Page 45 of Heat Clinic

“I know that you think your self-control is impeccable,” I tell him carefully, stressing each word, “but you still have instincts. Instincts aren’t rational, and you can’t logic them into submission as you try to defy every alpha stereotype that exists.”

Before he can interrupt me, I continue, “And I don’t care that you fucked her when you found her. That you had sex with either of them. They’re pack. Claimed or not, they're ours. But I will not be left out of important conversations. I will not be steamrolled by your dynamic when it comes to something as life altering as bringing a new person into this world. This isn’t the Middle Ages anymore.”

He nods, his face full of contrition as he bands his arms around my thighs and tugs me against his chest. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I love you.”

Marcus is absolutely miserable through the bond and it makes it hard to stay mad at him even if I wanted to but I’ve never been one to hold grudges for long. I’ve made my point, and he’s heard it.

I rake my nails through his scalp and tame his mussed hair until his eyes droop with pleasure and he purrs for me, the vibrations traveling from his body to mine wherever we touch. It shakes me, working the knot of tension around my heart free. “Oh, you’re forgiven.”

He’ll grovel in his own way over the next few days. Little things like getting up early and fetching me a cappuccino before I’m awake, or massaging my shoulders when we cuddle. It’s how he is. Always taking care of people. I can’t say that I’ll hate the extra pampering. He owes it to me after temporarily turning into a neanderthal.

“You agree?” he asks while he ties his shoes.

“Hmm?”

“That they’re pack. Both of them.”

“I think so. I’m not sure you could pry them apart even if you wanted to.” Not that I would want to. They look good together. I have the mental image of dressing them both up in matching latex nun and priest costumes.Oh, yes.I think I’m going to like having new packmates to play with.

Dressed, we check out of the clinic and head back to the hotel. The concierge has different staff today than last night. They only cast a glance our way as we head to the elevator and then up to our room.

I blow out a breath and suppress a smile. “That was quite the adventure, huh? Who’d have thought that tiny omega could be so frightening? I’m glad Sam knows what he’s doing.” He knows how to wrangle a clawing, scratching demon and turn her into a purring puddle of slick. It makes me wonder what other useful skills he’s got hidden underneath that eager puppy attitude. There’s just something instantly likable about him. And I’m captivated with how he went from klutzy nest destroyer to omega tamer with the snap of a finger.

It would be fun to tag team her with him. Drive her wild then wrestle her back. Just as long as I’m far away from those teeth and nails. Maybe some leather cuffs? A gag? So many options. It’s hard to decide where to start.

He tosses his plastic key card onto the hotel’s dresser and tugs his tie loose.

“How’s your chest?” I ask while I shut the door behind us. “Let me see it.”

Marcus toes his shoes off and folds up his jacket, then takes off his shirt and undershirt. The pink lines have darkened, a few dark spots showing where her nails bit deeper and drew actual blood. “How does it look?” he asks, craning his head down to see.

I tut and ghost a finger near the worst one without touching it directly. “She got you good. Let’s get that cleaned up. Sit.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, and after I grab my travel first aid kit from my luggage, I stand between his legs. I uncap the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and open a pack of sterile gauze, wetting it and dabbing it to the deepest scratch.

Marcus winces and hisses as it makes contact. I tut at him and dab the antiseptic along the scrape. “Don’t be a baby.”

“That’s easy to say. You’re not the one bleeding. You know I don’t like pain.”

I roll my eyes and smile faintly. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?” I blot the deepest part of the scratch and revel in the way his nostrils flare and his eyes squint. “Baby,” I tease him.

“Do you still want one?” he asks. “A baby.”

I freeze for a moment, then set the pink-tinged gauze back in its sterile wrapper. “We haven’t talked about it for so long.”

His hands cup the backs of my thighs as he keeps me there between his knees like I’m at risk for running away. It’s silly. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with my alpha. My packmate.

“Your shows are going well,” he says. “Your prints are selling. I made partner years ago. We got a bigger place. It’s all the things we said we were waiting for. What if this is it?”

My heart knocks against my ribs as I choose my words. “What if she doesn’t want them? Or can’t have them?”

“Infertility is so rare among omegas, but if she can’t then we’ll get treatment or adopt. We were going to adopt anyway. If she doesn’t want them… then things aren’t changing so much, I guess.”

I recall the idea boards I made when I designed the nursery we never built. It’s a guest bedroom now. What was supposed to be a temporary measure stuck. Now that the idea’s been implanted in the back of my mind, it’s all I can think of.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his eyebrows climbing. The hope on his face makes my belly flutter. Like he’s a little scared to be so happy. I feel the same way. Happy, hopeful, and terrified.

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