Page 52 of The Heat of Us

“What do you mean you’ll be back?” I called after him. Once I got into this blanket I wasn’t going to get out, did he not know that?

“I forgot something,” Remy said cryptically.

He brought me a stack of peppermint dark chocolate in the exact brand of the wrappers that were littered on my coffee table.

“Happy bleeding,” he beamed, kissed my temple and left.

I survived the next few days on a steady diet of chocolate and doughnuts. But once I was feeling like myself again, I knew I had work to do. The end of my period signalled the start of me preparing for my busiest, most lucrative time as an OmegaFans creator. I was about to start exhibiting the pheromones of a close to heat omega.

My scent would sweeten, my slick would overproduce and my libido would skyrocket.

I charged five times as much for my panties during this time. Upped my filming schedule to account for enough content to cover my time away. Meticulously planned the release of new videos to drip feed themselves to my subscribers. Fended off all the desperate messages asking me to livestream my heat.

That was a hard, fucking no.

It was the feast before the famine, preparing for when I would be out of commission and not in the mood to make content in the week that followed while I recovered from a week of being knotted.

Remy and I enthusiastically and thoroughly breezed through my content schedule and then some. He had been kind enough to offer to edit some of them for me. It was probably for the best that he was out of my apartment for a while because he kept setting off heat spikes.

We filmed none of them.

Left to my own devices, I got to work packing all my orders. I applied scent neutralising spray before venturing downstairs to do a post office drop. As much as I wanted to trust that we were a civilised society, I still didn’t like leaving the apartment during such a vulnerable time as an omega. It didn’t use to be something I worried about. I remembered teasing Juno for practically dunking herself in neutraliser whenever we went out. But now I was very aware that all it took was one wrong alpha getting a whiff and suddenly I would be a statistic on the evening news.

I made it to the lobby and my eyes automatically flew to the desk. Aleks wasn’t working again. I knew he’d started his placement and reduced his shifts. Plus I had been a hermit for days. Still, it felt like we kept missing each other, like two ships passing in the night.

The chair was occupied instead by Jesse, a jovial Samoan beta whose heart was as large as his bald head was shiny.

“Morning Hazel.” He flashed his trademark smile when he noticed me. “It was my little girl’s birthday on the weekend. Want some leftover cake?”

“I’ll never say no to cake.” I made a grabby-hands motion and he laughed, pulling out a tupperware container from under the desk. Jesse even had napkins ready and was soon presenting me with a slice of sponge with luridly pink icing.

“No Aleks today?” I found myself asking as I chewed.

He flicked a page on the nearby timetable. “He’s scheduled to work later today.”

My heart flip-flopped like crazy.

Jesse dived in for his own slice, oblivious to how badly I was smothering a smile. “I’m meant to be handing these out but…it’s so good,” he mumbled. “My wife can’t find out.”

I laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me,” I said, before giving him a wave as I exited. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the icing staining his fingers would be a dead giveaway.

I stopped short when I noticed the large Alpha Brotherhood “A” sprayed on my gym window across the road. Fuckers. It wasn’t there this morning when I’d woken up at 4am in a cold sweat. I thought this bullshit was meant to be dying down.

At least the staff were doing their best to clean it. I watched them wipe frantically, stained soapy water running into the gutters.

“Not sure why they think putting their mark all over the city would make us think they were less feral,” said a wry voice behind me.

I whipped around to find an intimidating, broad-shouldered man watching the cleaning just as I was. His almost white-blonde hair was shaved close to his scalp and there was a notch in one eyebrow. But he was also clutching a takeaway coffee cup that looked tiny in his huge hand, the comical combination taking all the wind out of his formidable sails.

He had to be an alpha. But he wasn’t approving of the graffiti. I took a chance with my reply. “Well, they’re not really known for critical thinking, are they?” I said ruefully.

He laughed uproariously. Ok, I was funny but I wasn’t that funny.

“That’s very true. I’m glad it’s being cleaned. Omegas have the right to feel safe in this country.” The way he said it almost sounded rehearsed. “Not that you have to worry about any of that,” he added.

I was confused for a second. Not that I have to worry…?

Oh, he thought I was a beta. The spray was doing its job then.

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