Page 116 of Heat Clinic

He’s lying. It smells burnt and dry and mushy all at the same time.

Marcus then tugs me onto his lap. I hiss at the contact with my sensitive behind. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Tom says it’s fine. We’ll eat it, won’t we?”

They murmur unenthusiastic yesses they don’t mean. But each one of them would choke it all down and smile and say thank you, regardless of how disgusting it is.

“It’s not the food, it’s…” I let out a huff and press the heels of my palms into my eyes, willing the tears to go away. When that doesn’t work, I try to sniff them back again. My face is thick and congested with them.

“Ah. Got it,” Sam says. He pulls the oven door open, and smoke fills the room. He shuts it. “She’s fine. Her hormones are just a lot right now while she’s adjusting. It’s a lot of years to undo.”

“Adjusting?” Marcus asks, rubbing my back.

“You gonna tell them, baby? Or do you want me to?” Sam asks.

No, I can do this. It doesn’t matter that all of my plans went off the rails because I got horny and stupid. I did this to myself. What we eat doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. I sniff and wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes.

“I threw out my birth control.”

Marcus goes completely still, his hand stopping mid stroke. “You…”

“I stopped taking it two weeks ago. My heat’s due in…” I hesitate and try to count backward.

“Two weeks and three days, give or take,” Sam supplies.

Marcus’s chest explodes in a purr as he hauls me against his chest and hugs me tight. “Oh, sweetheart. You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so rough.”

I don’t like to use my safe word unless it’s something I really don’t enjoy. Yes, I’m mad that dinner’s ruined, but he wasn’t hurting me in a way I didn’t like.

“She liked it, if you couldn’t tell,” Tom says, leaning on the kitchen island. “I, on the other hand, am still painfully hard and have not yet come.”

“Let’s fix that,” Marcus says, standing and bringing me with him. I throw my arm around his neck and hold on. He carries me toward the stairs and the others follow.

“What about dinner?” I ask, giving the kitchen one last forlorn look.

“Dinner can wait.”

“I’m mad at you,” I tell Marcus. Sam and I have been working on me expressing myself more. It’s scary, but necessary. My confidence grows with each fight that doesn’t end with them leaving me. It’s hard to let old fears die, even with the mating bites that are as good as a beta marriage. Yeah, dissolved claiming bites can be bitten over, and marriages can end in divorce. Do I think they’ll leave me because the sweet potatoes got burnt? No. Fear isn’t always rational, but I refuse to let it control my life any longer. I just have to trust them. And I do.

“I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wasn’t listening.” He nuzzles against my face, then lays me down in the center of our nest and climbs on top of me. Tom and Sam get undressed and climb into the nest, touching one another as they find a spot to settle in.

“No you weren’t,” I say.

Despite my irritation, his purr rumbles through our points of contact and soothes at something deep inside of me. His scent’s no longer spicy like it gets when he’s agitated. Now it’s all creamy, sweet, and smooth. Each gulp of his pheromones and knocking of his purr loosens my tension and assuages my irritation until I’m mellow. It’s impossible to stay mad at him when he’s pouring contrition and comfort through our bond.

If this were anyone but Marcus, I’d be scared of how much control his pheromones and our bond has over me and my feelings. Abusive alphas can put an omega through hell, and they’ll still want to crawl back to their alpha until they hit the point of breaking. But this is Marcus. He’d never hurt me on purpose.

Now his big body blocks out the string lights hung up above us. “You were wearing your collar. I thought we were playing. I wasn’t paying attention to the bond like I should have been. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

He strips down, and then he strips me too, pressing a gentle kiss to every body part he exposes. Marcus unzips the dress and helps me wiggle out of it. He pauses to admire the see-through white bra before unhooking and slipping it off me. My breasts spill out, the clamps tugging at my hard nipples. My heels clatter as he drops them to the floor with a carelessness that’s out of character. His eyes eat me up with hungry glances.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart. Did you get all dressed up just for us?” he asks.

“Yes. I wanted tonight to be extra special.” I wanted to wind them all up so we’d spend the whole night in the nest. To distract Tom from worrying himself sick about his opening.

“Every night with you is extra special.”

I roll my eyes, but his corny statement still makes me smile because I know how earnestly he means it. Marcus settles between my legs and his cock slides along the seam of my sex.

“You know I can’t get pregnant until my next heat, right?”

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