Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
MAX
“Oh my God, you really did bring me to a therapist, didn’t you?” I asked the next morning, peering out the car window.
Gwen pulled her Mercedes into a quietly luxurious business park in the newly developed district of Plover Bay, a terrifying smirk stretched across her face. “Not exactly.”
We passed a cosmetic and reconstructive surgery clinic and an orthodontist’s office before parking in front of a white, unmarked building with manicured landscaping and a pristine lawn.
“Remember what I said about trusting me?” she asked, shutting off the car.
DANGER, DANGER!
“I recall, but I’m thinking I need to rescind that.”
She rolled her eyes. “We can leave whenever you want, and you don’t have to do or agree to anything you don’t want to.
But I think it might help to talk to a heat therapist. Dr. Grover has worked with omegas from the clinic before—he specializes in people with a history of traumatic heats. And he’s a really good guy.”
Confused, I asked, “How is that different from a regular therapist?”
She smirked again. “He’s a heat teacher, Max. But he doesn’t just jump into bed with people. There’s a process. This is an introductory consult to gauge mutual compatibility.”
I turned beet red. “No. Nonononono. Nope. Turn the car around.”
“Max—”
“I am not going to share my heat with a heat teacher,” I said, shuddering. “I don’t care how many fucking degrees he has. No.”
My first time being knotted would not be with a stranger.
She sighed. “If you really don’t want to, that’s fine. But I think you should at least talk to him, Max. It might help you figure out if you’re feeling so strongly about this guy because of the bond or because you really want him. Owen might be able to… clarify that for you.”
“I don’t see how Owen could help,” I grumbled, wanting to crawl back into my shell at the thought of sharing something so personal with someone I didn’t know.
She shrugged. “It might also give your mysterious alpha a push in the right direction.”
I pursed my lips. “How so?”
With a smile way too innocent to trust, she said, “Maybe he needs to think you really are contemplating other options. Regardless, you deserve to have a fun heat.”
“Do I?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “You do. Now, are we going inside or staying in the car to wallow in self-pity?”
I threw my head back against the headrest. “Fine. Inside.”
She stepped out of the car. “Good. I’ll take you to get a Happy Meal when we’re done for being a good boy.”
I flipped her the bird before following her up the brick-lined path. The entrance was shaded by thick privacy hedges, and Dr. Grover’s name, followed by a bunch of letters and acronyms, was printed in small, bold lettering on the glass door.
Cool air drifted out when we stepped inside.
“Good morning,” a receptionist with kind eyes greeted. “Are you Max?”
I nodded.
“Very good. Please have a seat. Dr. Grover will be right with you.”
The waiting room was filled with furniture that had no business being so clean. I sat on the edge of my seat, afraid to even look at it too long.
“Do you think someone wipes these down every night?” I whispered to Gwen. “Seriously, white leather? In a waiting area?”
She snorted, but before she could reply, a door to our left opened and one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen stepped out.
He wore a collared button-up under a cream sweater that would’ve looked ridiculous on anyone else this time of year, but somehow, he made it look very coastal summer. Contrasted against his dark eyes and hair, he was striking.
“Gwen,” he greeted with a warm smile, walking over to hug her. “It’s been too long. How are you?”
“Never better,” she said with a wink. “This is my friend, Max.”
I cleared my throat. “Uh, hi.”
“Hello, Max,” he said, offering his hand to shake. “My name is Owen. It’s nice to meet you.”
Flustered by his general broadness, I returned the handshake. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Right. I’ll leave you two to it,” Gwen said, headed for the exit.
“Wait, you’re not staying?” I asked, turning red at the slight squeak in my voice.
She smirked. “No. But I’ll be ready to leave whenever you are.”
That conniving, meddling—
“Please, come have a seat in my office,” Owen said, holding open the door for me.
Ugh. Hopefully, this would be quick.
The plush cream loveseat he offered once inside was far more comfortable than the waiting room furniture, if not as intimidatingly clean.
He took the matching armchair opposite and gave me another one of those smiles that actually reached his eyes. “So, how can I help you, Max?”
“Well,” I said, deeply embarrassed at the idea of laying it all out there for a stranger.
I decided to go with a version that wasn’t exactly a lie, but more adjacent to the truth.
“I think my heat will start soon. The doctor said I shouldn’t spend it alone for medical reasons, but I don’t have anyone in mind, and I don’t want to go back to the clinic. ”
He nodded in understanding. “Thank you for sharing that with me. How about I tell you a bit about me and how I work, and we can go from there?”
Grateful I wouldn’t have to lead anymore, I relaxed back into the sofa. “Sounds good.”
“I understand you might be nervous. It’s perfectly normal to be,” he said, leaning forward.
“Trust me, most are. I know these are unusual circumstances to meet under, but I promise—we’re just having a conversation.
I prefer to chat with my clients first to see what areas of concern they have and assess if we’d be a good fit before we move into discussing a heat service agreement.
So if you have any questions for me, fire away. ”
“Well,” I cleared my throat. “How can you tell if we’d be a good match without jumping into… things?”
He smiled. “I check for general comfort and ease with one another, including open lines of communication. I also look for scent compatibility. It’s a strong indicator for a comfortable heat. Which I have to say, I think we’re a good match. But please tell me if you feel differently.”
I blushed. It was so incredibly odd to basically be told I smelled hot to this Adonis of an alpha. “You smell good, too.”
He smelled perfectly fine, but my omega took one whiff and turned around in dismissal.
Little shit.
“I’m glad. So, tell me. What are you looking for in a heat partner?”
I want to be called sweetheart while being held down and fucked within an inch of my life. Bonus points if you’re wearing a snarling skull mask.
I coughed. “I haven’t thought of the specifics. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, exactly.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “Would you mind telling me more about your heat history?”
Yikes. “Well, I haven’t had a heat in about two years after experiencing something traumatic. I was given heat stimulants against my will and had to spend it in the clinic. But now all of a sudden I’m going into heat again. I think. I’m not entirely sure.”
His brow creased. “I’m so sorry, Max. I understand this would be a stressful experience for you. Can I ask, what makes you unsure you’re going into heat?”
“The symptoms come and go. It’s like the heat is starting, and then, poof. All gone.”
“Have you noticed any commonalities for when the symptoms appear?”
Swirling octopus tentacles flashed through my mind, along with bright blue eyes. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I peered over my shoulder, through the large picture window overlooking the lawn.
No one was there.
“Well,” I said. “Sometimes when I’m around an alpha, they’ll show up.”
Owen inclined his head, as if thinking. “Any alpha?”
No. Just one.
“Not sure,” I croaked.
Something knowing flitted across his face before he schooled his expression back into professional kindness.
“Max, there are no expectations here. I want to be respectful to you and your needs so this first heat after so long is as comfortable and pleasurable as possible. Is it all right if I sit next to you?”
My omega grumbled. “Sure.”
He shifted over, sitting close enough for me to feel his warmth without touching. Then, he held out his hand, turned upward. “Would you like to try scenting me? It can be calming for omegas approaching heat to scent a compatible alpha.”
Calming was one word for the alpha-Xanax the Masked Man produced. I remembered the way I’d all but buried my face in his chest. My senses prickled again, and I couldn’t help but look back out the window.
Still, nothing.
“I’ve heard that,” I said, turning back to Owen. And because I was already there and maybe had something to prove to myself, I agreed. “Can’t hurt to try.”
Slowly, I placed my hand in his, before sliding it up his arm until the scent glands on our wrists brushed against each other.
It was actually a very familial and friendly way to scent mark someone, but with Owen, it just made my skin itch.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to center myself. Did I feel more calm?
No. But the back of my neck burned, beckoning me to look outside one more time.
Why couldn’t I respond like normal? He was objectively gorgeous, nice, kind, and he did smell good.
But I felt nothing. No slick or aching need. My omega grew even more prickly, all but hissing at the contact.
Owen was great. He just wasn’t him.
He’s not our alpha, my omega growled.
“How does this make you feel?” Owen asked, the warmth of his arm holding mine growing clammy and uncomfortable.
I scrunched my nose instinctively before smoothing out my features. “Uhh…”
He chuckled and withdrew. “Max. I will never be offended by someone who doesn’t feel a connection. But can I ask again, is there someone else you do feel attracted to? Someone your heat symptoms appear suddenly in the presence of?”
I buried my face in my hands. There was no sense in denying it; this clearly wasn’t going to work. “Yes. I’m sorry.”