Page 34 of Heat Clinic

“Do you really think he’s my pack?” I whisper, scared to voice it. It seems too good to be true. Like if I get too happy about it, something will happen and take it away.

“Do you want to go back to the rut room? We have time. The next session starts in a half-hour. We can find you plenty of other alphas to rut.”

“What?” I push away from him, or I try to, but he hauls me tighter against him and pets my hair.

“See? You don’t want the other alphas, right? That feeling only gets stronger once you receive his mating bite, but some omegas feel it a bit before. But if you want more reassurance, I can ask for his paperwork and we can look it over together after your bath.”

“Paperwork?”

Instead of answering me, Sam brings me back to my room and puts me in the bath. Since I’m lucid, he lets me bathe myself while he goes and eats something, changes his clothes, and grabs Marcus’s file.

I towel off and fix the lackluster nest while Sam is gone and he can’t mess it up while I’m still stabilizing the walls. The blankets smell like the three of us, and shoving my nose in the stiff, dried spots keeps me calm. I feel more settled once I’m in the center.

Sam returns and kicks off his shoes and climbs in, careful not to bring the nest down when I give him the stink eye after he’s a little too rough. We end up lying down with him on his back and me spooning him from the side, our legs tangled together. One arm curls around me as he holds the manilla folder up in the air and flips through it, making humming sounds.

“Ah, here. Good. Looks like he paid for the optional analysis. I figured he would,” Sam says.

“What analysis?” I take the paper from him and read it, trying to make sense of the terminology. It seems like a health workup but there are a lot of abbreviations I don’t understand.

“It’s his genetic profile. It says what medical conditions he’ll be predisposed to. Plus anything he might give to your kids.”

I drop the paper and have to pick it back up.Kids.

“Here’s his sperm analysis. Looks like the old man’s still got fast swimmers. I’m not surprised. He pumped you with bucketfuls.”

My mind is still stuck on the wordkidsandspermas Sam keeps flipping through papers, humming as he reads.

“I’m on birth control.” Right?Bucketfuls of sperm.

“Yeah, baby. I gave you your pill this morning.” He keeps flipping and skimming.

The relief hits me like a brick wall, but the hint of sadness underneath it feels alien.Marcus is a stranger. I don’t really know this man.I shouldn’t want this stranger to knock me up, but… a teeny, tiny foreign part of me does.What the fuck?

I drop the paper and struggle upright, so I’m kneeling. Sam sets the file on his belly and stares at me, his brow creased. “What’s wrong? Do you not want kids?”

It’s never really been something I let myself think about too intensely. I’ve never had a serious boyfriend who stuck around for more than a year. Most betas like the reality of dealing with a heat a lot less than the fantasy. Even with slip-on silicone knots and knotting toys, it’s hard for one beta to handle how much sex an omega needs during heat. Alphas can keep up because of the rut. And most alphas are holding out for the omega their instincts say isthe one.

I think about having a baby with Marcus’s eyes, and something in my chest pinches, leaving me breathless. “I… I think I might.” My head reels from how much the Earth feels like it’s spinning off its axis.

“Relax, baby.” Sam strokes my thigh and picks the file up. “There’s plenty of time to talk about all the nitty-gritty details. You didn’t sign the breeding waiver, so it’s not going to happen this heat no matter what.”

Being told it’s not an option actually keeps me from freaking out. “Okay. Right. So what does the rest of the file say?”

“Family history of high blood pressure, diabetes, and stroke. A predisposition to skin cancers, so make sure you put sunscreen on the small mountain of babies you guys have together.”

I grab his side through his scrub top and pinch him.

“Ouch! I saidsmallmountain. Put your claws away, kitten. Here are his financial documents.”

I take it from him and count the number of pages stapled together. “Why is it so thick?”

“You’ll see.”

I have to read the number on the page four times and count the zeroes twice before it registers. There’s a pie chart breakdown of his various assets, as well as a list of properties he owns. That’s what takes up the bulk of the papers because there are photos.

“Is that afuckingcastle?”

Sam glances at the one that’s put my jaw on the floor. “Technically, I think it’s called anestate.”

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