissipates before I can finish the question.
“What is it, pet?” Cato asks.
“Nothing. Never mind,” I say quickly.
“Tell me, omega,” he whispers in my ear.
My mouth opens of its own accord. “Did you, um, wear a mask or like, a muzzle during my heat? And did you haveaknot,” I say quickly before I lose my confidence again.
Cato chuckles, but that just makes me more tense as I wait for his answer.
“Did you like it?” he asks.
I squirm, squeezing my thighs together.
“You looked hot—um, good, from what I recall. Although it did rule out kissing. Not that you have to kiss me! I appreciate you helping me out. I know you didn’t get much choice in being there for my heat,” I say, thankfully stopping there before I ramble out all my insecurities.
Cato massages the back of my neck, and my body melts for him.
“It was an honor to help you, omega,” he says in the most serious tone I’ve ever heard from him. “I’m glad you liked the muzzle. I wore it for you.”
My mind spins, trying to figure out how he came up with the idea that I’m into masked men. Magnus looks good in his balaclava, but I didn’t think I liked it in a kinky way. Maybe I do.
“For your protection,” Cato adds quietly.
I try to turn so I can face him, but he still has his hand on my neck and won’t let me.
“I’m sure my anatomy wasn’t what you expected. I don’t meet the medical requirements to be designated as an alpha, my hormones aren’t high enough. I present like a beta most of the time, weak scent, weaker senses. But I do produce alpha hormones, albeit slowly,” he says.
That’s not what I expected him to say, although I don’t know what else could explain his knot.
“There’s a barrier between me and my alpha.
It’s thin, so I can see through it, but it prevents those instincts from feeling like a part of me.
I’ve tried all the treatments, seen every doctor and specialist, but none of them could fix this.
The hormones build up in my system, and if I don’t do something to burn them off, eventually they’ll overflow,” Cato says.
“When that happens, my alpha takes over, and if they’re too high, it can drive him out of control like a feral alpha.
That’s why Orion had the muzzle made for me.
It’s a safety measure so I don’t have to worry my alpha will do something we’ll regret. ”
I’ve heard of feral alphas who have to be institutionalized. I’m glad his condition isn’t that extreme, but I feel terrible he has to go through this.
Cato pauses like he’s giving me the chance to pull away. Surely he doesn’t think I’d judge him for a medical issue. I don’t care what his designation is, I just want him to be happy.
I lean back into his touch, and after a moment, he continues.
“Since those base alpha instincts lean toward fighting or fucking, I do both to burn off my hormones. I fight in cage matches and find partners in nightclubs or on apps. The job helps too. Manual labor and adrenaline consume some of the hormones, forcing the body to work hard and use all available resources. If I worked in a cubicle, I’d probably have to fight or f—date, every night. ”
I can’t contain my laugh at picturing Cato in a cubicle. He’d be a menace in an office.
“You don’t think I’d be a good corporate drone, pet?” Cato says, tugging lightly on my hair.
“I’m not sure the office would survive you,” I say, still giggling.
“Not unless I wanted it to,” he says, sounding pleased with himself.
“I enjoy being a rescuer, and not just because it helps me self-regulate. I’ve never cared about being perceived as an alpha, so I’m fine with only letting him out every few weeks.
I know some might judge the ‘treatments’ I use though. ”
“That’s stupid! Why would anyone care how you choose to handle your condition? It’s not like you’re hurting anyone. Well, except for the fighting, I guess—but they agreed to it! Your methods sound just fine to me. It’s no one else’s business,” I say, huffing.
Cato laughs and strokes my hair to calm me down. I grumble and shift around in irritation, making the water slosh.
No one better say anything bad about Cato, or they’ll regret it.
“I won’t lie, since I figured out how to keep my alpha from losing control, it’s been fun,” he says. “It doesn’t matter what others think, as long as the people I care about aren’t hurt by my approach.”
“I’m sure your packmates are supportive,” I say confidently.
I can’t imagine any of them would be upset about Cato taking part in fight matches or finding partners on his own.
“It sounds like everyone approves.”
His phrasing is odd, but I quickly forget about it as he continues.
“I would have explained before we slept together, but things happened so quickly with your heat. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand, Hestia,” he says.
“It’s okay, I’m not upset about the surprise. Thank you for telling me now. I had a good time with you, and I hope it was okay for your alpha too,” I say.
“Of course, we loved it,” Cato purrs.
We’re quiet as he massages the conditioner in.
My omega is unsurprised by Cato’s revelation. I’m not sure how that’s possible since she’s an extension of my instincts, but that’s the feeling I get all the same. As if, deep down, I always knew who my mate was.
His condition sounds similar to omega hormones, which build until they tip the body into a heat, falling off after that. Except Cato’s body has no system in place to let the hormones off safely when they peak.
“Wait,” I say, finally registering something Cato said. “You let loose every few weeks? When we’re not on call? But you never left while we were on break.”
“I didn’t feel the need to,” he says, leaning closer, “And now you’ve sated my alpha very well.”
I blush like the water is suddenly boiling and can only respond with flustered sputtering noises. My omega purrs smugly in the back of my mind.
While she might be pleased with herself, that just reminds me of how needy I was during my heat.
I sink down in the tub.
“What’s wrong?” Cato asks when I don’t come back up.
I blow bubbles in the water.
“Tell me what’s bothering you. How can I relax when you’re upset?”
That’s not fair. I don’t want him to feel bad.
I scoot up just enough to answer.
“I’m embarrassed,” I say sulkily.
“About what, pet?”
“About being so needy. Making everyone talk me through my heat and praise me for it,” I mumble.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
You deserve to get everything you want, especially during your heat.
I know the others were just as happy to serve you.
I have a bond with them,” he says, bumping his temple against mine, “so I can tell you just how my packmates felt when they were knot-deep in you. Would that help?”
“No!” I squawk, voice echoing around us.
Cato laughs darkly and says, “Why don’t I tell you how I felt.”
I make a noise that I don’t know if I intended to be assent or a dismissal, but it comes out sounding like a whimper.
“My alpha wants to be covered in your scent. That first night when you left the tub full after your bath, the water smelled like you…” His lips are right next to my ear now.
“I tasted the water, tasted your sweet scent. It was the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.
And then I bathed in it.” He licks the curve of my ear.
I whine.
Cato chuckles and dumps a bowl of water over my head.
I squeal and jolt away, glaring at him, but he just smirks and finishes rinsing the conditioner out of my hair.
How can he be so annoying, yet make it sound so hot that he drank my bathwater.
When he’s done, Cato brings me a fluffy towel and helps me out.
There, when I’m dripping water and barely have my feet under me, Cato cups my face and presses his lips to mine.
A kiss is too simple of a description for the way he takes my mouth. His tongue sweeps in, his lips commanding, and he tastes sweet and rich, like chocolate truffles.
He caught me by surprise, but just when I start to kiss him back, it’s over as suddenly as it began.
Cato pulls away, leaving me gasping.
“Now that’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says.