Page 118 of Heat Clinic

And it’s time to go to work. I smooth my tie and drain my coffee, then kiss them all goodbye and climb into the car. The day passes in a blur of routine. The next one too. For the millionth time, I glance at my calendar and count. A week. Three days. Tomorrow. She’s late.

Don’t stress. It’s not unusual. She says this is normal for her.

Three more days pass. The sun shines through the gauzy curtains in our bedroom, waking me. I kiss Tom on the cheek and he mumbles something like “ten more minutes," so I slide out of the bed, heading upstairs. Emily is curled up in her nest, covered in a mound of blankets, with only her nose visible. I grab the thermometer from the nightstand and sit, smoothing a hand over her bundled form until I find her underneath all those blankets.

She moans and stretches in her sleep, her nostrils flaring as she scents me. Her mouth drops open, and I slide the thermometer in and then we wait. It’s funny how quickly new things become routine. After it beeps, I take it out and read the display. Ninety-nine point four. Does that count as a fever? Is it starting? I leave her, and she burrows deeper into her blankets. Outside of Sam’s door, I knock and find him already dressing for the day.

“Hey,” he says. “I have to go downtown and pick up a part. It came in last night.”

I show him the thermometer. “Is this high enough to count?”

He takes it from me and reads the screen, his brow creasing. “Maybe. It could be the start of it. But pre-heat can still take a while. Her cycle’s probably going to be less normal even for her. She’s coming off birth control after being on it for years.”

Despite his casual warning to not get my hopes up yet, that’s all I need to hear. I take the thermometer back from him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Call the shop and ask them to deliver the part or hire a courier. From now on until the heat is over, you do not leave her side. Understood?”

Sam nods. “Yes, alpha.”

I kiss him on the forehead and leave him to get undressed again, a little envious when he slides back into the nest with her. But work won’t wait, and it looks like I have meetings to reschedule.

Georgene’s thin lips flatten when I tell her to move all my clients for tomorrow and onward into next week. But she doesn’t argue. She may not be the friendliest woman, but she’s damn good at her job and she’s run this office efficiently since well before I made partner.

Discomfort stabs me through Emily’s side of bond, but Sam and Tom’s side are both quiet and it keeps me from panicking.This is normal, I tell myself. When I head home, I find everyone cuddled on the couch watching a movie. They’re sandwiched together, all of them covered with a fuzzy blanket from her nest.

She sees me first and smiles, then winces and lets out a little moan. Tom runs his fingers through her hair.

“Is it time?” I ask.

“Ninety-nine point nine,” Sam says. “It might start in the night, or maybe tomorrow.”

Tonight. Tomorrow. Soon.

I unbutton my jacket and sit on the couch, joining them. I take her small feet in my hands and rub them until her whimpering stops. There’s nothing I can do to ease her symptoms in these early hours. Nothing except to be here and touch her. She relaxes as I slide my hand under the fuzzy blanket and touch the bit of leg that’s reachable from where Sam lies on her.

“Do you want me to move?” Sam asks.

“No. Watch your movie. We’re going to bed after. We’ll eat and sleep in turns from now on.” My stomach rumbles, but I ignore it. When the credits roll, they all disentangle from the sofa, and I scoop her into my arms and carry her up to the nest. She’s nude already, her skin too sensitive for clothes.

“Alpha,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around my neck as if she doesn’t want to let go. I hover over her, careful to keep my weight from crushing her as I purr for her until she goes limp. We wrap her in blankets, and Sam volunteers to stay with her while Tom and I go downstairs to eat.

Tom cracks the lid off a bottle of water and downs it until the thin plastic crinkles. He pulls the water bottle from his lips with an exhale. “Gotta stay hydrated. Those weird pills Sam’s got me taking to shoot bigger loads make me so bloody thirsty.”

I throw leftovers in the microwave and heat them up and grin. “Let’s hope they work.”

He hums, and when our food’s done, we eat. I undress in our bedroom and hang up my dirty suit. There will be a mountain of laundry to take care of when this is all over, but I don’t mind. Once Tom is bare, I pull him into a hug and smooth my hands over his back.

“I can’t believe we’re finally going to do it,” he says.

I cup his face in my hands and search his beautiful green eyes. “I love you. Let’s go make a baby.”

“I love you too.” He nods. “Let’s go knock her up.”

We go upstairs and creep into the nest. Sam slips out to eat and take care of himself while Tom and I get comfortable. Emily’s asleep, but she stirs long enough to seek us out as she tries to get cozy again. Another cramp hits her, her bond pulsing with discomfort, but it goes away when I purr and she settles once more.

After Sam joins us, we lie there and sleep until she whimpers and thrashes and the smell of sugary lemon floods my nose. I creep a hand between her thighs and find her soaked. Her side of the bond feels as sharp as splintered glass.

It’s time. I exhale, breathing out all the tension from this tiresome waiting.

“Omega.”

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