12. Willow
Chapter twelve
Willow
Of all the shitty things that could happen! The stench covers me from head to toe, reeking of omega desire. The thick tones clog my throat, threatening to consume my entire body if I don’t get a handle on this situation. No wonder the alpha kept staring.
An omega scent like this means something worse than interest; my body’s showing a dangerous physiological obsession it has no business meddling with—an approaching heat.
I was practically acting like a needy whore in front of him.
“But you are a whore, baby. You love getting heat sick and taking our cocks until you drop. It’s okay to admit it; that’s your only talent, after all.”
“Don’t worry. I threw your blockers away.” Phil flashed a bright smile that day, as if he’d truly done me a favor. “You don’t need that junk anymore, Willow, so just let it all out.”
They loved the way I became a shivering mess, begging for their knots.
“No, no,” I mutter, shaking off the daze, and shoving pill bottles aside in my desperation to reach the heat blockers.
The medication shouldn’t have worn off already.
Containers fall to the floor, clattering as they roll.
My fingers close on the familiar pink label, and I yank the tub out.
With my hands shaking so much, the writing blurs, making the tiny words impossible to read.
Forget the dosage, I need to stop this, now.
I pour three pills out and lean over the sink to cup water directly from the spout into my mouth. Bracing on the bench, I count each breath to calm myself.
I have to look at this logically. A freak accident shut down my heats, as well as the rest of my cycle.
But that was years ago. Bodies heal. This is a good sign, right?
I run shaky fingers down my leg, where the lightning strike seared its presence into my skin in weird, lumpy patterns.
The scars will never heal, but my internal systems are moving forward.
That’s a fact I need to acknowledge. And for whatever reason, the pheromone blockers aren’t having the usual effect. Maybe I left it too late, in which case, these pills are only delaying the inevitable.
“Doctor first.” I groan and lean my forehead on my arms. “Alpha service second.”
Alessandro’s scent lingers in my nose, salty and natural, like inhaling a day at the beach. A faint throb echoes through my core. What would have happened if I’d taken him up on his offer to help? The thought of his sun-drenched body sliding over mine brings the heat of summer right into my belly.
But no, I cannot allow any ties. He’s seen too much already. I need confidentiality and professionalism. No strings, no gossip.
I wobble my way to my desk and dial my physician’s office. Amazingly, she’s available to take my call.
“Willow? Is everything all right?”
I choke down a sob. “No, it’s terrible. I’m going into heat.”
“Okay, slow down. You’re experiencing heat symptoms? Could you walk me through them?”
I grind my teeth to hold back a frustrated scream.
After a lifetime of being an omega, I know how to identify heat symptoms. The muted, rational part of me understands the doctor’s just doing her job but the rest of me worries I’ll go into heat immediately.
On my own, without an alpha to sate my out-of-control pheromones?
I could die.
“Willow, I need you to breathe in and out, nice and slowly. Hold in between breaths for the count of two, if you can.”
Shit, I’m spiraling again, aren’t I?
I clutch the edge of my desk and suck air into my lungs, counting in a box pattern. In, hold, out, hold. Mr Shares runs into the room and winds his warm body between my knees, licking gently at my hands. The bam-bam of my heart pounding in my ears slowly recedes.
“Are you with me, Willow?”
“Yeah,” I rasp.
“Good job. You’re doing really well. Do you think you can run your vitals for me?”
“Okay, I think I can now.” I shuffle over to my medical cupboard with my faithful dog glued to my thigh and pull out the blood pressure monitor and thermometer.
100 degrees, and of course my blood pressure’s elevated after a near-panic attack. But the temperature isn’t as high as I feared. When I test again in a few minutes, it’s back to 99 degrees.
“Okay,” Doc Fiona says, drawing my attention back.
“It does look like you’re going into heat.
The blockers will temporarily delay the process, but it’s my recommendation that you go through with it as soon as possible.
I know the situation might not be great, but this is a really good sign that your body's recovering.”
I groan and plop into my chair. Mr Shares climbs up onto my lap like he’s puppy-sized, but I hug him close to my chest to hold his bulk in place.
“Do you have any alpha friends you might be comfortable enough to ask for help?”
Alessandro’s face pops into my mind, but I wave it away. “No, I don’t.”
Admitting the truth stings a little. Once upon a time I was friendly, outgoing, social. Now I’m the opposite.
“Well, since you’re not able to find a date, I suggest trying Heat Wave.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it right now.
“It’s the local heat service firm.”
“But—”
“They do house calls.”
My heart lights up with hope. “Oh. That’s great. And do they have good confidentiality agreements?”
“Of course. I’ve never heard a single complaint, and I’ve recommended them thousands of times.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll make contact.” Not like I have a choice.
“Let me know how you go.”
We chat for a few more minutes, discussing how the blockers work and what things to watch out for since this will be my first heat in years.
After hanging up, I drop my head into my hands and groan. I enjoyed not having to worry about my cycle. Not dealing with alphas and sex. Well, maybe that part’s a lie. I don’t know anymore. All I know is, I now need to bring a stranger into my home to fuck me senseless.
“Damn, this really sucks,” I say with a sigh.
Still, no time like the present, especially since these blockers will only work for a few more days. But knowing what I need to do and forcing myself to do it are two different things. The idea of a stranger coming inside my house and laying hands on me gives me tremors.
“You had Alessandro inside,” I mutter.
But that was different. He rescued Mr Shares, and dogs always know who means harm.
My precious boy whimpers and licks my face, his thick tail brushing across my knees as he wags it back and forth. “You’re right. I just need to put dog-lover on my list of requirements, don’t I? Who’s a clever boy?”
The service will have a list of requirements, right? I’m not just going to get any old gigolo? If that’s even the right word for them.
I’m being unfair and rude, but I can’t seem to stop. It’s my defense mechanism, I suppose. I’ve shut the world out for so long, the thought of opening up now has me shaking in my slippers.
But with every minute I delay, my heat gets closer.
I pat Mr Share’s back with long strokes for courage before dialing the number doctor Fiona just sent through.
“Welcome to Heat Wave, this is Debbie, how can I assist?”
I lick my dry mouth out. “Hi, my name’s Willow, and I think I’ll need some help with my heat in the next few days.”
“Okay, Willow, thanks for calling. Have you used our service before?”
“No. And I wish I didn’t need to use it now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Are heats traumatic for you?”
Oh, shit. I didn’t mean to say that bit out loud. I grind my knuckles into my forehead. “Sorry, that was unnecessary.”
“It’s no problem at all. We’d rather know as much as we can about your likes and dislikes so we can match you with the right service officer. Can you tell me a bit about your previous experiences?”
“Um, sure. I guess?” I don’t want to say a word. Not about the years alone, living in my car, or the rags, and definitely not about the three men who came before all that.
“Take your time. We want you to be as comfortable as possible with our service.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Well, I’ve had . . . medical issues that stopped my heats for the last, um, seven years. This will be my first one in a long time.”
“I see. And before that?”
“Umm . . .” Tears sting my eyes and I grip the edge of my chair with one hand. “I had a few years where I managed on my own. And then, after I first presented . . . I had a pack.”
A time of my life I’d rather forget about.
“You’re doing great, honey. I need to ask a few more questions, if you feel you can go on.
” The woman on the other end of the phone pauses until I say I can keep going.
“If I asked you to pick one of the following three words to describe your heats in general, which one would you choose? Enjoyable, intense, or uncomfortable?”
Once, a long time ago when I first had a pack, enjoyable would’ve been the world. Back when I had a nest and thought I was in love with men who claimed I was all they ever wanted in a woman. In an omega.
Now I whisper, “Uncomfortable.”
“Thanks for sharing that with me, and I’m sorry if this is at all difficult. To best help you, we need to complete a preferences survey, which we can do over the phone, or if you’d rather, we have one available on our website.”
“I can get a home visit, right?” I blurt out.
She pauses. “We do our utmost to provide that service, yes. I do need to warn you that we’re a little short staffed for home visits, especially if you require a moderator.”
“What’s a moderator?”
“That’s if you want someone to supervise your interactions with the service officer. Some omegas prefer to have a third party—”
My stomach lurches. “Fuck no.”
“Okay, no moderator. I’ll note that on your file.”
I close my eyes. Probably should’ve thought that through, because being alone with a stud alpha might be worse, but so much of my life gets filmed and viewed, I don’t think I could handle a stranger watching me have sex.
But can I handle an alpha in my bed any better?
“Would you like to go through the other questions with me now?”
Her polite, cheerful tone relaxes me. Even my snappy attitude isn’t putting the clerk off.
It’s enough to answer her questions without too much embarrassment.
Preferences, boundaries, hard limits, and of course medical notes.
I sheepishly add anxiety and panic attacks to the list. If just the thought of going into heat could send me up the walls, how will I manage when the real deal arrives?
And then the dreaded question. “When do you think your heat is due?”
“Three days,” I mumble. That’s when the current set of blockers wear off.
She clears her throat, and the tone isn’t as upbeat as before.
“Is there a problem?”
“Well, as I mentioned before, we’re a little short staffed. Could I give you a call back before 5 pm to confirm what we can offer? I’m sorry, usually I would give you a list of alpha profiles to choose from, but . . . well, let me give you a call back?”
“Sure.”
After hanging up, I dig my fingernail into a small crack in my armrest. If Heat Wave can’t help me, what can I do? Scarf pheromone blockers like they’re food?
I push Mr Shares off my lap and limp through my house, headed toward the south wing. I haven’t touched anything here in the five years since I moved in; the house is too big for one person and at the time, I didn’t need spare bedrooms.
Or the nest.
Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I reach for the door. Dread makes my hand clammy as I turn the ornate handle. A nest is supposed to be an omega’s pride and joy, her safe haven.
But mine never was. Not once.